Climbing

They dare one another to climb higher, their fingers swinging out, grasping for a piece of something to hold onto. They jam their feet into the wall, held aloft only by small pieces of rubber. They press their chests flat against the imagined face of a cliff. They can almost hear the skitter and tumble of rocks and sand falling around them, feel the pressure of the wind hitting their bodies as they climb higher towards the clouds. If they are quiet, they can hear the vast silence of space beneath them. Then: birds trilling, as if they have their hands stretched towards their nests, ready to snatch an egg away at any moment. They whisper about what might greet them at the top: a windblown landscape, a mountain lion, a slew of stars hung in the sky for only them to see.

They are wrong. Waiting for them is a barren outcrop of rocks inhabited by pirates whom they have to fight and defeat, pirates whose faces remind them (slightly) of their dad’s. After the pirates have been conquered, they race one another back to the bottom, feet flying down the giant metal steps, shoes squeaking and belching underneath their feet. Rain clouds gather into giant clumps overhead, sucking all the light into themselves -- dense gray mountains. The smell of impending rain washes over them, and a breeze sends small flurries of wood chips spinning like mini tornados at their feet.

Their dad has brought them here to get out of the house, not that they mind. Taking them with him gives him an acceptable excuse for getting away from their mom. (Neither their mom nor dad think that they know this.)

The clouds above sink lower and lower, ready to swallow them whole. They climb faster, their hands slipping in their excitement and rush. One of them misses and slips, his legs swinging wildly away from the trunk of his body, his arms stretched taut to hold the bulk of his weight. He cries out to his brother above who shouts down instructions, “Don’t let go! Try moving your foot out, there’s a grip right there if you can reach it.” The one below tries but can’t. His face turns red and he focuses on breathing through his mouth, deep long breaths the same as their mom does when she works out in the morning. The two of them listen to her from the top of the stairs, following along as the video on her phone barks out orders for all of them.

His arms shake. He can feel his muscles jumping under his skin. He doesn’t want to let go, tries not to imagine his body meeting the ground that seems so far beneath him.

The other one reminds him to hold on as he climbs faster towards the top, hands, and feet blurring as he moves. Still, he’s moving in slow motion, even as he pushes his legs to move faster and faster, even though he can feel the pressure in his chest as he draws in air, feel his heart clanging as he makes his body move. He makes it back to the bottom, his brother’s feet dangling above his head.

The other one whispers to himself, “hold on, hold on, hold on.”

“I’ve got you,” the one at the bottom yells upward, holding out his arms as a net. The one on the wall peaks down and in relief releases his hands. His weight crashes into his brother’s and the two of them collapse on the ground, both breathless. The one on the bottom starts laughing with the relief of having made it in time to save his brother. It’s not until he untangles himself and stands up that he notices his brother’s white face, his wide eyes, the small “o” shape of his mouth, and the way his arm twists wildly and unnaturally underneath him.

He pauses – stunned – before running to their dad, interrupting him as he’s laughing, his whole body shaking. He can’t remember the last time he saw his dad laughing like that, waves of it surging through his chest. He doesn’t want to stop his laughter until he sees that the woman next to his dad is also laughing and then he very much wants it to stop. He blurts out what’s happened to his brother – the twisted arm, the white face.

 “Your mother is going to kill me,” his dad says.

As they make their way to the other one who is lying on the ground, very still, eyes closed tight with tears leaking from the corners, it finally begins to rain.