On the Mountain (Follow your Bliss #5) (4 page)

“So, what’d you do to make mom
pull out the ‘ole redecorating excuse?” Will asked later, when their father
retired to his office and their mom prepared dessert. Baskia shoved the papers
from Columbia in her purse.

When they were younger, they’d
play a game they called, “Any Q” It was like truth or dare, but minus the dare,
and they had to answer no matter what. Usually the Q’s—questions, were
ridiculous like would you drink out of a toilet, or eat boogers, but as they
got older, it also gave them the chance to talk about whatever was on their
minds.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say that a few years
ago Mom had to ‘redecorate’ the lodge in Vail.”

“I thought they sold it.”

“They did, shortly after.”

“Did you destroy it or
something?”

“It was freshman year of college.
I had a wild party there during winter break. Break being the operative word.
Dad never knew and, well, let’s just say it’s probably what keeps him off blood
pressure meds.”

Baskia laughed at the possibility
of her straight-laced brother causing havoc. There was more to him than she
realized.

“My turn.”

“Wait, I want details,” she said,
eager to hear more.

He went on to describe a rowdy
party involving eighteen-year-old boys, snow bunnies, and way too much beer.
“Okay, so what happened? Why is Mom redecorating the penthouse and sending you
to the dorms?” Will asked when he’d satisfied Baskia’s curiosity.

“I’m really stressed about
school. I don’t want to go, but we had a sorta going away party,” she shrugged,
“that lasted all week.”

Will shook his head. “Naughty,
naughty girl. Is London still living with you?”

“Yup. Mom hates her.”

“Mom hates everyone who isn’t
Mellie.”

Baskia laughed. “No kidding.
She’s still one of my dearest friends, but the girl needs to let loose. Mom has
her talons in her. She’ll be showing up on the ladies-who-lunch circuit before
long. It’s so sad about Emily though.”

“I know. Mellie’s a sweet kid.”

“Who has an uber-crush on you,”
Baskia said.

“When she was thirteen. Anyway,
it’s still your turn,” Will said, swift to change the subject.

Baskia took a deep breath. “Have
you ever just not known?” she asked. “I’ve been feeling funky lately like I
don’t know what I want to do with myself. When I look to the future, it looks
like a blank piece of paper, and I have no idea what to write on it.”

“I’ve never had that problem. I
see what I want and then go for it,” Will said, trying hard to be modest.

Baskia sighed; she’d counted on
him to understand, but this area was where they were very different.

“In a sense you’ve already gone
away and acquired independence, with modeling. Maybe college feels like taking
a step backward and is making you feel hampered.”

“Kinda.” Baskia nodded; thankful
he tried to comprehend her hole-filled explanation.

“But…” he started.

“I know, I know, there’s no
backing out now. I just don’t know
what
to do. Yanno? I’m basically
forced to decide, in the next few weeks, what I’m going to do for the next
forty years. It feels like it has cosmic significance.” 

“Well, at least you have a choice
in that,” Will said, suggesting the pressure he’d received to follow in their
father’s, and grandfather’s, footsteps by studying law.

“Dessert,” Anne called. Just
then, the doorbell buzzed. “Oh, that’ll be Mellie. She couldn’t make it for
dinner, but said she’d stop by for dessert. She’ll be so happy to see you
both.”

Moments later, Mellie appeared
looking slightly sheepish, because she’d been conspiring with Anne, or because of
her longstanding semi-crush on Will, Baskia wasn’t sure.

They exchanged a stiff hug during
which Mellie whispered, “I’m sorry.”

The wine didn’t help the
sentiment warm Baskia or move her toward forgiveness.

After everyone gathered in the
dining room, exchanged pleasantries, and took wedges of blueberry pie a la
mode, Anne started in on Mellie’s college plans. “Of course Will is there,
he’ll look after you if you need anything, anything at all. Isn’t that right,
son?” Anne said pointedly.

“Mom,” Baskia said, hoping to
save Mellie from further embarrassment, despite their differences. Yes, she’d
had a crush on him, but who wouldn’t? He was tall, fit, well spoken, and
handsome.

