* * *
—
We have been at EBC for almost three weeks. Tate has been gone longer than he was here, and I wonder: Was he a dream? Were we together, was that real, or did I imagine that we kissed each other, held each other, touched each other like we were explorers traveling sacred paths? It is only at night when I can’t sleep and the wind pulls and bends at my tent that I let my mind drift to him. Otherwise, he is as distant to me as California. During the day, when I am reminded of him, because everything reminds me, I force myself to think about the next day’s climb. I think about standing at the top.
With my phone dead, it’s easy to stop filming, stop capturing every moment for Mami. I log in to the camp computer and send one email, telling her and Dad that I broke my phone and that it’s too hard to get online on the shared computer, so they should follow the official expedition blog, which updates in real time. Then I log out. I stop charging my GoPro, sick of fighting the cold to keep it alive for more than a few minutes in the wind. It’s easier this way.
Each morning we leave before sunrise to minimize the dangers of being on the Icefall in the heat of the day. Here, the temperatures swing from well below freezing to over eighty degrees within a few hours. When the sun peeks over the mountains on the Icefall, it is blindingly beautiful—and scorching.
In between climbs we rest. Today’s another rest day, and Yoon Su is zipped into her tent back at Base Camp. The winds have picked up again, making weird howling noises through the fabric. I stick my head in. Yoon Su is writing furiously.
“Do you want to go and see if the guys will play Uno?” I ask. I’m restless, unable to read anything or write anyone. I don’t think of writing Tate, because there isn’t anything to say. I don’t want to be this angry. But I am.
Yoon Su looks up briefly and shakes her head. “No, thank you. I will finish writing this, then try to rest.” She bows her head back to the paper and continues to scribble.
Yoon Su is disappearing in front of my eyes. She wasn’t very big when we got here, and her appetite, like mine, is down to nothing. I try one more time.
“Why don’t we go into the dining tent at least? You can write there, on the computer, and we can get some tea. And try to eat something.”
Yoon Su throws her hands in the air, looking annoyed. I flinch.
“Would you leave off! I need to finish this. It is for my family, not the blog. I need to concentrate! You go. I’ll meet you there, I promise.”
Embarrassed, I pull on my mittens and head out into the wind. Base Camp is mostly hidden in swirling snow, orange and red and blue tents disappearing and reappearing as the gusts swing the flakes around. Even though there are hundreds of people here, I can’t help feeling like it’s the loneliest place on Earth.
Chapter Twenty-Three:
Tate
April 25–May 9
Pheriche
14,300 feet above sea level
Pheriche is now my home away from home. I’ll be here for the foreseeable future, mostly because I have nowhere else to go.
After my word vomit at the clinic, I ran until I got to the lodge and avoided Dad’s attempts to talk by locking my door and plugging into my iPod. In the morning we faced each other, stone-faced and silent, over shitty instant coffee and oatmeal.
Of course, Jordan Russo didn’t give up easily. He offered up a few different variations of “I’m sorry that I got so frustrated. Parents get frustrated too, you know.” Followed by “Do you want to talk about it?” and “How can I help?” as though this is just a bump in the road and he can fix it.
I’m not interested in fixing this. I nearly died climbing, except for the dumb luck of my ice axes. I can’t even make it through the Icefall without a full-blown panic attack. As he talked, I reminded myself that I sure as hell don’t owe him anything, that he doesn’t get automatic access to my brain, my emotions, my whole fucking heart, opened up and laid bare for him to judge. But the shame threatened to swallow me whole. Pathetic. Quitter. Weak. Lazy. The words he didn’t say still managed to fill the space.
Eventually he wound down and left me alone.
The next day he was cleared to return to Base Camp, so as Bishal packed up their gear, he tried one more time to capital-T Talk before giving up. Finally he told me he had arranged for me to stay here under the I’m-sure-baffled eye of Dr. Bo, for now. The way he said it made it clear he’s hoping that I’ll change my mind. After more back-and-forth over logistics, he was gone, off to EBC.
