On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) (19 page)

“You don’t like me?”

“Yes, of course I do. I love you.
I’m your brother. I was just saying you seem more relaxed, happier since you’ve
been up here. I took bets that you’d be back in Manhattan within twenty-four
hours. But it’s impressed me that you’ve dug out a life up here, literally,” he
said, glancing out the window at the heaps of snow. “But suddenly you’re
reverting to the old you.”

“And who’s that?” she asked
rhetorically, because of course she knew exactly what he meant. It was the same
girl she tried so desperately to distance herself from, but with uncertainty
about who she should become, she felt stuck somewhere in-between. “If I wanted
a psychological evaluation, I’m sure one of mother’s friends could connect me
with someone more qualified.”

Will reached for her arm. “I know
what this is about. Please don’t be mad at Mellie. She isn’t the one trying to
make you into someone you’re not. And if the girl who you were isn’t who you
are today, she’ll be the first person to tell you that’s okay.”

Baskia’s mouth fell open. “I’m
not looking to be told I’m okay. You have nerve. Siding with the two of them.”

“Mom and Mellie are not in
league. She just needed a mother figure after she lost her own. Like it or not,
mom was the closest person. It wasn’t like you came running back.”

“Well, Mom never exactly doted on
me, and I was working—” Baskia blurted.

“I know,” Will said and pulled
her into a brotherly hug. “I know.”

Baskia wanted to cry, but held
back, afraid to ruin her eyeliner.

Just then, Mellie and Trace
entered the room from opposite directions.

“Let’s have a toast,” Will said,
pouring everyone a glass of wine. “I forgot the Benedict wine collection was up
here. Well, part of it. Did you hear about the place they’re thinking of buying
in Italy, a little villa with Aunt Bea and Uncle Henry. I doubt that would
work; they can’t stand each other for longer than lunch. Stunning, with
fountains, a lush garden…I say you take up residence there the next time you
decide to relocate,” Will said good-naturedly. He raised his glass then passed
a glass to Mellie.

Baskia caught his look that told
her to play nice.

She raised her half-drained
glass, and he refilled it.

The group relocated to the living
room, Baskia taking her usual spot on the couch. Trace tossed a log on the fire
and then lowered himself next to her, almost protectively. She wondered if he
could save her from the emotions that repeatedly rose and fell that evening,
first with his arrival, then her brother, and then with the baggage Mellie
brought.

“It’s almost a new year, let’s
reflect on the twelve months behind us. ‘With mirth and laughter, let old
wrinkles come,’” Will said in a regal tone. 

“Shakespeare,” Baskia said, not hesitating.
She chortled at the memory of another game she and her brother used to play:
guess-the-speaker-of-the-famous-quote. Or GSFQ “We must have been the envy of
our peers with their hand-held devices,” she said sarcastically. In response to
the question on Trace’s face, she added, “It’s a game Will and I used to play.”

“Recite a quote and everyone else
has to guess who said it. I was thinking of one that sums up the year for me. I
learned to laugh more.”

“That’s lucky for us,” Trace
said. “Recovering from senior slump?”

“Something like that.”

Baskia caught Will chancing a
look at Mellie who hadn’t moved an inch during the conversation.

“I’ve got one,” Trace said.
“‘There is the heat of love, the pulsing rush of longing, the lover’s whisper,
irresistible, magic to make the sanest man go mad.’”

Will clapped his hand on Trace’s
shoulder. “You’ve been struck, huh?”

“Homer. The Iliad,” Baskia said,
eyeing the book tucked in the basket by the couch.

“Well done, little sister. I
didn’t know you were a fan of the Classics.”

Baskia smirked.

“Mellie, do you have one?” Will
asked.

She cleared her throat. “’Grief
does not change you…it reveals you.’” She looked out the window, but then
snapped her gaze in Baskia’s direction as if she wanted to say more.

Everyone was silent, the fire
burning away the unspoken words of the last twelve months.

“I don’t know. Anyone else have a
guess?” Will asked.

Trace and Baskia shook their
heads.

“It was from a book by John
Green. This year for me was one of transformation. I’m not who I was, and I’m
not sorry either.” She held Baskia’s gaze.

