Page 26 of Free Fall #1

I don’t know why I believe him, but I do.

I mean, this is a madman we’re talking about, a person who climbs enormous rock walls without ropes and is planning to do so on El Cap.

Why do I trust that I’m safe with him? I don’t know.

Maybe it’s because of how he’s been during our hookups—so careful to get my consent, so caring about my pleasure—I don’t know. But I do trust him.

I take Dan’s free hand and let him lead me across the grass, guide me over rocks, past standing water, and around uneven ground.

In front of us is a moonlit, granite dome.

It shines in the darkness, along with the other rock formations and mountains around us, like something brought from the surface of the moon.

It’s massive. Or at least it seems so to me.

Intellectually, I know, given the size of other domes and towers in this glacier-carved land, this particular one isn’t that impressive.

In fact, during the day, Leenie and Martin have climbed up the less steep side while I watched the kids down below.

But the side Dan is leading me toward is sheer and tall, and my head falls back to take it in as we approach.

I’m beginning to suspect what he has in those bags.

We’ve walked in mostly silence so far, but as he draws me up to the base of the wall, I say, “I hope you don’t think I’m going to climb that thing.”

“Well, I brought the gear in case you wanted to,” he says, patting the bigger bag he’s got hoisted over his right arm.

“And I’ve got the top rope already in place.

” He gestures at the wall. “But if, after we talk about it, you decide you’d rather not, we can always hike up the back side for our starlight picnic. ” He indicates his backpack.

“What’s there to talk about? I’m afraid of heights.”

“You said it was the exposure that really gets to you.” He motions around.

“It’s dark, and it’s only going to get darker.

The moon won’t rise more than it already has, and it’s going to trend back toward the horizon soon enough.

” He indicates where it’s already dipping again.

“Then it’ll be really dark. You won’t be able to see anything except the wall just ahead of you.

And this wall is, I promise, some of the easiest climbing around.

Kids do it. Old people. Total beginners.

I could do this wall in my sleep. It’ll only take about thirty or forty minutes for you, tops.

Probably less. I know you don’t really know me as a climber yet, but you can trust me.

We’re going to do this in the safest way possible. ”

“In the dark.”

“Yup.”

“Isn’t it safer in daylight?”

Dan reaches out and touches my chin with the tips of his fingers, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. “I’d never let anything happen to you, Doc.”

“Because you haven’t seen that smile?”

He grins, the light from my headlamp bouncing off his teeth. “Yeah. And I can think of a few other reasons.”

I hesitate. As the moon drifts down into the nest of trees at the horizon, it’s growing darker and darker.

I can barely see a few yards away now and that’s only because the light of the moon is reflecting off the white granite of the wall.

My belly swoops, but when I meet Dan’s gaze, I just can’t say no.

He’s looking at me so seriously, like when he talked to Jeremiah earlier, with a gentleness that makes my heart leap.

His thumb still moves against my cheek, and I feel each hot swipe of it as pure reassurance.

It’s not a dare. He’s not challenging me to do this for bragging rights or to push my limits and see how much he can get away with when it comes to me and my boundaries.

I can tell that from his expression alone.

There’s nothing smug in his face right now.

Just a hopeful warmth that makes me want to say yes, that makes me want to lean forward and kiss his mouth.

Admittedly, I don’t know why he wants to climb this allegedly infantile wall with me, but it’s clear that he does, and I know enough about climbing to know I’ll probably be perfectly safe doing it.

Well, as perfectly safe as anything can be.

I’m much more likely to have been injured or killed riding on the motorcycle than doing this.

He knows it.

I know it.

I want to say yes. It doesn’t make sense that I want to impress him by badly doing something he could do in his sleep, and yet that’s my hope. I want him to know I’m not the kind of guy to say no unreasonably. I’m not a coward, and this situation…

I don’t think this situation is a no.

But it’s not a yes. Not quite yet.

“Why do you want me to climb this with you?”

“I love climbing, and I want to share it with you.” He points up. “At the top, I’ve already stashed a bag with everything we need to camp: sleeping bags, a portable stove, and dinner.”

He moves his thumb on my cheek again, and this time I do lean forward and kiss him.

He drops the bigger bag and tugs me flush to his body.