His final words? “I worry that you’re going to regret this for the rest of your life. I have no idea what’s going on with you, Tate. But I still love you very much.”
Awesome.
It’s actually not bad being here with Bo. The first night he said, “So, do you want to talk about all this?” and I said, “Nope,” and that was the end of it. He nodded and told me that if I changed my mind and wanted to talk, he’d be cool, but otherwise he’d leave it alone. And he has.
We eat dinner together at his place, which is attached to the clinic and is slightly less smoke-filled than the lodge. And sometimes if there are no patients and we can get internet, we’ll go online and check out college basketball standings. But a lot of my time is spent staring out the windows, watching the ugly gray clouds drop more snow on us.
I’m left wondering how the fuck I got here.
Mostly I miss Rose so much I actually feel sick. I know she needs to be focused on the climb, and her training, so I don’t let myself worry that there are no texts or messages. After that first letter I sent up with Dad, I try texting her a few times then leave her alone. I try to remember how much I don’t want to be climbing that mountain, but all I think about is her. I have hit a new low. Bo busts my chops for moping. When he found me listening to some bad eighties power ballad on the radio at the clinic, he threatened to do a med check to see if I still have my balls. I do. They’re a deep indigo blue.
On the tenth day in Pheriche, I get into college. The internet’s up, and I check my mail to find one from Mom marked urgent, with five smiley face emojis in the subject line. Mom loves emojis. The contents is a forwarded email.
It’s an acceptance from my first-choice school. Rhode Island School of Design. Holy. Shit.
“Bo. Dude. Check it.” I gesture to the screen, still not believing what’s written there.
“ ‘Dear Mr. Russo, We are pleased to offer you a place in our class of 20—’ Man, you’re in!” Bo grabs me from behind the computer desk and tries to high-five, fist-bump, and hug me in a kind of bromance free-for-all.
“Here you’ve been, all emo-boy-in-the-mountains, and now look at you! You’re in, BABY! With all those preppy types with their yachts and Kennedys and…” He trails off, apparently unable to think of any more New England stereotypes.
“Oysters. And cold winters. And cute little mountains. But who gives a shit? I’m in at the best design school in the country!” I’m grinning like an idiot.
“And hmmmm…Yale. That’s somewhere around there, isn’t it?” Bo says. While I tried not to talk too much about me and Rose, I may have mentioned she’s going to Yale, that she wants to be an architect, that she loves Twizzlers and necklaces, that she always scouts a line for five minutes—no more, no less—before lead roping. Stuff like that.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ve been trying not to think about that, since I figured I was going to be matriculating to fry cook community college and living at home in the basement.”
“You’ve got to tell that girl!” Bo says. “And your daddy. This is going to put a big smile on his face.”
A little bit of my excitement dims. Dad’s words still hang over me like the yak shit smoke in the lodge. But Rose…
“Yeah. Maybe I can try the sat phone. It’s not that hard to call Base Camp, is it?”
“Go for it.” Bo looks at his watch. “I’d say to try
her now. They might be in for tea, since they should be down from whatever climbing they did today. Here.” He pushes me back toward the computer.
“I’ll give you a little privacy. But, you know. This is a public space. So no…” He makes a series of lewd gestures and backs out of the room, ducking his head to get through the door.
Ignoring him, I dial the number he gives me, my heart flying faster and faster in my chest. RISD! I’m in! A wave of exhilaration, and utter relief, races through me, and I want to announce to the world: SEE? I’M NOT SUCH A FUCKUP, AM I?
After seven rings I’m ready to disconnect, when someone’s voice, crackly and loud, blasts into my ear. I nearly drop the phone. “Hey! Hi, this is Tate Russo. Is Rose around?” I ask.
There’s a garbled noise, then the voice—maybe it’s Bishal? It’s hard to tell—says, “Rose? Yes. Rose is here.” And a second later, I hear her.