“I’ll toast to that,” Will said,
ignoring the tension.

 “’Let her dream, for when she
wakes, she will move mountains,’” Baskia said.

Again, silence until Trace said,
“I like that one.”

“Me too. It’s anonymous. I saw it
on a mug,” she said, thinking fondly of Wes. Mellie wasn’t the only one who’d
welcomed change without apology nor was she the only one tormented by grief. 

 “And let’s toast to new
beginnings,” Baskia said, turning up music to draw the mood in the room back to
one of celebration. 

Chapter Nineteen

Not long after Baskia had set out
some of the appetizers she had on hand from Christmas, headlights flashed
through the windows facing the driveway.

“Expecting more company?” Trace
asked, his expression, as ever, on the edge of laughter.

She wondered what it would be
like if everything in the world was amusing.

Peering out the window, she
spotted Wes’s pickup, along with another car. He’d hardly mentioned friends.
Curiosity brought her out into the cold night. She stood on the front porch,
her sparkly shoes brilliant against the snowy path. Wes slunk out of his truck.
Two figures exited the car. Out of context, it took Baskia a moment to place
them.

“London?” she called across the
frozen expanse, incredulous.

“If it weren’t for this mountain
man, we never would have made it up,” she said in a throaty voice.

Baskia bristled, looking at him
apologetically. Although, he hadn’t shaved in a few days making him fit the
profile of a rugged mountain man.

“I found them trying to get up
the second hill there. They said they’re friends of yours.”

“If I’d known we were going to
Siberia, I would have packed appropriately,” Carlito said, extracting himself
from the car.

“Reminds me of home,” Nels said,
taking a deep breath, his arms outstretched.

“Uh, let’s go inside,” Baskia
said, shivering.

The cabin was cozy. Will and
Trace laughed about an old dorm story as they caught up, but the fire did
nothing to warm the chill that had come over Baskia at the sight of five of her
old friends from the City, accompanied by Wes.

“I thought you said you weren’t
expecting company?” Trace said quietly, as he stood to meet the new arrivals.

“I’d planned a quiet night alone,
thank you very much,” she sniped back.

“What do we have here?” London
asked, looking from Baskia to Trace.

“I thought maybe the mountain man
over there was the reason for your disappearance, but now I see I was mistaken.
Well done.” She trailed her bony fingers down Trace’s chest. He grimaced.

Carlito nodded in agreement.

Will shot Baskia a look. Whether
he wondered about London’s comment about the two of them together or just
disapproved of London herself, she wasn’t sure.

“Aren’t you going to introduce
us? Oh, I recognize you,” London said distastefully to Mellie. “You must be the
brother.” She pointed at Will.

He slid closer to Mellie,
prompting Baskia to shoot him a look of accusation. She drew a deep breath as
her worlds collided. “Everyone, this is my brother Will, my childhood friend
Mellie, Trace, and Wes, my neighbor. And this is Kate London, Nels, Carlito, Ali,
and Gigi. What brings you here?” she asked London.

“I should ask you the same
thing,” London retorted, looking around at the rustic, yet posh cabin. “I wanted
to see if the rumors were true.”

“What rumors?”

“Don’t look so surprised. You
knew there’d be talk the moment you left town. I just wondered if it was a PR
tactic; trying to make yourself more valuable through being scarce or if you
were just jealous of my coming up while you were going down.”

By the sallow contours in her
face, the twitchiness of her movements, and the debt in her voice, it was
evident she hadn’t eased up on drugs either. The person who stood before Baskia
was Kate London amplified and warped by substances, alcohol, lack of sleep, and
a distorted sense of self. How’s that for a psych-evaluation, she thought
smugly.

“Classy, London,” Baskia said.

“That’s my specialty,” she
answered, evidently not noticing Baskia’s sarcasm.

“I’d say your specialty is
walking all over people, so if that’s how you define classy, I suggest you
reference a dictionary.”

“Oh, don’t go all self-righteous
on me. You didn’t pull out your sophisticated crap when you came slumming.”

