Crushing on You

by Jen Trinh

  “Nice, that’s great.” He frowned, distracted, and after a moment, added, “Hey...I hope you aren’t mad about what happened on Friday.” He met my eyes. “You know, flirting with Lina.”

  That’s all? I shook my head and smiled, relieved. “If you guys got together, I’d be really happy for you both. For real.”

  He got up and hugged me. “Thanks, Anna.” He patted my back and let me go. “Speaking of, could you give her my number, or give me hers?”

  I laughed. “I’ll see if she’s interested, first.”

  And later that night, at the gym, I found out that Lina was interested.

  “Did you used to have a thing for Ian?” I blurted out, after giving Asher’s number to her.

  She snorted. “Are you asking me because I was kinda cold to you that first time?”

  I nodded.

  She shook her head. “Sorry about that. Some climbers are pretty ‘polyamorous’ with their climbing partners. I’m not. Once I find a partner I like, I don’t like it when they start climbing with new people.” She met my eyes and smiled. “I thought you were taking my climbing partner away, but he was just introducing me to a new one.”

  I was relieved to hear it, even if I was no longer with him. “I’m not as good as he is, though.”

  She smiled wolfishly. “Not yet.”

  ◆◆◆

  Under Lina’s patient coaching, I got better at climbing. Way better, if I do say so myself.

  It was still scary sometimes, falling from the last move of a boulder problem, or throwing myself into a dyno, even really short ones. Or committing to a move at the top of a 40ft wall when top roping, even knowing that it was pretty darn safe (assuming you follow all the safety checks and don’t horse around). But with each successful send, and more importantly, each successful fall, I grew more confident. I’d trusted Lina from the first, and I increasingly trusted myself.

  When I got good enough, Lina convinced me to take the Intro to Lead Climbing class at our gym. Lead climbing requires you to attach the rope to your harness and pull it up behind you, then clip it into fixed draws that are placed periodically along the way for your protection. There’s no rope pre-attached to an anchor at the top, so if you fall, you fall down past where you last clipped in below, and hope that your belayer is paying attention and gives you a soft catch. During the class, I was required to fall about eight feet. It was terrifying (I hadn’t wanted to let go!), but also incredibly empowering. I knew it might be a while until I was totally chill about falling (or maybe I never would be), but I was slowly but surely getting better at dealing with it.

  That was the most important thing in climbing mentality—not the fall itself, but how you approach it. Do you accept that you might fall, and try hard anyway? And when you do fall, do you give up, or do you try again?

  ◆◆◆

  One day in early spring, Cassie asked me if I wanted to try climbing outdoors. She was going to be in New York for work and was planning to tack on a trip to the Adirondacks to climb. She’d never been to “the Dacks” before, but she’d heard good things, and she wanted to take me on my first outdoor trip. Lina told me that she used to go out to the Dacks all the time, so when I mentioned it to Cassie, she suggested that I invite Lina, too. Lina gladly accepted.

  The getting-to-know-each-other began well before the trip. Cassie organized a conference call a month before for the three of us to discuss logistics. Cassie loved planning things, so she took charge in researching the climbs, looking into weather, campsites, etc. But Lina was the local, and she possessed the ultimate guidebook and plenty of experience. Watching those two lady crushers interact was absolutely awe-inspiring.

  “So you’ve climbed in the Dacks before? Which areas?” asked Cassie. She was sitting back in her chair and casually sizing Lina up.

  “All of them,” said Lina, matter of factly. She wasn’t bragging; it was just true. “I spent a lot of time climbing there with my husband.”

  My jaw dropped. “Wait, what? You’re married? And you never told me? Where’s your husband?”

  Lina blinked and looked away, taking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. On screen, Cassie’s eyes widened. “Wait. Are you Lina the Crack Queena?”

  Lina nodded and chuckled softly. “Yeah. It’s been a while since someone last called me that, though. I haven’t been outdoors or on crack since...you know.” She sighed. “But I’m ready to get back out there now.”

  Wait, what? Lina had been on crack?

