Chapter 21 Icarus
Icarus
Aliona narrows her eyes like she’s going to present us with some deep, thought-provoking question. Instead, she asks, “How do you feel, going from top three in the First Adventure to bottom three in the Second Adventure?”
What does she expect us to say? It feels great? Dream come true?
I take this question. “This Adventure was a bit of a struggle for us, but there’s no difference between first place and seventh place. The only goal today was not to be eighth, and we weren’t.”
“Well, there’s a time advantage,” Aliona points out unhelpfully.
“A time advantage is nice, but we had a time advantage today and it didn’t help us.”
We stand on a wooden pier over the Rio de la Plata. Closer to land is the Club de Pescadores, the large Tudor-style fisherman’s clubhouse that JSP’s mat is stationed in front of. A gentle breeze off the water carries the scent of Yumi’s pineapple-and-melon hair cream to me.
Here’s the thing about Yumi’s pineapple-and-melon hair cream—it is genuinely the best thing I have ever smelled.
Now, Noelle, I hear you say, you only think that because you were down bad for her for so long.
And no, incorrect. You know when you’re sitting behind a girl whose hair is still damp from her morning shower, and when she takes it down, you get a momentary whiff of her shampoo?
It’s sweet and light and dissipates quickly.
That’s what this hair cream smells like, except it doesn’t dissipate.
It hovers there, at the edge of just-enoughness.
You inhale, wanting to fill your lungs with it before it blows away, but then you inhale again and it’s still there, delicious and greedy-making.
“Noelle?”
I snap to attention. Aliona and Yumi stare at me expectantly. “Sorry, what?”
“I asked how it felt to watch Yumi struggle learning the tango.”
I shift so I’m not directly downwind from my teammate’s distracting hair-care products.
“I know Yumi, so I know she feels guilty for her stumble today. But genuinely, she shouldn’t, and I would say that even if she weren’t my partner.
Sometimes, an Adventure just doesn’t go your way.
We didn’t go home, and that’s what matters. ”
“Noelle, how did you know what would help Yumi? Give our viewers some context into what you were thinking and what you said when you went up to dance with her.”
I love when truth overlaps with a Good TV answer. “When I saw Yumi starting to spiral, I knew I had to break the pattern or we’d be stuck there forever. I figured flirting with her would be enough to get her out of her head.”
Yumi pokes her finger into my ribs, causing me to jump. “That was flirting?” she asks playfully. “I thought you were just nerding out on Adventureverse lore.”
“Two things can be true when you’re a superfan,” I say, unable to suppress a goofy smile.
“Great, girls. I’m glad to see you two getting more comfortable on camera; I was really starting to worry. We’re gonna transition to some backstory, but keep this chemistry right here. Like you can’t wait to get back to your hotel room and make out.”
I feel the blush spreading across my cheeks.
“Let’s start with…” She looks down at her tablet, swiping at the screen with her middle finger. “How did you two meet?”
I let Yumi explain her first day of school as my mind whirs, because it occurs to me that Aliona is about to ask how we started dating. How did we not prep for that question? Shit. Okay. Sticking close to the truth, I guess I could say—
“And how did you start dating?”
Goddamn it, Yumi. Terrible job stalling.
“I’d had a crush on Noelle since we were kids,” Yumi says.
I almost roll my eyes. Get your own backstory and leave mine for me.
“But, you know, you never know how to act when you’re a kid and you like someone.
And being queer makes that even more complicated, right?
Like, not only do you not know if someone likes you, you don’t even know if they could. ”
It was smart of her to bring up the queer angle so fast. Maybe we can veer Aliona away from us and toward larger societal issues—at least until we can get on the same page about our “relationship.”
“Completely,” Aliona says, and I scrutinize her, curious if that was the agreement of an enthusiastic ally or someone who understands through experience.
But then I practically hear her voice in my head: Do not try to get to know the crew.
They are here for a job. “So how did you move past that and end up together?” she asks.
I open my mouth to answer, but Yumi gets there first. “Actually, it’s funny. It happened the night we applied to be on The Adventureverse.”
What? I freeze, wanting to whirl around and ask her what she’s doing. But with the camera staring me down, I can’t do anything other than hold on to my smile like it’s a cliff I’m falling from.
Aliona gestures for Yumi to keep going.
“Noelle and I were at my house. We had just watched Gabby and Christian win, and that inspired us to film our own audition. So, Gabby, Christian, if you’re watching, thank you.”
Aliona chuckles, giving Yumi a thumbs-up. I recognize that I should laugh, too, but it’s taking all my energy to just keep my smile from fading.
