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Beatrice hums quietly to herself in the back room while meticulously arranging the freshly washed climbing holds into their appropriate bins sorted by color. Vague ideas for new moves she can set next float across her mind’s eye as she picks up a crimp here, a pinch there. Maybe she can set a bat-hang…a technical slab…a-
“Last batch!” Mary heaves a large bin filled to the brim with a rainbow assortment of holds and sets it down with a thump at Beatrice’s feet. Her biceps strain the the point of making her t-shirt sleeves appear as if they’re about to tear. She likes to brag that her nickname, Shotgun Mary, refers not only to her drinking prowess, but also to her guns.
Beatrice quietly thanks Mary for her efforts and continues sorting. At age twenty-three, Beatrice is the newest hire at La Fuente. Although she has proven herself an effective coach and skillful climber, she is relegated to hold-sorting duties more often than the others. It’s not something she complains about, though. Beatrice not-so-secretly enjoys organization and often finds herself in a flow state when performing the task.
Besides, familiarizing herself with every type of hold they have makes her that much better at her job and that much stronger of a climber.
Mary wipes her glistening forehead with the back of her hand. “So, Bea,” Beatrice sighs inwardly at the familiar tone. “Have you given any more thought to letting us set you up?”
Us refers to Mary and her partner of seven years, Shannon. Both are twenty-five and seem to have adopted Beatrice as their younger sister. At least that’s what it seems like; Beatrice doesn’t have any sibling relationships to compare to.
Mary and Shannon have been pestering Beatrice weekly for a few months about setting her up with one of their friends. Their typical arguments range from just to get out there and have fun! to you need someone to loosen you up, Bea. As if summoned, Shannon peeks her head in the doorway and opens her mouth to tack something on.
“No,” Beatrice replies firmly. “I’m far too busy to entertain-“
A thump followed by raucous laughter draws their attention. “I’ll get it,” Beatrice declares hastily as she all but speed-walks out of the room. She nearly shoulder-checks Shannon in her desperation to escape the conversation and glances backward in apology.
She follows the laughter to the right-center of the gym, home of their enormous spray wall. In full view of nearly the entire gym, a group of three young adults points and laughs at a tan, dark-haired young man who is hopefully their friend. He lays spread-eagle on the mat and it’s clear he just fell from the wall.
"Was it that bad?” He asks and his response is more laughter that echoes into the far reaches of the gym.
Beatrice stands back and observes before intervening. She crosses her arms and furrows her brow. It’s not uncommon for more seasoned climbers to show off their skills at the cost of others’ comfort - and the gym’s overall peace.
“Okay, okay, my turn!” A short woman with a long ponytail exclaims. She practically vibrates with anticipation. The woman turns to the spray wall and grabs a jug down low, starting in a crouched position. She pulls herself up so her left hand can grab a horizontal pinch, then smoothly swings her right hand to a fairly positive crimp. She does all this without using her feet to provide momentum or stability.
Beatrice notes the definition of the woman’s shoulders and biceps that are revealed by her tank top as she continues to glide up the spray wall. She reaches the top of the wall and matches both hands on a final jug with a flourish. She did not use her feet the entire time.
Her group whoops and hollers as she gracefully falls from the top and lands, rolling onto her back. She sinks into a bow.
“Anyone want to top that?” She smirks at her friends. The brunette man gives her shoulder a friendly push and the woman jabs him in the stomach.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish!”
“Oh yeah?”
The two begin play-wrestling on the mat. Their two other friends sigh, clearly used to this behavior, and pull them apart.
Beatrice scans the other patrons. Two parents usher their three children further away, as if they will be tempted to attempt the feat. A pair of teenagers on the left literally have their jaws dropped in awe. Four regulars mutter under their breath, sneaking glances to the woman and her friends. Beatrice makes a decision.
Before the woman’s blond friend can finish chalking up, Beatrice steps forward and clears her throat.
“Excuse me,” she interrupts in her best customer service voice. “I must ask you to monitor your noise levels in the gym.”
The woman looks right at her in surprise. She wipes her chalky hands on her thighs, leaving white handprints on her tights. “Sorry,” she replies in a not-so-apologetic tone. “We were just having some fun.”
