“Jordan!” I scream. “Paul!”
There’s no running here, on the cracked and death-trapped ice, and no oxygen to scream above the wind. But Paul and Finjo arrive as I crouch, trying to understand what’s happened. Finjo pushes me away and puts an oxygen mask over Jordan’s face. Jordan groans around the mask. My heart slows slightly. He’s awake.
“He will be fine. You should keep climbing with Dawa. We will bring him down to the med tent.”
I stare at him, unsure what he means. Keep climbing? I don’t even know if Jordan is conscious. Before I can answer, Tate is here, gasping.
“What the hell? Dad? DAD?” His face is a mask of horror.
Jordan groans a little louder and tries to sit up.
Paul puts an arm around Tate, but Tate stands like he’s made of rock. “He’s going to be okay. They’re getting him down to the doctor right now.”
Jordan’s trying to get up now, and Finjo and Asha are on either side of him, supporting him. I stand too but don’t move, unsure.
“Finjo, I think we’d prefer to go down with you and see how Jordan’s doing,” Paul says, his doctor voice calm and reassuring.
Finjo frowns slightly but nods, distracted by the work of keeping Jordan upright.
“It is as you wish, though you will need to return here tomorrow. No matter what, you must keep training.”
I stare at the ice around me, watching Jordan struggle to move down the mountain. Next to me, Tate is silent, his face still frozen.
When we get down to the med tent, a friendly Canadian named Dr. Celina tells us that Jordan’s suffering from acute mountain sickness, where the body reacts to reduced oxygen with hangover or flu-like symptoms. The best treatment and the only way to avoid it growing worse—and potentially life-threatening—is to descend to lower altitudes. So he needs to head down to the clinic in Pheriche, immediately. It is decided that Bishal will bring him down. After a heated discussion with Finjo, Tate insists on going with them, and thirty minutes later he hugs me so hard that I can’t catch my breath, then they’re disappearing into the fog.
* * *
—
Base Camp without Tate is Base Camp unplugged, no energy, no warmth, no heat. Even though they will be back in a few days, everything feels different, wrong. As though to make sure I notice the wrongness of it all, bad weather has blown in, snow squalls and wind and the screaming and groaning of ice moving in the Icefall. I spend the night alone in our tent, unable to sleep, wondering how it all changed so fast.
At least in the main tent, I am just another person, lost in the noise and bustle. There Luc and Yoon Su and the Sherpas congregate, playing music, checking email, dealing up the Uno cards. When I walk in, the brightness almost chases away the Dread. Almost.
“You want to join me for something hot?” Luc calls from the table. He’s sprawled on two chairs, his giant down parka thrown on a third. He waggles his eyebrows. “I mean tea, of course.”
I roll my eyes but walk over. Luc’s casual flirting seems as foreign here as it would in a bomb shelter, but he has continued with his signature banter as though we’re all at a party.
“Tea sounds great,” I say, sliding in next to him.
Yoon Su is over at the computers, madly typing. She is still live-blogging the expedition for her students back home, and I wonder what she’s writing, how she can put a positive, kid-friendly spin on this combination of grueling training and endless downtime. My notes to Mami have gotten shorter and shorter, often just a string of emojis with the video attached. I can’t capture how I feel about this place, and I’ve given up trying. The waiting feels endless.
As though reading my mind, Luc speaks. “I do not like all this waiting around. The brain, it starts to go in circles, and…” He makes a gesture like he wants to sweep away all his thoughts. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “When I climb, my brain quiets, but now, when we sit around, there is no escape.”
I nod. “Can you write to Amelie, at least? Is she excited for you to come home?”
At this he looks more cheerful. “She is missing me terribly, she says! Which is good news, yes?”
