Season 20, Episode 11 “… And Start Getting Real” #2
Barnes groaned, smacking his hands to his face, but as satisfying as it was to watch him implode, we had places to be. “Im, over here.” I offered my hook to her. “Barnes, get up.”
“Why?” he asked. “It’s over.”
I revealed my key, hidden in my fist. “Because I’m stuck with you.”
All three of them gasped, and Imogen grabbed me joyfully by the arm. Barnes’ face softened, actually proud. “You got your key before Fortune tackled you.”
“Now get up. Unless you’d rather give Fortune more of a head start?”
We unlocked my gate and sprinted into the woods.
The terrain grew steeper, but Fortune had made good time.
Eventually we burst onto a plateau, revealing a panorama of Milford Sound and five wide-open gates, each bearing one of our names.
Beyond them, five rope bridges crossed a ravine, the ocean beneath and the whole crew on the other side. The finish line at last.
Fortune was staggering toward the gates, so drained he looked drunk. Seeing us, he stumbled onto the middle bridge, the one with my name scrawled over its gate. “That dumbass isn’t even on the right bridge!” Barnes jeered. “We’ll outrun him on mine!”
“Drew said the key has to match the bridge. We only have Luke’s key!” Imogen said—right as Fortune halted, deliberately blocking our path.
We tentatively boarded my bridge, Barnes already strategizing under his breath. “Okay, so we play along. Luke overpowers him—”
“No,” I said. “It’s over, Barnes. We go together, everyone gets paid, and you fulfill your deal. He doesn’t have to lose for us to win.”
“Next you’ll say we each get courage, brains, and a heart,” he grumbled, but left it there.
“Fortune!” I called. “All together?”
He offered a beleaguered thumbs-up, and Barnes huffily clipped to him.
“Let’s do this.” I turned to Erika. “After you.”
She grinned despite herself and began to lead our caravan across the bridge.
All of us winning should have been impossible, but I didn’t mind this ending. I wasn’t just winning money or a title. I’d won my kids back, and everything would at last be okay.
As Erika reached the other side, Imogen took my hand.
I was so deliriously happy, and so impossibly exhausted, that I didn’t even hear the crack of the wood underneath Fortune.
I only heard Barnes scream behind me as he was dragged down after him.
The rope connecting us yanked me back so forcefully I thought my spine might snap, and I plummeted through the bridge behind them.
In those first few years after my mother died, I kept imagining I heard her voice in an adjacent room, as if she were behind the cracked door to the garage or barricaded in the guest room that she occupied come tax season.
In many ways I remember her absence more than I remember her.
As I grew older, I wondered what she thought when the current pulled her under and I felt guilty that she might have spent her last minutes ruminating on a child who could barely cobble together a handful of memories of her.
As my dazed eyes cracked open to glimpse the churning waves now looming below my hanging body, I understood the water had come to claim me as well, no more appropriate legacy or fate for me to inherit.
But in that sharp sudden burn of epiphany, the question that had haunted my childhood was answered in splintered visions of Andie and Wallace, a kaleidoscope of memories flashing amidst the stars dotting my eyes.
I suppose I should have known all along.
When you’re certain your child’s about to become an orphan, you think of nothing else.
As the initial shock of the fall wore off, I realized my face was bleeding badly.
I couldn’t recall if I’d been clawed by broken planks of the bridge or if I’d somehow slammed into the rock face before snapping to a halt midair.
Barnes cried my name, my feet dangling above him.
An unconscious Fortune swayed like a pendulum beneath.
I couldn’t tell if he was alive. Above me, Imogen was pinned against the edge of the cliff, surrounded by the debris of the bridge.
Erika miraculously had just made solid ground when Fortune fell.
The stunt team had been close enough to grab her; otherwise we’d all have gone straight into the sea.
They had swiftly unclipped Erika, but they’d only been able to grasp Imogen by her forearms, the buckle of her belt too far out of reach to extract her.
Now Erika, Zara, Greta, and the crew fought to lift us all up.
No cranes, no safety nets, our only lifelines were the ropes connecting our belts.
“Luke, say something!” Barnes called again.
“I’m fine,” I finally managed to reply. “Imogen? Are you okay?”
