Climb It

Climb It!

Science battles in an unstable marriage

I've decided to go way out on a limb for my fiftieth story. I suppose it isn't that

far; after

all, others have been done in a similar vein. Most notably,

"Splashdown"

https://www.literotica.com/s/splashdown-ch-01.com

Most of my followers know by now that except for a few stories to which I've written an alternate ending, I try hard to create original content in a category ripe with stories that all feel and read the same. Sometimes, you all love them and sometimes, they rate below a solid four. Many of those stories garner hundreds of comments and tens of thousands of views, so I guess it's still a win. The most popular and well-known story ever published in LW only rated 3.86 after the first two months it was posted which is why I don't take ratings too seriously.

I'm getting ahead of myself. You'll find a refreshed and updated guide for newer or want-to-be writers at the end of the story, detailing what I've learned about LIT and its readers after 49 stories. The first one I did about 2 years ago, at the end of "Generation Conversations,' was a little hostile towards some well-known folk on this site. This one is nothing disparaging; just some helpful hints and words of support for the authors who may take LIT into the next decade; some may be very capable and entertaining, yet cautious to hit the 'submit' button.

For this story

, though, I've got a few asks and one tell. You'll figure out the homonym in the title pretty early so here is the

warning

:

If you're triggered by opinion v science, simply move on to another story. This is a Loving Wives, (or cheating wives) story on an erotic website. Concerning the plot, I've gone out of my way to be overly accommodating to both sides of the issue, based solely on current facts and statistical data; those would be facts and stats that are easily definable and provable. As with any author, it is my intellectual property and a work of fiction. If you attempt to use the comments section to put your political license on my property, your comment will be deleted. Comments on the story itself, as is always the case with me, are more than welcome. My moniker, in this instance, is also great advice.

Many thanks to StrikesandBalls, an exceptional editor who keeps me on True North.

Relax; it's just a story, people.

[Copyright 2024, all rights reserved, including part 107 of US Copyright law]

'Shit! That escalated quickly,'

I thought as I heard our bedroom door slam. Marley, my wife, and I, Dan Dawson, had just had a knockdown drag-out fight of epic proportions. The thing was, we were having a pretty decent night until she dropped a bomb on me. Maybe I overreacted, but damn, she'd pissed me off.

I grabbed a fresh beer from the fridge, knowing Marley wouldn't return to our living room. My face was hot and my blood pressure was probably sky-high. I decided to sit on our back deck and try to calm down.

The lights of Los Angeles were always quite a sight from our decks perched high atop the hills of Studio City. I'd never felt comfortable in this town but the minute Marley saw the house and the view, I knew there was no way I could talk her out of it.

Fucking insurance cost more than the mortgage and the mortgage number was so astronomical, I almost walked out of the escrow office the day we signed. In fact, I did stand up and pace for several minutes with Marley at my side, rubbing my arm, trying to settle me down.

It wasn't that we couldn't afford it but Marley and I grew up in the Midwest in small towns. This mini-mansion was simply a statement. To me, it was overkill and worse, seemed to contradict everything my wife stood for.

Marley grew up in Ohio, along the lake just south of the Michigan border. The first years of my life began in a Detroit suburb. When I was ten years old, Dad bought a mineral company in northern Michigan, near Traverse City. I met my future wife at Michigan State University. We were both science majors.

It wasn't love at first sight with me and Marley. If I had to put a label on it, more like a slow subtle burn. We were both dedicated, I overly so, to our studies. I saw her at least twenty times in the lunchroom cafeteria of the science building before we ever spoke. Even then, she was the one who approached me.

Marley isn't what you'd call 'exotic' beautiful. In our college days, she was a little plump. Not fat but what I referred to as carrying her baby bod. That wasn't quite it either but given the little bit of extra weight she had, one could easily see that if she took care of herself, it would eventually fade away as she got older and fade away it did.

I was caught off guard when she came to my table. "Do you have a protractor I can borrow?" she asked without fanfare. I smiled at her and at least her stoic stance relaxed enough for her to smile wanly back at me. Without a word, I reached into my backpack and pulled the tool out of the side pouch.

