Page 101 of My Favorite Bad Decision
Reluctantly, I smile. “Simply being the only person there who hasn’t been camping for weeks on end will probably be fantastic enough.”
“Nonetheless, Mom got you an appointment with Geoffrey after we’re done here, and Elsa will be at your apartment on Friday night after you’re home to give you a spray tan and do your nails.”
They can’t begin to imagine what rough shape everyone at base camp is in now, nor how ridiculous I’ll look with a fresh spray tan and French tips. But I love Maren too much to complain. She’s the only person alive who could have taken the cards I’ve dealt her and handled them with such grace.
Yes, there were a few awkward dinners at first, but it didn’t take long for the weirdness of me dating Maren’s ex to dissipate. There’s nothing wistful in her face when she looks at Miller and half the time, she treats him like an annoying kid brother. There’ssomethingshe isn’t telling me, but I suspect it has nothing to do with Miller. She’ll share it when she’s ready, I suppose.
“Okay,” I reply. “I guess I don’t mind having a spray tan and fresh highlights before I sleep in a tent for seven more days.”
We place our order and I reach for the sweating bottle of Perrier in front of me.
“How’s it going?” Maren asks. “Have you talked to him?”
My hand tightens around the bottle. “Yesterday. Now he’s climbing up to camp three to acclimate.”
“Is any of that dangerous?”
I exhale heavily. “All of it is dangerous.” There’s the altitude, avalanches, blizzards. And they’ve got to go over the icefall—the divide between two glaciers, which Miller will cross using aladder—anytime they ascend from or descendtobase camp.
“Then you definitely need to reward him by looking like a million bucks when you arrive,” says Maren. “I’ll even loan you my red lipstick.”
I laugh. “You’re just baiting me at this point.”
* * *
I flyto Charlottesville with freshly cut and highlighted hair, which probably doesn’t convince anyone that I’m going to make a very committed medical student, but does look good. The exams are surprisingly easy. Easier, even, than they were when I was in school. I’ve had months to study, first of all, but I think I also spent so many days replaying memories of what I was doing when I should have been saving Rob that half the information imprinted itself on my brain. Reviewing for the exam was a lot like encountering a friend you went to war with—it was painful, but I hadn’t forgotten much.
When it’s behind me, I board one flight after another until I arrive in Kathmandu, where I shower in the club lounge and then fly to Lukla. From there, I catch a helicopter to the base rather than climbing for eight days. The cost is insane, but my father was thrilled to cover it. He now refers to Miller asthe child I never had—when I pointed out how insulting this is, he doubled down by explaining that Miller is kind like Maren and interesting like me, which didn’t improve matters as it implied Maren and I were still found lacking.
As we take off, my heart speeds up. It’s not nerves…I’m simply desperate to lay eyes on him and press my face to what is, at this point, an undoubtedly filthy parka. Unfortunately, I won’t see him right away as he’s climbing down from Camp Two today, but at least once he’s slept for a solid twelve hours, we’ll have a very happy reunion.
We take off over the lower elevations, which are still several thousand feet above sea level. From the air, the ground looks like massive piles of dirt, with tiny blue marbles at their base. They are actually mountains, and the puddles are lakes, but it’s all relative here. They’re so much smaller than the summit and the peaks surrounding it that it’s hard to believe they’re anything at all.
Soon, we are approaching Everest. The mountains rise around us on three sides, snow-glazed and intimidatingly huge, and we bank right toward a long sweep of snow-covered slope. In the distance, there are tiny, colorful dots in yellow and blue and red: the tents of base camp.
I’m so excited that I’m sick with it.
Sherpas are waiting on the ground to direct the helicopter and help me carry my stuff in. But one of the men standing down there is a foot taller than the rest, wearing a familiar yellow jacket and the widest smile.
Miller. I have no idea how he could possibly be here already, but he is, and we’ve barely touched down before I’m jumping out the door and running to him.
He scoops me up, burying his face in my hair. “God, I’m so glad to see you.”
I want to ask how he’s here, why he’s so clean-shaven, why he isn’t resting in his tent if he got down the mountain early. As always, with Miller, there are too many goddamned things to say.
“Your face,” is all I get out, tears running down my cheeks as I press a palm to his jaw.
His grin is bashful, dimpled. “I didn’t want to rub you raw the second you landed.”
I go on my toes and kiss him. “My face would have survived.”
“It wasn’t just yourfaceI was worried about, Kitten,” he growls against my ear.
Ohhhhh. “There will be none of that,” I tell him. “You need to rest.”
“Don’t you think I deserve a small reward for getting through stage two?”
I smile. It seems like more of a reward forme, but I’m not about to refuse twice.
