Lalitha’s silence spoke volumes.
“Lalitha, this is good for me. I promise.”
“We’re so much better with you. I told everyone you would come back to save us.”
“Honestly, Lalitha, I think right now I need to save myself.”
“What does that mean?” Lalitha asked.
“Not sure yet. I’m trying to find happiness.”
Lalitha said, “Waterson wants me back in the pool. I need to go. Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure. I promise. Have fun.”
“You too.” Lalitha made a kissing sound before hanging up.
Erin caught up with everyone’s posts and pics from the night before. Good-Time Girl—Gloria—had posted a pic of Jade’s profile on a pillow. The climbing crew must be visiting her in Dunedin.
Everyone was preparing to return for term four. From Australia and Auckland and the cliffs of the North Island, they all would converge on Christchurch in two days.
FIFTY-EIGHT
Felicity had left a note in the caravan, because of course she had. Sun’s up! We’ve gone swimming. Slip, slop, slap, wrap if you go out.
She definitely would go out. Erin and Pippa had walked the length of the beach twice. The family had kayaked the bay in sun hats and life vests. Erin had lost herself in the glorious night sky many times. She’d buried Pippa up to her waist and fashioned a mermaid tail out of sand. She and Pippa bought ice cream from the canteen and made music together after dusk.
Pippa had given Erin a second childhood, and sleeping almost outside for days had cleared Erin’s head.
She dressed and walked to the edge of the caravan park to stare out to sea. She was not at all inclined to return to Wheaton early. This was where she needed to be—where she wanted to be—right now.
The bright morning drew her away from the sea and upward. Sunshine had dehydrated her hill (mountain) and she hiked straight up on all fours.
She might not reach the peak in an hour, but she would try.
Thirty minutes in, that wasn’t going to work.
This particular mountain was adjacent to another. They crisscrossed, creating a high valley. Erin wondered whether the geographic feature had a name.
For a good hour, she hiked and climbed toward the nearest peak. Each time she expected a peak, she crested another hill and kept going.
Eventually, finally, the ground leveled off and she walked between peaks towering above her. Turning around, peaks occluded her view of the caravan park; she could see only nature. High on the world, she saw the ocean kissing a sliver of beach far in the distance.
Wind rustled trees as she turned inland. She closed her eyes to listen to leaves beating against one another. Instead, she heard a ping from her pocket.
Hank.
Hank: Weather turned, so we came back a day early. You?
Erin: Back tomorrow.
Hank: Climbing?
Erin: Kind of climbing right now.
Hank: ?
Erin: Standing between two mountains, listening to rustling leaves.
Erin: As if the mountain is talking to me.
Hank: Now YOU have been reading Thoreau?
Erin: No.
Hank: Whitman?
Erin: No.
Hank: Some other transcendentalist, for sure.
Hank: Fresh air is good for your soul.
Erin: You’re going a bit too far.
Hank: Nope. Serious.
Hank: Had a crash hot caramel slice on holiday.
Hank: Thought of you.
Erin: Did you save me a bite?
Hank: I thought of you as I devoured it. That counts.
Hank: See you tomorrow?
Erin: If we get home early enough.
Hank: Hope you have punnets for the drive.
Erin: Not funny.
Erin silenced her phone, closed her eyes, and listened to the wind. It soothed her.
She hadn’t been alone in nature for years. When was her last time foraging for berries or hunting for hornets’ nests? Why had she let go of the calm and the breathing and the things she loved?
Rustling trees compelled her further into the canyon, which beckoned her into its maw and away from civilization.
She went willingly. Happily. Breathing and listening.
Fresh air fed her soul; Hank was right. Hank was right about a lot of things. Erin grinned. She couldn’t wait to tell him about this.
FIFTY-NINE
Darkness descended as Erin made her way back to the caravan. She spotted Felicity’s green light and slowed. Nearly back to civilization, she needed another moment to herself. She gazed at the night sky; she could see forever.
Way before Erin was born, NASA had sent Voyager 1 into space. Everyone made a big deal when it left the galaxy thirty years later. Thirty years! Gazing at the stars, Erin saw light-years into the future. Many stars had died already but would appear in the night sky her entire life.
What a complicated universe. Nothing she did could alter it, so why shouldn’t she do what she wanted? The universe didn’t care whether she went to Columbia. The universe didn’t care whether she went to college at all.
So, really, all that really mattered was what she wanted. If only she knew exactly what that was!
It was the second week of October. She had two months to figure it out.
SIXTY
Erin was certain of one thing: she wanted to be a better rock climber. Sunday, they returned to Christchurch too late to climb. Hank would spend the week catching up on work projects, but they’d agreed to climb outside the following weekend.
In preparation, Erin spent every afternoon at The Roxx, where auto-belay machines enabled safe solo climbs. Monday was fine, but Tuesday and Wednesday were rough. She pushed through, and by Saturday she felt sure she wouldn’t embarrass herself climbing outside. Her progress might even impress Hank. She hoped.
Saturday morning, she packed a little bag with sunscreen and a hat. She was on the slip, slop, slap, wrap bandwagon. Mimicking Marama’s prep for Castle Hill, she’d bought six caramel slices from Horton’s Bakery; Hank loved caramel almost as much as she did.
