Chapter 11
Liz. Liz. Liz.
There she was! Looking exactly as she always did: skin clean of makeup, eyes bright, hair tied neatly back, smiling.
They rushed at each other, hugging hard, cheekbones clashing, arms locked, laughing and kissing.
“You came!” Liz squealed.
“I did! And you’ve been smoking!” Joni said, breathing in cigarettes and laundry detergent. “Don’t tell me I missed Dr. Liz Wallace having a cigarette?” She drew back, patting down Liz’s pockets until she found a slim carton of cigarettes. “Busted!”
Liz laughed, head tipped back.
Joni flicked open the carton, plucked out two cigarettes, tucked one behind Liz’s ear and another behind her own. “You know you’re not allowed to smoke without me.”
“What are you doing here?” Liz cried. “What about the tour?”
“Over.”
“You had one more show.”
She loved how Liz kept up with her schedule, remembering which countries and arenas she was playing. She’d text, asking, How’s Helsinki? There’s an amazing portrait gallery on the waterfront if you’ve time to visit. Or, I saw you had sold out in Paris!
“I’m done. I needed out.”
Liz’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
How could she explain what her life looked like to Liz—or any of them?
She thought of the photo of them driving to the airport—There’s still time—and how she’d wanted to believe that there was.
She needed to pull herself free of the life she was living.
She wanted the clear, fresh beauty of the wilderness. A place to lose herself.
When she had stepped out onto the cold Berlin pavement, barefoot, a passing mother had recoiled, tightening her grip on her child’s hand—and Joni felt as if she’d been slapped.
She didn’t want to be the sort of person who made parents draw their children closer.
She took a taxi to the airport, stopping only to buy a pair of boots.
She’d washed her face in a sink with cold water and cheap hand soap, then walked to a check-in desk and booked the first flight to Bergen.
Waiting in the boarding lounge, hands shaking, head spinning with exhaustion, she’d texted Kai, her boyfriend and manager, telling him she was out.
She knew the explosion she was leaving behind.
The band wouldn’t forgive her. You don’t bail.
She was letting everyone down. She couldn’t even think about the fans who’d bought tickets months earlier, made plans to watch her perform.
But it was done. Over. She had nothing left in the tank.
Not a single piece of herself remaining that she could recognize.
“I need to decompress. I want to be here, Liz. I need my friends. I need you.” She reached forward and took Liz’s hands. “Can you sign me off? Write a doctor’s note? I’m still registered at your clinic. Say I’m exhausted, stressed. It’s all true.”
Liz looked concerned. “Of course.”
“Thank you,” Joni said, pulling Liz into a quick, tight hug, before releasing her. Then Joni grabbed the strap of her backpack and heaved it onto her shoulders. “Take me inside. I want to surprise the others!”
Liz interlaced her fingers with Joni’s, her wedding ring clashing against the silver skull Joni wore on her middle finger as Joni was drawn through the crowd.
The dining hall smelled of food and wood smoke.
People were dancing in front of a makeshift stage where a guy was strumming a guitar.
Joni apologized as the heft of her backpack forced the crowd to part.
Ahead, she spotted the others. Maggie, wearing a lemon dress, waves of auburn hair loose around her face, had her chin resting on her hand as she talked. Helena was opposite, leaning back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, raven-black hair cut bluntly to her chin, lipstick on.
Joni threw down her pack.
“Joni!” Maggie shrieked, launching to her feet, chair tipping over. She flung her arms around Joni.
“You are kidding!” Helena laughed, joining the hug.
They pulled Liz into the crush, too, and the four of them were hugging and squeezing and bouncing on the spot. Joni breathed in the herbal scent of Maggie’s shampoo, the expensive moisturizer Helena had worn for years, the clean laundry scent of Liz, and felt tears well in her eyes. This was home!
Maggie pulled back, breathless. “We didn’t think you were coming! What about the tour? Did Liz know?”
“I wanted to surprise you all!” Joni grinned. She reached out and touched Maggie’s cheek. “God, I’ve missed this face. You look so beautiful, you mama! How’s Phoebe?”
Maggie’s eyes sparkled. “She’s glorious!”
Joni turned to Helena. “And you! I love the fringe!”
Helena’s dark bob had barely been touched for years and now a blunt fringe ran squarely across her forehead.
“Hides the frown lines,” Helena said.
Joni reached for Liz’s hand. “You organized this. Norway! Like our geography project! D’you remember? We’re here, just like we said.” She felt an explosion of happiness in her chest. It was so delicious, so golden and rare, that the precise beauty of it almost winded her.
Her gaze fell on the map on the table. “Is this us? Which mountain are we climbing?”
Helena and Maggie looked at one another. Said nothing.
“What? That’s what we’re doing, right?”
Maggie kept her gaze lowered.
Joni said, “I just bought up an entire outdoors store. Please tell me we’re climbing a fucking mountain?”
Helena, eyes on Maggie, asked, “Mags?”
Slowly, Maggie lifted her head. Then her face split into a grin. “Okay, we’re climbing a big fucking mountain!”
Liz laughed with something that sounded like relief. Then she began explaining the route they were taking, pointing to places they might camp. They talked over one another in a rush of enthusiasm.
Joni found her attention being pulled toward the bar, where bottles of spirits glistened on a rack. “First up, I’m getting a round in!” She slipped away from the others.
“What can I get you?” the barmaid asked.
“A bottle of champagne, please. And a double shot of vodka.”
“Champagne?” the barmaid said with a raised brow. “We don’t get asked for that every day.”
“Anything with a cork will do! Whatever you’ve got.”
The vodka arrived first. Joni tipped it back with a grimace, wiping her mouth on her hand.
The barmaid produced a bottle of dusty champagne. As she placed it in an ice bucket, she glanced at Joni from the corners of her eyes. “I know you. You are in that band, yes? My son listens. Horse Fly.”
Joni wanted to say, You don’t know me. You don’t know that when I sing, those lyrics are empty. Or that the only things I ask for in my rider are vodka and chips. Or that when a kid says to me, “I want to be like you!” I want to grip them by the shoulders and say, “No. You don’t!”
“That’s me!” Joni answered, giving a dazzling smile. Then she hooked an arm around the ice bucket, slotted her fingers through the stems of the champagne flutes, black nail varnish flashing, and returned to the table.
The others were still grinning, laughing, pulling over a fourth chair.
“Champagne!” Maggie exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
She caught the roll of Helena’s eyes. Flashy? Is that what she thought?
Joni popped the cork and filled their glasses, champagne frothing over the rims, dripping onto the map, a patch of the trail distorting beneath the fizz of bubbles.
She raised her glass high into the air. “Here’s to being together—and losing ourselves in the wilderness!”