For fifteen years she had. Her passion had taken her to six continents, for after Mt Rainier it was Mt McKinley in Alaska, then it was the Atlas Mountains in Algeria, the Alps, Mt. Cook in New Zealand, the Andes, and last but not least the famous K2 peak in the Himalayas. She had always wanted to climb Mt. Everest, but the one time she set on an expedition there, a student uprising had forced the Pakistani government from letting foreigners climb there. She had been disappointed but there were always other mountains to climb. Climbing had taught her patience and resilience. When one obstacle blocked your goal, you found another way, and the object was always to climb the mountain. Today was her wedding anniversary. They had come here, the mountain where they had met, to celebrate. Two years. Despite her pain, she smiled. Fifteen years together, and married only two years. She’d been the reluctant one. She had a hard time reconciling a the image of a Mrs. Destined for Suburbia for I Have Married with the image of herself, dangling free over the mountain. But a couple of years ago while climbing in the Andes, Mike fell off a cliff, fracturing his skull and breaking his pelvis. She’d cared for him, agonizing over each painstaking detail of recovery he went through, but he was more worried for her than she was for him. He had been fifty-one, “not getting any younger, champ,” was his words to her. Once he was able, he insisted that they marry, so in case something happened to him, she would be taken care of. They had never discussed what would happen if something should happen to her. At the time she never thought of it. She was a starving writer. What could she provide for him, she reasoned. It was something never discussed. When it boiled down to it, no one could imagine that youth could die until it really happened.

She thought of the wedding day. They had gotten married in a plane flying over Las Vegas, and once they said their vows, pledging to challenge the other to soar to greater heights, to be a champion for the other when others laughed at their dreams, they jumped out of the plane together, holding hands, opening their chutes at the same moment. Instead of oppression, her first moments of married life were spent in total free fall, but with Mike holding her, she felt total connection. Freedom and unity. It was what she had pledged her life to do, and that was what happened for them both.

Now, two years later, she was alone on the mountain that had brought them together. This was supposed to have been a celebration, but instead, both were injured. Bad karma, bad luck. They had been about a hundred feet up the cliff when the avalanche hit, and they never saw it coming. They’d been tied together, and they tumbled over one another until they reached the bottom. Just like on their wedding day, they had fallen together, flying through the air, she realized the second she knew she was falling. After the fall, she could not even move, and instead of the abject terror she felt as she tumbled, she felt nothing. She saw Mike, breathing as though he had a heart attack, clutching his chest, but at least he could move. He told her that he thought he broke several of his ribs, that was where it hurt. At least he could hurt. Then she saw her leg, with the bone protruding; blood pouring out of her like a melting glacier. She was bleeding to death. Mike and she agreed that it would be better for him to leave her there and get help himself. She was too much of a burden. It wouldn’t help if both were dead.