  Cassie nodded, her face sympathetic, not at all concerned about Lina’s admitted crack habit. “My husband’s not a climber, so I never have to worry about him being reckless. I was so sorry to hear about Craig. I never met him, but I have friends who have climbed with him. They said he was a really smart, funny guy.”

  Lina shook her head and muttered, “Not smart enough to knot his ropes.”

  I glanced between the two of them, their sad faces, understanding dawning. “Your husband...died? While out climbing?”

  They both nodded. When Lina didn’t say anything more, Cassie explained, “His nickname was Craig the Cragster. He was really well-known in the community. He died in a rappelling accident...maybe a year ago?”

  Lina sighed. “Yeah. But the point is, I’ve been around the Dacks and I know the best places for us to go to get a good mix of stuff, some easy routes for Anna to get her toes wet, then maybe some harder routes for us to play on,” she said, pointing between the two of them. They began a detailed discussion of which regions to visit, which routes to try, and what gear to bring. From their smiles and playful exchanges, I could see the mutual respect growing between them with each passing minute, proportional to my bewilderment at all of the terms that they were throwing around. I had no idea what I was getting into, but I knew that I looked forward to their in-person meeting, at least. I busily took notes on my phone, vowing to watch every online video about outdoor climbing later that night. And to read up on rappelling accidents so that I could make sure they never happened to me.

  ◆◆◆

  A month later, they finally met in-person, and I was not disappointed. Two goddesses (one, short and blonde; one, tall and bronze) had come together and mutually recognized one another. They firmly shook hands and smiled, nodding, and with their meeting, my world shined a little bit brighter. I literally shivered in anticipation for the weekend—it was going to be a kick-ass time with those two.

  And it really was. By the end, my ass was so kicked.

  I’d obviously known that it was going to be different from climbing in the gym...but it was totally different.

  In the gym, the route-setters make it very clear where your hands and feet are supposed to go. The routes are clearly delineated, and the holds, bolts, and ropes are all routinely cleaned and inspected for safety.

  When you’re outdoors...anything goes. And shit happens.

  Lina and Cassie did all the hard work of leading and setting up the top ropes for me to climb more safely...but even so, it was so much more nerve-wracking than climbing in the gym. Instead of cheery, brightly colored holds, all you’ve got to work with are these tiny little cracks and crevices, which are often difficult to spot and even harder to trust. And damn they were sharp sometimes. Some of the routes were a little wet or mossy, and even home to some nasty bugs. Climbing in the shade was freezing, but climbing in the sun was sweltering. Rocks came loose, holds broke, ropes snagged, etc. After a month of watching online videos about the hundreds of ways that things can go wrong, I was slightly rattled by each of these little occurrences, which admittedly, mostly happened to Lina and Cassie on the harder routes that they got on. But the two of them—even with their totally different bodies, experiences, and climbing styles—were unfazed. They calmly dealt with these things, one after another that weekend, and patiently taught me what to do and what not to do, what to look out for, how to stay safe. The more I learned and the more I watched them, the more confident I grew.

  Even so, I’d ne
ver been more scared before in my life, even when I was only on top rope with two badass women looking out for me.

  It got infinitely worse when Lina and Cassie convinced me to try leading a 5.6 face-climb.

  On Sunday, towards the end of the day, Lina looked up from the guidebook and ran her gaze up a portion of the wall. Then she turned to me, a twinkle in her eye.

  “You know...this 5.6 here is totally doable.”

  Cassie shaded her face with her hand and regarded the route closely, then glanced my way, a matching twinkle in her own eyes. “You may be right, Lina. It does look doable.”

  I laughed nervously. “Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

  They turned and looked at each other, then smiled and nodded, brain waves synced. “You’re leading this one,” said Lina, counting out several quickdraws.

  I shook my head and waved my hands. “Nooo, no no no. I’m fine with just top roping, thanks.” I’d led a few times in the gym, but I was not ready to lead outdoors, even on a 5.6.

