This is the first time I’ve heard any of this. My parents argued all the time before getting divorced. I never saw it happen, but I would hear crashing from their bedroom when they screamed at each other. I’m not the only one Dad was violent with.

And I guess before now, I’d never had a reference to imagine what that feels like. Dad must have preyed on her the way Sawyer preyed on me, in a way that felt completely inescapable and held her back not just from me, but from everything. From life.

There is a world she sees that I don’t, and that I never could.

I understand now that I’m not the only one misunderstood.

I forgive her.

We’re free now. It feels like we can understand each other better in this environment, undo what my dad did to both of us.

I walk over, wrap her in a hug, and imagine Grandpa smiling somewhere in approval.

“I’m glad you’re thinking about what you want now,” I tell her. “You’re a great mom and deserve that.”

Her eyes well with tears. I don’t think she hears that enough.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my pocket to find a text from Fiona. Outside!

I’ve never seen anything like a rock-climbing gym.

After we check in, we drop our bags into lockers, and Fiona leads me through the place. I rotate my head around the high walls, taking it all in. It’s like a cave built by a professional painter. Big sky-blue walls, with grips like floating orbs. They remind me of my ancestors, solid, unbreakable, the grips like the organs in their bodies.

Fiona leads us down some low tunnels and alcoves, away from the center of the gym and into a section of smaller walls, which you don’t need ropes or a harness to climb.

“We’re not climbing the big ones?” I ask.

“I like how free these feel,” she says. “I like not being held back by the ropes.”

Every climbing sequence is color-coded and rated between 5.0 and 5.15, telling you how difficult they’ll be. Fiona climbs the 5.8’s, and I start lower, with the 5.2’s.

Fiona sits on the mat as I climb, clapping and cheering me on. Every time I come to a grip that seems too far for me to reach and I feel like falling, she shouts, “Come on! You can do it, Jake.” Like it’s a matter of fact. “Just grab it.”

So I just grab it. And then I grab the next one, and I realize my brain is what’s been limiting me all along. My legs move as my arms do, as I stretch to full capacity.

To take every risk.

To beat any fear.