I met a kindred spirit today. I was perched on a wall outside the union when I saw a cute brunette round the corner. She had on glasses and a knit sweater the color of merlot. She smiled and said something to me and I pulled down my headphones.
"Two pieces of chocolate for a cigarette," she said. I could tell I was dealing with a professional.
"Don't worry about the chocolate," said I, chivalrous as always. She was delighted I smoked Camels and plopped the two miniature candy bars down next to me.
"Thank you," she said.
"Very welcome, and thank you," I said.
As she walked off she called out "Happy Halloween!"
"You too!" I called back. I slid my headphones back on as "Brown Eyed Girl" started playing. I looked down at my pre-halloween treats, and saw that I had a Hershey's milk chocolate, and the piece de resistance, a special dark chocolate. I looked up and watched her round the corner of the medical sciences building.
((Not really a finished piece, but eh...something to play with I guess.))
The cold wind wrapped around his body, pelting him with stray dots of ice and snow. It bit deep, passing through his coat and gloves as if they weren’t even there. His hands clenched tightly around the haft of the ice axe he had sunk deep into the side of the mountain. His feet shifted inside of his boots slightly, digging the steel teeth of his crampons in. Thirty feet below him his friend swung on a rope tethering them together, shifting helplessly in the wind. He risked a short glance over his shoulder. The sun was still just rising on the second day of their expedition to the summit and slowly threw streams of golden light across the snow encrusted landscape. It filtered around smaller, lesser mountains and expansive valleys, creating deep shadows on the landscape. It was almost impossible to tear his eyes from. There was a slightly shift of ice under his left foot that drug him unwillingly back to the task at hand. He repositioned it and slammed the crampons back against the surface of the ice with a grunt.
“Hang on, John,” he said to himself, “Just keep hanging on.”
-
“Well isn’t it a wreck in here?” Mary said as she entered the garage.
“When was it ever not?” said John, tossing an empty box towards the trash can. Spread out on the garage floor in place of his red sedan were metal loops, carabineers, nylon rope and other random bits.
“Those are looking a bit dusty,” said Mary.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to have to replace a few of the ice screws too”
“Oh yeah? With who’s money?
“Yours, of course.”
“Uh huh. Come on Birthday Boy, you can play with your toys later. Right now we’ve got reservations.”
John gave one last look at the pile of equipment scattered on the floor. Years spent touring in the Alps and the Sawtooths had given him a formidable collection. A job and a family had led to that collection’s current state of affairs. He reached into the mess of metal and nylon and pulled out his old climbing axe. He felt the balance of it in his hand and eyed the teeth that lined its long narrow beak. He smiled at the familiar feel.
“Alright. I’ll get changed,” he said.
-
The axe held true. Now polished and sharpened, it stuck deep within the ice. Neither wind nor weight would budge it.
-
John could hear the phone ringing, but he wasn’t sure from where. He often swore that “the damn thing has legs!” but could never prove that it wasn’t just his absentmindedness. Papers started flying in his office, stacks of junk mail got tossed by the handful in the hopes of releasing the phone from its snow colored tomb. Sadly, John had chosen the wrong spot to dig. He stood there cursing with his hands on his hips as he looked around. The phone continued to call out to him. He leaned his head back to scream when he caught a glimmer of shiny black plastic peeking out from under old newspapers on top of the filing cabinet. He snatched it up and answered the call.
“Yes?”
“Hey John, try not to sound so happy.”
“Oh shit, hey Allen, how’s it going?”
“Not too bad, just got back home from the coast, figured I’d give you a call and wish you Happy Birthday. How old does that make you now? Fifty-five?”
“Thanks, you jackass,” John laughed, “you’ve still got a few years on me.”
“Two, not a few. But, as far as a present goes, how would you feel about making another trip?”
“Well…that all depends. You wanting to go back to Ol’ Smokey?”
“I was thinking a bit more south by southwest…”
John pursed his lips. He stood there for a moment, tapping his foot against the hardwood below it. “You know we’re not that young anymore, right?” he said.
