Lo turns his head and catches Ryke staring with even more brotherly concern. Mine is hidden.
Lo flips Ryke off while he talks. “Why the hell is our marketing director on vacation?” He shakes his head. “Who’s his assistant?”
I stiffen and tensely check my phone again. Rose didn’t reply. Across the room, she has her phone raised above her head while Daisy and Lily try to tackle her to reach the cell and Rose swats them away with her hand.
My lips start to rise.
“Well get Theo to call GBA and work this out,” Lo says, his feet slowing to a stop.
I try not to focus on that name. I haven’t talked to Theo in years, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“If the network doesn’t answer, then bombard them with messages until they do.” Lo pauses, his tone less edged. “I really appreciate it. Let’s just hope Theo can solve this before Mark returns.” Lo hangs up and nods to me. “Tell me your staff calls you for things they should be solving themselves.”
“Every day,” I say easily.
The girls rise to their feet and begin to walk over to where we stand. Rose declares, “If you read my texts, then we have to switch phones and I’ll be reading yours and yours.” She motions to her sisters and then stops a few feet from me. She places her hands victoriously on her hips.
Daisy and Lily look questioningly at each other while Ryke, Lo, and I watch them. I’d rather no one read the personal texts I send my wife, but I’m curious enough to make this trade, just as Rose would.
Lily wavers. “I don’t have anything to hide.”
Lo shrugs beside me. “Why am I going to text her when we’re always together?”
Daisy flips her phone in her palm, apparently not eager to relinquish it. “I don’t know.”
Ryke is rigid, clearly feeling the same as his girlfriend. “Let’s just fucking climb.” He finally untangles the harnesses and passes one to each of us. I don’t want to let go of the conversation that easily, but my wife bristles at the mention of climbing and I’d rather not prolong this.
Lo sets his harness down and helps Lily, squatting and holding the holes open so she can step into them. Rose has dropped her harness to the floor and unearths a bottle of hand sanitizer from her purse. I watch her squirt a glob onto her palm while I gear up.
Ryke tosses a harness to Daisy. “You want to go first, sweetheart? You can help me demonstrate.”
Rose cuts in, “Shouldn’t we just watch you climb?” She shifts her weight, perturbed by this event. She wears yoga pants and an old Princeton T-shirt, an outfit I’ve never seen her in before, and to top off this change, she starts stroking her copper ponytail. As though touch alone will revert it to the natural color.
I near her while Ryke answers, “I get bored by gym rock over real rock. You all climbing while I’m belaying is better. But if you don’t want to do it, Rose, you don’t have to.”
Rose is stubborn and loyal. If her sisters had to walk through fire, she’d be right beside them, bearing the pain. Even with the choice to back out, she wouldn’t. Solidarity, comradery—they mean everything to Rose, and through years of catalytic moments, Ryke has become a large part of our family.
So I’m not surprised by Rose’s next declaration.
“No, I’ll do it.” She nods a few times.
Lily lets out what sounds like a cross between a moan and an embarrassed gasp. We all look over, her cheeks are fire-engine red. Lo has his hands on the straps of her harness. Obviously he just pulled them tighter, putting pressure between her legs. “I didn’t do anything!” she announces, her hands wavering, like she’s debating whether or not to cower and cover her face. Lo leans down and whispers in her ear.
This is nothing new.
After tightening my harness, I squat and gather Rose’s. This isn’t the first time I participated in top-roped climbs at a gym. Ryke, Lo and I have all done this multiple times to change our workout routine. I understand the need for locking carabiners, both twist-lock and screw-gate, and I’m well-acquainted with the figure-8 knot and the basics of belaying. Only Lily and Rose have never been climbing before, and they need more instruction than the rest of us.
But Rose isn’t going to climb today.
With my back turned to everyone, I break two plastic buckles: one on the waistbelt and one on the left leg loop. When I stand, I pass the harness to Rose.
“It’s broken,” I tell her.
She frowns, examining the harness. “What? Where?”
“These are snapped.” I show her the buckles. And she lets out a deep breath and looks to the ceiling.
“Are you thanking God right now?” I question.
She rattles the harness in my face. “This is what people call fate, Richard.”
It’s what I would call a greater power. Me. Myself. And I. I’d love to claim this accomplishment aloud, but I can’t. She’ll stubbornly still climb if I’m the force behind this act. “I call it a broken harness,” I tell her.
“What’s broken?” Ryke nears, rope in hand that’s anchored to the top of the wall.
Rose passes him the harness.
“Yeah, you can’t wear this.”
Rose almost grows four inches taller with this fact.
“There are more in the back—”
“No,” she cuts him off. “Fate has told me that I can’t climb. I know it sounds ridiculous, but the broken harness was a sign that I shouldn’t do this.”
Ryke nods in acceptance. “My friend, Sully, is superstitious when he climbs.”
“How so?” I ask. He rarely talks about Adam Sully, his friend he meets around the world, mostly in South American countries to climb rock faces. I’ve never seen him before. Ryke keeps that part of his life separate from us.
“He likes to kiss his carabineers before he leaves his fucking house, and he circles his Jeep around the parking lot three times.”
I can barely hide a cringe. It seems juvenile and pointless and something Rose would make me do. And I’d definitely do it for her. “You have strange friends,” I tell him.
“I know,” Ryke says, straight to my face.
He called me his friend. This is a rare day.
Rose waves to us. “You all can sort this out. I’m going to watch from over there.” She struts towards the wooden bench that faces this particular wall, overflowing with confidence again. Through her sudden joy, she risks a few glances around the tinted windows, searching for Walter Aimes, the photographer who’s been out of sight and supposed to snap the exclusive photo of Rose’s hair.
The rest of us migrate closer to the wall to watch Ryke and Daisy demonstrate for Lily. My phone buzzes and I check my message.
How much sleep did you receive last night? Do you have less energy than yesterday, more, or the same? – Frederick
This text wasn’t meant for me. I briefly look up at Daisy, who’s already ascending the wall, halfway up.
Clearly you slept poorly last night. I send the message to my therapist who’s been in contact with Daisy. She had her first session last week and seemed to like him.
“Is that supposed to be easy?” Lily asks, watching Daisy reach the top to ring the bell. Lily shakes her head back and forth and recoils into Lo’s chest.
“You’ll be able to do it, love.” Lo kisses her on the cheek.
Another incoming text vibrates my cell.