“Tate? God, I wasn’t expecting you. What’s going on?” Her voice, slightly delayed and wobbly sounding, comes through, and I miss her so badly for a second that I have to close my eyes.
“Are you there? Tate? What’s wrong?” Rose says, and her voice sounds small and exhausted.
“I’m here! Nothing’s wrong! I’m great! I…I miss you,” I say. It doesn’t even seem to make sense, these words. It’s so much more than missing her, this guilt and hunger and need. Now that we’re talking, I’m frozen, unable to find words. “So how’s it going there?”
She doesn’t say anything for a minute; then her voice changes. “Awesome! Training’s been going well, and we’re all feeling pretty strong. And the views are gorgeous.” She pauses again, then changes the subject. “How are you?”
Something is off. Her voice is too bright, too impersonal, like she’s talking to someone in the school office. Not the voice that gasped my name, that breathed it into my mouth while she held on to me like I was the rope keeping her alive.
The smile slides off my face. I tried to explain to her in a letter that first night, after I told my dad I wasn’t climbing, that I couldn’t be there with her, that it wasn’t a choice. I simply couldn’t do it. But I’m not sure I said it right, and now, hearing her voice, I don’t know that she believed me—or that she cared.
I know this is my chance to tell her about RISD, but my throat’s tight and the words stick.
I find myself saying, “Things are chill. I’ve been helping out at the clinic. That’s about it.”
There’s a scuffle, and I hear Luc’s voice in the background.
“Alors, it’s La Rosinator! Are you speaking to yourself?” “No,” Rose says. “It’s just Tate.”
Just Tate. I try not to let it sting. There are more muffled noises, and I’ve had enough.
“Look, I’ll let you go,” I say. “Sounds like you’re having a blast with your team and the views and all, so, you know. Enjoy.”
“Tate,” she begins but stops. When she speaks again, her voice is cold. “Yeah. It’s an absolute blast.” She pauses like she wants to say something else, but then she says, “I need to go. Goodbye.”
Bo comes back in, grinning, to find me pacing around the office. His eyes widen.
“Dude. This doesn’t look like the face of someone who was barely avoiding phone sex.” He looks at me in disgust. “Did you piss her off?”
I shrug, trying to slow down, trying to slow my pulse, which is pounding. I don’t even know what happened. “It was like I was talking to a stranger,” I say finally. “Like she was someone else.”
He sighs. “Yeah. Everest Base Camp is a weird place. It’s a world of its own, you know? Maybe let her be, let her focus on the climb, and wait to talk to her when she comes down. Right?”
I nod.
He smiles. “Good. Leave her alone, celebrate that you’re going to a fantastic school, and when she gets here, you can look right at her and give her the sexy eyes and actually talk to her. Once you’re together again, you’ll be fine.”
I nod again, hoping so damn hard that he’s right.
* * *
—
Another week goes by in Pheriche, and there’s nothing from Rose. Dad calls to congratulate me, since I guess he got an email from Mom up at EBC, but I’m out of the clinic when he calls, and I don’t bother to call back. I ignore everything that has to do with Rose, Dad, Everest, climbing, and the rest of my life. Bo and I reorganize the office space, and I haul all the random crap they need to get rid of into one big pile for porters to bring down. I sketch some new health manuals, all related to dental hygiene, which is fucking disgusting. I learn Texas hold’em and lose two of my favorite shirts to a Sherpa named Ang Dori who works in the clinic.
But this empty time is about to end. Soon all of the Mountain Adventure climbers will come back to Pheriche for a last medical checkup and an “oxygen vacation” before they head up for the final push.
Five days.
Then four. Three. Two.
One.
* * *
—
I’m sitting in the lodge, waiting in the same tiny room Rose and I shared just weeks ago. Rose kissing me. Rose holding on to me, like I’m the only thing that matters. I want to get up, move, get to her, but I make myself wait. She’ll be here any minute, but all I can think of is that she’ll leave again to go up that hellish mountain where everything can go wrong and nobody can promise to be safe.
