Chapter 21
It isn’t until I’m staring up Blackrock Ridge, with its sharp edges and towering peaks, that I realize I’ve made another error in judgment by agreeing to this excursion.
It’s hard to say no when people are paying you to be agreeable, to provide a service, to smile and say “Of course, I’d love to,” even if that means riding in a tiny airplane piloted by the groom or taking photos in the middle of a three-day bluegrass festival or climbing a cliffside.
“Ready to saddle up?” Bo asks, handing me a helmet.
“I should probably stay on solid ground today,” I reason.
Although this trip might not reflect it, I do learn from my mistakes, and after yesterday’s fiasco, bringing my camera into another danger zone isn’t something I’m comfortable with.
“It’ll be fine,” Derrick says, strapping into his harness. “You came all the way out here, you might as well experience what Wyoming has to offer.”
“I can’t really climb with my camera bag,” I say, hoping the excuse will be enough to placate him. But Derrick seems to have an answer for that as well.
“Bo will look after it for you, right, man?”
“Yes, ma’am. It won’t leave my sight.” Bo holds out his arms as if he’s about to cradle a newborn baby.
Even though I don’t have much faith in the man, I take off my bag and hand it over.
It’s a caramel-honey color, the leather conditioned and smooth.
With thick stitching and precise craftmanship, the piece should last a lifetime, or at least longer than the cheap bags I’m accustomed to.
Hudson always suggested that I invest in a better bag, one that didn’t have plastic buckles that would break off and scratch my skin, or zippers that would stick.
I’m sure he picked this bag carefully, with its brass hardware and suede detailing just for me.
That he put thought into choosing a bag that would serve me just as well as I served it.
I can’t deny that my mind ruminated on what he might have to say to me the entire ride here. If he’d shower me with excuses or find words that would make me consider forgiveness. The scenarios linger in my mind as I move forward in line.
Grant is standing in front of me, shifting his weight from side to side.
Before Phoebe’s wedding, getting grooms to open up to me was one of my crowning achievements.
I’d gone so far as reading up on a handful of topics to connect with them: from NCAA basketball to top-charting video games, Marvel movies, and even the future of crypto.
And it worked. After a few carefully timed comments I’d have them relaxed enough to crack jokes and enjoy their time in front of the camera.
But now, since Phoebe’s wedding, a layer of fear hangs over every interaction.
“All that energy for the cliff or for the wedding tomorrow?” I ask, doing my best to honor the assignment I was sent here to do.
“The wedding for sure.” Grant stares down at me, stretching his arm over his head, completely unfazed by the bodies scaling the cliffside.
“I don’t know, that’s pretty high off the ground there,” I say, watching the climbers scale up ahead of us.
“Yeah, but once I get to the top, it’ll be over.
I’ll know the course. It’ll never change.
But with Meredith, I’m going to spend the rest of my life getting to know her.
We’re going to keep evolving and changing, becoming new people, and I’m ready for that.
Of continuously getting to fall in love with her. ”
The sentiment is endearing but after enduring so much change these last few months, I want something permanent.
A dedicated partner to drink coffee and watch bad TV with, someone who will always laugh at my jokes, and who knows when I need a hug at the end of the day.
A person I can depend on. A person who won’t change their mind about me.
“I don’t think Meredith told me the story of how you two met,” I say as we watch the next group begin their ascent up the mountain.
Typically, this was the first thing I learned about a couple. The first question on my contact form. But since Meredith called me directly, I’m clueless as to the specifics. Just another reminder of how far I’ve let our friendship slide these past few years.
“Labor Day party at my dad’s house,” he states. “Hudson brought Katherine, and she brought Meredith.”
“You’re stepbrothers, right?” I ask, piecing the family tree together.
“Yeah, my dad married his mom when I was nine.”
“You must be close then?”
“Not really,” Grant mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “He stayed with us a few summers, but then he went off and did camps with his dad. I don’t blame him really. I’d choose travel over being stuck at our house.”
I can hear the pain behind his words, and I can’t determine if it’s jealousy or anger seeping through.
“But Meredith and Katherine are best friends?”
“Yeah. They try to get us to double date but it’s more awkward than fun.