“Definitely!” I high-five him, and we sip our tea in silence—or, at least, I’m silent, while Luc talks on about Amelie’s most recent email, how he promised her climbing lessons in the Alps this summer, and where he will take her to “dazzle her with my skills.” My mind stays stuck on the computer. I haven’t checked email since that first day, haven’t responded to Dad’s good-news email that felt more like a grim reminder of how much Mami’s lost, haven’t told them about Jordan’s collapse. I comfort myself knowing that they would call Finjo’s satellite phone if they really needed to reach me, but the thought is sour and ugly. Cowardly Rose, chewing on her tail and hiding behind a smitten Frenchman.
Standing abruptly, I head over to the computers. “Be right back,” I say to Luc.
Logging in to my email, I stare at the names filling my inbox: notes from friends and family wishing me good luck, emails from Yale with logistics and details about my housing for next year, junk from stores and bands I love. And one from Mami. My heart stutters, anxiety and excitement warring in my chest, and I have to blink back tears—stupid, Waterworks Rose—just seeing her name. In some ways it’s even worse than I imagined, being here without her. She is the one I want to follow so that I can be led, confident and sure that my strong always-climbing monkey mama will guide me through the Icefall, up the Western Cwm, all the way up to the summit. But that wish is useless, a wasted wish, not worth birthday candles or shooting stars or lost eyelashes. Better to save the wishes for what might come true: a safe climb. Me and Tate at the summit. Mami strong enough to travel to Kathmandu. A reunion with Mami and Dad where I tell them all about it, watch the pride and excitement blaze in their eyes.
I open the email.
Rosalita, you must be at Base Camp already. So exciting! Who knows when you will read this, since I don’t believe all those stories about cushy Base Camp tents with computers and movie screens. If I know you, you are missing food from home more than anything! Know that I am cooking up a storm already, freezing it all so you can return and have everything your sweet heart desires—
I stop reading to blink back tears.
I feel fine and much steadier. The medication is super helpful! And I love having exercises to do. You know me—I am always best when faced with a challenge. It is hard not to be with you, but I am okay. I promise.
Anyway, my love, I don’t want you to worry. Focus on the climb ahead, and remember that you are STRONG, WISE, AND BRAVE. You can do anything. Be safe, mi cariño.
Besos—Mami
I stare at the email so hard that my eyes could be lasers, beaming through the monitor tubes and wires, across the miles and the oceans and straight into her brain. It sounds so much like her that the missing threatens to swallow me. At least, unlike Dad, she’s not pretending her slog on a treadmill is something to be happy about. And she does love a challenge. But the scope of what she has lost—of what we have lost—makes me dizzy. She should be here. And the unfairness of it undoes me. Never mind the unfairness of the Sherpas who died on the Icefall or of the poverty all around me. Those greater injustices should matter more than my problems, but I can’t move beyond Mami. I feel like a toddler, stomping my feet and screaming NOT FAIR. I am stuck.
My fingers hover over the keys, but I don’t know what to write. Cowardly Rose, indeed. Before I can write anything, Finjo bursts in, the door banging and slamming behind him.
“Okay, attention, everyone! This storm is more serious than we thought. It is nothing to worry about. But we will halt all preparations for now.” He looks around.
He catches Yoon Su’s eye and anticipates her question. “Once the weather clears, we will have to wait for them to go back up and finish setting up the high camps, it is true. But there is no rushing th
e weather here. We all must wait until the mountain offers us a chance. IF it offers us that chance. As you know, there are no guarantees.”
Yoon Su sighs so loudly we can hear her over the wind flapping outside. “I heard that some other expeditions are continuing to set up,” she says.
Finjo frowns. “They make their own choices, but I do not risk the lives of our staff because someone is in a hurry.” When Yoon Su stays quiet, he continues. “For now you can rest, write letters, try to eat as much as you can, and wait out the storm. That is all you can do, so you might as well enjoy it.” He heads over to the cooking area and starts muttering with Ang Pasang.
Paul comes over. “It’s wild out there. Even walking across Base Camp, I can barely see anything.” He shakes his head. “I’m glad Jordan got down before the weather hit.” He squeezes my shoulder. “He’ll be fine, Rosie. Descending and getting to the clinic is the best thing that he can do. And you know Jordan! He’s going to be fighting this infection with everything he’s got.”