She couldn’t remember what he’d eaten at Castle Hill, except Marama’s chicken salad. She packed bottled water, four sandwiches, and several pieces of fruit. This time, she was pulling her weight.
She tucked her phone into her bag just as he knocked on the door.
“G’day!”
She was growing quite fond of his crooked smile. “Hi!”
“All set, then?”
“I am.” She followed him to the driveway and was stunned to see Gloria already in the car.
Erin climbed into the backseat, her heart sinking.
Hank buckled up and explained where they were headed. Gloria and Hank reminisced about their recent trip, and Erin wanted to shrink into oblivion.
She didn’t vomit during the drive, but she wanted to gag herself. What am I doing here?
In the Port Hills, they hiked to the rock face, which looked like giant bubbles forming out of a huge boulder. Gloria and Hank set out their equipment, using a language Erin still didn’t speak: tapers, trads, bight, jugs, pitch, carabiners.
Carabiners she now knew. All the climbers carried their keys and chalk bags on those metal rings.
While Hank and Gloria continued their private conversation, Erin tried on Hank’s sister’s shoes again. Still so tight.
“It’s going to be a while,” Hank said. “I’d take them off if I were you.”
Gloria started up the rock face with dozens of silver trapezoid things. Every few feet, she stuck a trapezoid into the rock face and threaded her rope through it. If she fell, she’d have a long way down.
That’s what Gloria meant when she said this was a far greater challenge than gym climbing.
Ten minutes later, after Gloria had reached the top of the rock, Hank followed. They disappeared over the top of the wall, leaving Erin alone among quiet trees.
She probably wouldn’t have tried rock climbing if her Wheaton friends had asked. Then again, they would have known not to ask because she was always busy. Were there rock faces in flat Illinois? Mountain biking? She had no idea. When you bury your head in the sand—or the chlorine, as the case may be—you miss a lot.
Hank peeked over the edge and rappelled down the rock.
“What were you two doing up there?”
Hank gave her the side-eye. “Don’t worry. We’re being safe.”
Erin blushed.
Hank got very close to her face. “What do you think we were doing up there?”
Erin bit her lip.
Gloria returned to the ground, and Erin asked, “You two do this often?”
“In summer we do. You want to do the honors?”
Gloria and Hank had attached the top rope to something above. Erin tied a figure-eight knot and roped in as Hank had taught her.
“Let me check them,” Hank said.
Erin scowled.
“Don’t be offended! We all check each other’s knots. It’s not like checking your rugby equipment. This is dangerous stuff.”
They all checked one another’s harnesses and Hank declared Erin’s knots safe. “Go for it.”
Erin approached the rock and grabbed on.
“Erin?”
Hank and Gloria were expectant. It took her a second to remember. “On belay?”
“Belay on.”
“Climbing?”
“Climb on.”
Her little extra climbing sessions had done wonders for her grip strength, but she still couldn’t get a good hold on the tiniest rock fragments.
Erin tried to be grateful as Gloria gave excellent directions for her feet. What else were they doing on top of this rock?
Two-thirds of the way up the rock, Erin’s hands gave out. “Take!”
“Got!”
Erin sat back in her harness and rubbed her fingers. After a minute or two, she grabbed the rock. “Climbing!”
“Maybe take another minute,” Hank said. “You’ve been working hard. Have a break.”
She glared at Hank, who hadn’t been studying her ass.
He said, “Turn ’round. Look out.”
She spun around, and there it was: rolling hills, mountains, and the sea all rolled into one gorgeous and stunning New Zealand view. Had she seen a photo of this, she wouldn’t have believed the colors. The sparkling ocean was too blue. Twenty-nine shades of green stretched toward the distant, majestic mountains. Houses dotted a nearby hill, much like the Queenstown houses on stilts.
Queenstown. When she was desperate to swim and desperate to win and her schedule was full. Not fulfilling, but full. Of lifting and practice and that urge to win. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Why had she spent that entire weekend getting her head in the game? The game was out here.
As Hank and Gloria chatted, Erin was alone, hanging from a rope, looking out at the world.
Like Queenstown, Christchurch was simply awesome. Tears sprang to her eyes. She’d almost missed this. If her head had been in the pool, or her sheet music, or her computer desperately trying to get into Columbia, she would have missed New Zealand.
Erin had been missing out. She whispered, “This is the most beautiful moment of my life.”
She glanced down at Hank and Gloria, who chatted nonchalantly. They were lucky. They lived in the most gorgeous place in the world.
And so did Erin.
There was something more real about how she was living these days. This sublime outdoor playground was real. Amazing. And she felt a part of it. She felt stronger than ever before. She was living.
Erin turned back toward the rock and swung two feet to the left. She found holds for her feet and reached up to find two easy knobs for her hands.
“Climbing!” she yelled again, and up she went.
Like swimming, she was on her own, but climbing was a whole different thing. Swimming was always more physical than mental. Rock climbing was both. Erin stretched herself to reach the next hold. Sometimes there was a surprise, but mostly she had to hunt. It was the world’s smallest, trickiest game of hide-and-seek.
