Virtuality

by H. L. Wegley

  Vince yawned, pushed the ghost out of his mind, and stepped aside to let her pass. “Roll it on in. Your bike will be safer inside.”

  She pushed the bike by him and stopped between the car and Paul’s pickup.

  “Jess, remind me again why we had to get up in the middle of the night.”

  “Don’t try weaseling out. We’re driving to Vantage and you will climb that rock face with me.”

  “In the dark?”

  “We’ll be on the rock by 6:00 a.m. It’s July and the east side of the state gets hot. At noon, you can fry your fingers on the rocks. Besides, at six we should have the rocks all to ourselves.”

  Having time alone with Jess was exactly the prescription his frayed nerves needed. But not if she were bringing along her bag full of insults. “To ourselves? Remind me why that matters.”

  She pulled the kickstand out and leaned her bike on it. “So you won’t have to be embarrassed by how many times you fall.”

  “Fall? Jess, I’m not going to—”

  “Yes, you will. You’ll fall off the rock. The first time will be on my command.”

  “Great.”

  “It’s to show you how safe you are, if you do things right when climbing a rock.”

  “It doesn’t sound safe to me. But I guess safe is a relative term for someone who cracks a safe when they rob banks. Or just blows it up.”

  She folded her arms, leaned back onto her motorcycle seat, and shot him a razor-edged look. “Don’t start on the Jesse James stuff, Vincent, because today isn’t your day.” She shook her head. “Tomorrow’s not looking good either.”

  So Jess had brought her bag of insults. The twin bags hanging across the back of the motorcycle seat were probably full of them. What had happened to the day of relaxation, the day of doing something physical to blow off steam from the pressure of the past two days?

  She pulled the bags from her bike and held them up. “This is what makes rock climbing safe, if you know how to use the equipment.” Jess opened the back door of his rental car and dropped the bags onto the back seat. “Remember the videos we watched yesterday?”

  “Yeah. Andele, andele!”

  “On belay.” She folded her arms again. “Vince, this isn’t a joke. It’s a protocol meant to keep you alive.”

  “Excuse me, Jess, but falling on command doesn’t sound like a prescription for staying alive.” He slid into the driver’s seat.

  She stood by the open passenger door. “Maybe I should get on my bike and ride back home.” Jess had lowered her voice to the soft, intense tone she had used since she was a girl … right before she erupted. “You know something, Vince? I’ll never forget the first time I met you. But I keep trying.”

  “I’m sorry.” Vince slumped forward in submission, head bowed, waiting for hot lava.

  A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder.

  What was up with her? He looked up.

  Jess had slid in beside him and the dome light now shined into two pale blue eyes that held a much softer expression.

  He needed to say something to move things forward, to get beyond all the awkwardness. “You and I deserve this day to unwind, together. We need it.” He patted her hand.

  She pulled her hand back. “Let’s go then.”

  Why was everything so complex? Why couldn’t they just hop in the car and take off together like when they were kids, embarking on their next great adventure?

  As kids, they were inseparable. Maybe they weren’t kids anymore, but their relationship had been severed while they were still in their teens. And that’s where they were picking up the pieces. Two twenty-six-year-old teenagers. That might explain some of the craziness. But a niggling thought said there had to be more to it than teenage immaturity.

  “Are you going to drive, or do you want me to?”

  “Yeah. Drive—I mean, no. I’ll drive.”

  He backed up the steep driveway and onto the street, shoved the gear shift into drive, but didn’t press on the gas. “Jess … are we acting like teenagers?”

  She stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I think Vincent van Gogh has completely van gone. Instead of an earlobe, he cut off a frontal lobe.”

  Vince wasn’t the only one acting looney, was he?

  What do you think, dude?

  That we’re two teenagers. Awkward, immature, insecure and … what was that old ‘80s song? Trying to Get the Feeling Again?

  The obnoxious voice inside had Jess and him pegged, but it wasn’t something he could say to her.

