Finding Jim (6 page)

Dear Jim,

I think and dream about you a lot and am trying to make sense of this whole thing. I knew it would be difficult when you returned from K2. But I guess I had my own expectations of how you would deal with the trauma you've experienced and that included me being there to comfort you. Although it has been difficult, I have now let go of any control I wished to have over your healing process. You'll figure out what you need. In the meantime, in my eyes, you have gone on another expedition. Just as with K2, I will hold my confidence and my love for you until you return. I've made this decision consciously, although it scares me to death because there are no guarantees how you will feel about us when you return. But there are no guarantees in life and I have gone with my gut feeling here. Whatever happens, this will have been one helluva learning experience for both of us.

You asked me if I had any ideas how to recover your lost emotions. It's normal to feel numb when grieving. Counselling and allowing time to grieve are my only suggestions. An organization called Living Through Loss comes highly recommended. I've enclosed information. I've decided that I should talk to someone too, although the idea of exploring the pain terrifies me. But forgetting something we wish were not true is only too easy.

I still feel in a daze about all of this. I remember the time we've spent together with a smile. Those memories will be an integral part of getting me through these tough times. I've always had so much confidence in you and I know you'll work through the pain and be stronger for it. I can't wait for you to come home, but until then, know that I'm loving you and supporting you from afar. You are such a special person, Jimbo.

Love, Sue

PS. I ate that whole tub of Häagen Dazs you left for me. It was great!

A week later, we met for dinner at the Naam Restaurant. I babbled away about whatever new came to mind. When I took a breath, he looked shyly at the table and commented, “That was quite a letter, Sue. I don't know what to say. Thanks.”

I averted my eyes and responded with a quiet “you're welcome.” He described how he met a reporter at the beach for an interview. They sat on a bench while she listened intently to his story. Looking at the table again, Jim said that this woman invited him to go for tea or a drink, whenever he wanted.

My head raced. “Why did you tell me that? We're having enough trouble as it is. Why would you say that?”

“I dunno, I dunno,” he shook his head.

What did he want from me? I stuck by him even though he couldn't commit, and now he said this. Why? To give me more reason to doubt? To push me away? To build his own self-esteem? This last reason made me angry. Would he hurt me just to feel better?

His eyes were wet when he looked up at me. In a low voice he said, “I'm going away.” My blouse clung to my underarms, and words stuck in my throat.

“Right,” I croaked.

“It's a construction project in the Northwest Territories with Geoff. It'll be good to spend time with my buddy. I'll be gone for six weeks.” My eyes sank to the table and I caved inward. He was leaving me again. This was not the plan. He had been home for two months and now he was going again. I had nothing to say. I realized that my letter was naive. I was not willing to wait for Jim if he didn't love me. I finished my meal as quickly as I could and motioned to the waiter to bring the bill.

Jim phoned most nights while he was gone. With each conversation, fear pulled my heartstrings taut like a bow. I wondered why I rejected a proposal for a date from a pleasant fellow I met by chance.

Six weeks later my body sagged as I stood in the arrivals area, waiting for Jim's flight. I cringed when he bounced over beaming a warm smile. Although his clothes hung on him and stubble shadowed his face, he looked cuter than I remembered. My legs and arms went forward out of habit and we embraced stiffly, but my body repelled his as if we were magnets similarly charged. Jim's words faltered, “Hey, how are you?” But he didn't press forward.

“Fine. You?”

It was a quiet drive back to my place. Jim gazed forward with worried eyes, and my knuckles were white from gripping the wheel. I hung up my jacket, sat on the couch and folded my hands in my lap. Jim lowered himself beside me. Through pursed lips I lamented, “This is not working for me. I've had enough. I have no idea what you want.” My face stayed stiff and my gaze was steady.

Jim fidgeted with his hands and murmured, “Okay. I felt a change in you over the phone. I guess I knew what was coming. Okay.” He pulled himself to his feet, shuffled to the door and left. I covered my face with my hands and cried.

Dear Sue,

Here is the inevitable letter. I can't just let you walk away without some thoughts.