"Keep it," I said, handing it to her. "I've got plenty."

Not very romantic, I must admit, nor smooth. I was a geek then and even though age has graced me with better looks, I'm still one at heart.

Two weeks later, I saw her, paperwork spread all over the table where she sat, writing furiously on a spiral binder. I walked up to her and asked, "Can I get you a coffee?"

She looked at me with her eyes, not raising her head. "Today isn't a good time," she seemed annoyed. "I have to present this afternoon."

"Understood," I tried to be polite at her rebuff. "Could I possibly take you out for coffee sometime, you know, when you don't... I mean when you're free?"

Marley stopped in her tracks and she presented herself to my full attention as she regarded the weird boy in front of her. Then she smiled fully and I almost melted. That wasn't lost on her either.

"I'm Marley," she said matter-of-factly. "I don't go out with strangers."

"Sorry," I said, turning to go back to where I'd been.

"Wait," she proclaimed. "If you give me your name, you won't be a stranger."

And that was how we started. Besides her minor plumpness, Marley was a beauty to me, anyway. Deep red locks flowed down her shoulders and she had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. Her dominant genes emanated from her Irish mother. Her smile was what did it for me.

We dated fairly regularly over the following year but we avoided talk about exclusivity because we were both far too busy to party or date others. It took us four months after our first date to get intimate. Neither of us had much experience so we learned our bodies and each other, together. I had a lot of fun in that endeavor. Marley matched my eagerness.

Marley was in what would be considered her junior year, working her way to a bachelor's degree. I was in for a dual degree so, while I was a year older and farther along, I still had at least two years left. I already had my bachelor's in chemistry and was working on my master's in physics.

Marley invited me to her hometown in the spring to meet her family. They seemed nice enough and were very polite. I think they seemed surprised that Marley had met someone. My parents were also stunned that I'd met such a wonderful, beautiful woman, as my mom put it. I took Marley to meet them at the end of that summer just before we left for school.

The biggest challenge we'd face in the next decade wasn't even much on the radar in those early days. Had either of us recognized it, we might have had pause to consider our relationship.

My father was a petrologist and a damned good one. He was a rock scientist, as I used to joke with him. To be good in that science, one needs an understanding of geology, mineralogy, and physiochemical conditions. During my younger years, Dad became semi-famous in his field and was always off to parts unknown, to identify rocks or formations that others couldn't explain. Those were the days before X-ray diffraction (XRD) and microspectrometers.

We moved to the Traverse City area for an odd reason. H had a fascination with the strange glowing rocks that were unique to that one small area of the world: the Petoskey Stones. The fossilized coral embedded in the pebble-shaped stone actually glows in the dark but they were quite something even in the light of day. Dad found and studied the stones, then started a company that sold them worldwide. He made an incredible living for his family and had fun doing what he liked.

I couldn't see myself following in the family business so I chose physics and chemistry. Mom and Dad were happy for me, even though I know for my father, it was bittersweet.

Marley's major was in climatology. She'd originally been a dual major but it became too much for her, so she dropped all but meteorology.

Even before graduation, Marley and I had some heated discussions about science, specifically, hers and mine. If I wanted to piss the woman off, all I need to do during those one-upmanship talks would be to mention 'applied' science versus 'theoretical' science.

If I wanted to be shut out of our bedroom, I could go further and compare what she did to oceanography or psychology. The very first time, when she asked what one had to do with the other, I explained that the oceans and the brain's commonalities were that they were only ten percent explored to date, so all conclusions made about either were theoretical.

I rarely had those discussions since it never worked in my favor.

Just because I was a decent scientist didn't mean I had any common sense. On our first anniversary, I took Marley up the coast, intending to spend the weekend in Santa Barbara. We stopped in Ventura and found so much to do there that we changed our hotel reservations and stayed. The county fair was taking place along the beach and we had a blast. On our last night there, as my wife and I leisurely trailed the boardwalk, I saw these signs about the size of those used for 'no parking.'