“Yeah,” Allen said, “but we’re not as stupid anymore either. Well, I’m not at least.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Not by you.”
“So…When are we going?”
-
The axe held true. John shifted his hands on the haft and alternatingly clenched his fists around it, willing blood back into them.
-
The red sedan turned onto the interstate, Led Zeppelin pouring out of the radio. They reached cruising speed quickly. The setting sun in the rearview mirror silhouetted the trees lining the road, turning the world behind them black and gold. Mary sat smiling and watching the scenery pass. Wildflowers were just starting to blossom along the median and shoulders, creating a soft yellow carpet that travelled along beside them.
“A hard rocking attorney and his wife out for a night on the town,” she mused.
“Classy Italian restaurants beware. I’ve got the money, and the style.”
Mary snorted and reached over to adjust his collar. “You wish.”
“Hey, a man can dream…about many things,” he retorted with a wink.
“Oh Lord, Save me from this lecherous man,” Mary said. Zeppelin faded out and the radio switched over to AC/DC as if on cue. A laugh escaped both their lips.
“Request denied, apparently,” he said.
“So when are you and Allen traipsing off to the wilderness?”
“He was thinking next January, give us some time to get back into shape.”
“He must have gotten the pictures I sent for Christmas.”
John put a hand to his chest and gasped. “Why I never!”
Mary laughed and rested her hand on his shoulder, a smirk spreading over her face. “I’ll just reap the rewards in the meantime,” she said.
“Oh Lord,…”
-
The axe held true. The sun continued to rise. John could feel his arms start to burn from the effort. He tentatively let go of the axe with one hand to see what would happen to his balance. He felt confident with it, and slowly began using his free hand to work another screw into the ice.
“Steady, steady, steady,” he whispered to the cold winds.
-
A week later, John was wishing he hadn’t found the phone this time. His daughter, who had always been insistent and quite often a pain in the ass, was finishing up her final year at law school. This career choice had only help strengthen the aforementioned qualities.
“Dad, are you seriously going out to Eleanor again?” Jen asked.
“Jen, calm down, Allen and I are doing it right this time.”
“You’re forty seven, that’s well beyond mountain climbing age.”
“Excuse me, young lady?”
“Yeah, young, exactly. I thought you’d put all that crap behind you.”
“Mountains never fade, and neither does the spirit to conquer them.”
“Yeah, I thought that would have been shattered along with your leg. Dad…please don’t do this…”
“Look, we’re going prepared this time. Jen, we’re not that old, and we’re more than capable of taking care of ourselves. It’s just going to be a four day trip.”
“Dad, four days is enough to put anyone in the hospital. I don’t want to visit you there again, and I sure as hell don’t want to have to take care of you.”
“I’m not now, nor am I ever going to be one of the geriatrics whose kids have to take care of them. I’ll leave that part up to your mother.”
“…I’m telling.” He could almost hear the pout in her voice.
“Can’t prove it. Where’s the evidence?”
-
The axe held true. The sun was growing higher still. An almost unnatural warmth spread across John’s back as the rays cascaded onto his shoulders. His free hand worked with his secondary axe, trying his hardest to chip out a hole in the ice for him to set the screw into. He felt his balance change. He stopped and readjusted his footing. He looked down the rope attached to his belt and saw Allen, turning in the wind.
-
The months passed quickly. John set to the task of reconditioning like a rabid dog. Jen still called, sometimes pleading, sometimes demanding. She called her mother one day and asked her to do something, anything that would make him give up on going back out to Eleanor. They both knew John was called by the mountains, by the cold, crisp air and the view of a world where nothing’s as tall as you are.
“Why aren’t you more upset about this?” asked Jen.
“You can’t change that in a person, dear. And even if you could, you’d be making them someone they’re not,” said Mary.
“Mom…I just want him to be alright”
“Oh he’s better than alright,” Mary chuckled.
“Mom…gross…”
-
The axe held true. The screw was finally set into place, deep within the wall of ice. John secured himself to it with a carabineer and let go of his axe, his weight settled completely on his feet. His arms burned from exhaustion. He looked back over his shoulder, taking in the brilliantly lit scenery. A gamut of colors ran the expanse to the horizon. The sun slipped behind the clouds, having barely entered the world long enough to grace the men on the mountain with its respite of hope. The wind picked back up.
