Half Dome

Opening my eyes was a disappointment I realized I was still in the shower, alone. My fingers doing a mediocre job of what Eric does so well. After all of the years my love for him has only grown stronger and more complete.

Deciding to have a child together only makes me miss him more. Having a child will complete us as a man and wife; it will somehow make us whole. We will be a family and our love will then be shared with a child, our child. With water covering my face I prayed our first child would be a boy. I didn't really know why I was praying for a boy. A boy would mean Eric would have a son to teach how to play baseball and climb mountains with. I guess I was remembering how wild a teenager I was back in high school and college. Now I look back on those times and realize I was more of a free spirit, not free. Sure, I did my fair share of dating but rarely slept with anyone.

"I will be finished here soon, my love. I miss the feel of your arms, the taste of your lips, and how you fill me with your love." My words seemed to naturally fill the hotel room with his presence.

As I walked out of the bathroom, the hotel room air conditioning had done its job and it felt pleasantly cool. I could feel my nipples get hard against almost immediately.

With a bottle of chilled water, and an apple, I crawl into bed with my laptop to read Eric's email before getting the sleep I need. I decided not to sleep with any clothes on, seeking instead to feel how the crisp white sheets tease my skin as I sleep. Because of the heat of the day the only thing I needed was the sweetness of the apple and water to quench my thirst. At that moment food was not appealing at all, but quenching my thirst would feed me with what I needed.

Eric was the food I needed and craved!

There was no heading to Eric's email other than "FW": I thought this a little strange because Eric would sometimes put his entire "I love you" message in the heading. I clicked open the email to read, "Please explain how, why, who, and how many times over the years you have fucked other men. Please have the courtesy not to come home until you can answer these questions. Maybe I will find a mountain to climb? Claudia, you need to know I probably will not believe a word you tell me!"

How many ways do you say shocked? His words were not something he would joke about in order to make me laugh. His message was too direct and hit me so hard that I think I stopped breathing.

I dropped the half-finished water bottle on the bed, letting the remaining water dribble onto the bedspread. The apple with a single bite in it rolled out of my hand to fall on the floor and roll away. Had Sleeping Beauty experienced such a sense of loss after taking that single bite of the witch-cursed apple? My life, my perfect life, was suddenly something I could not explain. I was holding my breath as I realized what was probably in the attachment. At the very least the perfect life I'd known was transformed into a shit-storm. It was a shit-storm I'd left behind me a long time ago, seven years, maybe longer.

There was only one time I'd ever been unfaithful. Only one time and that had been a long time ago!

Unable to think, unable to do anything more than let tears fall; I was paralyzed with fear and self-loathing. Had Eric discovered that stupid tape I'd made years ago? I'd kept it for security purposes and never intended for anyone to see, let alone Eric! I'd also meant to destroy it years ago! Why had I been so non-chalant? Had I wanted Eric to find it?

No! Eric was never meant to see or know about the cam recording!

With a double click on the attachment my 17 inch screen leapt to life with the recording, the recording of myself and a man whose name I could never forget. James Marshal Dean was the CEO of East Italia Mountain Enterprises, one of REI's primary competitors that serviced most of Western Europe. I'd filmed my indiscretion at the advice of Monica Potter who was one of the VPs for REI. Monica had asked me to "entertain" Marshal during the Add Executive Conference in Mammoth Lakes. Monica had wanted me to do my best to find out if East Italia Mountain Enterprises planned to expand into the U.S. market. The recording would, hopefully, be able to verify everything he shared with me about East Italia Mountain Enterprises intended business intentions.

The tape, after a year or so, was to be destroyed! Why didn't I destroy it? I remembered the conversation I'd had with Monica.

"Monica, why me? You know I recently got married! Why me!?" I was frantic with apprehension and scared to death my marriage would be damaged.

