The Ascent of PJ Marshall

by Brian J. Anderson

  PJ took a drink.

  Activist. Give me a break.

  “Bighorn allegedly hired Mr. Davis earlier this month, following an altercation between another activist and the site’s foreman. A gun found in Davis’s possession has been linked to several crimes, including the murder of a gun control lobbyist last year.” A silent crowd had gathered against the bar, their champagne glasses clutched in frozen anticipation. “Several top executives at Bighorn Oil face a series of charges including fraud, violation of environmental law and conspiracy. The illegal wells have been shut down, but no layoffs within the company are expected at this time. We’ll have more on this story as it develops.”

  PJ drank, nodding contentedly as he lowered his glass.

  “In a related story, Washington senator Charles Howard is under investigation over kickbacks he may have received from oil and timber industry lobbyists. We’ve confirmed that several lobbyists were instrumental in drafting the new resource bill, which includes a measure authorizing Bighorn to expand its site onto the Shoshone reservation. A bipartisan compromise tied the expansion to production quotas at the existing facility, presumably leading to the drilling of the illegal wells.

  “A Senate vote on the bill is currently on hold, but many analysts are now saying that in light of the ongoing investigations, its passage is likely doomed.”

  A chorus of cheers erupted in the bar, accompanied by the rattle of champagne glasses. PJ stood, searching the happy crowd.

  God, he’d love this.

  A hand fell onto his shoulder.

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  PJ turned. Before he could speak, he was met with a hug that nearly threw him over the bar. Reaching behind him, PJ set down his beer. He raised his hands with mock indignation.

  “Look lady, I don’t know who you are, but—”

  Anna gripped him tighter. Her muffled voice was warm against his neck.

  “Just shut up.”

  PJ set his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around her. She shuddered and PJ pulled her closer, pressing his lips into her hair. A rush of warmth as he breathed in the subtle traces of her perfume.

  By degrees, the surrounding chatter faded as the crowd drained into the adjoining hallway and Anna loosened her grip, sniffling. Reluctantly, PJ let her go and she began searching her purse, catching a tear with her knuckle as PJ ducked and looked up at her, forcing eye contact.

  “Hi.”

  Anna laughed, her voice trembling as she took a tissue from her purse.

  “Hi,” she said, dabbing the mascara pooled under her eyes.

  A tear had left a dark smear down her cheek, and PJ took the tissue from her and wiped it away. He held her chin, turning her head side to side, inspecting his work. With a grin, he wet the tissue with his tongue. Anna snatched it away.

  “You’re such a dork.”

  “At least I’m not a blubbering mess.” He craned his neck and inspected the collar of his shirt. “You didn’t get any on my rental, did you?”

  Anna punched his arm.

  “A dork who knows nothing about women,” she said. PJ began rubbing his arm.

  “Real lady-like.”

  Anna tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she straightened her dress.

  “Don’t let this hoochie-mama getup fool you. I’ll take you down if I have to.” She glanced at the television. “You did good.”

  PJ nodded.

  “We did good.”

  Anna smiled.

  “Granted,” PJ continued, “It was mostly my charm, muscles and good looks that pulled it off, but—”

  Another punch in the arm.

  Anna smiled and then bowed her head, taking his hand. She looked up, her eyes glassy.

  “How are you?”

  PJ shrugged.

  “I’m—I’ll be all right. One day at a time, I guess.”

  Anna nodded.

  “Good,” she said, tightening her grip on PJ’s hand. “How long can you stay? A lot longer than last time, I hope.”

  Smiling, PJ nodded.

  “Sure. As long as you’ll have me.”

  “Good.” Anna motioned behind her with a flick of her head. “We should go.”

  PJ finished his beer and set the glass on the bar, leaving a five. Anna looked up from the crumpled bill, incredulous.

  “This ain’t Cheyenne, big spender.”

  With a sigh, PJ exchanged it for a ten.

  “Too bad.”