Cold turkey is a bit hard on me, though I keep telling myself that it is for the best. I miss the comfort of knowing I can call you, share my thoughts with you and feel your exciting and tender warmth – I guess that fits my unrealistic pattern of actions and emotions that don't jive with your definition of a relationship.

Next Monday (the 25th) I am on my way to Nevada to meet Eric for a 10-day stint of rock climbing (should help to clean the mental slate). I think about you often. Not with any bitterness or anger, mostly warm thoughts, disappointment and a few questions. I don't wonder why it went the way it did; that was clearly laid out. I sometimes wonder if my life is unrealistic for a relationship or whether someone could “hack” putting up with who I am. And who am I? I wonder if my lifestyle would change as a result of a relationship like I used to tell you it would. Questions. I have many of the answers to my life but not all of them! I guess that would make life a bit too easy. I certainly appreciate the energy, dedication and patience you showed with me. I think you ran into one of the toughest years of my life. I was constantly tired and my emotions rode the big roller coaster. Not the greatest impression. On top of that, you shared your amazing ability to excite, your love, warmth and your energy for life. You like to have fun; keep that quality in your life.

I have only one regret – our inability to jump to the next level.

Believe it or not, I know I learned from our time together. In some ways I am more determined than ever to maintain certain aspects of what makes me Jim. I don't think I will waffle on that one again. At the same time, I know in the right environment, I will make the changes necessary to achieve some of the goals in life that both you and I talked about and are striving for.

Sometimes I may sound a little mixed up or immature to your ears, partly my wimp-like personality that cringes at the thought of confrontation or hurting someone. Yet I know these thoughts have to be voiced or the big hurt eventually comes and little is gained by “holding on” to emotions. See, I am learning! Regardless, I feel quite clear about the subjects we spoke about last Saturday. To be completely honest, my heart was still growing for you (in my slow way) but I sense your heart has been closed, partly by your brain to protect yourself and your ideals, and is moving in another direction.

Fair enough. Ultimately, we have to listen to our hearts.

I hope you feel comfortable enough to give me a call some day, if you feel like throwing a football around or just to shoot the breeze. We had some great walks on the beach. If you need a favour, please don't hesitate to ask. At the very least, I hope that you know I support you, continue to admire your way and am your very true friend.

Thanks for everything, Sue. We were close.

Love, Jim X0

I cried at his sweetness and wondered what he meant by “we were close.” Did he mean that we knew and understood each other or that we were close to taking that next step?

When Jim returned from his climbing trip to Red Rocks, Nevada, he came over with a gift. He explained, “I can't give it to anyone else because I made it especially for you, before we split up. I'd like you to have it.” I peeled away the plain brown paper and gazed at a sunrise photo of the Tantalus Range, between Vancouver and Whistler, my favourite mountains. Jim had risen at 4:30 a.m., several mornings in a row, to take the photo. I hung it in the living room, where the morning sun lit up the soft pinks and oranges.

As he told me about his trip, his voice trembled.

“We were in Red Rocks canyon doing a pretty hard route, moderate anyway. Eric took the first lead, and I was going to lead the crux. And I'm up there, a ways out from my last piece of gear, and my legs start to shake. I get the sewing machine thing happening. My hands are all greasy, and I start to think about falling. It would be seven metres at least; a pretty big fall. I back off and tell Eric I don't feel quite right. I have to talk my way through it. ‘Come on, Jim, get it together,' I repeat over and over.”

I sat stiffly on the couch, fists clenched, and rooted silently for Jim.

“I finished the route but, man, I was shaky. I was secretly relieved when it rained the next few days and we couldn't climb.”

I lowered my gaze and forced my breath to be steady and quiet so as not to expose Jim any further. He looked like a wounded animal. After several minutes, Jim rose to his feet and fumbled in the closet for his jacket. At the door, I lurched forward into his stiff arms, and we rattled together longer than a friendship hug permits until nervous laughter broke us apart. My hand rested on his arm. When he looked at me, my eyes grew hot with tears, and he pulled me to him and kissed me.

We started seeing each other again. Maybe we never really stopped.