"Two reasons Claudia. Beside the fact we may never have another opportunity to get a little inside information, James likes you. His tongue seems to flop out of his mouth whenever you are around. Second, you have a little girl innocence that makes it easy to trust you. Your innocence is amplified by the fact you are so God-Damned charming." Monica's words were encouraging but only made me feel cheap and not-so-innocent. At the time I remember feeling felt like a whore!

Was it my innocent nature that made Eric love me? I wanted him to love me for who I was not my innocent look!

At the time I'd only been married to Eric for a few months and did not want to begin our marriage with fucking strangers. At the same time I remember there was a little tingle in the back of my brain, a tingle that traveled down my spine and crossed over into my entire pubic region. It was something that excited me! I began to reason it was a one-time opportunity to fuck another man without anyone (except maybe Monica) ever knowing! As much as I struggled with the immorality of Monica's request I knew I would do my best to seduce James Marshall Dean. The overriding justification was that I was doing it for a greater good.

We have the ability, I realize now, to delude ourselves into thinking some things in our life may be compartmentalized, stored in a locker where no one will ever see, hear or know about it. It was the knowledge I would have a dirty "little" secret over my husband that also got me excited! My twisted thinking made it easy to do the deed. Besides James Dean Marshall was all man, very attractive, in exceptional physical condition and someone I knew I would never see again. It was my opportunity for a zipless fuck!

I vowed that day it would be the only time I would ever step out on Eric and I have kept that vow. Later I would ask myself how I could so easily break my marriage vows then turn to myself and vow I'd never do something like that again. When you become an adulterous whore you need to be able to rationally justify your actions. Now I believe there is no way to justify breaking a promise or a commitment to someone you really love.

Did I really love Eric? Was I testing my love for my husband?

Seducing James Marshall Dean was the price for information that did help REI position themself to head off a takeover by the European Company. My job was also secured and my marriage did not seem injured. In fact it seemed to help me commit myself to Eric in a very real way. It helped me realize I had everything a woman could ever want in a husband and it was foolish to do anything to put my marriage in jeopardy, ever again.

Steeling myself for watching the attached recording I sat and watched, wondering what had gone through Eric's head when he watched it. I had never sat down and watched the recording of James and myself, not wanting to really remember the event that I was now deeply ashamed of. Turning the sound to mute I spared myself the indignity of hearing any of the sounds that accompany two people fucking. I reasoned sound would have made viewing the video recording even more painful. Nonetheless, the visual images, though grainy and incomplete, brought back a memory where James had almost forced himself on me. I say "almost" because at one point I remember trying to find a way out of the situation I'd put myself in then gave in after his hands found their way to my breasts and his lips discovered how vulnerable I am when my neck is licked and kissed.

I'd lead him on and realized, albeit a little too late that I could not suddenly turn to James and tell him I'd changed my mind, that the price of fucking him was too high. This thought came to me just as James penetrated me, just as he began to slam himself into me. Just as I had an orgasm that forced me to closed my eyes. It was the orgasm that also brought me back to the here-and-now making me feel extraordinarily guilty for what I was doing.

I shut off the recording after a couple of minutes, completely disgusted by what I'd done. Other than the initial orgasm it wasn't even memorable sex! The thought of Eric, sitting alone at home, watching me with another man, brought on a sense of shame that I have never experienced. The shame was full of pain, anger and self-recrimination that physically hurt. If I was feeling these things, all over again, what had Eric experienced as he watched me fuck James?

Sitting in my now not-so-comfortable hotel bed in Zion I knew I had to respond to Eric's email. Before I responded I got out of bed and put on a pair of cotton pajamas, not because of the chill from the air conditioner, but because of my sense of shame. It was a weird act and I didn't think about it until I sat back down at my laptop.

This time there was no illusion I'd lost the innocence Eric had come to love and covet. My shame was now accompanied by sorrow and a silent wish I could go back in time and undo having ever met James Marshal Dean. If Monica were to ask me, today, to seduce someone for the company I'd tell her to go fuck herself.

