by Jan Redford
“So what if you had his full approval? Is anything else stopping you?”
I pictured myself sitting in a classroom, handing in assignments, doing a presentation in front of a roomful of strangers, opening and closing my mouth like a guppy, nothing coming out. Trying to learn how to use a computer like the ones we had at work. Nona and I had gotten hysterical trying to control the little arrow with the mouse.
“What if I’ve been fooling myself all along? What if I don’t really have a brain? If I try and fail, I won’t have my dream to keep me going.”
“So it’s not really about Grant. It’s about you. About your fear.”
Christ! Am I still playing follow-the-leader? Hiding behind Grant?
I felt strange. Like I’d been floating around watching until now, and I was finally there in the room, in my body.
“You’ve done everything right. You’re further along than you know. You’ve taken courses, you have a job and you’ve saved money, you’re on the lists for housing and daycare. Now put in your application. You don’t have to make decisions about your marriage just yet. One step at a time.”
* * *
—
Out in the parking lot, a thick perfume enveloped me and I looked up into hundreds of heavy purple lilacs. This was the first time I’d noticed this tree, after parking four times in this exact spot. I took a deep breath, sucked in the sweetness. I didn’t ever want to forget this moment: the clarity, the certainty, the surge of power. It was the same feeling I’d had on the Calgary campus with Sam hopping up and down on my back. I knew I’d go floating off again but this moment was mine. “This turmoil is uncomfortable, but it’s what will get you to school. Don’t run away from it,” Sarah had said. “Run into it.”
I picked one tiny blossom. Back at my parents’ house, I pressed the speck of purple into my journal and wrote, Remember the lilac.
32
POWER SURGE
Hiking along the shoreline of Lake Louise, Doc and I wove in and out of the crowds of camera-clad tourists like slalom skiers. They gaped at us and the ropes hanging off our packs as if we were exotic pandas in a zoo. Some of them even swung their cameras from the blue glacier of Mount Victoria and the milky turquoise lake to point them at us.
As we approached the back of the lake, the tourists started to thin out.
“Hey, Jan, where’s the fire?” Doc said, and I slowed down so he and I could walk side by side.
It was hard to drop my sense of urgency. At home I had to race to keep up with the house and kids with Grant in camp, and at work I had to race around with all the women who were trying to be the best, the fastest, the most efficient, so they wouldn’t be the first on the chopping block. Huge cutbacks were coming to Forestry. It was a good thing I’d finally made my decision. In two weeks we’d be in Calgary.
“Hey, you’re used to tromping around in the mountains all year,” I said.
Doc and I had met in Wyoming, at NOLS, and our lives had been intertwined ever since. We’d taken an epic trip to Yosemite with Niccy, all three squeezed into his tiny car with everything he owned, including the monster-sized stereo and speakers I had to sit beside in the back seat. These days, Doc worked for Outward Bound.
“I have to coax my clients along gently. Not the best thing for my own fitness.”
Doc had my dream job: using the mountains to help women find their long-lost gumption. He worked with women coming out of abusive relationships. A far cry from the testosterone-drenched Banff Cadet Camp where my cadets had been less concerned about personal growth than submachine guns, napalm and who could get up a climb the fastest. The totally opposite end of the touchy-feely spectrum.
“I like Annie. She’s a real sweetie,” I said.
Doc’s girlfriend had gone for a hike and would meet us at the end of the day. She was a sparkly blonde from Louisiana with a Southern drawl and lots of positive energy. An Outward Bound instructor too.
“Yeah, I think this might be it. And how are you and Grant?”
“We’re still married!” There was my perky, upbeat voice, but the truth was Grant now slept in the screened-in room out back. He was pissed off that in two weeks we’d be moving into student housing in Calgary, pissed off that we had tenants set up for our house for the next four years, pissed off that I was ruining our lives and our little family.
“He’s not impressed that I’m climbing on Jenna’s birthday.”