I’m not saying I hate the guy or anything, but Hudson and I, we’re just different.
And you know how sibling relationships can be.
You act like dicks to each other and then you move on.
But I think I took it too far a few times, and Hudson never got over it. ”
I can’t imagine anyone being mean to Hudson without cause. Hell, even I’m struggling to keep up my own cold shoulder and I have a valid reason. I want to ask about their relationship, to gain more insight into who Hudson really is as a person, but Bo interrupts our conversation.
“Alright, Majestic group, you’re up!” he says, instructing us to gather at the base of the cliff.
“Think fast,” Derrick says, tossing me a small bag that covers me in a white powder.
“What the—?” I ask, dropping it onto the ground, and clapping my hands together to expel the residue.
“Chalk,” he explains, picking up the bag. “It helps with grip.”
“Cool,” I reply, as if grip is going to be my biggest problem.
“I’ve done this hundreds of times,” Jocelyn assures me, sensing my hesitation. “You go up, you come down. Easy peasy.”
“I think we have different definitions of easy,” I say, readjusting my helmet. I’ve never been one to shy away from new experiences, but lately I’m more hesitant of my decision-making abilities.
“Make sure these are tight,” Derrick says, helping me adjust the straps of my harness. His hands linger a second longer than necessary as he tightens them around my waist and thighs. “I’m part of a rock-climbing gym back in Charlotte and this is nothing. And I’ll be behind you the whole way.”
I bet you will, I think to myself as I watch him check out my ass for the umpteenth time this afternoon.
“You just gotta find your footing,” Derrick explains, effortlessly leaping into the air and grabbing hold of the first rock he touches.
“Footing. Sure,” I mumble, moving my boot up off the ground and against the coarse rock, kicking myself for agreeing to this.
Luckily, the course is color-coded. Little green-and-blue markings symbolize easy-access areas, yellow and purple are intermediate, and red and orange are hard.
Jocelyn is already a quarter way up the ridge, as I attempt to move towards the first green rock.
I barely make it to the second marker before my foot slips, and I slide down to the ground, skinning my knee.
The rock is rough against my skin as I use my limited upper-body strength to try again.
I assumed that carrying all that camera equipment on my shoulders would have made me stronger, but all it seems to have given me is lower back pain.
Harnessing the power of my legs, I push myself to the next marker, and then the next, until I’m a quarter of the way up.
“See, you got this,” Derrick cheers from above, as I slowly continue climbing.
My muscles are on fire, and my skin is peeling off every time my shin collides with rock, but I keep going, determined to make it to the top. I’m just passing the three-quarter marker when I feel my boot slip.
I try to hold on, but my grip is weak, and I free-fall downwards.
The harness prevents me from careening into the ground below, but the force of it takes my breath away.
I don’t even notice that I’m swinging back towards the cliff face until my knee smacks against it, ripping the already thin skin to shreds.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I hiss, trying to steady my breathing back into a normal rhythm, as blood streams down my leg.
Shock and calm fight one another as I glance down and see Hudson bypassing the line to secure himself to the rope.
“Mira, hold on, okay? I’m going to come and get you.”
I wish I could tell him to fuck off, but it seems that my mouth is incapable of making any sound other than a frightened whimper as I watch him climb up to me with the speed and agility of an Olympic athlete.
“Are you okay?” he asks, once he reaches me, worry etched across his face.
“My knee is fucked,” I say, exposing the trail of blood running down my leg.
“I’m going to get you down from here, but to do that I have to attach your clip to mine,” he assures me, as a protective hand makes its way to the small of my back.
His green eyes find mine, tranquil like a Pacific Northwest forest, and staring into them I forget that I’m dangling from the side of a cliff as he reaches for my rope.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I ask, watching him clip his carabiner to mine. His fingers trail down my spine, firm yet gentle, and my heart starts pounding for another reason besides fear. He must feel it, the rapid thumping against his chest, because he moves a hand to my face.
“You can trust me,” he says, his tone reassuring. And yet the word presses the bruise in my heart.
“You’ve proven the opposite, actually.”
“I know,” he breathes, regret softening his features. “But no matter how you feel about me right now, I need you to know that I’ve done this hundreds of times. And I promise I will get you to the bottom safely.”