go.”
“Okay.” I say it so softly I’m sure he can’t hear.
“Less than a minute,” he promises.
I grip with all the force in my being. I think of my angels again, like I’m taking off on a plane.
Hold me here,
I ask.
Hold me on this earth.
I think of my grandfather and my father and my cousin. I imagine their hands on my back, pressing me into the mountainside. Suddenly, I feel light.
“Jane, you’re going to have to cut the rope. I can’t get the right angle from here.”
His hand comes down holding the knife out for me and I reach out and grab it with my right hand.
“You can do this,” he says. I can’t even spare the energy to answer him.
The line is taut and firm. I push my toes into their hold and jam my left hand as firmly into its hold as I can. I grip the knife and lay the serrated edge against the rope and begin to saw. I am literally pressing my head into the side of the mountain as I saw, trying to keep the rest of my body as still as possible. The blade is sharp, and even though the rope is made to resist fraying, the knife makes its way through. As I near the final threads, I regrip just before snapping the line completely.
It snaps and my weight shifts more than I expect it to. For a second, I wobble. The wind hits me at the same moment and my left foot shifts a millimeter. Reflexively, I thrash out with my right hand and drop the knife. I pull with both hands and cat scratch with my feet, trying to find grounding. I look down and see my boots, the wall, and then one hundred feet of void.
“Grab my hand! Grab my hand!”
I hear Paul shouting. I look to my right and there it is, maybe a foot away. My left hand starts to slip and I flail with my right, over to Paul’s, and we grasp just as my left slips free. I’m dangling by one arm over the cliff. Paul’s massive hand grips me, but we are suspended in mid-air. All his strength holds me but can’t seem to move me up and over.
“Your feet, Jane, get a foothold!”
But my feet are a foot from the wall, swinging wildly in the air. My left hand reaches up and finds a tiny landing on the top of the ledge. I pull as hard as I can, and suddenly, together, Paul and I begin to win the battle. I feel my body moving inch by inch. Paul is screaming like a wild beast, giving everything he has. And then my chest hits the edge and I throw my right leg up and over, landing and rolling onto the ledge.
I let out a scream and pound the ground. I feel like my heart might explode out of my chest, it’s throbbing so hard. Paul moves over and rolls me over and wraps his arm around me as tightly as he can. When my ears stop ringing, I realize he is whispering to me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
I sob, thinking how close I came to dying, and to pulling Paul over that cliff with me. We lie there for a few moments, just holding each other and catching our breath.
“I dropped the knife,” I finally say.
“I know. You couldn’t have done anything else.”
He looks at the overhang above us and he smiles. “That’s okay. We finally caught a break.”
Chapter 23
S tanding on this tiny ledge, staring up at the inverted overhang that I can’t imagine a champion climber ascending, never mind the physically challenged like myself, I am flooded with joy. It comes as I discover for myself that the inverted overhang is split into two distinct pieces of rock.
“You’re thinking we can climb through the crack rather than around and over.”
“You’ll stand on my shoulders and then I’ll push your feet up until you can find a grip and pull yourself up,” Paul instructs as he scans the crevice. His attention snaps back at me when I don’t respond. “Okay?” I nod.
“What happens after?” I ask.
“You’ll pull me up or something,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”
“‘Or something’ sounds like a great plan,” I say.
“It’s worked so far.”
I don’t know how he lives like this. Planless. Instinctive. It
“Okay.” I say it so softly I’m sure he can’t hear.
“Less than a minute,” he promises.
I grip with all the force in my being. I think of my angels again, like I’m taking off on a plane.
Hold me here,
I ask.
Hold me on this earth.
I think of my grandfather and my father and my cousin. I imagine their hands on my back, pressing me into the mountainside. Suddenly, I feel light.
“Jane, you’re going to have to cut the rope. I can’t get the right angle from here.”
His hand comes down holding the knife out for me and I reach out and grab it with my right hand.
“You can do this,” he says. I can’t even spare the energy to answer him.
The line is taut and firm. I push my toes into their hold and jam my left hand as firmly into its hold as I can. I grip the knife and lay the serrated edge against the rope and begin to saw. I am literally pressing my head into the side of the mountain as I saw, trying to keep the rest of my body as still as possible. The blade is sharp, and even though the rope is made to resist fraying, the knife makes its way through. As I near the final threads, I regrip just before snapping the line completely.
It snaps and my weight shifts more than I expect it to. For a second, I wobble. The wind hits me at the same moment and my left foot shifts a millimeter. Reflexively, I thrash out with my right hand and drop the knife. I pull with both hands and cat scratch with my feet, trying to find grounding. I look down and see my boots, the wall, and then one hundred feet of void.
“Grab my hand! Grab my hand!”
I hear Paul shouting. I look to my right and there it is, maybe a foot away. My left hand starts to slip and I flail with my right, over to Paul’s, and we grasp just as my left slips free. I’m dangling by one arm over the cliff. Paul’s massive hand grips me, but we are suspended in mid-air. All his strength holds me but can’t seem to move me up and over.
“Your feet, Jane, get a foothold!”
But my feet are a foot from the wall, swinging wildly in the air. My left hand reaches up and finds a tiny landing on the top of the ledge. I pull as hard as I can, and suddenly, together, Paul and I begin to win the battle. I feel my body moving inch by inch. Paul is screaming like a wild beast, giving everything he has. And then my chest hits the edge and I throw my right leg up and over, landing and rolling onto the ledge.
I let out a scream and pound the ground. I feel like my heart might explode out of my chest, it’s throbbing so hard. Paul moves over and rolls me over and wraps his arm around me as tightly as he can. When my ears stop ringing, I realize he is whispering to me.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”
I sob, thinking how close I came to dying, and to pulling Paul over that cliff with me. We lie there for a few moments, just holding each other and catching our breath.
“I dropped the knife,” I finally say.
“I know. You couldn’t have done anything else.”
He looks at the overhang above us and he smiles. “That’s okay. We finally caught a break.”
Chapter 23
S tanding on this tiny ledge, staring up at the inverted overhang that I can’t imagine a champion climber ascending, never mind the physically challenged like myself, I am flooded with joy. It comes as I discover for myself that the inverted overhang is split into two distinct pieces of rock.
“You’re thinking we can climb through the crack rather than around and over.”
“You’ll stand on my shoulders and then I’ll push your feet up until you can find a grip and pull yourself up,” Paul instructs as he scans the crevice. His attention snaps back at me when I don’t respond. “Okay?” I nod.
“What happens after?” I ask.
“You’ll pull me up or something,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”
“‘Or something’ sounds like a great plan,” I say.
“It’s worked so far.”
I don’t know how he lives like this. Planless. Instinctive. It
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