Page 18 of My Favorite Bad Decision
I’m beginning to suspect I said a lot of things simply because I had the luxury to say them.
We’re served kebabs and a stew I’d politely decline if there were any other option. My sports bra and T-shirt—both damp with sweat—cling like a cold, wet rag in the chilly air.
Yet another thing I’d like to take back…the way I mouthed off to Miller about not needing his input. Because now I can’t change without proving him right.
“At two,” Gideon announces, standing at the head of the table, “we will hike up to acclimate. Then return to sleep here.”
Hike high, sleep low. This concept felt a lot more acceptable to me back when I was hearing it stated on YouTube. Now that I’m here, I’ve got to say I’m not a fan.
I get inside my tent and, giving up the last shred of my pride, strip out of my wet clothes and don a base layer. I’m sound asleep when the porters call to us an hour later to do our extra hike. I’d give almost anything to avoid going, except that would just make tomorrow more difficult in the thinner air. And it’s not as if Miller would let me get away with it anyhow.
I pull my clothes on and go out to join the group.
“Well, here’s the sleepy little straggler,” announces Gerald as I approach. “If we get caught in the rain, it’s on you.”
“You just got here thirty seconds ago yourself, Gerald,” says Alex.
“I’m moving a lot faster than she is, however,” Gerald replies, turning toward me. “I mean, I heard you and Miller on the bus. Did you even train? Because it’s not fair to the rest of us if you didn’t.”
I open my mouth, ready to tell him to fuck off when Miller steps up beside me.
“She’s a quarter of a century younger than you,” he growls, straightening to his full, towering height. It’s subtly done, but there’s no mistaking the quiet show of force, one that saysyou can stop or I’ll make you stop. “That’s all the training she needs.”
Of course, it’s partly his fault that Gerald is now getting on me about this—he’sthe one who’s been pointing out my failings publicly. But he also defended me and did it in a far less ruinous way than I would have.
I’m beginning to see why my dad forgave Miller. His ridiculous charms are even starting to work on me.
We begin to climb, boulder after boulder, and the mist hangs so heavy that it’s like walking through a fine shower. We keep going until we finally reach a flat plain of rocks. Below us, the tents look orderly and colorful while, up close, they’re chaotic and messy.
Much like life, then: pristine from a distance and messy and imperfect up close.
I wonder if that’s why Maren has idealized that summer she dated Miller—because it’s seen from afar. Because she’s forgotten all the insecurity she felt—all the moments of wondering why he didn’t call and worrying that he didn’t like her as much as she liked him. I remember them, but I guarantee she does not.
“I’m starting to wonder what we’re even going to see when we get to the top,” says Stacy, walking along beside me. It’s been a constant topic of conversation: what the weather will be like when we summit because we are two and a half days into this trip and haven’t seen Kilimanjaro once. It’s a lot of effort for something that is entirely dependent on chance.
I smile. “I guess I should say it’s about the journey, not the destination, or something like that, huh?”
“Well, honestly, it’s sort of true. Now that Alex is out of the house and Maddie’s away at college…getting them for a full week like this, all to ourselves, is a rarity. Of course”—she glances over her shoulder to make sure we’re not overheard—“between Alex’s obsession with you and Maddie’s crush on your friend, I’m not sure we’ve really got all that much of their attention here either.”
I guess that means Miller was right. And Maddie’s apparent crush doesn’t thrill me either. It’s a small pulse of irritation dead in the center of my chest. I’m tempted to warn her about Miller, but I don’t know why. Yes, he screwed my sister over, but that was ten years ago. A third of his life. I’ve changed a great deal since then, so I guess he could have too.
So if I don’t need to warn Maddie off, why the hell do I still want to do it?
On the way back, it begins to rain. We all quickly open our bags and drag out jackets before continuing on through the slippery mud. What was already not fun is now freaking miserable—our daypacks are waterlogged, the air is impossibly thin, and we’ve got to wipe rain out of our eyes every two seconds just so we can see the next steps in front of us.
Naturally, Gerald is glaring at me, as if my thirty-second delay made the difference.
The porters are still warning us to go “pole, pole” during the slick, muddy descent, but I’m hell-bent on not being last today.I refuse to give Gerald more ammunition and I?—
My feet slip. I flail wildly, trying to stop my fall, but there’s nothing to hold onto and I land hard, flat on my back. For a moment I lie there, too stunned to be embarrassed, my head throbbing.
“Ouch,” I whisper. Then: “Oh God.”
My hair. My fucking hair. No shower for another five days and the ground is slush beneath me. I’m going to be caked in mud for the rest of the trip.
Miller drops to his knees beside me, heedless of the mud he’s getting on himself too.
“Are you okay?” he demands, his brow furrowed. He almost gives the impression of someone who’s intensely worried.
