Chapter Three

“Just a week dad!” I said thumping my right feet on the black and white coloured Hotelgenix tiles that emulsified into one another at the center of the room creating an image of our milky way. Talk about perfection. “Four extra days, nothing more”, I added with a small frown and pouted lips that made me feel like I was 12.

“Ugh, I didn’t bring enough clothes but let’s see” my dad said, helping himself with a Grey Shrimp Croquette then puckered at his laptop's screen as if concentrating on something, signaling an end of our conversation – at least, for that time. 

“I’ll be at Borisova resort” I added walking back to my room to order an helicopter as well as request for a tour guide who was well versed in the South Slavic language as well as English. 

**

Borisova ski resort was an epitome of the Bulgarian beauty with it’s snow teeming land that stretched seemingly till infinity like an unending whitish cotton clumps of land. To an edge of the land was a tall building, the main one I guess where all the office work was done – about three storeys tall with bright white spiky ornaments cutting up every edge till the top and an extension not as tall but at least, twice as wide and just as attractive – it housed the fanciest lodge I’d been in all my life.

I was in Borisova’s eating house when there was a little chaos after a speaker from where I didn’t know who spoke a few words in Bulgarian. I felt that was selfish but still, I was amused at everything.

“They said there’s to be a ski race, sir” my tour guide whom I realized was Mr. Sullivan spoke, the Bulgarian tongue messing with his accent.

“And what about it?” I retorted with keen interest.  

 “If you want to participate sir, you have to get changed in one of the lodges” he said pointing at the utterly beautiful building “You brought your ski apparatus sir, I’ll get them for you” he added and walked off, leaving me to myself… and the perfect snow world. 

**

I was a part of the third group of contestants alongside five others – my competitors. 

“There are huge, red pointers that show where to pass. Good luck!” my tour guide interpreted to me when it was my set's turn.

I skid to the starting point. Thunderous cheers from the spectators as well as whistles and other forms of celebrations filled the air with tension. I was on the fourth lane. 

Drones flew towards us and stood almost directly over our heads beeping silently. Talk about fancy!

The five seconds we spent getting ready to take off was like an hour then the signal came – an earsplitting wave cut through the air. A gun had been shot, the race had begun!

A smirk of confidence spread through my lips and I was soon stirring at a violent velocity. I climbed towards the second position and left an ample gap between me and third. I and the person occupying the first position having our little informal race. The red pointers had come in handy and I followed them keenly not necessarily because I was scared of getting lost but rather because I abhorred losing. I was hungry… ravening for success! 

I was closing in on the skier holding the golden position. I strained my eyes a little and saw a steep downward ramp from which skiers jump. The skier at my fore was about to do the needful, when he fell hard and coiled a few metres on the snow causing a whitish snow distortion – an aftereffect of the speed he was moving at causing him to groan. The drone above him started bleeding infrared.

 I soon reached where he was and was about overtaking him when a feeling of guilt filled me up. I had to make sure the person was alright. I got where he was and stooped, they were groans of a female. I was certain help was on the way but in the meantime I had to do my best. I pulled her mask off her face for her to breath better.

She was beautiful, had a really long blonde hair. Her face had blushes on her dimpled cheeks thanks to the biting cold. Her eyes had a sparkly shade of caramel and her lips were red and swollen too from the cold. She had hurt her left knee really bad. She had gone snow-blind and didn't see a huge really dark rock that poked out of the snow. The medics soon arrived at where we were. and placed her on a stretcher – She was Maisie. 

**

It was two days after visiting Borisova ski resort and my third day in the beautiful city of Sofia that I got a call. It came in when I was drying my hair after a boiling hot bath that Hotelgenix made possible and was getting prepared to visit Pod Lipite Tavern – one of the oldest restaurant in Sofia that created home Bulgarian dishes with ingredients sourced from the restaurant’s own meat and dairy farm through their traditional method. 

I wasn’t a fan to phone calls especially from phone numbers I didn’t know but something urged me to pick it up still.

“Hello, Russell?” the voice was simply… flawless! It was a little high pitched, feminine, too and captivating but still, had an underneath tone of confidence. 

“Hello? Who’re am I on to?” I responded. There was about a three seconds break.

“Maisie, I’m Maisie. We met at Borisova”

And the call continue for about two minutes more. By the time I hung up the phone, I felt less tense and gasped for air, lots of it. I had someone to take with me to Pod Lipite Tavern, and that person was Maisie. 

**

Entering into the restaurant itself was like stepping back into the past with the stone walls, brick fireplace and wooden beams evoking a homely, countryside charm which erased all traces of busy modernity. I had booked a reservation with Maisie and had shared the spot with her via WhatsApp.

She was there, with her golden hair, unblemished confetti eyes, her tiny pointed nose, and pink lips that revealed a perfect set of white teeth when she smiled at me whilst twirling her fingers round her hair. 

“I apologize for my late arrival, I got lost a little bit and what a beautiful dress you’ve got on” I stuttered with a little chuckle as I got warmly enveloped in her heavenly fragrance. 

“Thanks for the compliment. It’s okay, I guess you’re a tourist here in Bulgaria” she said with her dulcet high pitched tone and that was all it took to get the conversation rolling. 

She was a magnificent conversationalist with a high sense of humour, an excellent wit of sarcasm and an extraordinarily good listener whose face gave off how she felt while I spoke. She was perfect. 

We spoke for hours about skiing, America, Bulgaria and other interests like chess and by the time we realized the snow had begun in earnest, she was like a long lost friend I had caught up with except that, I felt… butterflies inside me. Lots of them.