I nod. “Sure. I know. It’s just…weird being here without him and Tate. And the storm, it’s so loud…” I let my voice trail off. Really what I feel is far away from everyone and everything that keeps me grounded, keeps me safe. But I don’t know how to tell him that. I clear my throat. “It’s all going to be fine, though, right? I mean, the weather, the Sherpas, Tate and Jordan…It’s all going to come together. Isn’t it?”
Paul’s arm is heavy and comforting, but his words—spoken in his quiet, honest voice—don’t reassure me. “I hope so, but we don’t really know, do we?” he says. “There are so many variables that go into these expeditions, and we control almost none of them. But I’ll tell you something. I’d rather we find the problems down here than up above the death zone. As bad as it is to imagine it all falling apart, this is the best place for that to happen.”
I want to agree, but the thought that we have come so far, worked so hard and it might end before it begins makes me almost physically sick. My mind flashes back to the day Mami came home from the doctor’s, newly diagnosed with MS, the dream dying in real time in her eyes and voice as she told us. Before that day, Everest was another item on the to-do list—an exciting one for sure, but I was following Tate and Jordan and most of all Mami’s dream. They wanted it so much, all I had to do was keep up. But now…Now I’m so close, and I want this more than I ever imagined.
I blink back tears. It’s not over. It can’t be.
“How can you be so calm about it?” I ask.
Paul smiles. “A lot of practice. I don’t know if I ever told you, but Drew and I had some pretty intense discussions before I signed on for this trip. He’s never been crazy about my climbing, but he knows how important it is to me. And before we got married, I told him that I thought big trips were a thing of my past—that I’d keep climbing locally but that I had gotten the big peaks out of my system.” He sighs. “And then I got this chance at Everest.”
I look up. “Was he mad?” I’ve met Drew a few times, and he’s cool, a little older and nerdier than Paul but pretty easygoing.
Paul rolls his eyes. “You could say that. He accused me of being selfish, reminded me that it wasn’t just my life I was gambling with. You know we’re on the waiting list to adopt, right? He asked point-blank if I loved climbing more than him. I said, no, of course not, but then…” He trails off.
“But then here you are,” I finish.
“Yup. And we’re okay. I mean, we talked more, and I told him how careful I would be, how I would limit my risks and do absolutely everything in my power to come home safely. So I left with his blessing, sort of. And in convincing him, I managed to convince myself that I’m okay with whatever happens, that if we don’t get to summit, it’s still all good. But right now that feels like total BS. I want a shot at this mountain so badly that I think I’d leave right now if Finjo let me.” He grins, lightening the mood. “So I guess it’s a good thing we’re paying him to make smart decisions for us.”
He squeezes me and lets me go. “But it’s not over yet, Rosie. Not by a long shot.”
As though to prove him right, Yoon Su charges up. “So. I talked to Cameron in the weather tent—”
Cameron is our weather god, the one who monitors all the computer models and satellites and tells us what’s happening. It’s not surprising that Yoon Su has become fast friends with him.
“Anyway, he tells me this storm will blow out within a few days and we should have clear weather coming in. ‘Perfect Everest weather,’ he calls it. So Rose, wipe that sad-girl look off your face! We’ll be climbing again straightaway!”
Paul and I both smile, but we must look unconvinced, not enough grit and drive and push for Yoon Su because she flashes her fast smile and pretend-shakes me.
“Hello? Is Miss Rose there? We’re climbing tomorrow! Get ready, girl!”
This time my smile is real. It’s not over. Not yet.