“About that.” Beatrice points to the Rules for Patrons board next to the spray wall. One hangs by each section of the gym for convenience. “No horseplay.”
The woman’s brows lift before settling into a downturn. She crosses her arms. “Okay-“ The volume of her voice raises and is tinted with impatience.
“We’ll be more conscientious!” Another one of her friends jumps in, pulling her companion back by the hem of her shirt. She has short, dark, curly hair and at least her tone is sincere.
“I’d appreciate it,” Beatrice replies firmly.
She walks away, ignoring the annoyed huffs coming from behind her.
The next day is a Monday and the gym is usually fairly empty besides a few families and the occasional college student until late afternoon, when patrons seem to bustle in all at once. Beatrice finishes a sale of the Tarantulaces that have been marked down for their Get Into Climbing event.
“Have a nice day,” she says to the departing customer and rolls her shoulders before making her rounds.
Mary is in charge of the playlist for this shift so rock and roll filters through the speakers that span the gym. Beatrice absently nods her head to the guitar strums of Everlong as she heads into the heart of the space.
She decides to visit Shannon first, who is setting a partner climb on the slab wall. Partner climbs involve two different colored overlapping routes, each of which is climbed by one person. Like normal routes, each person can touch only the holds of the color on their specific route. However, in a partner climb, each climber can also use the other’s body in addition to the holds.
Beatrice wears a small frown. Despite some interest, she has never attempted a partner climb - well - with a partner. She has fond memories of completing them with her friends, but she imagines it must feel different with a romantic partner. She scoffs at herself. What had she said before? She’s too busy? She closes her eyes for a moment and stills.
Yes, Beatrice has the goal of becoming the head coach at La Fuente. If there’s one thing for which she can be relied on, it’s her dedication. There is simply no time for dalliances when she must perfect her craft. Beatrice is well-known for spending late nights at the gym, setting and resetting, even climbing, or staying at home watching climbing videos. She shakes her head as she wills her body to walk once more.
A metallic whirring sound greets her when she approaches Shannon. Her friend finishes screwing a volume onto the wall and turns around at the sound of Beatrice’s footsteps.
“How goes it?” She asks.
Shannon nods. “Not bad. Maybe you should try it - with a partner,” she replies with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk.
Beatrice rolls her eyes. She silently watches her set for a few more moments and leaves her to finish. As she walks away, she hears Shannon singing quietly to herself, “You gotta promise not to stop when I say-”
Next, Beatrice observes the sparse climbers at the rope section to ensure they use proper belay technique. While all patrons have signed consent forms guaranteeing La Fuente’s protection from litigation regarding any injuries sustained by climbing, it never hurts to correct someone’s form, if needed.
After five minutes have passed with no need to step in, she decides to visit the office to collect her climbing shoes and boulder for a while. One of the many benefits of being a coach is the freedom to climb while on the clock.
Her red and black Theories hang on her right index finger as she ambles to one of the warm-up bouldering walls. She sets them down and goes through her fifteen-minute stretching routine, making sure to warm up all relevant muscle groups in her body before touching the wall. Beatrice then spends the next half hour climbing various boulders and finishes on 7B.
Feeling warm, loose, and strong, Beatrice makes her way to the comp wall. Members of the Spanish National Team had expressed interest in the gym a few months ago, so the owners had made the executive decision to dedicate a large portion of the space to competition-level routes. La Fuente now boasts boulders up to 8B+ and rope climbs up to 8c+. Most of these routes can only be set by her, Mary, and Shannon, so they often bring setters from other gyms to assist and add variety to the styles.
To her surprise, a familiar figure climbs alone on the comp wall. She is working on the blue problem, an 8A+ that was just finished that morning by one of the outside setters. The woman may very likely be the first person besides a forerunner to attempt the route.
She sports another tank top and tights, just like yesterday. Unlike yesterday, she appears completely focused. The woman’s biceps bulge as both hands grasp a large, shallow hold that is almost half her height. Her left foot is high on a chip, while her right flags. The woman releases a grunt as she slowly moves her right hand to a sloper. Her right foot stutters along the wall with her effort and she just manages to slap the sloper before falling. Beatrice frowns and makes a thoughtful sound.