“Once upon a time, a girl named
Kate London aspired to be sophisticated, there’s no denying it. But I see
you’ve come down in the world,” Baskia said bitingly.

“From where I stand, you have a
much longer way to fall. And when you land, it’s going to hurt a lot worse than
it ever would for me.” London spoke the words as if she didn’t quite believe them.
She wore the truth on her face, in her frizzy hair, the dark circles under her
eyes, and the invisible yearning that tugged on her skin, craving a fix.

“Why don’t you show me to the
ladies room?”

Baskia pointed to the door, not
moving an inch. Nels followed her, but she shut the door before he could enter.

“We tried to stop her,” Gigi
said.

“There’s no stopping a train
wreck,” Carlito added. “No, we’re curious—I mean cautious.”

“If she thinks she came here to
ruin you, she’s mistaken,” Ali said. “I thought I’d run interference.”

Gigi looked confused.

Carlito looked bored.

Baskia looked pissed. “Well, you
didn’t do a very good job. If you must know I came up here—”

Before she could finish, London
exited the bathroom. She sniffed once, and all eyes landed on her, the way she
liked it. But her strut faltered.

Baskia took a sip of wine. For
the sake of the rest of her guests, she remained silent, choosing to take the
high road, at least for the time being. The hum of one song changing and
another beginning cut through the quiet.

“Are you planning on staying the
night?” Baskia asked everyone except London, hoping to either smooth things
over or get rid of them; though she did worry about them trying to drive back.

“If by night you mean are we
going to sleep? No. We’re going to party,” London hooted, popping the cork on
the bottle of champagne Gigi brought in. They cheered. “Glasses,” London
ordered.

Will brought another bottle of
wine up from the basement. Ali pumped up the music. Carlito moved a table and
other furnishings out of the way, and he and Gigi started dancing. Wes stood in
the corner of the room watching with a mixture of fascination and dismay that
bowed his lips into a frown. Baskia stood up to bring him over to the couch,
but Ali asked him to dance with her. His eyes widened, stricken.

Nels tried to pull London over to
dance, but she jerked her arm away, making a beeline for Trace. Baskia tossed
back the rest of her wine and stalked over to them.

“—You look like a fun time. Want
to join me in the bathroom?” London asked him before she realized Baskia stood
behind her. “Do you want some?” London asked, pointedly when she saw Baskia.
“Or wait, did you stop partying because you thought you were too good for the
rest of us?”

Trace stepped backward. “Thanks
for the offer, but I’m not interested.” He nodded with a faux geniality.

London shrugged. “More for me.”

Trace went to the kitchen,
helping himself to another glass of wine, leaving the two of them standing eye
to eye, as if ready to face off.

“About that,” Baskia said,
hanging on to sobriety for another moment, “have you thought about not—” but
she didn’t get to finish and ask if London needed help or if she’d think about laying
off the drugs.

“This is my favorite song,”
London screeched as a fast dance beat came through the speakers.

Baskia sighed. If London didn’t
care, she wondered if she should. Trace brought her a fresh glass of wine and
took her by the hand toward the dark hallway. As she turned, she spotted Will
and Mellie talking closely.

“Are you okay?” Trace asked.

Baskia leaned against the wall.
Her feet, shod in the sparkling heels that should have made her want to dance,
had started to hurt. “Nice of you to ask.” She scowled.

“Don’t be that way.”

“Why is everyone telling me not
to be a certain way? I’m just being me. I’m not sorry if you don’t like it,”
Baskia said, echoing Mellie’s sentiment from earlier.

“No, you’re right. I like you the
way you are. It just seems like your worlds collided tonight.”

Baskia looked at him carefully in
the dim light. His eyes held more depth than she’d ever noticed in a man she’d
been intimate with. He looked at her tenderly, yet hungrily, like he wanted to
take care of her and like he desired nothing but her. For a moment, the music
went quiet and a voice inside promised an answer to the question that Trace had
written,
What do you want
? Before she could follow the thread, London’s
cackle issued from the living room. The moment was lost. “Yeah, you can say
that my worlds collided. Let’s hope for a supernova. Come on, let’s dance.”

