Page 89 of The Big Race
“Brutal,” Walter nodded sympathetically. “Geography is a harsh mistress.”
“I don’t know about your pride, but my leg is still mad at me,” Cherisse chimed in, gesturing to her foot. “Snowshoes are the devil’s invention.”
“Speaking of devils,” Ernie said, lowering his voice dramatically, “have you seen Tyler and Brandon yet? The gay friends?”
Ray shook his head. “They were eliminated before us.”
“Yeah, they arrived two days ago,” George confirmed. “And Gemini and Blaine after them. They lost on some sort of spice challenge.”
“No one’s seen much of them,” Desiree added. “They’re holed up in their rooms, probably still fighting about who screwed up what.”
“What about the food truck owners?” I asked, trying to remember who else had been eliminated.
“Jenny and Carlos?” Ernie snorted. “Those two could barely stand each other by the time they got here. Word is they’re dissolving their partnership when they get back to Miami.”
“That’s sad,” Ray said. “Their empanadas were amazing—we tried them at a food festival last year.”
“The race has a way of exposing cracks in relationships,” Vivian observed, the professor in her emerging. “Put people under enough stress, in unfamiliar environments, with limited resources, and you see who they really are.”
“Or who they can be,” I countered, thinking of how Ray and I had found our way back to each other through the challenges.
“Exactly,” George raised his glass to me. “This guy gets it. The race showed Jenny and Carlos they weren’t meant to be partners. But it showed Ernie and me that thirty years of friendship can survive anything.”
Laughter rippled around the table.
“What about you two?” Desiree asked, her gaze moving between Ray and me. “You mentioned at the start that you were having... issues. Did the race help or hurt?”
I exchanged glances with Ray, silently communicating about how much to share. He nodded slightly, giving me the lead.
“It helped,” I said simply. “Not because racing around the world is some magical cure for relationship problems, but because it forced us to face things we’d been avoiding. To remember why we chose each other in the first place.”
“And to find new reasons to choose each other again,” Ray added, his hand finding mine under the table.
Ernie raised his glass again. “To choosing each other, again and again. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
The conversation flowed easily after that, with teams swapping stories of their most embarrassing moments, near misses, and favorite experiences from the race. The NBA wives had almost been arrested in Panama when Cherisse tried to bribe a local official. The gay friends eventually joined us and revealed that they had accidentally joined a Buddhist meditation retreat in Bangkok and spent four hours in silence before realizing they were in the wrong place.
“What’s your best memory from the race?” Walter asked us.
Ray and I looked at each other, dozens of moments flashing between us. The bungee jumping in Venezuela, the parasailing in Nice, the dance challenge in Bangkok. But one stood out above all.
“For me,” I said, “it was a moment in the French Alps. We were snowshoeing across this pristine field, and Ray stopped to show me how to look for animal tracks in the snow.” I smiled at the memory. “It wasn’t a big moment, not something that would make good TV. But it was us, together, sharing something beautiful without competing or rushing.”
Ray’s eyes softened. “I was going to say the same thing, except it was watching Jeffrey on that zip line in Venezuela. He was terrified of heights when we started the race, and there he was, flying through the air with the biggest smile on his face.”
“You guys are making me nauseous,” George groaned, but his eyes were kind. “In a good way.”
“What about you, George?” I asked. “Best memory with Ernie?”
He thought for a moment. “Probably when he saved my life in Venezuela.”
This was news to us. “What happened?”
“We were on those rickety bridges in the jungle,” George explained. “I slipped and would have fallen into the ravine if this guy hadn’t grabbed me.” He clapped Ernie on the shoulder. “Twenty years of hauling garbage bins built some serious arm strength.”
“You never told us that,” Ray said, impressed.
Ernie shrugged modestly. “Some things you don’t need to broadcast. Besides, he’d have done the same for me.”
