Page 33 of The Artist's Rival
With this advice in mind, Tatiana takes a long, excruciatingly hot shower. She lets the weight of the day go from her shoulders, massaged by the water. She tries letting her thoughts flow freely, though quietly and gently. The dim bathroom light envelopes her figure, and for a moment, she feels comforted to be alone.
Laying down to sleep, her eyes water. To the beat of memories of Ellie’s laughter, she weeps herself to sleep.
12
ELLIE
Ellie packs for the trip lightly. She double-checks the train’s details, knowing how chaotic her friends are capable of getting. She has always been described as the “mother friend,” and whenever she isn’t the one to plan everything out, she’s certain it will go disastrously. She’s been recently trying to work on this impulse, though, which is partially why she agreed to go on the mountain trip. Besides, it offers a short escape from the city, a chance to reconnect with nature, and a chance to clear her thoughts. She nods, proud of herself for finally getting away from the recently suffocating city.
A few days ago, she got Tatiana’s email, which more than anything made her laugh. Then it made her cry, then it made her respond in that same, ridiculously casual, formal tone. The email exchange, really, was the deciding factor in her agreeing to the trip, she finally admits.
Fred and his fiancé, Thomas, opted out of it at the last moment, much to Ellie’s relief.
She rolls the last pair of socks and places them firmly in her backpack. There’s a certain levity included in not having to overthink her clothes, the unending choices made to contribute to a coherent image. In the mountains, everyone looks the same. Sweaty, muddy, wearing unflattering sportswear.
–
On her way to the station, Ellie soaks in the realization that she hasn’t seen most of these people for over a year. She fell out of touch with most due to work, their marriages and children, their routines that no longer fit Ellie in. The lack of anyone truly close to her makes the perspective both exciting and frightening, mostly because the group will have no context for her recent emotional state. The state in question has been fluctuating, mainly between Ellie feeling powerful and proud of her communication skills, heartbroken over losing Tatiana, and a strange mixture of both. A strange sense of preventability and futility of their argument, as if the issue could’ve been resolved. She hates feeling this way, usually the person who avoids arguments until they’re unavoidable and necessary. Was it the case?
Before the departure of her train, she decides to quickly call home and check up on her mother. Busy preparing the exhibition, she missed some of their weekly calls. Looking for a free parking spot, she waits on the line.
“Hey Mom,” she says, getting out of the car. “How have you been?”
“Oh hi, darling!” Her mother’s voice seems to betray a slight surprise, but she beams with happiness regardless. “You know, better and worse. The wonderful Mr. Keith is taking care of me, together with Dad, of course,” her mother’s tone sounds weak, but Ellie can swear that it’s stronger than the last time.
“That’s good to hear, Mom,” Ellie says, thinking that later she’ll email Keith to send over any relevant details. “How’s Dad doing?”
“Oh, he’s just outside, gardening. You know how focused he gets, cutting his flowers and whatnot,” her mother brightens up, “And how are you, is everything alright?”
Ellie looks at the departures board, having her mother’s voice in her earphones and texting the trip group chat simultaneously, nervous whether they’ll make it to the train.
“Ah, you know,” she sighs, “ups and downs. I need a break from the city; I’m going to the mountains for a few days with friends.”
“Have fun,” her mother responds, with a tinge of knowing in her voice.
“Listen, I called just to check up on you, but I need to run now, so bye and talk soon!”
“Bye bye, Sweetie.” Ellie hangs up.
Her friends are waiting on the platform. She turns her phone over and over in her hand, disappointed by the conversation with her mother. She knows that sometimes she calls to hear some soothing semblance of comfort in her mom’s voice, but she’s not a child anymore, for a long time she hasn’t been, and her mother more often than not cannot provide her with what she needs. Perhaps mountains will, she shrugs, making her way to the platform.
She soon finds that her friends’ jolly moods are not as infectious as she had wished. She begins sulking in her seat, unable to relate to their little stories and jokes. Understanding that something is clearly troubling her, her friends decide to give her space, which only ends up being alienating. Ellie feels stuck, listening to the train’s steady rhythm.
Once arrived, the group takes to hiking with no time to lose. Their hut is almost at the top of the mountain, and no one feels in the mood to hike in the dark. Giving herself over to her own body’s rhythm, Ellie finds solace for a while. She pays attention to her heart’s steady beating, her breathing strained—a witness to her efforts. The quiet crunch of leaves below her shoes reminds her of running laps around the forest as a teenager, her favorite way to deal with difficult feelings back then. First loves, first losses of friendships, first disappointments—she flows from memory to memory, face to face. Some are more faded than others, some left a significant mark, while others she thought would leave one didn’t. She laughs at herself a bit, how she thought then that relationships would get easier, when they really never did.
“Ellie, are you fine?” Anabelle calls to her, and she notices she’s been dragging behind the group. She quickens her step, determined to get to the hut soon.
Upon arriving at the beautifully hidden away hut, surrounded by trees, its foreground peppered with wide benches, Ellie feels relieved. She deposits her bag in the room, then gets out to get some fresh air and admire the dusk coming over the rich forest. Her friends stayed inside, chatting over pints of beer, tired and united in their hike.
Ellie looks at the burgeoning night sky, the hint of silver beginning by a multitude of stars. Stars she’s been missing ever since moving to the city. Their ancient glimmer has a soothing quality, but she doesn’t feel soothed. She realizes she feels full of sorrow.
This sorrow does not feel finite. It is not grief, she suspects; it is something still warm and buzzing. Tatiana’s words, on repeat in Ellie’s head throughout the day, felt insincere and wavering. They felt unfinished, tangled. Out of the sorrow emerges a faint thread of hope, hope perhaps best reinforced by a beer. She gets up from the bench and directs her steps inside, craving a drink. Her friends seem occupied with themselves, laughing at some joke told before she entered. She smiles at them and grabs a drink, leaves once more to sit enveloped by the grandeur of the landscape and the current of hope carrying her thoughts towards hurried solutions.
Before she realizes, she’s holding her phone, looking for Tatiana’s number. Before she has time to think, she’s calling.
And waiting.
Receiving no response. Only the cold, steady sound of a rejected connection.