Page 3 of Free Fall
“You don’t want to do what you love? Paid for by a company with nothing to lose but cash? And your picture splashed over a major advertisement for some teenager to see and be inspired by?”
I shake my head. “The last thing I want is teenagers looking up to me.”
“Why? You looked up to Alex when you were younger. That’s what started all this, remember?”
“Of course, I do. But this ismyjourney. Mine. It’s important that I keep it that way.”
“I know you’re fiercely protective of your climbing experience,” Peggy Jo says. “But I don’t understand. Climbing should be a communal thing. You make it as private and solitary as you can. Where did I go wrong?”
She uses her arm still around my shoulder to shake me slightly. “I got you into this to give you community and friends, and you just…” She throws up her free hand.
I extricate myself from her hug. “I’ll make more friends when I’m finished achieving my goals.”
“You’ll never be finished, so you’ll never have any friends.”
“You act like no one likes me,” I say. “I havesomefriends.”
“Who?” She tilts her head, a dare in her eyes as if I’m lying.
“I have you, and Lowell, and Rye.” I count out three fingers. “And I’m on speaking terms with plenty of climbers. It’s not like they shun me. I’ve even climbed with some of the bigger names a couple of times.”
I haven’t climbed with Alex Honnold, though. The worst thing I can imagine is getting to know the guy. There’s no way he’ll be everything I want him to be, and I’d rather not be disappointed. I know enough from his books, interviews, and thedocumentaries and clips I’ve seen of him anyway. That’s all I ever need to know.
When I was younger, I mapped out my own career based on his. I’ve already done most of his documented North American climbs except for some of his harder free solos. I’m not sure why I feel the need to best him at least once, to do something evenhehasn’t tried.
But I do.
Peggy Jo sighs. “Lowell isn’t a friend; he’s a search and rescue ranger who helped you when you got hurt.”
“He gets coffee with me sometimes.”
“And Rye isn’t at your level.”
“He doesn’t need to be. He’s a good belayer.”
Rye has a lot of room to grow as a climber, sure, but Peggy Jo shouldn’t be so hard on him. I hope she isn’t coming down on Rye for the reason most people judge him, because I really want to think better of my mother-figure and mentor. But old people are set in their ways, including ignorant ones and, as I’ve mentioned, Peggy Jo is getting old. There’s no ignoring that fact.
“You’re so alone, and you don’t even know it.” She sounds sad, and I don’t get it. If I want to be alone, why does it bother her? “When’s the last time you were with someone? Someone you cared about?”
I snort. “Uh, never? I never care about the people I get with.”
I saypeoplebecause, technically, I’m bisexual, but really, at this point, functionally, it’s just men. I avoid sleeping with women because…
Well, there are a lot of reasons.
One, I live out of my converted van, and most women lose interest in even a quick screw as soon as they figure that out. Two, it’s not fair—or even true, maybe—but I assume women are looking for a relationship, and I’m not interested in one. Three, women are…well…
Peggy Jo will say I need therapy if she ever finds out, which she won’t, but fucking women makes me feel sad inside. I can’t explain it. When it’s over and done with, I just feel like weeping, and I hate that. Maybe it’s because of my childhood and how messed up it was. I really can’t say. But anticipating the post-coital fallout is a real mood-killer every damn time. Also, women don’t like it when you cry after screwing them. Men probably don’t either, but it doesn’t happen with them.
Besides, I really like how men fuck. It’s hard, fast, and there’s almost no expectations built in around it. It’s typically good enough, even when it’s bad, and hardly any guys want to stick around after. It’s just golden gravy on top of delicious biscuits that I never find myself crying afterward or lying there with a grinding pit in my stomach and a hole burning in my heart.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’swomenwho are the problem. Women are great. Obviously, the problem is me.
“Hookups can only go so far in building a life, Dan.”
“I don’t want to build a life. I want to free solo Heart Route.”
Peggy Jo takes a swig from her water. “Until you complete that, nothing else matters to you, does it? Much less a relationship.”