Mountain Climbing: A Metaphor

By Vanessa Ogbuehi

   

Prologue

It’s 6am and too hot under these sheets. I use my feet to push them down and off my sticky body. I lay there for a while, turning to stare at the empty space next to me, thinking of how someone should be there, curled up with their chin tucked into their knees. I’d wake them up with a kiss on the forehead, and they’d unfurl themselves and turn around to kiss me too, and they’d say “Good Morning, sweetheart. Let’s get brunch.” I’d say, “That sounds great. I want pancakes.” “You always get pancakes. Maybe you should mix things up and get home fries.” “Why have brunch if you don’t have pancakes?” “You’re absolutely right, what a ridiculous suggestion.”

   

   

And we’d continue like that for...an hour?

I waste an hour entertaining this adorable little dialogue in my head, until I feel the

need to pee. It’s time to get out of bed and do something with my day.

Anything.

 

   

Doing something with my day means:

- set budget

- help out at community garden

-finally do laundry

-read that really good crime novel

-see [them] again. I really want to hold [their]

hand.

   

Chapter II  

Now I’m sitting on the toilet. I’ve already flushed, but I don’t want to put my pants back on, and something about the teeny bathroom space helps organize my thoughts. What do I want, right now, at this very moment? To sweat. To do something hard. Something fun. But I don’t want to do it alone.

   

   

I can’t do anything alone these days. I always need to share it with someone.

I want someone to be there when I cry, when I need a hug, when I witness something beautiful. That’s what

partners are for, right?

So they can tell me jokes to fill in the gaps on a bland day, or we can both convince each other to ignore our

responsibilities and slack off eating soft-serve on Sunday afternoons.

   

I should get in touch with [them].  

   

   

   

   

This isn’t so bad, right?

“It’s a nice day to be outdoors.”

“Yeah, I got cabin fever. The air is good for me.”

Chapter III

“...”

“You’re kinda quiet.”

“I have a paper due. I haven’t started.”

“Oh. Sorry I dragged you here, I just --”

“Don’t apologize. The air...is good for us.”

 

   

   

Ah shit, it’s so fucking hot out here. Everything is hot. (You’re hot.) Why am I burning, I’m breathing so hard. I’m so sweaty. Why did I wear liquid liner, it’s melting into my eyes.

Chapter IV

“I think we’re lost”. “I think we just need to go forward.”

“We’re not getting anywhere. And wherever we do end up … is probably where we don’t want to be.”

“Why?” “I just have a feeling…that this won’t end well.”

“You’re a pessimist. Now calm down and keep going.”

   

   

Bliss. I’m at peace when I get to sit next to you and eat sandwiches while staring at your face. You don’t even notice that I’m staring. I know there are so many other things to look at. The landscape from up here would be breathtaking, but I’m watching a tomato slice hang from your mouth, and it’s the best movie I’ve ever seen.

Chapter IV

I’m tired, my feet hurt, and you still probably don’t want to be here. But admit it. You like this. It’s exciting. You like the challenge, no? You like to sweat. You like spending time with me when you should be doing other things.  

   

   

“WE’RE GOING HOME. RIGHT NOW.” “No, it’s fine, see? I can walk. It barely hurts!”

“You’re so stubborn. Stop pretending everything’s fine, you’re fucking bleeding through your pants!”

“If I get hurt, it’s my problem.” “What does that even mean?! You get hurt, and you expect me to just not worry? To just leave you alone? The last time

I did that, you got pissed.” “But at that time, I was clearly hurt. I’m telling now with my

own words, I’m okay.” “Next time…we’re not doing this.”

“You always say that. These things are risky you know. But that’s why it’s fun to wake up in the morning, pack a backpack, put on some boots, and head out into the

wilderness. It’s for the challenge.”

Chapter V

   

“Okay, sure. Risks are fun, whatever. But when someone gets hurt, like you are now...christ, just sit down for a sec!”

“I’m fine, stop it!” “When someone gets hurt, you stop. That’s what we’re supposed to do. Turn around, go home. Easy, common

sense shit. Why is it so hard to just turn around, and go back down?”

“We came too far for that.” “Well we’re going to go up, and then what?”

“…Huh?” “We’ll go up…and then we’ll come back down again.”

“…Your point?” “It’s better to quit now.”

“Fuck it. We’re either doing this or we don’t.” “…Alright. Ugh, you’re so stubborn! If you get hurt

again…” “Keep walking.”

   

   

It’s getting harder to breath up here. The air is thinner. I’m trying to breath quietly. I don’t want to annoy you. But you’re annoying me. Here we are, amongst the trees and the flowers, and you just radiate negativity. I don’t need you here. I should just push you off this cliff. Or tell you to go home. Why do I need you here for this? My knees are bruised up pretty bad. You better carry me down this damn mountain. No. Stop. Don’t think about going down. Onwards and upwards. It’s all about the journey, right? The experience? Up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up, up…

Chapter VI

   

   

PEAK. Chapter VII

“Whoa. It’s beautiful. I’m so tired, but it feels so good to be up here. Isn’t it gorgeo—“ “Awesome, great, let’s go.” “Hey, c’mon! Can we take a moment to chill? We’re finally at the top!” “The longer we stay, the harder it is to breathe.” “We worked really hard to get up here. We should enjoy ourselves. Respect the moment.” “’The moment’? You’re hurt, I’m exhausted…Why…are we still here? Didn’t I tell you –“ “That once we go up, we go down, yada, yada, yada.” “We can’t stay here amongst the clouds forever.” “Who said?”

   

“I’m going back down…Are you coming with me? “…” “Don’t look at me like that.” “I want to stay up here…with you.” “You’re still bleeding. And delirious. Here. Have a granola bar.” “…” “Don’t be mad. You’re right. We worked really hard to get up here. I just…think it’s better if we go down sooner than later. Minimize sentiment and stuff.” “I’m coming back up here next week. By myself.” “…Alright. I get it. But for now, let’s go down. It’ll take just as long as coming up here.”

   

AND WE DESCEND. Chapter VII

I think I sprained something in my foot. Shit. Why am I so into the thrill of it all? We did this last week, and the entire climb

was so fucking predictable. Rising action, climax, descent. The emotions are the same. I fell on the same damn knee.

But this never gets old, no matter how jaded we both are.

Why couldn't I predict down at sea-level before we started climbing that once we got to the peak, we’d both have to struggle down it again? In my fantastical haze of emotions, I admittedly love the struggle, and I wish the

mountain continued forever. I mean, we reached the peak, and I just stood there loosing oxygen for every

second I tired to keep you present with trite conversation (“Look at that sky? Isn’t it grand? Wow, everything looks

so small…”)

   

Mountain climbing is fun, but it’s a sport, and sports are exhausting. There are way more fun things to do with my time. Like reading, or swimming, or masturbating, or knitting, or sleeping. But I won’t do any of those things. Because I like going through all the hurt and shit with you. People embark in romance for the same sense of adventure that drives people to construct massive metal aircrafts to survive the pressures of space just so they can walk on a big rock. We’re just having too much fun to quit now. Right?

Epilogue

 

Gross.