They explained that if we all didn't jump aboard the climate crisis train, the water level would be "here." That watermark was shown on the sign by a wavy line and was about eight feet above where we stood. Marley saw me looking at it with a look of skepticism.

"Don't," she said softly but sternly. "We're having a great time. Please don't spoil it."

Putting my arm over her shoulder, I pulled her into me and replied, "You're right beautiful, let's enjoy the scenery," as I looked out over the ocean and the multitude of surfers. It was a great weekend but a few days after we got home, I looked it up on the city website and found they'd been placed in 2009. The signs warned of an eight-foot rise in the ocean by 2020, two years after our visit. The water level in Ventura hadn't risen even a sixteenth of an inch, according to the Oceanographic Institute of California, San Diego.

Still, I endeavored to bite my tongue for the sake of our marriage. Marley was as fiercely defensive of her profession as I was of mine. Some of the bizarre things she shared with me at our dinner table or on a drive into the mountains made it hard to cover my feelings.

I loved Marley and we had an otherwise stellar relationship. Our sex life was great those first four years of marriage. We got along with our in-laws and neither Marley nor I had siblings.

It was in our fifth year that things changed. The first issue was our conversations about when to start our family. Originally, we'd agreed to get settled in our jobs and buy a decent home. We decided it would take about four years. What we didn't expect was the housing market increase to skyrocket.

While we were in a stalemate of disagreement, I was approached by an Air Force representative to head up a project for the sixth branch of the military, the Space Force. They wanted me to lead a team working on a new rocket booster and its fuel intermix. The job came with a ton of perks and I almost accepted the offer straight away until I realized I needed to discuss it with my partner at home.

That night, Marley was bouncing off the walls when she got home thirty minutes late with takeout.

"Honey," she began enthusiastically, "I've been given an incredible opportunity! I was contacted today by the Brinks Foundation, offering me a job on an exclusive team of researchers headed up by Ronaldo Sousa."

Even I knew who he was. Ron, as some called him, was of Portuguese decent and was one of the foremost authorities on climate research. Brinks was a leading research firm globally but the dark spot on its ledger was that it was also heavily involved in climate protests worldwide.

"That's great, honey," I sincerely told her. Getting an opportunity like that this early in her career would rapidly propel her. Then I thought about her current job and our baby-making plans. She must have read my expression.

"Baby," she went on. "When I went to talk to my boss about it, he said he already knew."

"How was that?" I asked.

"Ronaldo himself called and spoke to my boss yesterday." Marley was beaming from ear to ear. To say she was elated was an understatement.

"So, what does that mean for us?" I tried to temper my tone of voice. I really didn't want to rain on her parade.

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "Obviously, if I accept, we'll need to put our plans to start a family on hold. I haven't discussed the particulars with Brink but the shelf life of one of their research teams is usually a year to three."

As much as I hated the idea, what she was proposing wouldn't be all bad. I decided to share my good news then.

"I've also been offered something today," I told her. Marley's mind was racing with thoughts of her own career. I had to repeat myself a few times, which annoyed me.

Once my wife finally figured out the ramifications for both of us, she asked, "So what shall we do, Dan?"

"I'm not sure," I stated honestly. "It's clearly a banner day for the Dawsons. Maybe we take a day or two to come down off of our high and make good decisions."

Mayley looked like she swallowed a jar of pickle juice. "I don't think either of us can afford to put this on hold for a few days, Honey. Let's eat and talk it through now. I'll pour us some wine to calm us down."

A bottle of red later, Marley had talked the promotions to death. It looked like we'd be waiting a while longer to become parents.

We both accepted our respective offers. I was the lucky one. Not only was my regular job going to be waiting for me when I was finished with the Space Force, but I would be able to interact most days with my team from home. I had to meet the team, set up the initial protocols, and then, drive north to Vandenberg AFB every other week for a few days.

