Gloria said, “Come on, Erin. Clothes are clean. Change up and have a go.”
“Okay. I have to be home for dinner at 6:30, and I’m on a bike.”
Without divulging any embarrassing details about the bike, Hank said, “I’ll drive you back, if you like. Home by 6:30. I promise.”
Out of excuses, Erin changed into shorts that were a little too tight and a shirt that was a little too loose in the bust. Gloria was the perfect shape, apparently.
When Erin emerged, Gloria was waiting. “You’re all checked in! Just sign this.”
Because Erin had surprised Hank, he hadn’t brought his sisters’ shoes. Erin rented a pair from the front desk and tried not to think about the masses who’d worn them before. She pinched them between her fingers and scrunched up her nose.
“Better or worse than foul breath?” Hank asked.
“What?”
“You and bad breath. Stinky shoes. Does every bad smell bother you?”
“I was trying to convince myself the gym washes them after every wearing.”
Hank handed her a tangled bunch of straps. “Not bloody likely. Here: see whether this fits.”
See if it fits what? She held it in front of her while Hank pulled bright ropes and a hundred tiny metal trapezoids from his bag. Gloria had her own thing-that-might-fit.
“Need help with your harness?” Hank asked. “Threw you in at the deep end, didn’t I?”
“Deep ends aren’t a problem for me. I just don’t know what this thing is.”
“You swim. Which stroke?”
“Butterfly.”
“Make you a deal. I’ll get you climbing, and you can teach me butterfly. Fair trade?”
“Fair trade,” she said.
Hank twisted the harness around a few times until the shape made more sense. Two loops were burnt orange. He squatted and held one toward her right foot. “This leg in here. Other leg in here.”
When her legs were in the right holes, she pulled the belt up near her hips, tugging the leg holes around the tops of her thighs.
“Those are too loose,” Hank kneeled before her and slipped his hands through her legs. The titillating moment made her blush. Hank tightened the straps until they were snug around her thighs. It felt like a diaper.
She was well out of her comfort zone, clothes-wise. But then, Gloria and Hank were wearing the same gear. No one cared.
Rocks and holds in an array of colors cluttered the walls. People had decorated with patterned duct tape.
Hank said, “One of us will belay you. We’ll hold the end of your rope taut so you can climb safely.” He looped the rope through Erin’s harness and tied an elaborate knot in the end.
He taught her simple belay commands. “And if you need to take a break on the wall, just yell ‘take’ and wait for me to say ‘got.’ Then you can rest and I’ll hold you.”
I’ll hold you. Despite that not being remotely romantic, Erin blushed and her belly flipped over.
She stood at the bottom of the rock face. “On belay?”
“Belay on,” Hank said.
“Climbing?”
“Climb on.”
And she did.
FIFTY-ONE
Her first time up the rock face, Hank said almost nothing. While she was on the wall, Marama arrived and roped in with Gloria. The two of them had a whole conversation about good holds and stemming out and slopers.
Climbing had a foreign lexicon Erin knew nothing about.
Hank didn’t use any of it. He left her to find her own holds. She ran her fingers over the rock above her head until she’d found something big enough to hold onto. She looked down to find something for her opposite foot, and when she found it, she pushed up and pulled up simultaneously.
Repeat.
Halfway up the rock, she stalled, her feet throbbing in the torturous shoes. She rested her forehead against the rock.
“Need a wee break?” Hank asked.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Take!” Marama yelled.
“Got!” Gloria yelled back.
Marama scrambled back and forth like a pendulum until she was two feet from Erin. “You okay?”
Erin said, “Just trying to find something to hang onto.”
“Yell ‘take.’ And have a rest.”
“I don’t need a rest.”
“Trust me.”
It was almost a whisper. “Take.”
The rope yanked her up an inch or two. “Got!” Hank yelled. He held her entire weight.
Erin pulled up on tiptoe and still couldn’t find a sufficient hold. What’s more, Hank had hoisted her up two inches, which must be cheating.
Marama said, “He’s really got you. You can sit and have a break if you want.”
Erin’s harness made a reasonable seat, and her thighs were grateful for the rest. From her perch, she spotted three reasonable handholds.
“Climbing,” she shouted before scurrying up the wall in no time.
She held onto the top, dangling her legs in the air. “Falling!”
Hank called, “Fall on,” and lowered her to the mat.
Gloria untied Erin’s rope and tethered it to her own harness. Marama had gone bouldering in the other room.
“What did you think?” Gloria said.
“I loved it. Indoors is a lot easier than outside. Just hang onto anything and go.”
“Yep. This is a great place to practice, but the real challenge is outdoors.” Gloria turned to Hank. “I’m going for the 30.”
She didn’t climb straight up the rock face. Her moves were slow and calculated.
“What is she doing?” Erin asked.
Hank said, “The 30. Route’s marked in red.”
The patterned duct tape made sense as Gloria climbed what seemed like a strenuous and tricky route. Gloria shifted from full-on spread eagle to a tiny crouched position in a matter of seconds, then reached for a marked hold slightly out of reach.
She fell five feet.
“Missed it by a hair,” Hank said as Gloria set up in her tiny crouched position and tried again.
She tried seven times, with longer and longer breaks between attempts. “I’m done,” she hollered, and Hank lowered her.
Gloria untied the rope. “I’ll have another go after I’ve warmed up.”
While Gloria belayed Hank, Erin said, “Well that was a damn sight harder than just scrambling up the wall.”
“What’s that?” Gloria kept her focus on Hank, who was climbing a blue route.
“I said you were doing something really