She surveyed the landscape once more on the way up. She had seen many beaches in her life—figure an average of two a year since she was born—and none of them compared to this. The flowers’ fragility and water’s fluidity mingled with mountains’ magnitude to create a scene of overwhelming beauty.
“You feeling hungry?” Hank asked.
She was. She was hungry for all of this.
And slightly hungry for food. “I’m almost at the top. I can be quick.”
Hank said, “I can be patient.”
Erin made quick work of the rest of the climb. Instead of descending, she sat on top of the rock face, perhaps seventy-five feet up. She had a bird’s-eye view of this whole, gorgeous world: beaches to explore, caves to play in, more mountains to climb. She wanted to eat it, to make it part of herself and hold onto it forever. There was so much to do and so little time. This was a great office. She wanted to spend her life in the earth. In nature.
She said, “Falling.”
“Fall on.”
He hugged her when she landed at the bottom.
“Thanks for bringing me,” Erin said. “Even if I’m crashing your party.”
Gloria and Hank looked at each other, and Hank burst out laughing.
“What?” Gloria asked.
To Erin, Hank said, “I’m not Gloria’s type.”
Gloria looked from Hank to Erin. “You know I’m with Jade, right?”
Erin had no idea.
“Hank is like my little brother.”
“Big brother,” he said.
“Relax, shorty.” Gloria’s expression turned serious. “Jade’s parents don’t know, so keep it quiet.”
“Of course.” Erin couldn’t stop grinning. “As long as we’re confessing, Gloria, I’ve been following you online since June. Not in a stalker way.”
“I thought you moved here in July?”
“I did, but I didn’t want to leave home, and online you seemed like someone I’d like to hang out with. Like maybe it wouldn’t suck to be thousands of miles away from everyone I knew. You were like the friend I dreamed of helping me endure this adventure.”
Gloria frowned. “Am I living up to that?”
“That and more,” Erin said.
SIXTY-ONE
It was dark by the time they dropped Gloria at Jade’s house. Erin, who had climbed up for the view a half-dozen times—once at dusk—was beat, but Hank seemed fine as he drove to her house.
In the driveway, she thanked Hank profusely for inviting her.
“Hey, I’m so glad you’re enjoying it. We’re outside on top ropes almost every weekend, if you want to join.”
“Maybe.”
His face clouded over.
Erin said, “I mean, I’d love to, but I need to learn to belay. I kind of feel like I’m not pulling my weight. Literally.”
That crooked smile. “It’s always like that in the beginning. Belaying’s easy, but it’s not worth your time if you’re not going to stick with it. We’ll get you trained up.”
He leaned over the gearshift. She expected a kiss, but instead he whispered, “What did you think of the view?”
“Suspended in midair, the view was the most beautiful moment of my life.”
“It was sneaky, taking you there. I knew you’d see it and be in awe. Last autumn we went to that exact spot several Sundays in a row. Gloria started calling it church.”
And she was right: seeing the majesty of New Zealand was like seeing God. Or like seeing the world for the first time. It got really dark there; what would the stars look like if Erin were suspended fifty feet in the air?
Erin asked, “Do you ever climb at night?”
“No.” He looked out his window, then back at her. “I don’t see why we couldn’t. I’d want to set the ropes in daylight. We’d need proper lights. Maybe some night gea
r. I’ll look into it.”
Erin stared into his deep brown eyes.
He didn’t kiss her.
“Thanks for a great day,” she said.
“I hope you’ll come again.”
“Absolutely. Any time.” She opened her door but couldn’t force herself to get out. “I hate being the worst climber. I want to be strong.”
“You are strong, Erin.”
“Yeah, but you guys …”
“We guys have been climbing for years. It’s not all about strength. It’s about experience, and you’ll get there.”
Erin stared at the flimsy aluminum garage door. “I don’t want to be a deadweight.”
“Erin, you do what you can do. I do what I can do. Whatever you can give, that is enough. If we went swimming, you would outswim me in a heartbeat.”
They looked at each other for a long time. Still no kiss.
“I want to be better.”
“You will be.”
“But I’ll never be better than you guys. I will always be the worst person on the rock.”
“We aren’t trying to best each other, not really. We horse around and challenge each other. But we don’t do it to be the best. We do it because it’s fun.”
Cooler air rushed in through Erin’s open door. Hank’s chocolate-brown eyes looked through her.
“You’re right, Hank. It’s fun.”
He held her gaze. “So you’ll come again?”
“I will.”
“And you’ll climb with me at The Roxx instead of scooting out just before I arrive?”
Her mouth hung open.
He said, “Climbers are tight.”
“But nobody knows who I am.”
His grin grew. “People know. Come with me Monday and I’ll stay for Felicity’s tea. Pippa will be delighted.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for a great day.”
“Thank you.”
She could live inside those eyes, to say nothing of the hand gripping the gearshift.
“Good night, Erin.”
“Good night, Hank. See you Monday.”
She was maybe a little too aggressive with the door, but she didn’t care. It was like a date, right? Practically their second—third—date.
What was wrong with him? What’s wrong with me?
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