Marley had to travel about a half-hour from our home in Studio City to one of Brinks' remote offices in Long Beach and had it worse with the rush hour traffic. She, too, was meeting remotely with a team, some of which were stationed in another country, from the confines of a conference room.

We both excelled. I headed up a team of eleven, all extremely talented, and one Jeannie Baxter, our team's fuel intermix expert, stood out like a sore thumb.

Jeannie was a beautiful woman, even in her conservative clothing. I'd never encountered someone who could exude such sexuality while scribbling trig equations on a napkin.

That's exactly what she did the first time I took the team to a strategy lunch just outside the base. She and another team member were arguing about a particular mixture and the pounds of thrust it could create.

After the first six months, Marley's job ramped up and became more stressful as the team was working on measuring atmospheric metallurgy and its effects on weather and Earth soil.

Then suddenly, our lives were tipped upside down.

Marley was uncharacteristically quiet at dinner and I sensed she had a big announcement of some sort. Finally, after taking her last bite of food, she looked at me.

"The team is going on the road," she tentatively began. "The foundation has approved a special project that is changing our course direction."

I didn't reply, waiting so she continued.

"We've all been told today and asked to discuss it with our significant others tonight. I have to give them an answer tomorrow, so..." she trailed off.

I didn't like the look on her face or her hesitation one little bit. "And where is the team going on this field trip?" I asked, trying to hide my angst.

"Antarctica." She announced boldly. Then she left it there.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I exploded. I wasn't in her field but even I knew what that type of endeavor would entail.

"I'm not," she responded in a low even tone. "We're going to measure the ice shelf."

I just stared at her and she maintained an equal glare. I knew then that I wasn't going to win any argument I might come up with.

"So you want this?" I asked, changing directions.

"I do," she implored. "It's a chance of a lifetime for me." She paused, then added, "And we're running out of time." That last part perked me right up.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked her. "Out of time?"

I noticed a slight change in her. If I didn't know her so well I would have missed it.

"We've put our current project on hold," she looked a bit worried about going down that road. "There have been some recent and extraordinary changes monitored there and we've been tasked with taking our own measurements and assessing what it means."

"And these changes," I deadpanned, "They have to do with some extinction-level event?"

"Please, Dan," she offered. "Don't go there, honey. I know how you feel and that isn't going to be productive to this conversation. This is science, my science, and the teams."

"How long is this excursion supposed to last?" she could tell I was moments from losing it.

"Four months," she almost whispered. "We were told as long as five, providing for poor weather conditions."

"And does that take into consideration the ten or so days to get there and ten more to get home?"

"Yes," she looked away. There was something else. "There are nine of us if no one drops out tomorrow. Three women and six men."

"Only nine people heading to the most inhospitable place on the planet for five months?" I asked her incredulously.

"That doesn't count the security and extraction team," she was even quieter. "That's twenty or so more people who'll be responsible for our survival while we focus on the work."

I was without words. My wife had somehow gotten caught up in this quest. Sure, what scientist wouldn't want to go where few before had, to study who knows what? The suddenness bothered me.

"Marley," I told her. "I'm trying to understand here, I really am. What exactly is so important on the ice shelf? We already know that it's growing, not melting, as is often suggested. Most importantly, we promised each other our family. This tells me that this dire emergency is more important to you and that has me wondering, once more, about us." My statement sent her into a tailspin.

"How dare you," she growled, not answering my question. "You're going to address this with your fictitious tales? Okay, fine. Be a child about it, while I'm trying to be serious."

"More like SCIENCE fiction," I snorted. "And you know it because every science journal says so. But for the sake of this conversation, I'll leave that for now. We've talked about beginning our family. We've worked and planned. Now, you're being selfish. You want to go off on some crusade for five months while I what? Sit here and twiddle my thumbs? Are you planning to be celibate for five months? At least be honest with me and yourself."

"No," she said with conviction. "You're going to work your job, take care of yourself, spend some extra time with your friends or workmates, and wait for my return like any decent spouse would. As I recall, I'm not the only one working on a special project. I only wish you could be proud of me like I am you."