Page 81 of Cross Ice

“You made that look so easy.”

“I’ve been doing this for years. Come on, try again. I’ll coach you through it.”

He attempted it three more times, each time getting a little higher, and by the fourth attempt he completed the route. When he dropped back to the mat, breathing hard but grinning, I pulled him into a hug.

“See? You did it.”

“My arms are going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Worth it, though, right?”

“Maybe.”

We moved to the roped climbing section, and I showed him how to belay—how to hold the rope, how to take up slack, how to catch me if I fell.

“This is a lot of responsibility,” Evan said, looking nervous as I clipped into the rope.

“I trust you.”

“That seems unwise.”

“Evan. I trust you with my life. Literally.”

Something shifted in his expression, and he nodded. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

I climbed a moderate route, testing his belaying, and he handled it perfectly. When I rappelled back down, he was smiling.

“That was actually kind of fun,” he admitted.

“Your turn.”

“Oh no. I’m not climbing thirty feet into the air.”

“Yes you are. I’ll be right here.”

I talked him through clipping in, checking his harness, and starting the climb. He made it about fifteen feet before he froze.

“Nico, I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can. Don’t look down. Look at the next hold.”

“I’m going to fall.”

“Then fall. I’ve got you. I promise.”

He took a shaky breath and reached for the next hold. Missed. Tried again. Got it.

“Good! Now your feet.”

Slowly, carefully, he made it to the top. When he touched the last hold and looked down at me, the smile on his face was brilliant.

“I did it!”

“You did it! Now just lean back and I’ll lower you down.”

“Lean back? Off the wall?”

“Trust me.”