“We filmed and submitted the application, and there were just…sparks, I guess. That was our first kiss.”
My cheeks heat. No. She could’ve chosen any direction—why did she pick honesty? Isn’t this how Icarus died? Telling a little too much of the truth on reality television?
“Who kissed who?” Aliona asks, pointing between us.
Words are a distant memory. I couldn’t answer even if I tried.
“I kissed her,” Yumi says softly.
My facial muscles twitch, the strain of fatigue from my forced pageant grin. Again, I wonder why she picked the Beauty Queens. It’s such a weird choice for her.
“Is that when you started dating?” Aliona asks.
The water laps softly at the poles of the dock. Gulls dip in and out of the way of crew members as they quietly set up light stands behind Aliona, preparing for the oncoming nightfall.
Yumi breathes a laugh. “No. That’s not when we started dating.”
“Why not?”
“Because Noelle told me it was a bad idea. And then she left.”
Aliona is stunned. “Wow, so, Noelle, what—”
Her question is interrupted by a clatter, the sound of two men fumbling with a light stand. One reaches for it too late and knocks over an entire section of cable.
“No!” another producer shouts, diving for one of the tripods before it tumbles into the water.
“Sorry,” one of the original men says meekly, arms thrown out in apology as he tries to step out of the way but ends up tripping backward over a crate.
Aliona sighs and puts down her tablet. “Hold that thought, ladies,” she says, standing. “I’ll be right back.”
I feel like a bottle rocket was launched inside my body and it has nowhere to go.
With our mic packs on and the camera still running, I can’t say anything to Yumi.
I can’t ask her what she was thinking, saying all of that.
My dad is going to watch this show. My friends.
Our classmates. Her parents. And she just…
told them everything? Without even asking.
Yumi watches me with an expression of curiosity that slowly morphs into concern. Her eyes crinkle at the corners like she’s about to ask something, but I hold up a finger and nod toward the camera. We can’t talk right now. I can’t even breathe right now.
I turn my head away and take in gulps of the salt air. My hand finds my necklace and spins the globe. Not lost. My mom, still here. At least she’s one person who won’t see me absolutely crumble on our favorite TV show.
The clamor down the dock has turned into a full-scale production nightmare; Aliona is barking orders in a voice better suited to military boot camp than hauling camera gear. She returns a few minutes later—at least, I think it’s a few minutes—with one of the production assistants.
“I think we’ll wrap it up here for the night. We can pick up tomorrow, if you’re still here,” she says wearily. “Paul here will take you to your hotel for the night. I’ll see you in the morning, girls.”
I was wrong. Everyone was wrong. The waiting isn’t the worst part of The Adventureverse. This car ride is the worst part of The Adventureverse. In twenty-five seasons, nothing has been more unbearable than this.
It’s still daylight out. That doesn’t feel right. Nobody should feel like this while the sun is up. This humiliation, this misery, this is a nighttime feeling—it should only be allowed to happen when no one can see your face.
Buenos Aires flies by, and I watch it without really seeing. I’m stuck on memories of that night.
She kissed me. Finally. After years of me wanting it, Yumi kissed me, and I…
I don’t know. The memories just aren’t there in my brain.
I remember flashes of moments. Images. The stars through her domed glass ceiling, faint.
The feel of her lips, soft. The taste of This is a bad idea, bitter. The panic, warm.
I couldn’t—
The only thing my body knew in that moment was that it needed to get out of there. So it did.
I left, I didn’t look back. My pride held my hand, kept me from turning around. I think I knew that seeing her closed front door would have broken me completely.
I climbed into my car, held it together long enough to drive out of Yumi’s complex before I pulled over and sobbed unintelligible syllables into my steering wheel.
I didn’t know why it was so painful. I told myself, You’ve been through worse than this.
You will go through worse than this. Guiltily, I tried to summon the feeling of my mom’s death.
I tried to imagine how I’ll feel when my dad dies one day.
I wanted the pain to pale in comparison, but all of it just melted together like Chapstick onto a leather car interior under the Arizona sun.
I couldn’t extract any singular part of it.
All of those things, the real and the speculative, crushed me as one.
Windows down, AC blasting, I cried until my head ached and my eyes itched and my throat was scraped raw.
I didn’t feel any better afterward. Not that day, not the next, and not the day after.
I suffered every time I reflexively opened the text thread at the top of my messages and hurt my own feelings.
One year away from that moment and it still cuts just as deep now as it did then. Except this time, I’m not alone in the car. I’m not allowed to cry.
I’m never fucking allowed to cry.