  Jess huffed a sharp sigh. “Maybe you should let me drive.”

  He pushed on the gas pedal and rolled toward Fairwood Boulevard.

  After he turned onto the boulevard and headed up the hill, Jess swiveled in her seat and snagged her bags from the back seat. She plopped them in her lap and pulled out an assortment of ropes and hardware that Vince vaguely remembered seeing on the climbing videos.

  As they passed a street light he looked her way. “I guess we really are going to climb a rock face.”

  She ignored his comment.

  Vince yawned again. His stressed body craved rest. How were they supposed to climb a cliff with only three hours of sleep?

  Regardless, if they could park under one of the street lights, just looking at Jess could keep him awake. Since he had to drive, he would prod her instead. Live dangerously. Mess with a volcano. That could keep a person awake too.

  Prod number one.

  “You didn’t cut a deal with Patrick to kill me off on this climb, did you? You know, give him control of the company for a couple of million?”

  “That's not even funny. I won't dignify it by answering.”

  Something had become evident since he came back home. Jess’s biting remarks to him were okay, but he wasn't allowed to reciprocate. Since she was a little girl, Jess had had a supercharged sense of justice. But how did she justify all her digs while disallowing his comebacks?

  Something had just changed in the car. He could feel it. Vince glanced her way.

  It was Jess. Head down. Hands in her lap. She looked like she might cry.

  “I'm sorry, Jess. I was only joking. Why do you get to make caustic remarks, but I can't even—”

  “That's something you have to figure out.” Her head snapped up.

  “You’ve got an attitude problem. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  “No. But you’ve got a perception problem. Did anyone ever tell you that?”

  This wasn't a good start to a day of winding down. Maybe he should change the subject. “Just the two of us again. It reminds me of old times. Of some good times.” He reached for her hand.

  She moved her hand beyond his reach. “Some good. Some not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Vince, you need to listen while I tell you about slings and biners.”

  “Beaners?”

  “It's spelled with an I”

  “Doesn’t matter how it’s spelled. Don’t let Carlos hear you say that.”

  “Punny but not funny. Guess I should expect that from a starving writer who can’t write his way out of a story.”

  Ouch. That was right where it hurt. Had Jess been reading his books?

  She drove her barb home with a prolonged glare that Vince could feel, though he could see nothing but a shadowy form beside him.

  Doing great, dude. We’re staying awake.

  Another sharp sigh blasted from Jess’s mouth. “You need to listen. I’m going to tell you all I know—”

  “This won't take long.”

  She shot him another zinger with her steel blue eyes.

  He couldn’t see those eyes now, but he knew them well. And he’d seen that look in them every day of their senior year in high school.

  “Okay, Mr. van Gordon. I’ll tell you all we both know. It won't take any longer.”

  “Touché.”

  Jess had ripped a hole in his front lines in this battle of the barbs.

  Vince h
adn’t a clue where their relationship was headed or if there was anything left of it. But he had gained one thing. He wasn’t sleepy anymore.

  Silence reigned in the car for the next forty minutes as the car climbed the west side of the Cascades. A ceasefire? Or was Jess waiting to attack?

  Vince gripped the wheel with both hands as he steered through the sharp turns on I-90 leading into Snoqualmie Pass.

  When the road straightened, a warm hand found his right hand on the wheel, pulled it off, and trapped it between her hands. She held it in her lap.

  He knew Jess well enough to realize this was her apology. It’s all he would get. It was enough to take the chill off and, right now, that was enough.

  For the next thirty miles, he drove in silence. Peaceful silence.

  As Vince let the car coast down the eastern slopes of the Cascades, a few miles from Ellensburg, wet drops splashed onto his hand.

  Maybe not so peaceful, after all.

  Jess released his hand and wiped her cheeks.

  In the brightening dawn, a tear glistened as it rolled down Jess’s left cheek. She swiped at it.