  Anna led him from the bar into the packed corridor where a river of chatty, expectant faces made its way to the hotel ballroom, its ranks swelling as it slowed and funneled inside. Anna pulled PJ from the flow just outside the door. He exhaled.

  “Whew, thanks. That was close. Can we get out of here now?”

  “Yeah. I wish. My boss would freak if I bailed now. Just a second.” Stepping to the door, Anna poked her head inside. She returned to PJ’s side, beaming. “Besides, we can’t leave until you’ve seen your surprise.”

  PJ rolled his eyes.

  “Oh my god, you’re going to embarrass me in there, aren’t you?”

  Anna put a hand to her mouth in feigned shock.

  “PJ. Why would I want to embarrass you in front of—oh. Yeah,” she said, lowering her hand. “Never mind.”

  “Excuse me, sir. Is this woman bothering you? I could have her removed.”

  A tall, gray haired man had paused in the line, a glass of champagne in his hand. At his side, an equally striking woman clutched his arm, a glass of beer in hers.

  “Yes, please. She won’t leave me alone.”

  The man extended his hand.

  “You must be PJ. I’m Greg Matthews. This is my wife, Nancy. I just want to say that it’s an honor to meet you. We’re so glad you could come.”

  “Thanks.”

  Matthews cocked his head towards the bar.

  “That’s really something, isn’t it?”

  “It’s all just…unbelievable,” Anna said, nudging PJ with her elbow.

  Matthews nodded.

  “So, Anna…did you tell him yet?”

  Anna looked at PJ, studying his face with a mischievous smile.

  “Not yet. I’m letting him squirm a little.”

  “Seriously, Greg,” PJ said, jerking his thumb at Anna. “Is there someone who can have her removed?”

  Matthews laughed.

  “I’ll look into it. See you two inside.”

  Anna shook her head as Greg and Nancy entered the ballroom.

  “He probably would if you wanted him to,” she said.

  “I’m sorry…if I wanted to?”

  Anna delivered another blow to PJ’s arm.

  The influx had slowed to a trickle, and Anna took PJ’s hand, turning him to face her. She straightened his tie.

  “Ready?”

  “I’m not going in there until you tell me what I’m in for.”

  A heavy, exaggerated sigh.

  “Fine. God, you’re such a baby. So, I showed Greg your Bighorn pictures, and he loved them. He’s putting them in next month’s issue.”

  PJ searched Anna’s expression, stammering.

  “W-wow. Cool.”

  Anna chuckled.

  “Very eloquent. How about I write the story?”

  “Good idea.”

  “I showed him some of your other photos too. He freaked out.”

  “Huh. Greg doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to freak out.”

  “Do you want to hear this or not?”

  “Sorry.”

  “He wants to offer you a job. Staff photographer.”

  PJ stared at her in silence, the drone from inside the ballroom reduced to a hum. Anna reached up, pushing his jaw closed.

  “Wow. That’s…wow. That’s a really nice—”

  With a look of stunned realization, PJ closed his eyes, shaking his head.

  Business proposition.

  “What?”

  PJ opened his ey
es.

  “A nice offer. So…top of the line gear, expense account, private jet—the usual deal?”

  “Uh-huh. Like any other nonprofit.”

  “Oh, I think you could swing it. This is a pretty swanky affair for a bunch of tree huggers.”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Yeah, like this was our idea. An hour ago, Greg and Nancy were kayaking the Potomac. This—” she said, pointing to the ballroom door, “—is for the donors. They want a show, you give ‘em a show.”

  “So…no jet?”

  “No jet.” Anna tipped her head toward the ballroom door. “You ready now?”

  “Sure.”

  Anna hooked his arm and they went inside.

  Enormous reproductions of pictures PJ and his father had taken through the years lined the ballroom’s side walls, creating a historical path through the room. Many in the crowd turned to watch as PJ and Anna made their way up the center aisle, their hushed chatter evolving into appreciative applause. As the crowd parted in front of them, PJ stopped short, his shocked expression drawing whoops from the crowd. Above the podium at the far end of the room was a life-sized projection of him and his father atop Gannett Peak. He swallowed, glancing aside at Anna.