But she didn’t answer. She’d become the fulcrum between us, except the crew had no leverage. Fortune, Barnes, and I were a three-man anchor dragging her down. “I have rescue boats coming just in case,” Zara’s voice came through a bullhorn. “Stay calm, and don’t move!”
I touched my face, turning my whole palm a wet crimson. How could this have happened? Despite his machinations, I had a hard time thinking Troy would condemn me to likely death. And even Troy couldn’t have predicted we’d all be on my bridge together.
I saw the art department rush to dismantle another rope bridge, strategizing how to lower it like a ladder. They’d never have time. Zara clearly knew that too, her words trembling. “Luke, can you reach Imogen’s feet?”
I strained for her ankle when a sudden thrash sent me swaying. It came from Fortune below, still unconscious, erratically flailing as if fighting in a dream. I was relieved he was alive, but he wouldn’t make this easier. “Zara, is there anything you can throw us to climb?”
“Luke, I… I can’t climb,” Barnes stuttered. “Not with him weighing me down.”
“I’ll pull you both. Nothing is going to happen to you, understand?”
His eyes crinkled, staring at me. “Your face…” he said, almost involuntarily.
Imogen released a deep, guttural howl above. She wouldn’t last much longer.
“Barnes,” Zara hoarsely called. “Can you reach Fortune’s belt to unclip yourself?” My God, it had come to that. She would sacrifice Fortune to save us.
Barnes yanked the rope, veins popping in his forehead, failing to lift Fortune. After a few seconds of straining, a strange look settled on his face. “Zara, how far away are those boats?”
“They promised ten minutes, but I don’t know.”
“All right… I can’t unhook from Fortune, but I can unhook from Luke—”
“No, I’ll hold you both as long as it takes!” I screamed.
“I know you would, but we can’t do that to her…”
I breathlessly looked up at Imogen, then back to Barnes. The girl who’d been my hero, the boy who’d been my husband. If I didn’t lose one, I was about to lose both.
“Luke… it’s okay. I’m okay.”
“There has to be another way…”
He gently shook his head. “I love you. And I’m so sorry. For everything.”
“Barnes, no.”
“Tell them I love them.” I didn’t have to ask whom he meant as he fumbled with the carabiner… Except nothing happened.
The rock. I’d hit his hook with the rock.
My carabiner was stuck, which meant Barnes couldn’t solve this…
“Barnes, look at me. Unbuckle your belt and jump. You’ll be safer that way.
” Even as he began protesting, I knew what had to happen.
I gripped Imogen’s carabiner, tugging at my waist, tethering her to me, and steadied my voice, holding my husband’s gaze.
“It’s the best shot we’ve got, and you know it.
” For the kids. To have at least one of us.
He stared back, as if we were the only two people there, caught between an entire life together and the fleeting seconds left. I knew this was probably the last time I’d say it. “I love you… Now jump!”
His eyes stayed on me until the end, when he undid the buckle and let go, only his empty belt linking the ropes between me and Fortune. I prayed he’d be able to swim after the impact. At least Fortune wouldn’t drag him under.
Imogen screamed, a ragged, empty sound. Erika, Greta, and Zara fought to keep her from slipping away, tears streaking their faces. She had seconds left…
I desperately scanned the crew above, seeking one thing among those faces, those mouths advising how to hit the water, those useless warnings.
The film equipment had been abandoned except for a single dazed cameraman, his lens aimlessly pointed at me.
I found that black portal to the future, offering one last gift after having taken so much.
The words left me so fast I’m not sure anything was distinguishable beyond the intent.
They each needed to know I said their name. “Andie, Wallace, we love you…”
And my thumb pressed down on the carabiner.
Imogen soared above me, her body raised heavenward by the women.
As I somersaulted unpinioned through the air, it occurred to me that Imogen would have gotten drunk on French 75s if she had attended my wedding to Barnes, the ceremony I wished we’d actually had.
She and Jenny would have been cackling in a corner, absently shredding the monogrammed cocktail napkins, making fun of Greta in her pink bandage dress.
I’d beg them to get on the dance floor before the band finished, and because it was “Sweet Caroline,” which had been Mitch’s favorite song at parties, they would relent, joining us in the center of the circle, Imogen tucked under my arm, still laughing.
And with Imogen on my left and Barnes on my right, we would have sung at the top of our lungs until they turned the lights out on us, until the darkness came.