  He looked her way until they approached a sharp turn. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “You should know them already.” She looked his way. “And if you don't, you haven't got enough money to buy them.”

  What was he supposed to know? That Jess loved Paul but would settle for his little brother? Maybe he should just stop thinking about it. Women were complicated creatures that he had never been able to understand. But her tears and her words seemed to be in a battle, warring against each other, tearing Jess apart.

  He had to react to her crying, and it needed to be something better than a penny for her thoughts. He had already crashed and burned with that approach.

  Humility and insanity… if only he could combine them to explain his seven years of silence, of never calling his best friend. “Jess, I was really stupid, inconsiderate … and, well, I'm sorry for not even calling. I was—”

  “Insanity? Is that what you’re pleading?”

  “I missed you, Jess. It was insanity to abandon the best friend I've ever had.”

  She sniffled and looked his way. “I wasn't crying … and you're not going to tell anyone that I was. Got that, lop ear?”

  “Loud and clear.” He had a Jesse James comeback for her, but the look on her face said that would be a terrible idea, especially since she was going to belay him up that rock face.

  “Jess, will you forgive me for leaving you and never coming back. For not calling you?”

  “Why? I thought deserters just got a firing squad?”

  “Guess the answer is no,” Vince mumbled.

  “That depends. But in about twenty minutes, we're going to exit the freeway and climb some big rocks. If you don’t want any further disfiguration of that thick head of yours, I suggest you listen closely while I review what we’re going to do.”

  Vince bit his tongue. Was he forgiven or not? Regardless, he needed to listen. If he fell off the rock, the answer to his question was moot.

  For the next fifteen minutes, Jess repeated procedures she had shown him on YouTube yesterday—securing the harness, anchoring, belaying with her in the lead. Then she asked which knots he should use when tying onto each piece of equipment.

  When she finished, Jess went silent, retreating into her melancholy but without tears this time.

  Fifteen minutes later, Jess sat silently beside him as they crossed the Columbia River at Vantage.

  The twilight had brightened now, and the eastern horizon glowed yellow-orange.

  While Vince negotiated the steep hill on the east side of the river, Jess straightened in her seat. “The next exit is ours. It’s only a couple of miles from there to Frenchman Coulee.”

  In another mile, Vince took the exit and followed her directions to Vantage Road which took them down a narrow gorge that widened over the next mile. On their right, a high rock cliff paralleled the roadway a hundred yards from it.

  He turned his head to get a better look at the cliff through the side window.

  Jess poked his shoulder. “That’s the parking area on the left.”

  He turned in, rolled to the back of the dusty dirt lot and stopped.

  Directly in front of them, shrouded in shadows, stood tall columns of rock that looked like gargantuan steel rods welded together on their sides and standing on end to form a shear, mile-long cliff, the Sunshine Wall. It seemed to be two-hundred feet high.

  Jess grabbed her bag and got out.

  Vince met her at the front of the car. From there, the cliff seemed even more imposing.

  “Seriously, Jess, we’re going to climb that?

  “Don’t worry, Vince. No one’s been killed here … well, not for a few years.”

  “See, I told you this was dangerous. Let’s go home.”

  “Okay. A guy fell when he started to rappel down. Didn’t follow safe procedures.”

  “Safe procedures? I’m not sure there are any. How high are these rocks, anyway?”

  “About a hundred feet.”

  “How are we going to get down once we get up there? If we even do.”

  “Are you wimping out on me, van Gordon?”

  “I’m not a wimp. Just a sane man with an intact skull who wants to keep it that way.”

  She mumbled something under her breath about his ears. “The most dangerous part of a climb is coming down.”

  “But it’s the easiest part, isn’t it?” Vince lifted a hand and whistled as he lowered it until his hand crashed on the hood of the car.

  “No, Mr. Andele. We’re going to walk down.”

