Season 19, Episode 12 “Re”
“Reunion”
As summer drew near, the DC humidity elbowed its way through the manicured lawns of our neighborhood.
The weekdays were ghosts of our previous routine, me and the kids half-heartedly executing bygone habits.
Wallace floated from room to room like an untethered, deflated balloon.
It crushed me that these would be his foundational memories, any semblance of a two-parent household memorialized by YouTube videos documenting the inevitable destruction of his fathers’ marriage.
Andie understood better what she’d lost, wreaking havoc at school, but the imminent summer vacation appeared to spare us meaningful repercussions.
Her worst tantrums were reserved for Barnes’ turnstile of nannies, which I can’t pretend I didn’t secretly enjoy.
Nonetheless, I tried to populate the evenings with fun activities—board games, movies, drives to Ben they both wanted to win so badly.
He wanted his own fame, and she wanted her own funds.
She’d pull a Joni Mitchell, she joked. “Make a lot of money, and then quit this crazy scene.” However, even she hadn’t followed her own advice.
Any Endeavor billboard confirmed she’d stayed on the show for the long haul.
Ironically, I had listened to her, but my money was long gone, spent on Mitch’s medical bills and Barnes’ first campaign.
I’d think of her often during my mental tours through the last decade, attempting to discern when I should have woken up.
Was it when I betrayed my best friends on primetime television?
When I stood silent as my husband ruined people’s lives?
When strangers started calling me a bigot?
It’s easy to believe problems don’t exist when you distract yourself with diapers and charity galas, but now I had nothing.
No career, no relationship, no friends, no clue how to make it right.
I only had Andie and Wallace, and I’d have to fight to keep even them.
On my fourth weekend alone, the kids had just departed when my phone rang, a number I didn’t recognize. Thankfully most press had backed off since I’d hired Evelyn, but experience had taught me an unknown number was either a journalist or a psychopath.
I let it go to voicemail, then promptly listened to it. “Hi, it’s Sally David at the Chevy Chase YMCA regarding your inquiry. We actually have a spot open on our fitness team. We don’t get many Ivy League applicants, but I’m happy to discuss the certifications you’d need. Speak soon!”
Well, young man, there is a place you can go when you’re short on dough… and I would indeed have to put my pride on the shelf.
My phone rang again. Another mystery caller, but I cavalierly answered this time, unable to suffer worse indignities. “Hello?”
“Luke!” a cheerful man answered. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”
News outlet. “No comment. Goodbye—”
“Wait, it’s Troy Harvey! I’m one of the current showrunners on Endeavor!” I restrained myself from ending the call. “We’ve not actually met, but I’m a massive fan.”
I gazed around the kitchen I now despised, wondering how I always ended up here at my lowest points. “What can I do for you?”
“Wow! Right to the chase! Okay, we aired the live Reunion for Season 19 last night, which means that very soon we’ll start filming Season 20—”
“Season 20?! It started in 2003. That was twelve years ago.”
“Well, it’s the network’s number-one show, so they went to two seasons per year a while ago. Since it’s such a milestone, we’re contacting our most iconic alumni—”
“I’m not doing interviews—”
“Actually, Luke… we’re curious if you’d like to return as a contestant.”
I genuinely guffawed. “That’s very flattering, but I’m the definition of retired from TV. I’ve got two kids, and obviously you know I’m dealing with a pretty public divorce—”
“But doesn’t that make it the perfect time to reclaim your narrative?”
“Okay, this is the first time I’ve laughed in a month, so thanks for that, but—”
“Listen, the show’s changed! You can call your kids every day, and you won’t be locked down the whole time like in the dark ages.”
“I cannot leave my kids for any amount of time, sorry—”
“Luke, we’re offering you $250,000 just to board the plane.”
I halted, abruptly watching myself from outside my body, as if I were frozen in place while the earth rotated away, carrying me toward a distant horizon. “Plus $25,000 for each additional episode you appear in,” Troy added breathlessly. “We want you bad.”
And just like that, the unthinkable became the only solution I could imagine to guarantee custody of the kids. Even if I lasted one episode, I’d be able to rent a modest house in Charlotte with enough left to tide us over while I found a job.
And I could be me. I couldn’t deny the appeal of reminding the world who I really was beyond scattered sound bites and tabloid photos. On my own. Without him. This could be my last chance to publicly correct my mistakes, right back to the first ones. The unforgivable ones.
“That’s not even counting the grand prize,” Troy exhaled. “For Season 20, the network wants to incentivize the cast to shine, a record sum for any reality competition show—”
“How much?”
“$5 million.”
I breathed deep. Worst-case scenario, there was always the YMCA.
“Luke? Still there, bud?”
“I’m in.”