I can’t fix it now, because I still don’t feel any clarity about it.These two notions—that I love her more than anything and always want to be with her andalsofeel sick about moving forward—both cling to me like the smell of skunk, and I don’t know how to make sense of them.
Emily is helping the guys get the ropes set up, making sure everything is organized for the belay stations at the bottom of the cliff. She’ll hardly look at me, and I don’t blame her.
This whole week feels like an unraveling, and I at once wish things would finish coming undone already, and want to freeze time right here, before I lose her for good.
The Not-Wives are quieter than usual when they arrive, all looking up at the cliff with trepidation. I recognize the looks on their faces: the fear, the anticipation, the awe.That’s why I still chase after bigger and better climbs, even though my bread and butter is climbing the weirdest stuff you can think of, things no one else has ever thought to climb.There’s a thrill that can only be had by conquering an obstacle you’re not sure you can handle, and while I could rappel down this particular wall in my sleep, I love bringing that to other people.
Even these people.
“All right, ladies,” Monroe says. “Today, in a culmination of all our self-actualizing exercises, we are going to truly face our fears.”
“Does that mean Genesis needs to give someone a blow job?” Destyny says, and Monroe shushes right over Genesis’s retort.
“We’re here to support each other, ladies,” Monroe says. “It’s time to set our differences aside and unite in sisterhood.”
They all seem skeptical about that, which is warranted.Today, though, they at leastlookunited in their fashion choices, as they are all wearing matching baby pink crop-tops that say “Not-Wife and Proud.”The words are decorated with sparkly blue Swarovski crystals, with a fancy font that was newly created for the occasion by legendary typeface designer Giambottista Bodini.
I can only string together most of these words because I heard Monroe mention this about a hundred times.Though, according toTim, Giambottista Bodini has been dead for a couple hundred years, so it is very possible Monroe is lying.
One day I might askTim how the hell he knows this.
The Not-Wife handlers lead them up the trail that winds up the side of the canyon to the top of the cliff. Even Calista is apparently participating today, so Geoff andTim have roped some of Rich’s crew members into belaying for us and have spent the morning teaching them the literal ropes.
I’ll be up on the cliff, rappelling down with the Not-Wives, in case anyone has a problem that requires immediate intervention. We’ve got cameramen already in position at the top of the cliff and the bottom, and one on either side, hanging from ropes on the outside of ours.
My team planned out where each of the Not-Wives will be climbing, maximizing for safety rather than for drama. Rich tried to give me a hard time about it, and I told him that the contract said matters of safety in regards to climbing were one hundred percent our responsibility, and that they therefore need to be one hundred percent under our control.
Rich grumbled about it, but I think he saw the liability looming should any of these Not-Wives decide to unbuckle someone else’s harness mid-climb, and relented.
So it is that I am climbing in the middle, with Monroe immediately to my left and Genesis—next least likely to harass me—on my right. On the other side of Genesis will be Calista, then Kate, and on the other side of Monroe is Destyny. Which means Monroe and I will be between her and Genesis, in case any fighting breaks out.
I fully expect fights to break out.The ropes are set more than regulation distance apart, to try to prevent this from getting physical.
I need to head up after the Not-Wives in a minute, but first I check in with Geoff and Emily and make sure everything’s ready.
“We’re fine down here,” Emily says. “You can go.”
Even though I know she’s not talking about us, the words sting anyway. I can go. She’ll be fine.
God, all I want in the world is for her to want me the way I want her, but she’s so wonderful, and I’m a mess, and I don’t know how that could ever be possible.
“I love you,” I say, low enough that no one else will hear, though I imagine my mic pack is picking up everything.
There’s this little spark of something in her eyes, though I’m not sure if it’s hope or pain. “Still?”
It breaks my heart that she has to ask this. “Always.”
“I love you, too,” she says, though there’s hesitation now, like something that was once freely given is now tenuous and conditional.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and she nods.
“I’m sorry too.”
She has nothing to be sorry for, but I don’t want to get into an argument about that now. “I’ll see you in a bit,” I tell her, then head up the trail behind the Not-Wives. I easily pass them on one of the switchbacks to the top and am able to make sure everything is ready up there by the time they arrive.
The view from the top is breathtaking. I can see the whole opposite side of the canyon for miles, red rock punctuated by pine trees and scrub brush, standing starkly against the clear blue of the sky.The road down below is like a thin gray ribbon winding along the river, which is hidden from view on the far side.
Our ropes are already all set up—hundreds and hundreds of feet so that we can safely rappel eight people down the cliffside at once. When the ladies arrive, I have their handlers help them into their harnesses—and they must have learnedsomethingfrom the sexual harassment seminar, because not one of them protests. Monroe even handsTiberius over to the handler without complaint, thoughTiberius does give a menacing little growl. He’s wearing a sparkly cape today with matching crystals, though there seems to be an absence of the possibly long-dead dude’s newly created font. Which is too bad, because it would have seemed extra appropriate for him to be wearing something that says “Not-Dog and Proud.”
