My eyes are still adjusting when another message appears.
Party at our apartment. Come!
I stare at the screen as I consider it. Aside from a somewhat loose plan to meet up with the guys and loiter around Lafayette Park later, I really don’t have anything else to do this weekend. But social conflicts aren’t the real reason I think I should stay away. I only have one more week before I can go see Anna again and I’m not about to do anything to jeopardize it. Another message:
I want my roommates to meet you!
A groan escapes my mouth as I fall back into the pillow. I lift the phone above my head and text her back.
I think I’d better stay put.
I toss the phone onto the comforter and close my eyes. It hasn’t even been five minutes when my phone chirps again. I’m expecting to see another overly enthusiastic message from Brooke, but this one’s from Sam.
Sup?
I type back:
Sleeping.
Then I clarify:
Was.
Sleep might be impossible at this point, but I let my hand fall to my side and the phone lands on the bed again. I’m lost in a restful daze when another text arrives, followed by another. I sigh and reach for the phone.
Wake up.
We’re climbing.
Outside.
On real rocks.
Pick me up in 20.
The sun’s peeking in between the curtains. I haven’t been climbing outdoors since last summer. Pretty soon the rain will start falling and Sam and I won’t have any other option but the climbing gym. And it sounds so… normal. I could use a day of normal.
I throw off the covers and force myself into the shower, and ten minutes later, I’m feeling like this was the right call. I pour coffee into a travel mug, load my stuff into the Jeep, and pull into Sam’s driveway right on time.
I have no idea where we’re going, but he has our destination all figured out, and before I can even back out of the driveway, he’s programming it into the GPS. The route starts with a short drive to the Golden Gate Bridge and ends at the base of a mountain three hours away.
“We’re climbing Donner?” I ask as I pull up to a stop sign and consider the map.
Sam gives me an exaggerated shrug and gestures out the front window. “Have you seen this day?” He gives me a hard stare like he can’t believe I’d suggest anything else.
I crane my neck to get a better view. It’s one of those near-winter days: deep blue sky, bright sun, crisp wind. I hit the gas pedal with my foot and roll down the window, and as we cruise down the hill toward the bay, the car floods with cold air.
At the next stop sign, I turn left onto a residential street and pull over to the side. Sam looks at me sideways as I climb out, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out what I’m doing, and when he does, he hops out and starts helping me unbuckle the Jeep’s soft top. We pull it back and secure it in place. And then we’re off again.
“Now it’s a road trip.” Sam crosses his arms behind his head and reclines the passenger seat. As he searches on my iPhone for music, we make small talk about the tutoring job I’m starting on Monday. He tells me about the kids, and how he’ll point out the troublemakers, as well as the ones who seem to really care about being there.
I was great in the interview. The head of the organization offered me the job on the spot. Now I’ve pushed my start date back twice, like I’m avoiding it, and the more Sam says, the more I start to realize that I don’t want to hear about it. There’s something offputting about the whole thing.
The Jeep creeps forward until we finally arrive at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge. Out of nowhere, I remember the organization I stumbled upon when I was first researching community service projects. The one in the Tenderloin, down the street from the apartment that burned down but didn’t take the lives of two kids.
I’ve don’t even give it another thought, and I hear the words just slip out. “I’m going to pass on the job, Sam.”
“What? You can’t pass on it. You already took it.”
I keep my eyes on the traffic in front of me. “I know. I’m going to un-take it.”
I can feel him looking at me. “You need to do something for your transcripts,” he says, and I assure him that I plan to. As we drive onto the bridge, I tell him everything I learned from the online video that day, and with every word, I’m more and more excited about getting home tonight and filling out the application.
“Whatever you want.” Sam falls back into the headrest and stares through the open roof. “Check it out,” he says as we pass under the dark orange gates that span the bridge. “Ah, best part…”
Without looking away, he tosses my phone into the console. “It’s not too early for Jack White, is it?”
“It’s never too early for Jack White.” I hear the first song on the playlist I made a few months ago. It’s a solid mix of the White Stripes, the Raconteurs, the Dead Weather, and White’s solo stuff. The four electric guitar notes kick off “Sixteen Saltines.”
Over the next three hours we make our way to Donner, listening to a lot of music, talking very little, and stopping only once along the way for lunch at In-N-Out. We down our shakes and stuff french fries into our mouths, but leave our burgers wrapped so we can eat them at the summit.
After we arrive at the parking area off the freeway, we grab our gear and walk thirty minutes to the base of the first route. Neither one of us has been here before and Sam’s giddy, rattling off everything he learned during his Internet research last night. Clean granite. Lots of routes. Incredible views from the summits.
At the base of the first rock, I ready myself. I tie my shoes, clip my chalk bag to the loop on my pants, and stuff my sweatshirt into my backpack. I open one of the granola bars I grabbed out of the pantry this morning before I left and eat it in three bites. At the bottom of my pack, I feel for the six-pack of lukewarm Gatorades and I open one and drink it without stopping.
I look around. Sam and I are the only people out here. I point my head at the sky and let out a loud yell, and Sam jumps and scolds me for scaring the crap out of him. He returns to tightening the Velcro on his shoes. The air is clean and this place is amazing and I can’t wait to see the view from the top. I had no idea how much I needed this.
“You want me to lead?” I ask as I start clipping the cams onto my harness.
Sam looks up at the rock. “Actually, this is a popular one to free solo. What do you think? You up for it?”
I consider it. It’s not that vertical, and the holds look relatively easy to spot, even from here. “Sure,” I say as I drop the gear back into my pack.
“You have the burgers?” Sam coils the rope and throws it over his shoulder, then clips his chalk bag to his belt loop.
“Yep.” I pat the smaller backpack I brought along and feed my arms through the straps. I’m not hungry at all. Just euphoric and full of energy.