“I’m just saying, they’ll both be
up there, so why not get together. You can take a night off from your studies
now and then and have dinner. And Baskia, before I forget, I’ve arranged that
dinner for us with some of the Columbia alums. It isn’t too early to start
meeting the right people.”

“About that—” Baskia started, but
Anne interrupted.

“Mellie will be leaving us
tomorrow. Don’t worry, after settling her in I’ll be back in time for the
aforementioned dinner.” Anne refilled her wine. “You know Baskia, you could
really take a page from Mellie’s book. She’s majoring in business with a minor
in finance and has her whole future planned. She isn’t afraid to succeed. You
can’t model forever and some of those people you run with—I just don’t know.
William, sometimes it doesn’t seem like our daughter just doesn’t appreciate
the things—”

Her mother’s lips were loose from
the wine, but Baskia stopped listening. She grabbed her purse and stormed out
the door.

Chapter Four

As Baskia turned the key in the
lock, music filtered through the heavy penthouse door. The scene of London dancing
on the couch in the white studded Louboutins, Nels sniffing a line of
who-knew-what off the glass coffee table, and faces she only recognized from
clubs lounging in the apartment, made her lose the little bit of cool she’d
regained on the ride back over.

She stomped over to London ready
to unleash her fury. However, in one swift motion, she hauled Baskia up onto
the couch. With glassy eyes, London drew her into rhythm with the pulsing music,
whooping and shouting in a singsong voice, “Baskia’s back, at long last, from
dinner at mommy and daddy’s.”

“This isn’t funny. I said no
parties.”

“But what else is there? You
don’t want to go to school, you obviously don’t want to model anymore—I found
that empty carton of ice cream in the trash, and another in the freezer—and you
don’t want to party. If not that, then what?”

She wasn’t sure. What she did
know was that she wanted out: away from the chaos and sharp smell of booze. She
wanted quiet against the insistent pump of the music.

Pierce appeared. After taking a
swig from a clear glass bottle sloshing with amber liquid, he pushed it into
her hands.

“There you are,” he said.

“He’s been waiting for you,”
London said in a sultry voice that wasn’t altogether innocent. Just then, Nels
tugged her down onto his lap. Like jellyfish, they absorbed each other as if
they were alone in the room.

Baskia suddenly felt foolish
standing on the couch and started to lower to the floor, but Pierce pulled her
into his firm chest, wrapping her leg around his waist. He nibbled on her neck,
working his way down to her blouse, and then tore it open with his teeth to
expose her chest. Pearly buttons flew in all directions.

Eyes scorched her lacy bra and
string of pearls with curiosity, but as Pierce pressed his lips into hers, the
combination of laughter, alcohol, and desire made her forget everything she’d
convinced herself that mattered because there was no
then what.

As she lay in her bed, satisfied,
Pierce excused himself to the bathroom. She picked up her phone, scrolling
through her social media updates before landing on a rare update from her
cousin Brighton posting a photo of herself, smiling—an even rarer
occurrence—and a famous and very attractive musician by her side. She dialed.

“That’s not who I think it, is
it?” Baskia asked when Brighton answered.

“That depends, who do you think
it is?” Baskia was used to her cousin’s smug and smart-alecky attitude.

“An infamous musician, though
last I heard he was being a very bad boy.”

“Are you drunk?” Brighton asked.

“You aren’t?”

“Come over, I’m having a party.”

Pierce appeared, still naked, and
lowered himself onto the bed. He kissed her, resulting in a moan.

“Sounds like it’s a party for
two,” Brighton said.

“You used to be up for anything:
clubbing, causing trouble…come on, there’s plenty to drink.”

“I’m not thirsty.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Have you ever asked yourself if
you’re having too much fun or what fun even means?” Brighton retorted.

“Well, the smile on your face in
that picture looks like you’ve got it figured out. What’s your secret?”

“Sleep. Baskia, it’s late. Why
don’t you go to sleep?” With that, she hung up.