Guilt seeped through me when I thought about my kids, but this was the only day Doc could climb. He and Annie would fly home to the States tomorrow. And I couldn’t count how many family events Grant had missed in the past four years to be in the mountains.
“I hope I’m not causing problems.” His North Carolina accent dipped and dragged out his vowels.
“You kidding? A slight change in wind direction causes problems. And tomorrow’s her big party, not today.”
Jenna knew tomorrow was her special day. Ten friends, a waterslide, a Pocahontas Dairy Queen cake and a big piñata that the four- and five-year-olds probably couldn’t even dent with a big stick. Every day I’d been putting a new layer of papier mâché on a big balloon after work, and tonight Jenna and I would paint it and hang a little yellow bear in a basket below to make it look like a hot air balloon. As long as Grant didn’t make a big deal of my absence, Jenna wouldn’t care that today was her real birthday.
“You should come back for birthday cake. Break your teeth on a few silver candy balls.”
I’d baked a chocolate cake after work yesterday and let Jenna cover it in M&Ms, sprinkles and silver candy balls. It was a two-cake birthday.
“Would love to. I can finally meet Grant.”
Bubbles of unease started to percolate. Grant hadn’t come out of the house when Annie and Doc picked me up. I’d told Doc he was busy with the kids.
He hadn’t met Grant three years earlier when he visited me in Canmore either. I’d asked Doc and his friend to move from our guest room to a campground before Grant came home because I was worried about Grant’s reaction to someone like Doc—someone with a brain and Southern manners, and a gentle disposition. Someone who wrote poetry.
We headed off the main trail into the trees and hiked up a narrow path toward the steep cliffs of quartzite. I threw my pack down at the base of the climb.
“This is it.”
Doc put his hands on the rock on either side of a fist-sized crack set in the corner and looked up. The route started off vertical and got steeper after that, running through two roofs, which would take some serious Spiderman moves. We’d climb up the wall, then through a horizontal ceiling, then back up the wall—twice—before reaching the bolted anchor.
“You want this lead? It looks way harder than it is. There’s lots of huge holds.”
I wasn’t sure how I wanted him to respond. I hadn’t climbed much over the summer with work and the kids, but I knew the best thing for me was to lead right away. Not give myself the chance to snivel and chicken out.
Doc peered at me over his thick glasses as though I’d asked him if he’d like to take a leap off the top of a thirty-storey building. He declined the lead.
I felt a surge of excitement, like I’d won the lottery. I’d done this route many times, so it was the perfect way to get back into leading.
With my rack around my neck, I started sorting gear. The weight pulled on my neck muscles. I’d barely been able to turn my head all summer. It seemed the more Grant and I fought, the more my neck seized up.
“That’s my style!” Doc laughed when he saw all the gear I’d brought.
“Hey! It’s a very long pitch.” The route was about 130 feet, almost the full length of the rope.
I kept sorting gear, from smallest to biggest so I could grab the right size quickly while I was hyperventilating a hundred feet up.
When Doc had me on belay, I reached up and grabbed a huge handhold, pulled myself up. Once both feet were off the ground, firmly positioned on large footholds, I paused and to
ok a deep breath. The ground was still just a jump away. I hadn’t committed to anything yet.
With my hand crammed in the crack, I stepped up again. I felt light, even with the rack of metal hanging from my neck and the rope dragging from my harness. My shoes were about level with Doc’s head, so I placed a piece of protection in the crack as high as I could and clipped the rope.
“Lookin’ good,” Doc said.
I moved up steadily, putting protection in the crack every eight feet or so. Not too much, not too little. I waited for that familiar panic to plant itself in my belly, then expand outward until it grabbed hold of my arms and legs and tried to shake me off the rock, but I felt calm, in control. I felt the clarity I was always looking for.
Under the first roof, I bent out backwards from the rock, reaching for an edge to grab onto. As my hand groped around, I had one of those what the fuck am I doing here? moments and then my palm fit perfectly around a huge hold. I pulled myself up and over.
“Nicely done!”