"Dear Eric, James Marshall Dean was the man in the video recording. It happened because my boss (you remember Monica?) wanted information regarding the rumor that West Italia Mountain Enterprises was planning to expand into U.S. Markets. I have never been with anyone else since we were married. It was a one-time indiscretion. It occurred in Mammoth Lakes at the Advertising Executive Conference and I kept the tape for insurance purposes. (I wanted the audio recording of what I learned from James to verify what I told Monica, should the information be incorrect.) I have always regretted what I did and have done everything possible to reconcile my actions and be the best wife I possibly could. You only need to search your heart to know what I saw is the truth. Other than contacting Monica Potter to verify why and when it happened, I cannot prove to you that my words are, in fact, the truth. I only pray you know how much I love you! Claudia."

Once the email was sent I lay back on the hotel bed and proceeded to cry myself to sleep wondering where and what Eric was doing. There was no doubt in my mind Eric was hurt. I knew he would seek comfort on a mountain and would, most likely not hear from him until he had broken a few fingers rock-climbing, bruised his knuckles and skinned both knees banging against rock. I could only pray he didn't take any unnecessary risks and get really injured or killed.

In the morning, after an almost sleepless night, I felt my world with Eric (and as a future family) was now ruined. With black coffee in hand I got into my rented car and began my drive back to San Francisco. I stopped by the REI shoot and briefly explained I had an emergency and was headed home or what once was "home". People tried to talk me into staying explaining that we were almost finished. I didn't listen to anyone. My job was, at that moment, meaningless.

The drive, through some wide open spaces was conducive to thinking. Without much traffic on the road I tried to put myself in Eric's shoes, tried to imagine what he might be feeling and where he might go to climb.

Shortly after we were married Eric introduced me to "rock", to the rush derived from climbing for the sheer pleasure from challenging indomitable mountains. Our first major climb had been Half Dome in Yosemite. I was carefree and had the attitude that nothing bad would ever happen to us, at least not while climbing a "stupid" mountain. I'll never forget Eric's response. "Claudia before we do this I need to know you are serious, that you have my back, and will do everything possible to make sure we are safe. I will do the same for you. I won't climb Half Dome with you if you think this is some far-out-and-cool game." The look in Eric's eyes told me immediately he was dead serious. Climbing rock like Half Dome meant being respectful of the elements and as proactive as humanly possible.

This was a different side to the Eric who enjoyed laughter, who was a carefree spirit, who always seemed to find joy in everything we did. It had also been a powerful lesson regarding trusting and respecting one another. At the time I failed to understand how the lesson spilled over into our personal life as husband and wife.

When Yosemite National Park opened in the spring of this year Eric had circled a small article from the LA Examiner. It described the first casualty of the summer season as an experienced Park Ranger who fell to her death after being caught in an early rain and sleet storm. The Ranger had tried to descend and encountered a face of ice. The article refereed to the "First Climbing Death" of the season. The "first" implying more climbing deaths were expected. On average 9-13 people die from climbing accidents in Yosemite National Park each year! People, experienced and in-experienced, climb regardless of the hazards thinking death will never come to them.

The "I am invincible it won't happen to me" attitude is exactly what gets climbers killed. The rock always wins. Fuck with rock and you fuck with Mother Nature and ultimately God.

While remembering that first climb with Eric and the article he'd left for her to read, I had little doubt in my mind Eric would be half way up Half Dome that very day. I quickly made the decision to drive in the direction of Half Dome, rather than home. I was fearful Eric might do something foolish and actually climb Half Dome alone! Would he do that? I could only imagine how he must be feeling which would make it likely he would not be able to give his full attention to his climb, to the rock, to Half Dome.

As I drove in the direction of Half Dome, frequently breaking into tears, I admonished myself for having been so stupid. First, I'd slept with another man thereby cheating on my husband! Second, I'd recorded the event thinking it a way to verify the information I'd received that night from James Marshall Dean. Third, I'd been especially stupid for keeping the tape for the last seven years. Fourth, it was happening to me, to our marriage, and there was no longer any place to hide.