They returned to the living room.
As the night wore on, the partygoers burned out, and Baskia’s mood soured. The
bubbles and viscous liquid in her stomach popped and gurgled, threatening
nausea. Everyone’s voice was too loud, too eager, too much. It was all just too
close. 

She extricated herself from the
spot on the couch next to Pierce, who’d passed out. She turned off the music
and stood in the beautiful ruins of what had been the luxurious apartment.
Someone had written love notes in rouge lipstick on the beige wall, the
stuffing of the couch frosted the nearby furniture like snow, thanks to
London’s childish dancing and bouncing while wearing heels. Evidence of alcohol
and drugs littered the room.

London appeared in the doorway. Her
eyes darted from corner to corner and face to face.

“Why’d you turn the music off?”
she asked, with an edge to her voice. “I was enjoying it.”

“No you weren’t, you were
enjoying me, now get back here,” Nels called from inside London’s room.

“I was into both, actually, but
Baskia, you’re such a downer. You don’t know how to have a good time. I was
wrong about you,” London said, sneering and stumbling over an empty case of
beer as she stepped nearer. “I thought you and I were going to make a great
team, but even though you try to slum it with people like me, you’re just as
rich and stuck up as ever. You want everything to be your way, as if having
money and all this stuff buys you that right.”

“What are you talking about?”
Baskia asked, taken aback.

“She doesn’t know what she’s
saying, come back in here,” Nels called to London with a laugh that sounded
like crumbling paper.

“Sure I do,” she said, rounding
on both of them. “Baskia has everything she wants handed to her, but she
doesn’t like to share. I do. Nels knows how to have a good time and he’s
generous.” She leaned over the coffee table. When she lifted her head, her eyes
bulged wide as if she saw everything and nothing at all.

“You’re taking this too far. My
parents might have money, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to judge me,”
Baskia said, stepping closer. She and met London’s eyes, fearlessly.

“What? And you don’t judge me all
the time like I’m your charity case, like you let me stay here, eat your food,
and drink your champagne because you feel bad for me? Listen, I made it in this
modeling world without your help, and I will continue to do just fine on my
own. I don’t need you.”

“I never said you did,” Baskia
countered, starting to turn back to her room.

“You know what I think? I think
you need to learn to appreciate the people and things in your life instead of
acting like you’re better than everyone else and like all your problems are
bigger and more important.”

“You’re all over the place. We’re
not on planet London, with everything orbiting around you. When you realize
we’re all here on earth, come find me. I’m going to bed.”

“Yeah. That’s right. Walk away;
just go when things get too hard to deal with. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“You know what Kate, I do care,”
Baskia said, sweeping back into the center of the room. “I think you’re getting
me mixed up with your life before we met. You need to get some help and figure
out who you are and where your priorities lie.”

“Spoken like someone who knows.”

“I appreciate what's been given
to me and I share, not because I feel bad for you, but because we were friends.
You just ended it. I’m tired of your attitude, you taking advantage of me, and
not listening to me about things that matter. You just hear what’s convenient
for you.”

London’s eyes grew cartoon-sized,
rimmed dark from lack of sleep and smudged eye makeup, like they were going to
burst. “No, I don’t listen to your whining. You and Mellie going on about all
your ‘problems.’ It’s a bunch of bullshit. You’re a bitch who does nothing but
bitch, just like your mother.”

Baskia bit her tongue to keep
herself from shouting,
At least I have one, and mine didn’t shoot everything
that was important into her veins and overdose
. Instead, she said, “You
should start packing. And you really need to get yourself together. Whatever
you’ve got going on here—” she gestured to London, “It’s not flattering.” 

“Oh yeah? Gladly. I don’t need
any more of this crap. You can’t control me. You don’t own me. You’re not my
mother,” London shouted, her eyes still bulging.

Baskia turned to Nels. “Go.”

“Whoa, I’ve been trying to help
her,” he said, lifting his arms in surrender, but his eyes showed the same lack
of depth evidenced in London’s.

“You can start by not giving her
drugs. Oh and I want my shoes back,” Baskia said, pointing to the Louboutins.