-
“Hey bud!” John said as he embraced Allen, their snow gear creaking along with their movements. “You made it.”
“Of course I made it, it was my goddamn idea.”
“True, true,” John said, turning towards the mountain. His eyes traced up its expansive slopes. It loomed over them like a living behemoth, swelling with energy and danger. His breath was caught in his chest. The wind blew down the mountainside and hit him full force in the face, bringing cold, stinging tears to his eyes. A long plane ride across half the country, a three hour drive over bumpy, snow covered terrain in a rented SUV, and here he was, smelling the breath of his beloved and estranged Eleanor. His eyes shifted up the face of the mountain to the rocky outcropping where snow could not manage to cling. His legs moaned in recognition. Allen had managed to belay him down after his legs had shattered against the rock. Had there been snow, or had they climbed up further, it would have been fatal to them both. Small luck amidst tragedy saved them, and they had both hung up their axes and boots. John smiled at Allen as they both shared the moment, closing their eyes and tilting their faces up towards the summit.
“We ready for this?” asked Allen.
John nodded in agreement.
“Up together, down together, right?”
“Right.”
And with that they started crunching through the snow leading up to the mountain.
-
The axe held true. The structural integrity of ice can be an amazing thing. The axe was buried only an inch into the ice and it had supported two bodies and all attached equipment. There was no groan from the wall, no sign of slippage or cracking. John rested on his toes. Two carabineers were attached to the ice screw now. He looked down the rope again to the man spinning slowly in the wind. Allen had not been so lucky. An entire day had passed without incident. The ice had held and the weather had been clear. Allen had been climbing ahead, sinking his axe and screws into the ice methodically, securing, checking and rechecking their protection to make sure everything went smoothly. Then he hit the soft ice, without knowing, without thinking, and had put his weight on his axe handles. They ripped out of the wall and sent him plummeting in a shower of ice and terror. The first screw ripped out cleanly, leaving its threading behind. The second and third screws followed suit, their designs failing their purpose. John had only seen Allen fall just in time to brace himself, to sink his axe into the wall as far as it would allow him to.
His head tucked against the wall, Allen fell past, hitting his head on an irregular outcropping with a sickening “thuck.” The rope slipped over John’s shoulder and ripped the pack from his back as Allen reached the end of the cord. The nylon gave and stretched, tugging on the fourth screw. John had yet to unhook himself, and the screw had held long enough for him to work his body around the rope. Allen fell two more feet and the screw made a perfectly pitched “ping” as it shot out from the ice and caught John right in the stomach. He yelled in pain as he almost fell. Both hands clutched to the axe handle as he lost his balance.
Now he sat, supported by a single screw and his crampons. His eyes shifted from the distant peak, to the horizon, and back to Allen. Again they had failed to conquer Eleanor, to make her kneel and give up the prize of her expansive view. The sun came back out from behind the clouds, and spread its wintery warmth over the face of the mountain. Attached to the body at the end of the rope, he wouldn’t be able to make it down. He wouldn’t make it home to Mary, to see Jen graduate. Regardless of what happened, he would never get another call from Allen. The decision was clear in his mind, and he began to loop rope around the front teeth of his left crampon. He gave Allen one last look, seeing his body spin on the winding rope. He bit his lip and began to move his foot back and forth in a sawing motion, never taking his eyes off of his friend.
He heard Eleanor groan. The sun had begun to shine brightly. John looked up, and saw a crack forming just below his axe, still stuck in the ice wall. What little warmth the sun gave off had managed to be too much for the mountain. It could not abide a sudden early spring. John watched the crack slowly spread and unwrapped the rope from his foot. Eleanor knew the rules. John and Allen had known the rules.
John’s lips parted slowly as he whispered down to his friend.
“Up together, down together.”
Eleanor shuddered, shucking off the ice wall from her body, sending the two men falling, falling, all the way down.