  “Holy shit.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder, squeezing his arm.

  On the sky over Butch’s head, a rolling caption began:

  In Memoriam

  It changed to:

  Butch Marshall

  Earth Guardian and Friend

  Then:

  Donations to Earth Guardians, Year to Date: $355,000

  (Up 1075%)

  And finally:

  Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

  -William James

  The series started over, drawing applause and the clink of champagne glasses. PJ smiled, nodding and waving sheepishly to the crowd, tears pooling under his eyes. He dabbed them with his bow tie, drawing laughter and more applause.

  Anna rested her chin on PJ’s shoulder, tipping her head aside to look into his eyes with a smile.

  “You’re a blubbering mess,” she said.

  PJ softly punched her arm.

  As the crowd began filling the assembled chairs, PJ and Anna continued to the front of the room, taking their seats next to Greg and Nancy Matthews. PJ turned to them as he sat.

  “I accept.”

  With an enthusiastic nod, Greg again shook his hand.

  “That means so much to us, PJ. Thank you.”

  As the murmur of conversation washed over the room, Anna placed her hand on PJ’s thigh and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

  “Now I have an offer of my own for you.”

  PJ tipped his head aside, taking her hand.

  “I accept.”

  There is not as much wilderness out there as I wish there were.

  There is more inside than you think.

  -David Brower

  ten years later

  PJ

  With climbing hardware jangling on her harness, Anna hoisted herself onto the boulder and rose to her feet. She turned a full circle, studying the glaciers and valleys below, Butch’s camouflage cap pulled low over her eyes against the midday sun. Reclined against the base of the boulder, his fingers laced behind his head, PJ called up to her.

  “What’s the verdict?”

  Anna sat on the edge above him, resting her feet on his shoulders. She reached down and turned his cap backwards.

  “Jury’s still out.”

  She tipped PJ’s head back, engaging him in an upside-down gaze.

  “What’s the verdict on us?” PJ asked.

  Anna broke eye contact and let him go, pushing his head away.

  “Oh my god, that was so corny.”

  “Fine. Make light of our future, but I happen to take it very—”

  “Quiet,” she said, reaching down and pulling him back. She gazed at the horizon, deep in thought, massaging his temples with her fingertips.

  “The verdict on us. What’s the verdict on us he says. Hmm…” She glanced aside at the vein of snow packed into a crease in the boulder. “Let’s take a look, shall we? Let’s close our eyes and see what the future holds.”

  PJ closed his eyes.

  “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

  “Shhh! Oh, look honey, there. Do you see it?”

  “No.”

  Anna slid the fingers of her left hand lightly over his cheek, seductively tracing the lines of his jaw. With her right, she scooped up a handful of snow. PJ cocked his head.

  “What was that noise?”

  “Nothing. Oh, it’s so wonderful,” Anna said in a sweet, calming voice. “We’re sitting by the fire, our cat Fluffy’s curled up on the back of the couch. Our house is—”

  “Why do we have a cat?”

  Anna delivered a stinging slap to PJ’s cheek.

  “Ow! Mother f—”

  “Can you see it?” Anna asked, resuming her slow, gentle caress of his cheek.

  “Actually, I can,” PJ said, working his jaw. “The sneezing, itchy eyes, wheezing. It’s beautiful.”

  Anna sighed and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing his cap askew.

  “It is lovely, isn’t it? What else do you see?”

  “Hmm,” PJ said with a sigh. “Let’s see what—wait, what’s this I see? Oh, you naughty girl. Yeah, you know what I like. A little lower, baby. Ooh yeah, that’s—”

  Quickly sliding her hand under his chin, Anna held on and rubbed snow in his face, continuing the narration as PJ sputtered and flailed under the attack.

  “Oh, yeah, there you go. Yeah…you like that, don’t you? Ooh, how about this? You like that, big boy?”

