The Pen Was Already Out

February seventh. There was a sign-up sheet on the counter. Hand-lettered, slightly crooked, the kind that gets made on a Tuesday when someone has good intentions and a marker. I was still reading line two when Simone picked up the pen.

I want to be clear that I did not make a deliberate choice. What I made was a motion, hand landing on the sheet, name written in the space below Simone's, cap going back on the pen. The deliberate-choice part happened about forty seconds later when I was standing at the base of the low wall wondering what exactly a bouldering comp involves and whether I own anything that qualifies as competition chalk. (I do not. I have borrowed chalk. There is a difference apparently.)

One hand on the wall, already reconsidering.

The thing I keep coming back to is the speed of it. Not Simone's, she has always been decisive in the efficient way of someone who has already done the internal math before the question arrives. I mean mine. I said yes to something before I'd finished reading what I was saying yes to, and the version of me that would normally spend three days with a browser tab open did not get consulted. She was still logging in when we were already registered. I looked back at the sign-up sheet afterward the way you look at a door after you've already walked through it.

Looked back at the sign-up sheet like it might have changed its mind.

I don't know yet if we're any good at this. I know we've been climbing on Tuesdays long enough that my hands have opinions about the holds, and I know Simone will be better at the comp format than she thinks she will because she always is. And I know that the version of me who said yes in a single motion, before the lag could catch up, that version got something right.