As the night melted away, Baskia
plunged into the kind of drunkenness that comes from champagne, tequila, wine,
and whisky. Carlito played bartender after finding the liquor cabinet. Baskia
danced on the table, London joining her as if it were old times. For those moments,
Baskia didn’t care that months and animosity stretched taut between them, or
that her old friend had shed so much of herself, while Baskia inched closer to
growing up and knowing who she was.

Gigi bounced beside Ali. Wes,
despite appearances, was a good dancer. She’d noticed a beer in his hand and
slipped the keys to his truck into a drawer. Trace kept close to her. When
Mellie, exhausted from dancing, plopped on the couch, Wes joined her. Nels
struggled to get cell reception while Carlito danced to his own rhythm.

When London found the bathroom
door closed, she plucked the Iliad from the book basket, and spread thin lines
on the cover. Baskia dove over an armchair. With a heaving gust, she blew it,
like the powdery snow outside, sprinkling across the room.

London screeched. “What the hell
did you do that for?”

“You’ve had enough. You’ve been
in the bathroom nine times. You’re going to kill yourself.”

“And what do you care? When have
you ever cared about me?”

Baskia searched London’s face,
but Baskia could tell she was gone. London’s hyper-focused eyes didn’t actually
see anything. Her body spasmed and moved involuntarily, and the words that
hissed from her tongue were not her own. Or perhaps they were pulled from a
conversation she should have had long ago, if she’d been able.

“I’m not your mother, Kate.”

“Then don’t act like her.”

“I’m sure we can both agree that
I’m not. I’m being a friend.”

“You think you’re so great,
everything you do is so important, and you can just leave me behind.”

“Your mother is dead,” Baskia
said, flinching at the harsh, but necessary words.

The music, on shuffle, went
silent.

Just then Mellie appeared, tears
already running down her cheeks. Baskia wanted to take the words back, but they
needed to be said, though not to Mellie.

London’s lips pulled into a thin
line. She snarled.

In a flicker, Baskia clearly saw
the juxtaposition in her own character represented by her two friends. Both
parts of herself stood before her: Mellie, the good girl, intelligent, kind,
the picture of wealth and class, but with a piece missing from her heart. And
London, fierce and brazen, ambitious and adventurous, headstrong and selfish,
but on the edge of losing herself entirely. The very treasure Baskia fled to
the cabin to save and restore. As she looked from girl to girl, she realized
she had to reconcile the disparate parts of herself. The hint of finding union
within sifted through the silt of doubt in her thoughts and the alcohol in her
blood.

Wes looked at Mellie as if some
invisible cord united them in loss. Will put his arm around her. “It’s going to
be okay,” he whispered.

“Is it going to be okay?” London
asked, rounding on them. “As of late this morning
your mother
, Anne
Benedict, was still alive. So you don’t actually know, do you?”

Baskia stepped forward. “Is that
how you found me? Figures. But you’re right I don’t know what it’s like to lose
someone like that. But there are people in this room who do. Believe me.”
Baskia eyed Wes and Mellie. “Kate, she’s gone. She isn’t going to come back to
save you. You’re the only one who can make you okay. The guys won’t do it. The
drugs certainly won’t. Fame, you’re not going to find okay there.” Baskia shook
her head.

“You don’t know what you’re
talking about.”

Gigi looked on, confused. “Why
are you guys fighting? Can’t we just have fun?” she whined.

“I think we all know who in this
room doesn’t like to have fun,” London said. 

“You need help,” Baskia said. “I
hope you find it and when you do, be prepared to work harder than you’ve ever
worked in your life.”

Recognition quickly flashed and
dimmed across London’s face. “Well, I still have tonight.” She grabbed the
bottle of tequila from the counter, took a swig, and turned the music back on.
With that, activity in the room resumed as if someone had simply pressed play.

Baskia lost track of the others
as Trace pulled her toward the front door, wrapping his jacket over her shoulders.
Outside, he traced the letters
XO
in the snow on the railing. Their
breath puffed like clouds. She thought he’d lit a cigarette, but his empty
hands pulled her to his chest, gripping her firmly, like a promise never to let
go.