“Fuck!” The woman lets out. She raises herself onto her elbows and stares up at the route.
Beatrice steps forward. “Would you like some beta?” She asks without thinking. It’s climbing etiquette to not provide help unless given express permission.
The woman’s eyes widen with recognition. She draws back into herself a little. “Have you climbed this before - uh - ?” Her voice is a bit stiff.
“Beatrice.” She tries to introduce herself gently despite the lingering staleness in the air between them. “And no, but I observed you for a moment and noticed one adjustment that may help.” Beatrice smiles with slight sheepishness.
“Ava,” the woman supplies. Ava pauses and lets the awkward energy go, like releasing a leaf into the wind. “Sure, lay it on me…Beatrice.” She says her name as if she’s feeling out the vowels.
Beatrice takes a seat on the mat next to Ava and points up at the wall. “Have you considered heel hooking the large sidepull? It may provide you some stability to reach the sloper.”
Ava hums thoughtfully. “That’s a good idea,” she murmurs. She nods to herself and bounds up without using her hands for momentum. Ava bends down, shoves her hands in her chalk bag, turns to the wall. and claps them twice. A small cloud of chalk dust floats around her. Beatrice waves some chalk away from her face and squints.
Ava reaches the same spot and this time, heel hooks on the large hold with her left hand still holding it. She palms the sloper and completes another move, but falls two from the top, landing with a cushioned thump.
“Ah! Fucking hell!!” She pounds the mat in frustration with a fist and exhales forcibly before brushing some stray hairs back.
Ava turns to Beatrice, as if she’s just remembered she’s there. She grins with embarrassment, a pink flush rising up her neck to her cheeks. “This next section is ridiculous,” she says.
Beatrice looks up and hums. “I wouldn’t be able to solve it just by looking at it from down here,” she agrees. The last two moves involve going up from a tiny crimp to one of the shallowest chips they have. It finishes on a slippery, dual-texture hold whose hollow resembles a crescent moon.
“Would you mind if I gave it a go? Just to feel it out so I could try to help,” she asks cautiously. Working on another’s project in front of them can be anxiety-inducing at best and rude at worst.
“Yeah,” Ava shrugs. “Be my guest.” She undoes the velcro on either shoe and pulls them off with some effort.
Beatrice cricks her neck to either side and chalks up. Like Ava, she also stands up without using her hands and pauses to feel the start holds. She takes a deep breath in and lets it out.
The first move is an awful coordination dyno with a toe hook that she barely catches. Beatrice is not well-practiced with modern style competition bouldering and she breathes an internal sigh of relief at not making a complete fool of herself by missing the first sequence.
From there is a high foot and a reach up to the sidepull. Beatrice grasps it and flexes her biceps to maintain her balance. She brings her left foot up, expertly heel hooking the hold and transfers her right hand to the sloper. She feels around it until she finds a more positive part to grab. The next move to the crimp is straightforward and she approaches the part where Ava fell off.
Beatrice looks up and grimaces. Although the hold above her is shallow, it is widest at the bottom. Beatrice is unfamiliar with the setter, but she can guess their cruel intentions. Using her legs for momentum, she pushes up in one dynamic movement and catches the bottom of the hold with her right thumb.
“Holy shit,” is whispered behind her.
Beatrice clenches her jaw and matches the hold with her left thumb, then carefully shifts her left foot one hold higher. The easiest part to hold on the dual-texture finishing hold is on the left side, the one that thankfully faces her. She coordinates her hand and foot movements on this last move. Beatrice falls into the hold while putting all her weight on her right foot. Her left foot smears on the wall. Both palms end up in the crescent part of the hold and she maintains her finishing position for two seconds before jumping down.
Once more on the mat, Beatrice’s chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. Ava quickly approaches her.
“That was-“ Ava bites her bottom lip and almost appears gasping for air herself. Her cheeks are faintly pink, and Beatrice recognizes after half a second it’s not residual from their earlier conversation. “-amazing!”