  I backed up as Cassie approached, and I cowered against the wall like her prey. She reached out as if to grope me, but only caught my forearms and squeezed them. “Girl, you are pure muscle now. So burly. So ready. You can do this.” She smiled reassuringly and pulled me away from the wall to get a better look at the route. “Just try to read the route ahead of time. Strategize about your moves based on the bolt line, and try to find good rest spots. We can help you out if you need. You’ll do fine.”

  I glanced at the route that Cassie pointed at. “But what about when I get to the top? I’ve never rigged an anchor before.”

  “We’ve shown you how to lower off a bolted anchor without going off belay, and we can keep practicing it down here until you’re ready, if you’re nervous,” said Lina. She stood up from her bag of gear with a fistful of quickdraws. “Why don’t you come here and try?”

  “Uh, no.” I sat down on a rock and frowned at them. They were like two gentle bully sisters—while they looked totally different, their aggressive support of me was fully harmonized.

  Cassie crouched down before me and put a hand on my shoulder. Her face softened. “Hey. We’re not going to force you to do anything. We would never do that.”

  Lina assumed a mirrored pose to Cassie’s on my other side. “But we know you can do this. And we think it’ll be a great learning experience for you. It’s a fun route, easily within your capabilities.”

  I stared at them, alternating between two sets of confident, supportive eyes. They were total badass women, the perfect mix of brains and brawn. Bold, burly, and beautiful.

  And they looked at me like I was one of them. I wanted to belong. I wanted to see myself the way that they did. To believe, and to achieve.

  So I nodded.

  Lina’s answering smile rounded out her big, gorgeous cheeks, and Cassie blinded me with her pearly whites, which were really quite white. My hesitation evaporated—I wasn’t going to let them down.

  And I didn’t! Honestly, I hardly remember the climb, other than the fact that whenever my hand found a jug or I reached a bolt, I thanked the climbing gods and sagged with relief. 5.6 my ass. It probably took me 20 minutes to do the whole route, given frequent small bouts of panic and nonstop pump. I downclimbed and asked for tension often, but I eventually did make it to the top, 55 feet above, and successfully lowered off the anchor.

  The only thing that got me through some of those sections was the knowledge that so many others had done it before me, in their own unique ways. I just had to be patient, and look and feel around; nature would always provide. And when I wasn’t patient enough to figure out what nature wanted of me, Lina or Cassie were there to give me some beta.

  They gave me beta on a lot of things, that weekend. They gave each other beta, too. Cassie and Lina had warmed to each other like they were dear bosom buddies from the third grade. Maybe it was a climber thing, or maybe it was just Cassie. Either way, through real conversations about love and loss, and through nonstop badassery, they quickly came to love each other...and of course, me too. We’d formed an awesome crew of lady crushers. And after that weekend, I was healed, whole, light. All because of those two wonderful women.

  Well, maybe it was because of the climbing, too. I’d faced and conquered my fear, over and over, and gotten through some tough sections of rock that seemed almost impossible at times.

  But nothing’s impossible when you’ve got great friends, biatch.

  ◆◆◆

  “So would you do this again?” asked Cassie on our Sunday night drive back to New York City.

  I snorted. “Are you kidding me? This was the best weekend of my life.”

  Cassie tittered. “Better than that non-stop sex buffet you had with Ian that one time?”

  I grinned, though my chest tightened. “Way better. Chicks before dicks!”

  Cassie laughed and chimed in, “Sisters before misters!”

  “Uhh...girlfriends before...burlfriends?” said Lina. We all cackled.

  “I think we’re burlfriends. The three of us, not the guys,” suggested Cassie.

  “I like that,” I said. “We’re burlfriends. And we should do this every year, an annual burlfriend reunion!”

  “YES!” they both shrieked in unison. And then we all howled with laughter and excitement, chatting about where we wanted to go the next year.

  It really was the best weekend of my life, spent with two women who were more like family to me than any biological family had ever felt. I was so incredibly grateful for them, and by extension, to Ian, for being the one to introduce me to Lina—and to this world of climbing—and for helping me understand a little bit better, what it meant to grow mentally and physically stronger. I understood him a little bit better, too...and with understanding came respect.

