What an idiot he’d been to make that promise! On Everest, a man had enough to contend with trying to keep himself alive.
Conrad would never make that mistake again. He would never be responsible for any life but his own. He was done with climbing.
If he went back, he would have to deal with his agent and his sponsors, who would drop him soon if he didn’t climb again. He would have to get a job doing …something. Without a degree, he had no idea what that would be.
He would also have to contend with the media. Once they found out he was back, they would stalk him, at least for a while.
A knock came at his door.
He opened it to find himself staring into the smiling face of the Nawang Tenzing Gulu, the Incarnate Lama of Tengboche, who stood together with a few of the monks.
Conrad stepped back to allow the men to enter, then pressed his palms together in front of his forehead and bowed deeply.
Tenzing sat in the only chair in the room, motioning to the bed. “Please sit.”
Conrad sat cross-legged, careful not to point the soles of his feet at these venerated men—a sign of disrespect. The Lama had never visited him in his room before, though he had spoken to him elsewhere in the monastery and shared tea and meals with him a few times.
A monk entered with tea and served a cup first to the Lama and then to Conrad.
“You have a guest,” the Lama said at last.
“Yes. Megs Hill. She’s a good friend.”
“She said she has come to take you home. I came to talk with you about this, to see where your heart lies.”
“I don’t know how I feel.” Even if Conrad had wanted to, he couldn’t have lied to this man. Besides, the old monk would probably see right through him. He carried the unmistakable energy of one who had devoted his life to enlightenment. “It is probably time for me to return home, but…”
The old man watched him patiently, waiting for him to finish.
“I don’t know how to face the world again.”
The Lama gave a slow nod, nothing but compassion on his weathered face. “You still blame yourself.”
“I know in my rational mind that there was nothing I could have done to save them, but some part of me can’t accept that I’m here … and that they are all gone. Survival guilt, I guess.”
The Lama sipped his tea, expectant silence filling the small room.
“Such tragedies are difficult to understand,” he said at last. “It is no wonder that your mind is troubled. But consider this: If you did not bring about their deaths, why should you feel guilty to be alive? Is your survival not a gift, a cause for gratitude?”
“Yes.” Conrad gave the Lama the expected answer—but he didn’tfeelit.
The Lama smiled, not fooled in the least. “We have been happy to have you as our guest. We are grateful for your help with our repairs and especially the new stupa. You are always welcome here. But I fear the answers you seek cannot be found within these walls. If your truth were here, you would already have found it.”
They talked of other things after that, finishing their tea in amicable conversation, but the Lama had delivered his message.
It was time for Conrad to leave Tengboche.
* * *
Conrad spentthe next day fixing a leaky roof for the monks, buying what supplies he and Megs would need, and packing his things together. He also borrowed a razor from the monks and shaved off his beard.
“Oh, thank God,” Megs said when she saw him. Then her gaze landed on his expedition backpack. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“I left most of my gear at Base Camp.” He’d taken only what had fit in this backpack, leaving thousands of dollars of junk behind.
“Someone at Base Camp must have thought they’d won the lottery. Harrison Conrad’s gear for the taking.”
Conrad couldn’t care less.