  “Yeah, right. Just rotate the gravity vector ninety degrees and walk down the cliff. Does God know you’re going to make Him do that for us?”

  “Vince, we’re going to hike around the cliff. It’s an easy two-mile hike, downhill all the way. I wouldn’t make you rappel down on your first climb. Now, are you satisfied? Don’t answer that. Just follow me.”

  Jess led him along a trail for about a quarter mile.

  She was in her element now. Energized, smiling, the gentle breeze animating her waves of brunette hair. Jess was beyond beautiful. She also had a death wish. Or was she a siren, luring him to his death instead of a bunch of sailors?

  They stopped at the base of the cliff that towered over them, blocking half of the clear blue sky.

  Vince looked up and his insides quivered. “Ho-o-o-ly smoke.”

  Jess grinned. “Isaiah had the same reaction. But he was looking at God’s throne, not some measly little rock formation.”

  “At least it’s got some big cracks between the columns. Maybe …” Vince cleared his throat, then sang softly. “He hideth me whole in the cleft of the rock that—”

  “That’s enough wise guy.” She started pulling climbing paraphernalia out of her bag.

  With slings and things hanging off her, Jess scampered up the base of the rock to about ten feet, then she stopped on some microscopic ledge that would never support his quadruple-E-width foot. She appeared to be creating one of those anchor contraptions.

  He had a strong suspicion he would soon be hanging from it.

  Jess passed the rope through a couple of biners, pulled through several yards of slack rope and climbed back down.

  “Jess, isn’t what you just did called free-solo climbing? You told me you don’t do that.”

  “I only went up ten feet. I could have jumped down from that height and been fine.”

  His gaze went down to her legs, those shapely, well-toned legs, extending down from a nicely filled pair of shorts.

  “Vince, I’ll be above you, leading. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to watch my legs, or anything else your male eyes tend to focus on. You’ll have to watch me closely, so you can catch me if I fall off the rock.”

  “Yeah, the rock. The rock that is higher than I.”

  “I guess Sunday School sank in after all. I was beginning to wonder ab
out you.” She paused. “Put this harness on like I showed you yesterday. After you’ve got it on and I’ve checked it, I want you to tie into the rope with a figure-eight knot.”

  After a couple of corrections from Jess, Vince stood harnessed and tied to the rope.

  She clipped on her belay device and threaded the rope through it. Then Jess struck a pose, feet spread and both hands on the rope. “Now you climb up to the anchor.”

  “I don’t attach to anything? Just climb up?”

  “Yes, until I yell fall. Then you let go.”

  “And Patrick gets the business. You weren’t kidding about this fall thing, were you?”

  “No. You’re about to learn how we keep rock climbing safe. This is a confidence builder.”

  “Yeah, sure. I can feel the confidence just oozing out of me. I think it’s all oozed out now.”

  “One more thing. When I stop your fall, you might swing into the rock. If you do, use your feet to keep from smacking against the rock.”

  “Smacking into the rock? You said this was safe. But I guess safe is a relative thing.” He hurried to the rock and tried climbing rapidly as Jess had done, like a monkey.

  She didn’t stop him, but Jess muttered a string of unintelligible words as she worked the rope.

  Two feet shy of the anchor, his hand slipped from a hold. The extra weight broke a foot loose from its precarious spot. Vince was going down.

  “Fall,” Jess barked out from below.

  As if he had a choice. He broke loose from the rock, struggling to keep his feet below him and wondering if slender, five-foot-eight Jess could catch his two-hundred-twenty-pound body.

  Vince braced for the impact, but his body jerked to a stop.

  He looked down.

  His quadruple-E climbing shoes dangled a few feet above the ground.

  Jess had him. All his weight. Now, she fed some rope and lowered him to the ground.

  He blew out a sigh, tried to relax, and gave her a grin. “Did I pass?”

  She shook her head. “You flunked. What happened to ‘on belay’? You know, all of that safety protocol I taught you?”