The bigger roof waited for me, thirty feet up. With my eyes fixed on the next rest spot, I climbed away from my last piece of protection, farther and farther from the ground. Placed another piece of protection. Repeated the process. Ropey tendons popped up on the backs of my hands, white with chalk as I clamped down on each hold like a vise. There was no noise in my head, no voices telling me what I could or could not do. Just the sound of my breathing.
When I scrunched my body under the big roof, preparing myself to commit to pulling up and over the edge, I looked down at Doc, eighty feet below. It was a long way away. My two blond children danced in front of my eyes for a moment like fairies. Your children will be okay if their mother’s okay, Sarah had said in Victoria. Did I want my kids to see their mom bake cookies all day and make lunch for a logger, or climb steep cracks and go to university? Which mother would they believe when she told them, “Follow your dream!”
I was up and over the roof and cramming another piece of protection in the crack. With my feet stemming the wall on either side of the corner, hands sunk deep in the crack, I felt like a climber again.
* * *
—
As we hiked down the trail toward the Chateau, I could feel the heat-sensor missile of Grant’s anger and resentment raging through the passes and valleys of the Rockies to home in on me, here in Lake Louise.
“We’d better boot it,” I said.
I’d be home by six. We’d done one more route than we should have. Grant had “suggested” I get home at five and I’d wanted seven, so I was compromising. He just didn’t know that yet.
Doc matched my pace, looked over at me and said, “You’re amazing.”
“Right. I used to take my cadets up some of that shit. Grant could probably solo them without a rope.”
Doc put his hand on my arm. Stopped me. We stood in the middle of the trail, tourists flowing around us like we were rocks in white water.
“Don’t do that to yourself. You can do anything you set your mind to. I’ve seen you.”
“Four years of school is a very long time.”
“Hey. Remember the chewing tobacco? You were wild. If you can chew that shit, you can do anything.”
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “Pig shit in a can.” I slipped my hand through the crook of his arm and we walked arm in arm the rest of the way. In front of the Chateau, Annie was waiting for us, smiling and swaying in time to the guy in lederhosen playing “Edelweiss” on the alpenhorn.
* * *
—
Doc bumped the rental car up our driveway, pulled up in a cloud of dust in front of the house. As I dragged my pack out of the trunk, Jenna flew down the steps from the deck, wrapped herself around my leg. I ruffled her hair.
“Hey, sweetie-pie. You having fun with Daddy?”
“It’s my birthday. Daddy said you should have been here for my birthday.”
Doc and Annie came up behind me and Doc introduced himself to Jenna.
“The last time I saw you, you were turning one.”
“I’m five now.” She held up five fingers.
Annie squatted down beside her. “Five! Wow. That’s pretty old. You’ll be going to kindergarten!”
Grant stomped down the steps toward us, scowling. He held Sam out toward me with straight arms. I lifted him above my head and he giggled and drooled. He was teething again. Before it splatted on me, I lowered him to my hip. At twenty months, he was getting too heavy to hold for long. Jenna hadn’t been this weight until about three.
Grant stood in front of me with his arms crossed. Sam peeked around me at the two strangers.
“This is Sam,” I told Doc and Annie.
Doc wanted to acknowledge Sam but Grant’s body posture was too overwhelming.
“Grant, this is Doc. Doc, Grant.” Doc extended his hand but Grant just glared.
“I know who you are.”
I didn’t bother to introduce Annie.
“We finally ate without you.”
I looked at my watch. “It’s only six.”
“But we saved the cake, Mommy.” Jenna’s voice was too cheerful. She grabbed my hand and guilt jabbed at me. Maybe I should have stayed for her birthday, or at least found a phone booth in Lake Louise. But I wasn’t that late. He could have held off.
“Thanks, baby. And we’ll have your real party tomorrow.”
“Her birthday is today.” Grant stood over me. I took a step back.