  And maybe a bit of love.

  ◆◆◆

  After the revelations of that weekend, I threw myself into my playlists with boundless enthusiasm. I filled them with hope, renewal, and growth, with every wonderful emotion that was bursting in my chest. And my writing was inspired, varied, full of feeling.

  I was not broken. I was whole and strong, and growing ever stronger.

  And one day, a month later, I was invited (INVITED! I hadn’t even reached out!) to write a sample piece for Moonslick Mirror, one of the biggest and most famous music news sites. They were well-known for their raw tone and brutally honest reporting, which was 100% my style, and they asked me to write about my favorite band and submit a post by the end of the month.

  It’d been a long time since I’d last seen them live, so I checked The Llama People’s tour schedule and saw that their next show was in two weeks, in San Francisco. I told Cassie the exciting news and asked if I could crash on her couch. She nearly blew my eardrums with her squealing through the phone.

  I thought about texting Ian, but...maybe that was asking for too much.

  Everything else was looking up.

  Chapter 24

  -Ian-

  I never thought that I’d be working next to my mom and aunt, selling desserts out of a food truck. But I also never would’ve thought that the fusion jiandui were going to be as popular as they were.

  People loved them.

  And they loved the story behind my truck name, Tiantian Desserts. Tiantian could mean multiple things in Mandarin, depending on the tones. Two first tones meant everyday; Everyday Desserts. Two second tones meant sweet; Sweet Desserts. And one tian, first tone, meant heaven. I hoped my dad could taste my creations from there.

  But I think people liked the unofficial English street name better: Ian’s Tasty Balls.

  The line for the food truck was often at least three times as long as the truck itself. People lined up, not just for our jiandui, but also for the Chinese-inspired flavors of ice cream that we made, including honey pomelo, ginseng, and lychee.

  If I hadn’t gotten back into climbing, I’m sure I would’ve gone soft from all of the experimenting that I was doing at h
ome. In fact, my cousin had started to gain weight from being one of my guinea pigs, but he didn’t seem to mind—he was all too happy to keep trying my new creations.

  My mom and aunt were so much more excited at the idea than I’d thought they’d be. I’d been expecting a lecture on keeping a good job in tech, about needing insurance and a steady income. Instead, they’d given me tips on how to cut costs. They had friends in the restaurant business and knew wholesalers who could help me out. They helped me tweak my recipes until the entire family approved.

  I’d been so grateful and relieved to find support and not judgment.

  And not only support, but labor. They worked in the truck with me, joking with customers in broken English as they collected money or fried balls. I think they enjoyed coming out of retirement and working part-time. My mom and aunt split shifts so that neither of them had to stand on their feet for a full day, but I was there from 11am till 9pm almost everyday. My customers were insatiable.

  On weekends, I parked the van near touristy places: Golden Gate Park on Saturdays and Dolores Park on Sundays. During the week, I stopped around office buildings. I knew well that tech workers loved going on walking meetings and ice cream runs, and I was always there to serve them, to help brighten their days a little. And on Fridays, I parked close to the Stumpstash office, and Cassie always brought a contingent of coworkers out to visit the truck.

  At first, I was embarrassed, having gone from technical lead to tasty balls guy. But after seeing their delighted faces and hearing their praise, and even their envy, soon all I felt was pride.

  In my new role, my former coworkers opened up to me way more than they ever had when I was a tech lead. I learned about their secret fantasies of becoming authors, or of opening their own coffee shops or bars. Even Rich, when he visited once, grudgingly told me that my balls were delicious. We’d had a laugh together about it. Then he told me about his grandfather’s cannoli, and how he’d always wished he could sell those. I told him to give me a call if he ever wanted tips on how to start his own food truck, though I knew he probably wouldn’t need any. Stumpstash was in the business of helping small businesses—all Stumpstashers knew a little bit about how to raise money for our dreams.