  Her ammunition spent, Anna let him go, laughing as PJ sat forward.

  “Wow,” she said, trying to compose herself. “Our future looks really exciting.”

  PJ turned around, licking snow from his lips. He stood and straightened his cap, nodding with a wry smile as he handed up their packs.

  “Expect it when you least expect it,” he said, climbing onto the boulder. Anna blew out with a mocking hiss.

  “Whatever.”

  Taking the camera from his pack, PJ adjusted the exposure settings as Anna rose and pulled the summit register from the rocks. While he shot the panorama, Anna sat down and slid the notebook from the silver tube and began to read.

  “Still there?” PJ asked, his attention fixed through the lens.

  Upending the tube, Anna shook out the rolled-up photograph and removed it from its plastic bag.

  “Still there.”

  She flattened it on the boulder and pinned its ends with a pair of stones. PJ checked his new photos, evaluating them with a trained eye.

  “Cool.”

  He sat back to back with Anna and slipped the camera into his pack. Setting his chin on his shoulder, he stared at the black and white photo unrolled beside them.

  “This was it,” he said.

  Anna flipped a page in the log.

  “Huh?”

  “Best photo I ever took. Or ever will take, probably.”

  She gave the picture a cursory glance.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty good. You’ve taken much better, though. Technically.”

  “I suppose. This one had everything, though.”

  Anna lowered the notebook to her lap.

  “Hey,” she said, turning her head aside. PJ met her halfway. “I know what you could do. You could take the same picture with your wife. That would be pretty good too, right? How does that—oh. Yeah…”

  She turned back to the notebook.

  “That’s right. You don’t have a wife.”

  PJ lightly butted heads with Anna and slid their packs closer.

  “Just haven’t met the right girl yet.”

  Anna pushed hard against PJ’s back and he lurched forward, catching himself with a slap of his hands on the boulder.

  “Never gets old, does it?” She asked. PJ unzipped the s
ide pockets of his pack.

  “Besides,” he said. “Marriage is the leading cause of div—”

  Anna shoved him again, and as PJ caught his fall, his cup and spoon clattered off the edge of the boulder. Anna chuckled as she turned a page in the notebook.

  “You need some new material, dear.”

  PJ slid off the boulder and picked up his cup and spoon.

  “Sheesh. Tough crowd.” He climbed back up and returned to his position against Anna’s back. “Anything good this year?”

  Anna lifted the notebook as she turned to read.

  “‘Doug and Dave from Minnesota. Our fourth climb. Gotta be some kind of record.’” Anna glanced back, and they exchanged a knowing smile. She shook her head and turned away. “Yeah. Maybe. For biggest dorks ever. How many times was your dad up here?”

  PJ found Anna’s cup and spoon and sat in thoughtful silence, examining the network of crevasses covering Dinwoody Glacier.

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen. That’s some kind of record.”

  A cold breeze topped the mountain, earthy and wet. Tears welled in PJ’s eyes.

  “Yeah. Could be.”

  He filled their cups with snow and set them on the boulder. Scooping more snow into his hands, he packed it into a tight ball as he searched the horizon. He checked his watch.

  “Moon should be—”

  He choked, unable to finish his thought. Shaking it off, he heaved the snowball into the thin, alpine air, watching it shrink to cold singularity down the mountainside. Anna turned her head.

  “You okay, hon?”

  PJ rubbed his eyes.

  “I’m having trouble—I’m starting to forget things.”

  Anna lowered the notebook.

  “Like what?”

  PJ dried his hands on his pants, watching as snowmelt glistened on the fabric and then disappeared as it soaked through the surface.

  “Like…what his laugh sounded like. Or his snoring. The smell of his breath.”

  Anna turned to sit by PJ’s side, taking his hand.

  “This goofy look he’d get when he hooked into a fish with his fly rod. I can’t remember what it looked like anymore. It’s…I don’t know, gone. All that’s gone.”