He grabbed Jenna’s hand and said, “Come on, Jenna. Let’s go light your candles.” Jenna ran after her father, looking back at me, tripping a bit as he pulled her along. He slammed the door to the house. Hard. Sam snuggled his face into my shirt.
Doc let out a long whistle. “Wow.”
“Sorry, you guys. He’s not always like this.” I didn’t sound convincing. He’d been like this in Canmore four years ago too.
“I’m not sure if I feel comfortable leaving you here,” Doc said. “Will you be safe?”
My sister had said the same thing. I’d waited to tell Grant about my savings account until her visit a month ago, thinking he would moderate his response. He hadn’t.
My laugh sounded forced. “I’m okay. He’s just being a jerk. I figure he owes me about 210 days’ worth of climbing for his two expeditions, and I haven’t even come close.”
We hugged goodbye, then I watched Doc and Annie slowly bounce down the driveway in the rental car and turn onto the road. They honked, two little beeps on the horn.
In a couple more weeks we’d be in Calgary. I’d meticulously and intentionally burned every bridge behind me. I’d quit my job, the house was rented, deposits were paid, Jenna was signed up for school, Sam for daycare, and me for university. There was no backing out now. I just had to get Grant away from logging, then he’d lighten up, he’d see this was the right direction for us. We just needed a change.
Weighted down by my climbing pack on one side, my twenty-month-old on the other, I trudged up the grey weathered cedar steps to the house. As I scootched Sam up my hip I said, “Did you know your mommy’s a wild woman?”
33
LEAVING CHABA
“Come on, Chaba!”
I patted the tailgate of the truck and Chaba backed up to take a run at it, hoisted his thick, blond body up into the box where he sat and panted heavily, his tongue dripping down his white chest. He thought he was going for a walk.
“Why can’t Chaba come with us?” Jenna asked.
“I already told you, Jenna.” I’d explained this to her over and over, all summer long. She knew they didn’t allow pets in family housing.
I slammed the tailgate shut. Chaba plunked his head over the side of the box and Jenna reached up, scratched behind his ears. Her face was impassive, too impassive for a five-year-old. She was learning to cover up so young. But she’d forgotten to wipe the soft powdering of salt from her face, dried-up tears from her goodbye earlier with Gus.
“I don’t want to leave him either, and I don’t want to l
eave Gussy. But I didn’t make the rules. They don’t let people have cats or dogs at the university.”
“I hate that stupid university.”
She hated our new life before it had even started. So did Grant. So much so that he wasn’t coming with us. I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I’d been wondering when he’d get the guts to tell me. But our house was rented out to a couple from Montreal, so he was homeless. He would rent a room from a friend of ours, a mountain guide, and try to visit us on weekends. We were hoping to smuggle Chaba in once in a while.
“I’m gonna drive with Daddy to Calgary in the big truck,” Jenna said in a singsong voice, looking over at the loaded U-Haul.
The words were intended to punish, and they did. My eyes started to sting. I’d been a blubbering mess all week, cleaning the house for the tenants. Scrubbing out our claw-foot tub after three winters of sharing bathwater. Washing crayon and markers off the cedar walls and getting that familiar whiff of home. Weeding the garden and imagining our tenant with her Montreal makeup, picking my carrots and zucchini and raspberries with her long red fingernails.
Grant came toward us with Sam on his shoulders, his hands encircling grubby bare feet. Sam had hardly worn shoes all summer, let alone clothes. Getting him into his diaper and T-shirt was like trying to dress a giant eel.
Grant passed off our son without a word and everyone crawled into the pickup. We headed up the valley, toward Kim and Dick’s house by the Blaeberry River, where Jenna had spent the past three summers playing in the pond with Haley, and Sam and Ocean had transformed together from small blobs who could barely hold up their heads to walking, talking little people.
Chaba’s doghouse waited for him on the dirt driveway; Grant had brought it a few days ago. There was a metal stake in the ground for the rope. Chaba had never been tied up in his life. He’d never even used the doghouse because he slept inside with us.
“Their van’s not here,” Grant said, looking through the windshield.
