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Hannah felt tense and awkward in his presence, and the conversation was like a foreign language. In the evening, her father would gather round the campfire with friends and numerous beer bottles, and Hannah would lie in her bunk and listen as words and phrases wafted toward her. The talk was of overhangs, the Yosemite Decimal System, free soloing; of harnesses, bolt hangers and anchor chains.
She always waited for the conversation to move on to other things she could understand, but it never did. Climbers, she discovered, talked about climbing and nothing else. Whenever conversation turned to some climbing legend who had achieved an incredible first ascent, her father would start planning a trip, too. She’d heard people call him a badass and a thrill seeker. She’d also heard him called a pothead, but had no idea what that was. All she knew was that his whole life was dedicated to doing something she didn’t understand at all. She was scared of heights and didn’t see the point of climbing.
Beth didn’t particularly enjoy climbing, either, but her love of makeup and all things girlie amused their mother.
It was obvious to Hannah that she had nothing to redeem her in the eyes of either parent.
“But you were good at other things,” Posy said. “You’re smart. That must have made them proud. I bet they boasted about you, too.”
There was no way she was going to admit how badly her parents had destroyed her confidence, or how she’d twisted herself into a million different shapes to make them proud, before eventually giving up and accepting the truth—
That not all parents loved their children equally.
“We need to get back to the kids.” She went to step forward, but Posy blocked her path.
“You didn’t feel they were proud of you?”
“I know they weren’t.” If she said I got an A in Math, Daddy, her father would scratch his jaw and try to find something to say, That’s great, I guess. “People value different things. Our parents valued athletic ability, and as you know from my recent attempt to balance on a gate, I’m sadly lacking in that. That last summer before the accident, I taught you to read.”
“Yeah?” Posy slid her arm into Hannah’s and the two of them walked toward the lodge, their boots crunching on the new snow. “You were eight years old and you taught me to read? That must have made our parents proud, surely?”
Don’t waste your time. She’ll learn to read soon enough. We don’t need her turning into you!
“Dad thought there was plenty of time for that when you started school. He was worried that an interest in books might stop you climbing.”
They reached the back door and walked into the boot room. Hannah tugged off her boots, wondering how it was that a person’s voice could stay in your head for twenty-five years.
Because she knew her love of books irritated her father, Hannah had read under the covers with a flashlight. The worst time for her was summer, when the whole family left their small rented home in the mountains, squashed into the van and drove between the Rockies and the Cascades, tackling different climbs.
Space was limited, and each child was allowed one small bag.
Hannah had crammed hers full of books.
Posy levered off her boots. “Tell me about that one time.”
“What time?”
“You said they only took you climbing one time.”
One summer, instead of staying in the van and losing herself in fictional worlds that all seemed more appealing than her own, she’d forced herself to try climbing.
She’d been determined to prove herself and bring the same expression of pride to their father’s face that he wore when he looked at Posy.
In the end all she’d proved was that she didn’t have the aptitude or attitude.
“It wasn’t a resounding success.”
She’d frozen on the rock, terrified by the drop, her teeth chattering, each moment of her agony intensified by her father’s impatience.
For God’s sake, climb! How are you even my child?
Weird how different kids can be, he’d said to a climber friend without even bothering to lower his voice.
His obvious embarrassment and the sympathetic expression on the face of his friend had unglued her frozen hands. Determined to climb and be like her sister, she’d thrown caution to the wind and tried to find a handhold on the smooth rock.
Posy closed the back door, shutting out the cold. “What happened?”
“I fell.” And she still remembered the gut-swooping rush as she’d lost her grip and fallen through the air.
