Page 113 of Free Fall
But will Dan be back at all?
I feel like I should have a stronger feeling about it all, some sort of sick dread or wild terror. Instead, I feel an almost deathly calm.
I shut the door, retreat to the bedroom, and pull on a t-shirt and a blue hoodie. I make eggs, but I don’t eat them. Muggs jumps up to the counter to try for a few bites.
I put him down on the floor and go to let Romeo back in before scraping the eggs into the cat bowls and putting the bowls on the floor for them to pounce on. I turn and stare through the windows at the Sierra-Nevadas outlined in the rosy glow of morning. The clock over the stove says it’s nearly seven now. I’m supposed to be at the preschool by eight-thirty, and I imagine myself there, singing songs with the kids, dancing, as Dan climbs—alone and ropeless—up Heart Route.
I’ve paid more attention to the route than he thinks. Studied the maps when I’m alone in the van. Even taken a peek at his notebooks, scanned his plans, his comments, his strategies, seeing no mention of me in his journals anywhere.
It was wrong to look. I’ve invaded his privacy. But I needed to know his chances in his own eyes.
He feels they’re mostly good. But when it comes to the cruxes, he’ll need to have a very good day. The best day of his life. In his notes, he said he’d wait until he felt a strong certainty that such a day was ahead. It seems like he must feel that way today.
How can a man know if he’s going to have the best day of his life in advance?
How can he be willing to risk not having a tomorrow here with me? With these dumb, finicky cats? To risk attaching his death so closely to the day of Peggy Jo’s new grandbaby’s birth? How selfish is that? How can he…
I rub my hands up and down my arms. The hoodie feels nubby against my palms.
Without much thought, I put on my coat, socks, and shoes, and grab my car keys. I don’t have a pair of binoculars, but I know that climber aficionado Tom Reed will be in the Meadow by eight in the morning to note and track the climbers on El Cap, and if I leave now, I’m sure he’ll let me use his telescope.
It’s not that I want to see Dan climbing.
It’s that I need to confirm for myself that he’sstillclimbing. That he’s on that wall, alive and well, breathing and sticking.
According to the app on my phone, the temperatures are supposed to remain low today, but the sun will start baking the upper part of the Heart Route before long, making it more treacherous and slippery. I’m not sure if I can stomach watching whatever’s left of the climb, but I know I can’t stomach sitting at home feeling dead, numb, and strange. I can’t go to the preschool and dance like nothing out of the ordinary is happening.
I have to go see for myself.
*
Dan
On the wall,ascending without the weight of gear or an audience, my senses dial in to the highest degree. My breath is like an ocean, rushing in and out with a heaving effortlessness that relaxes me. The wall of rock in front of me is huge, yes, but every inch of it seems perfectly outlined in my mind.
A hold that’s no wider than a matchbox edge seems enormous to me, plenty of stability to hang from. The nubs I rest my toes against appear giant and secure. Each movement is accurate and strong. A peace settles over me, and I can see every shadow and edge on the wall, and even the rock itself seems to breathe along with me.
I’m in the flow zone. It’s all easy.
I’measy.
I’m free.
This is the state of being I live for and nothing comes close to it…except being with Sejin. When I’m with him, I often feel high, and dizzy with affection and lust, but this hyperawareness on the rock is something different. A solitary journey. Me against the uncaring, blank surface, and my certainty that I will prevail. I feel like a superhero or a madman. I feel the truth of my place on earth—meaningless, pointless, a speck against the rock of this planet.
It’s freeing and beautiful.
This sensation lasts until I reach the dyno, and then as I steady myself, taking deep breaths, the hold seems like it’s just a hop away. An easy leap. As I soar through the air, time and space stretch out forever, and yet it’s only a moment. I grab the holds, and I’m safe. My spirits rise even higher. I’m invincible now. I can do this. I’mgoingto do this.
My certainty doesn’t waver as I approach the pitch leading to the roof of the Heart Formation. I feel strong enough, so certain that I decide to bypass the downclimb to the ledge for the rest stop Rye and I had agreed on. I don’t need it. Not today.
Instead, I start up toward the roof. A rock falls from above. I don’t know where it came from or what might have kicked it down, but it hits me in the face and I wince as pain explodes on my cheekbone.
Fuck.
Sweat breaks over me, but I’m not in a good position to chalk my fingers. A hot, slick sensation slides down my face, but I can’t risk letting go or touching it if it’s blood or sweat. It doesn’t matter anyway. I have to move on.
As I surge forward, another crumble of rock from above comes down. These are smaller pieces, more like clumps of dirtand gravel. Despite squeezing my eyes shut as soon as I hear the rocks popping off against the wall, some dust still gets in. I shout in reflexive pain and gravel pieces fall into my open mouth. I spit them out.