Chapter Twenty-One:
Tate
April 23–26
Pheriche
14,300 feet above sea level
Pheriche’s still cold and grim, but the lower altitude and perks at the clinic make it feel like a spa. Dad’s hooked back up to an O2 monitor, with Bo changing out his drugs yet again. Me, I’m chilling out, trying to forget the sight of him crumpled on the ground, the shotgun crack of the ice shifting above and below me, the fucking constant terror that’s been flooding my brain for the past few days at Base Camp that I’m only noticing now that it’s gone. Trying to forget the way panic wrapped around my neck like a rope when I saw him lying there. Being down here, away from the mountain, is like someone stepped off my chest, letting me breathe again. And I realize: there is absolutely no fucking way I can do this.
It was easy to leave. Dr. Celina’s cool and funny and seems like someone you’d meet surfing or at a beach barbecue, except for the fact she’s a high-altitude specialist and the most senior doctor at Base Camp. But there was nothing chill about her when she ordered Dad to get down to Pheriche, for the lower altitude and the medical clinic, right away. Dad didn’t even argue with her, which is how I knew he was seriously wrecked. He nodded like that was the most he could manage and closed his eyes again. It wasn’t even something I thought about, staying up there. I told Finjo I was leaving, that I didn’t want my dad to be alone, and after arguing for a minute, he agreed, saying that, with my level of acclimatization and fitness, I could miss a few climbs. I didn’t bother to tell him I wouldn’t be back.
It was so simple to walk away.
But Rose…Rose looked lost, and I wanted so fucking badly to tell her to come with us, to get off this deadly and miserable chunk of ice, but I know she wouldn’t. I wanted to tell her not to worry, that I’d be back soon and we’d be chasing our dream up the mountain in no time, but I didn’t say that either. I grabbed her and hugged her goodbye. And said nothing.
“You’ll…Jordan will be fine, right? And you guys will be back in a few days?” Her words were muffled into my neck, and I pretended not to hear them. I just held her tighter, whispering to her to be safe, to take care.
Then I left her there.
* * *
—
Physically, I’m great. Dr. Bo calls me an absolute unit because I’ve barely lost any weight and my oxygen levels are strong. In theory I’m the ideal candidate to try for the summit. In theory I should be back up at Base Camp, getting ready. In theory I should be with Rose. But I stay.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I mean, our whole lives are only built on luck and timing and good instincts—my ice axes caught in the crevasse in Rainier, Dad didn’t collapse anywhere too dangerous on the Icefall, there are a thousand near misses I’ve already survived—so why can’t I do this? I’m fine, which means I should do this; I should climb, gear up, and take my spot next to Rose. Back up. Back through the Icefall, again and again, until
we push farther up, into the death zone, past the bodies of climbers who died there and were left behind.
And yeah, Maya might have been the driver of this whole plan, but I was so there with her, so ready to claim bragging rights on the tallest mountain in the world. Before my fall on Rainier, it never occurred to me not to want to climb it, not even when friends told us we were nuts or we watched those hard-ass documentaries where someone’s nose freezes off and shit. Even then, I wanted this.
But not anymore. I know, know deep in my core, that I will die if I try this. It’s not me being dramatic, it’s a fact. There are so many ways to fuck up on a climb like this, but having your head in the wrong space is a sure one. The panic that swallowed me whole on the Icefall will wait until we’re in the death zone, until there’s nothing to do but keep pushing to stay alive, and then it’ll show up and play with me like a cat with a mouse until it decides to chew me up and spit me out.
It’s over. I know it’s over.
* * *
—
For three days Dad’s been resting and getting stronger, and I’m in limbo. I spend most of the time walking through the village and toward the mountains, then turning around and walking back again. Bo and Dad think I’m training, making sure not to lose my edge before heading back up to Base Camp.
I don’t say anything.
I know I need to tell Dad I can’t climb, but the words won’t come. Even thinking about it makes my mouth dry and my gut clench, and I do everything I can to avoid eye contact, avoid conversation. The hours and days slide by, and I stay silent, knowing that a shitstorm of epic proportions is closing in, inevitable.
And finally it hits. Bo and I are in the main room of the clinic, discussing whether the NCAA is a bullshit league or not, when Dad walks in.
Above All Else Page 14