“Screw you,” London roared.

Before Baskia or anyone else
could stop her, she upended the coffee table, sending everything flying:
half-empty bottles of beer, glasses, and a glazed vase from Japan. She kicked
over a potted plant, and tore a print from the wall before sending it sailing
into a lamp. She threw each of the white high heels in opposite directions, one
nearly colliding with a glass display. Then she slammed the door behind her,
Nels in her wake.

On the couch, Pierce roused, apparently
having passed out. He shook his head. “What the hell was that?”

“That is how you have a temper
tantrum,” Baskia answered. She was horrified by what London had done, but
severing the ties to her parents’ ideal, forgetting the veil of perfection,
that's what she wanted so badly it burned her throat. The anger and frustration
that brewed within her begged for release, but she didn’t have the balls,
influenced by drugs and alcohol or not, to fully let go of her propriety.
Instead, she let it churn inside as she tried, fruitlessly, to make sense of
how she felt and why.

Pierce reached his hand out to
Baskia and pulled her onto the couch. “It’s probably time for me to go, but I’m
guessing this all has something to do with you starting college.”

“Something like that.”

“Just remember, you always have a
choice.” He stood and pecked her on either cheek. “Good luck.” Everyone who
hadn’t fled when the argument turned ugly departed with Pierce.

“I’ll need it,” Baskia muttered,
standing alone in the wreckage.

^^^

Baskia spent much of the day
sleeping, not caring if her mother showed up to find the disaster, empty
bottles, and ruined furniture. She hoped that when she woke up she and London
could smooth things over. The truth was, Baskia could be a snob at times, but
London also had unresolved issues with her family, namely her mother, sometimes
emerging when she drank too much. It was like she got wasted to ease the pain,
only it got louder and more unruly as she moved away from sobriety. Then again,
she understood all too well how it felt to be utterly confused.

Later, when Baskia wandered out
to the living room, she found the disaster room as she’d left it, but London’s
door hung open, her room all but empty. The bed was unmade, but the furnishings
were all there, if not a little worse for wear. Baskia scanned the empty space
for the crystal decanter, but moved back into the living room empty handed. That
was the least of her concerns.

Baskia sighed and began to clean
up, hoping movement would do for her head what the water, and aspirin, hadn’t.
She dumped the dregs in the bottoms of glass bottles down the drain, the smell
of alcohol turning her stomach. She retrieved the white studded heels and put
them in her room, not ever wanting to wear them again because of the tarnished
night imprinted on their soles.

As she set the coffee table
upright, she found the documents from Columbia; the distinguished font spread
across the top like an empty promise. She recalled the tension between her and Anne,
compounding the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. She flipped through
the glossy prospectus. The envelope for the bill from Vermont slipped out from
the bottom of the pile. She picked it up.

She still had a couple days
before the start of classes, never mind the stupid dinner her mother had
arranged. If her brother was going to the Cape then she could certainly afford
the time to leave town and straighten out her head. More than ever, she just
needed to get away. But if she went to the Cape, Will would badger her about
patching things up between her and their parents. She waved the bill in front
of her face like a fan, wishing to blow away on the wind like a dandelion seed.
The little green label for Green Mountain Plumbers caught her eye. Vermont
seemed just as good a place as any to escape—and she knew the plumbing worked.

Not making timely progress
cleaning the apartment, Baskia called the number on the card left by the
cleaning service. She resolved to pay for it and replace anything that was
broken. That was the best she could do for an apology.

She went to her room and started
packing, stuffing clothes in suitcases and slipping her shoes in bags. She
wasn’t ready, or willing, to move into a dorm, but she took everything with her
anyway, knowing the choice wasn’t really hers, despite what Pierce believed.

There would be no gap year for
Baskia. She wasn’t interested in travelling so much as just staying still for
once. If she could just press pause and figure out what she wanted and where
she wanted to be, she trusted that everything would turn out okay. But as it
was, she couldn’t do that, well except for a couple days. Something told her
that wouldn’t be enough.