Beatrice nods in thanks and takes a long swig from her water bottle. She sets it down and looks back up. “I hope that provided some help,” she says.
Ava swallows and licks her lips. “I haven’t seen you on the circuit. If you can flash 8A+, you must be-“
Beatrice shakes her head. “No, I’m just a coach here.”
“A coach?!” Ava looks incredulous. “No way!” She brings both palms up in question.
A smile sneaks its way onto Beatrice’s face. “I participated in a few competitions when I was younger, but…” The smile slightly fades.
Ava blinks and rushes in to fill the gap. “Well, you’re incredible. Show-stopping, even. Brilliant, amazing, spectacular-“ She emphasizes each word with a hand gesture then cuts herself off with another grin.
“How about you?” Beatrice asks. She sits back down on the mat and Ava plops down to join her. “We don’t have many college-age climbers here at two in the afternoon.”
“Oh, I’m training,” Ava replies. “…and I’m in college. Well, I’m in my last year so I have a lot of free time.”
Beatrice very slightly tilts her head. Ava’s in her last year of college? With her large eyes, playful smiles, and overall demeanor, she seems…young. Beatrice shifts her body to face Ava’s. “Training?”
“I’m uh…” Ava’s eyes shift to the side. “A professional climber?”
Despite your antics yesterday, Beatrice thinks to herself. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Ava. We have a number of Spanish climbers who will train on this wall soon.” She frowns. “Are you-?”
Ava laughs. “No, no, I’m not Spanish. I mean I speak Spanish. But no, I’m on the Portuguese team.”
Beatrice nods.
“Uh, a couple of my friends yesterday are on the Spanish team. JC, the tall brown-haired guy, and Camila, the short one. Well she’s my height, but-“ Ava trails off before scratching the back of her neck. “You’ll let them back in, right?”
Beatrice laughs under her breath. Ava brightens.
“As long as they behave,” she replies in a mock (but actually) serious tone.
Ava goes completely still for the first time that Beatrice has ever seen and looks a little dazed. Just as quickly, her eyes focus and stare directly into Beatrice’s.
“Yes,” she breathes out. Beatrice suddenly picks up that the air between them is charged with an energy she doesn’t quite understand, but she finds she doesn’t mind. “We’ll behave.”
Beatrice leaves Ava soon after to man the front desk once more, and so Ava can finish her project in peace.
Ava stops by on her way out. She has two pairs of climbing shoes clipped to the outside of her backpack.
“Thanks for the help today,” she begins, bringing her arms up on the counter between them and leaning forward. “And it was really nice to meet you, uh, again. Maybe you could…show me more of what you can do in the future?”
Something in Beatrice shifts, like hearing birdcalls for the first time after many months on a cold spring morning. Is Ava…she can’t be…? “It would be my pleasure.” The words tumble right out of her mouth before she can fully process their meaning. It’s a go-to phrase for her, one borne of politeness. She realizes too late how they could sound in whatever context Ava introduced.
Ava blinks and nods to herself, head bobbing up and down at least seven times in quick succession. She flashes a smile so wide that Beatrice feels as if she's staring into the sun. “It’s a plan. I’ll see you tomorrow, Beatrice.”
As soon as she is out of eyesight from the vantage point provided by the gym’s large windows, Mary and Shannon swarm her.
“What was that?” Mary looks simply gleeful.
“Wasn’t that Ava Silva from back in the day?” Shannon wonders thoughtfully before perking up. “And yes, what was that!”
Beatrice fights down the corners of her mouth that want nothing else but to curve up. “I helped her on one of the comp climbs,” she explains.
“Ooooohhhh?” Mary and Shannon reply together. They lean in even closer.
Beatrice is saved by a new wave of patrons walking in the door.
“This isn’t over!” Shannon points at her as she practically skips away to put the finishing touches on her partner climb.
“See you tomorrooowww!” Mary adds in a sing-song voice, high pitched and syrupy sweet.
Beatrice pinches the bridge of her nose. Despite her exasperation with her friends, she smiles to herself at the reminder of tomorrow.
“Welcome to La Fuente,” she turns and greets the new patrons. “Are you members or guests?”