We waste a few good minutes of moonlight tasting each other’s mouths and getting way too aroused for our own good.

I’m just about to drop to my knees and offer to suck him off when he pulls away and puts both hands on my shoulders.

“Sejin,” he says breathlessly. “Are we gonna climb or not?”

“We’re gonna climb.” Seeing that wide slash of a smile illuminating the escalating darkness, I feel in my gut I’ve made the right choice.

*

Dan

Sejin is a good sport about the climb. It’s too bad he’s afraid of heights because he’s a natural at it, really. Maybe night climbing can become a sport of its own because he doesn’t seem at all frightened once he’s up on the wall with darkness stretching out behind him.

“It’s not bad,” he says cheerfully, reaching up for the next obvious hold. “I can’t even see the ground. For all I can tell by looking, it’s just a few feet down.”

It’s not even a high climb. A pitch’s length and that’s about it.

It’d taken about thirty minutes to get him set up with the ropes, to review how it works—which wasn’t hard since he’d bouldered some bigger rocks before—and then I’d taken lead.

The moon had fully set by then, and now he really only has the rock in front of him, lit by the lamp I’ve attached to his head, and a few feet of darkness all around to worry about.

“You’re doing great,” I call down to him.

I’m at the top now, feet hanging over, waiting for him to join me.

“Thanks,” he grunts, tugging himself up to the next hold. “I feel good.”

When he emerges at the top, he looks good too.

His eyes are shining, and his skin is glowing with exertion.

The grin on his face is what takes my breath away, though.

It’s so close to the one in that photo I’m obsessed with.

There’s pride, joy, fun, and laughter there, but even though his eyes are the right shape, and his mouth is too, there’s something missing.

I can’t say exactly what, but I suspect it’s what Peggy Jo mentioned.

I’m afraid the missing ingredient might be love.

That’s a bitter pill.

He doesn’t love me. He never will. That’s the way it is.

I may have to admit that I’ll never achieve this particular goal.

It could turn out that seeing Sejin’s special smile directed at me is more impossible than sending Heart Route could ever be.

But hopeless as it is, it won’t kill me to keep trying.

Maybe love isn’t the missing ingredient.

Maybe I can still discover the recipe. It’s not like free soloing. One misstep won’t kill me.

I try not to let these thoughts deflate my pleasure because Sejin is actually, for real, grinning at me right now, and it’s clear he’s having a really good time.

“Wow, that was awesome,” he says, collapsing next to me. “I did it.”

“You did.”

We both turn off our headlamps and just rest a minute. Sejin lightly pants beside me, catching his breath, both of us gazing out into the darkness where the trees below are just even darker shadows, and the sky above is pitch black with bright pricks of light from the stars.

It’s magical and kind of lonely with just us up here. But that doesn’t make it silent. The night noises of the forest below drift to us on the wind. I listen and lean back on my elbows, the hard granite digging in.

Sejin’s stomach growls and it’s remarkably loud. We both laugh.

I stand up, offering him a hand. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime.”

Using the pulley, I haul the bigger bag up from below and tug it safely up onto the top of the granite dome with us. I turn my headlamp back on and seek out a good location far from any edges and go about setting up camp.

Sejin helps, and it quickly becomes obvious that he’s not a total newbie at camping.

“Yeah, I was a Boy Scout,” Sejin says, helping me gather twigs to get the portable woodburning camp stove started. Once it’s lit, the golden glow from the fire illuminates his features and gives us enough light to organize our things and begin to prepare for dinner.

Suddenly Sejin slaps himself on the leg.

“Damn mosquitos,” he mutters. He slaps himself again. And a third time.

I again indicate the bag I’d stashed at the top earlier in the day.

“In there. There’s a rechargeable lantern-bug-zapper combo-thingy.”

Sejin hums as he sets it up a slight distance from the camp, drawing the bugs away from us. The first zap sounds, and he pumps his fist. “Yes. Die, fucker.”

I smirk as I start cooking our meal. Nothing fancy, just some canned spicy vegetarian chili, but I know from experience it’s plenty tasty, especially when camping.

There’s something primally comforting in spooning hot, spicy food into your mouth while taking in the pitiless stars, so cold and distant.

Or maybe that’s just me, but I can’t imagine Sejin is going to complain. He doesn’t seem like the fussy sort.