There’s a bang on my door.
“Tate? You in there?” Dad’s voice is hoarse and raspy.
I jump like I’ve been tased and throw open the door.
Dad and Rose, standing there. If Rose looks way too skinny and tired, Dad looks like shit on toast. He’s lost around twenty pounds. His beard is almost completely gray, and his eyes are sunken and dark. I can’t stop staring.
“Well, not even a hug for your old man?” he says, holding out his arms. “What’s the matter, don’t recognize me on the Everest diet?” He stands sideways and pats his stomach, as though showing off his impressive weight loss.
Rose laughs, giving me the cue to follow. Dad’s clearly going for the let’s-not-mention-the-elephant-in-the-room version of our reunion. Thank God. I step forward and hug him, wincing a little at how frail he seems. He notices.
“You look fantastic. I guess a doctor’s life agrees with you. Who knows, maybe you’ll follow in Dr. Bo’s footsteps,” he says, and his voice is thick with a kind of faked cheerfulness.
I don’t know how to respond. Telling him I nearly puked when Bo needed help restraining someone with an abscessed tooth doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say. So I laugh again, like the village idiot.
“And RISD!” He slaps me on the back. “I tried to call you! Did you get the message, at least? I’m so proud of you! Damn! I knew you had it in you!”
I grin, looking at Rose, but she’s already moving down the hall.
“I’m going to get some tea,” she says, her back to us. “I’m so glad it’s not too crowded with trekkers. We heard the April and May tourist season is almost as busy as October and November nowadays.”
Rose keeps talking the whole way to the dining room, which gives me a chance to pull myself together. I don’t know what I expected. Dad still pissed and silent, waiting for me to get over my tantrum? Rose throwing herself into my arms? They feel like strangers. Vertigo hits, and for a minute I’m lost, wondering who we are, wandering away from each other in these mountains so far from home.
When we’re finally chilling out in the dining room, Paul and Luc and Yoon Su looking all gaunt and tired but happy, everyone cheers and whoops over RISD, and Luc insists on a round of disgusting Everest beer to celebrate. But in a few minutes, they’re back to the topic of the mountain and the climb. And in their excitement and discussion of all the details, it sounds possible, doable, even reasonable. They sound so sure.
My eyes stay on Rose, but she’s loo
king everywhere but at me. As the sky gets dark and everyone moves from tea to dinner to their books or games, I stay near her, but she ignores me, without ever making it obvious. When I sit next to her, she stays until she needs to refill her water bottle or get something from her pack, then she takes a new seat. When we gather near the fire for Uno, she sits three chairs over, not across from me, where she’d have to look at me, not next to me. Finally, when the game wraps up, I grab her arm as she walks by. She pulls it away but stands waiting, looking down at me in my seat.
“Hey. You okay? Are we good?” I ask. My chest clenches. I hate that I’m asking her this.
“Sure, why wouldn’t we be?” she says, and before I can answer, she goes on. “But I’m going to room with Yoon Su. I figured you’d have your stuff all over the place in your room, since you’ve been here a while.” She smiles, but it’s not a real smile, not even trying to be a real smile.
I open my mouth, then close it again. Before I can think of what to say, she walks away.
All the next day, the climbers cycle through the clinic to get checked out and take their solar showers and do whatever it is they need to do before heading back up.
I hide out in my room. Fuck this. Fuck Rose and her passive-aggressive “everything’s fine, but I won’t talk to you” vibe, and fuck Dad, who is determined to pretend things are great between us and that he’s so proud because I got into college. I pace around my room like it’s a cage. Seeing Rose was supposed to make it better. We’re supposed to be RoseAndTate. I’m supposed to be able to hold her and touch her like I’ve been thinking about for weeks.
It’s not supposed to be like this.
Finally that night I can’t stand it. I listen for her footsteps outside my room and throw open my door. She startles and pulls back, making sure not to touch me.
Above All Else Page 16