Page 27 of Entwined Hearts

With an exhale, Anya pushes off her feet and leaps through the air for the hold, a small bucket deep enough to wrap her fingers into. She snags it, and her legs swing wildly into space.

“Nice!” I say.

She dangles from that one hold for a second, and I think she’s about to fall. I move in closer, my arms reaching up, but from this height, my assistance won’t do much.

But Anya tucks her knees in, then places her feet against the rock. Balanced again, she dips her left hand into her chalk bag to ready for the next move. I can see her breathing hard.

“Almost there, Anya,” Jo encourages.

Anya’s focus is legendary, so I wonder if she even hears us. The crux involving a heel hook into a small crater and another leap for a hold comes next. After a few hard breaths, she completes it seamlessly. From there, the boulder slopes more gently, making the rest of the route an easy scramble.

“Yeww!” Anya calls from the top.

A moment later, she returns from the backside, which is a straightforward downclimb. Her eyes shine bright; it’s like someone plugged her into a socket. “Thanks, guys.”

Jo goes next. Though she falls several times, she finally pumps through the crux. The granite tears up her fingers, but she doesn’t complain. Kabir is next, and I spot him. His medium height and slender build are a perfect fit for this climb. He only falls once on the sloper hold before gaining the top. At my turn, I lace up my climbing shoes that are so tight my eyes start to water, then shake out my cold hands. Though the sun will warm the day into the seventies, for now, the air is still chilly. This is better for climbing, cold granite is grippier.

The first hold doesn’t work as well for me because my fingers are bigger than everyone else’s, but I get off the ground and to the second hold, which is better. Moving my feet, I scan upward, rehearsing my next sequence of moves. I first attempted this route when I was sixteen. I came out here alone during my spring break, sleeping in the back seat of my Chevy Nova with blankets I’d stolen from the house. I’d forgotten a pillow, but it didn’t matter. I lived off day-old bagels, peanut butter, and a box of power bars I’d found at the grocery store in the clearance section. They tasted of sour apricots, but I ate them anyway. I didn’t have a choice. I was lucky enough to team up with other climbers. Thank God I did because I might have killed myself otherwise. Looking back, I’m sure they felt sorry for me, the skinny kid climbing in jeans and climbing shoes held together by duct tape, no stove, and only a shearling jean jacket for warmth.

Since then, I’ve climbed this route dozens of times, and it never gets old. The flow of moves and the combination of strength and flexibility needed to get to the top is a rush. The heel hook is the only tricky spot for me because I’m so tall, but I manage. The same hold that sent Anya’s legs into space is an easy reach for me. Soon, I’m on the top, taking in the view of the snowy eastern slope of the Sierras and the brown expanse of the western valley.

By the time dusk falls, we’ve had success and failure on a half a dozen problems—as proven by the torn-up flesh of our fingers and the sheen of sweat on our skin. I’ve shown them one of my “secret spots,” a little-known area hidden from the main trails. We spent two hours working through a problem I’ve dubbed “Ticket to Nowhere.”

“I think it’s Miller time,” Kabir says after walking off the back of a climb. He drops onto the crash pad, then unties his shoes.

“I second that,” Jo calls from her perch on a small boulder outside the landing zone. “Though I wish there was someplace to shower.” She sniffs her armpit. “Whew!”

Kabir laughs.

“If you guys don’t mind a little bit of a drive, I know where there’s a hot spring.”

“That sounds amazing,” Jo says. “I’m in.”

“Me too,” Kabir says, tossing his shoes aside and wiggling his toes.

I glance at Anya, who is thoughtfully nibbling a handful of the smoked almonds from the can I cracked open moments ago. “Why not?” she says.

“That gutless wonder you call a car has four-wheel drive, right?” I ask Kabir of his Subaru wagon parked below us on the road.

“Don’t offend Belinda,” he says seriously. “You don’t want to get on her bad side.”

On the walk down, Jo and Anya bounce ahead while I wait for Kabir. Once we’re underway, his gaze knits with worry.

“How’s she doing?” he asks.

A little surprised, I take a moment to compose a reply. “You mean, about Jake?”

“About everything,” he says.

“Okay, I guess.”

“I can’t believe he dumped her at my place. Asshole.” We walk in silence for a moment. “I saw you guys leave last night. She talk about it?”

“A little,” I say. “She’s not over him.”

His dark eyebrows shoot up. “I always wondered what kept them together. I mean, he’s so focused.”

“So is she,” I say.

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