(DECEMBER 1993–AUGUST 1995)

Jim and I couldn't go back to our romantic, innocent, fledgling relationship. So much had happened in a very short time; such strong experiences. Jim confided, “I think maybe the intensity of me climbing
K2
pushed our relationship to a higher level too quickly.” He settled in at Eric's place in Squamish and spent a lot of time at my condo in Kitsilano. We began again, but from a place of pain and love.

After his slideshow at John Oliver, several people suggested to Jim that he write a book. He wrote an article for the
Canadian Alpine Journal
and called it “Dan,
K2
.” The
CAJ
awarded it best climbing article of the year. Jim began writing in earnest. After 11 weeks, he had completed a rough draft of his story. Together, we went to a desktop publishing company and they laid out the text and photos. Jim's parents put up a bond as collateral for a $30,000 loan Jim received from the bank to finance the project.

Jim and I decided to do a big trip together beginning January 1995, so I requested a leave of absence from teaching for six months. Before we left, we both wanted to finish up projects: Jim's goal was to finish his book, and mine was to finish my thesis. In August 1994 Jim and my friend Marla watched as I defended my thesis, and on December 31, 1994, I submitted the final bound copy to the University of British Columbia library.

In October 1994 Jim's first self-published book,
K2
: Dreams and Reality
, was on bookstore shelves. Between October and December Jim promoted his book by presenting a slideshow to over 20,000 people in British Columbia, Calgary, Ottawa and Toronto, and at the same time raised over $25,000 for different charities. His book became a Canadian bestseller. I attended one of the shows and, as the audience filed out, I heard one woman lament, “They just don't make men like that anymore.” My chest puffed out with pride, and I quelled the urge to tap her on the shoulder and say, “That's my guy.”

In January Jim and I boarded a plane to East Africa. As we navigated the small dusty airport in Nairobi, burdened with skis, climbing equipment, camping equipment and clothes for six months, a local tugged my sleeve gently and breathlessly pleaded, his eyebrows raised, “Please, where will you ski?”

I stopped, “In India, in the Himalaya.”

“Ah,” he nodded.

We travelled for two months in East Africa, went on safari, snorkelled in the blue waters off Zanzibar, ate fresh seafood and climbed Mounts Kenya and Kilimanjaro.

Mount Kilimanjaro is the highest peak in Africa and the highest freestanding mountain in the world, exploding from the muted plains of Tanzania like an exquisite blemish. On each side of the mountain, vast calderas, Shira and Mawenzi, step up to the main massif, Kibo. Sparkling glaciers tumble from this broad cone Hemingway described as “wide as all the world, great, high and unbelievably white.” The magic of ice and snow in a crackly brown land mesmerizes.

At the trailhead, Jim and I shouldered our 20-kilogram packs while our local guides, Dismas and Meddi, balanced their bundles on their heads. We climbed “the hard way,” meaning we carried our own gear and cooked our own food. With each step, our hiking boots smoked fine volcanic dust. I tongued grit against my teeth. Women wrapped in flowing, bright-orange, blue, yellow and green
kangas
craned their necks under their loads to get a look at us, followed by children holding hands who giggled when we said “
Jambo
.” A flash of black and white high up in the green canopy caught my eye. I stopped and gazed upward, mouth gaping. There it was again, a flowing mass of black and white hair sailing from tree to tree.

“Colobus monkey,” Dismas said and waited as we watched.

Jim and I rushed from one discovery to the next.

“Look at this beautiful orange-red flower.” I lifted the delicate trunk-like appendage of a species of impatiens found only on Kilimanjaro.

“And this one.” Jim focused on a mass of orange and yellow tube-like petals called lion's paw.

Kilimanjaro represents eight climatic zones ranging from desert to alpine. The lush montane forest zone, where bananas, coffee and corn grow in the fertile soil, reminds me of coastal British Columbia. Water runs from pipes connected to the main streams draining the glaciers. Higher up, the towering green vines and pine trees morph into giant heather trees up to 30 metres tall. Fissures run through the earth, and chunky black volcanic rocks are strewn everywhere as water becomes scarcer in the heath chaparral zone. Four glaciers jostle and crack their way over the crater rim of the summit.