Page 129 of Free Heart
I nod.
“Good. I’m going to take my hand away, and I want you to look only at the boulder beneath us, and then, when it comes to getting on the wall to rap down, I want you to only look in front of you. Got it?”
I agree.
“I mean, typically, you should look down for safety, but for you…let’s not. Rye and Sailor have this from below, and I’ll be right there with you coming down the other rope. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I follow his instructions, and though I accidentally look to the ground way too many times, I do make it without puking. Feet firmly on the snowy forest floor, I hug Dan tightly.
“We did it, Doc,” he proclaims. “First day back on real rock. It feels good.”
I laugh because the last thing I feel isgoodabout my climb and the fallout from it, but Dan is so happy that I’m willing to call it good too.
Our little group is tired and cold and hungry after we hike out with all of our stuff. We stop at a Mexican restaurant to eat.As we fill up on chips and salsa and ponder the burrito offerings, Sailor says, “Hey, I apologize again for being such an asshole out there.”
“Didn’t know you apologized a first time,” Dan says.
I kick him. “Accepted.”
“You weren’t an asshole,” Rye reassures her, dipping a chip in salsa. “You were overwhelmed.”
“And that made you act like an asshole,” Dan concludes.
Rye rolls his eyes, but doesn’t actually disagree.
“Here’s the thing, though,” Sailor said. “Excuses like that only go so far. How I treat people—my uncle included—that’s on me. I’m too pushy, and too angry, and I really need to figure out a better way than melting down like that. Just know I’m working on it.”
“How?” Dan asks.
“Um…” Sailor frowns. “In my head, I guess.”
“Seems like you might need some help with that,” Rye suggests. “Have you considered therapy?”
“Or shrooms?” Dan offers. “I read a study recently that they’re great for the existential dread that comes with a terminal diagnosis. Or was that a TikTok I saw while I was laid up? I can’t remember.”
I kick him extra hard, and he turns to me. “It’s a good thing that’s not my bad leg.”
Sailor picks up another chip, dips it in the salsa, shoves it in her mouth and chews. We all do the same. Once she swallows, she says, “No, I haven’t done either, but maybe it’s time I do.”
The day ends with us all piling back into the car, burping from beans and rice. I don’t know if it’s everyone or just me, but I feel like there’s a shift in the air again. Yet another season is ahead.
It’s a season of rock, and sweat, and fear, and pushing through. A season of dealing with our crap. A season of apologies.
And, yes, a season for getting married.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Dan
February
Twenty weeks since free solo attempt
“So, what’s thedeal with the Dawn Wall?” I ask Lowell as we wait at the base of Westie Face for Sailor and Sejin to arrive.
Sailor had to work on some stuff for the YOSAR project, and Sejin had to work his job at Tater Tots. The kiddos are learning a new set of dances for the spring, and Sejin’s been having a blast all week working them out. Despite being busy this morning, they’re both coming out here to see me go up my first wall since the accident. In the same car, no less. Fingers crossed for that.