Eric on Half Dome, Alone

My climbing pack felt heavier than usual, even though I wasn't carrying much weight. The sunshine rising in the East gave me a sense of optimism I would have good weather up and down Half Dome. Climbing forced me to concentrate, to meditate and focus on all aspects of the rock in front of, above and below. I was thinking I could climb Half Dome in that day and be back to my FJ before nightfall I would climb hard, fast and safe.

I could not safely climb with my mind on Claudia. I knew this and believed my life depended on my ability to become "one with" the rock. Forcing me to concentrate was exactly what I needed because I was determined to climb nonetheless. I needed to meditate and respect Half Dome which left little room for intrusive thinking.

I held no such illusions that the dangers related to what I was about to do were very real. These dangers were exacerbated by the fact that I was now climbing alone and without safety lines. It was exactly this knowledge that made me realize I doing something outside of my comfort zone, something that challenged all sensibility, and immediately caused adrenalin to flow. I made the decision to take things slow yet maintain a constant pace. For most climbers my "constant" pace would still be considered fast. My real goal was to control the encroaching images of a man with my innocent-looking wife.

Back then, when Claudia and I first climbed Half Dome, she'd been especially "innocent" looking, even if her love making skills were off the charts. I'd often wondered how she developed her ability to use her mouth, her tongue and every other part of her body to please me yet appear so innocent. I realized the "innocence" was just something I wanted to see, something that excited me!

I made my ascent making sure I always maintained three contact points with the rock. I did not stop frequently unless it was to search for tiny cracks in the rock where a finger might give me something to hold on to. As I found these tiny openings in the rock I made mental notes for my feet that would soon inch me towards the summit. When images of Claudia intruded I would catch myself doing something stupid like looking between my legs to see the distant floor of the earth. At those times the feelings of vertigo forced me to pay attention to the rock at hand and above me.

Stupid shit! Do you want to die here or in your bed an old man!? So I clung to the rock and continued my ascent.

My life was based on my ability to stay focused. Did I want to live? Was it easier to simply give up and fall to earth? Would Claudia mourn my death or would she laugh? Fuck it, I wasn't going to die on Half Dome so she could laugh at me and collect my death benefit! Early in our marriage we'd taken out $250,000 whole life insurance policies on each other reasoning it was a good way to save money and provide for each other should something unfortunate happen.

Yet, it would be so easy to let myself fall. No one would ever question the act as suicidal. It just wasn't who I was.

There was a moment on my ascent when I felt my lower lip quiver and nose fill with snot. When I realized I was crying I used my one unattached hand to squeeze my nostrils between fingers and give a single and forceful discharge of air. The act dislodged the snot and almost caused me to fall. There was another moment, just before I reached the summit, when I had to stop and close my eyes, to breathe and catch my breath and give myself the biofeedback command, "Slowly . . . in . . . out . . . I . . . am . . . calm." As I rested, my biofeedback training helped me remember to breathe in-and-out, slowly. The exercise helped me push my pain into a locked room I imaged existed in some distant place.

The climb up the face of Half Dome was a fast ascent. By 1:00PM I was sitting at the top of Half Dome, eating from a tin of sardines (great for energy) and sipping water. Normally the view would have been breathtaking and defied description but at that moment I was not concerned with scenery. I was giving thanks for having made the climb in one piece.

Something else was beginning to happen. I was beginning to blame myself for not having been enough of a man to meet Claudia's needs and it was that sense of inadequacy that flooded me with despair. Claudia had never, not once in our marriage, complained about my ability to make her happy in the bedroom but that did not stop me from wondering what I had done or not done.

I took a moment to use my smart phone to take a couple of photographs and wondered if I would look at the photos later and not remember having made the climb. That's why we take photographs, to document and brag to others, yes? We also take photographs so we can remember what life looked like in moments frozen in time. I took the photographs to remind myself that climbing rock like Half Dome and surviving was a good way to define our lives. The photographs would remind me I had nothing to be ashamed of, that I had loved deeply and done nothing to drive that love away. I would survive and transcend my heart ache.