Page 26 of The Big Race

Under Pressure

A s we assembled in front of Julie, the sun had just risen over the jungle next to the hotel, and mist hovered over the mountains around us.

We were lined up in the order we’d arrived at the Stop’n’Go the night before, with Adrienne and Fletcher in first. They stood at attention in their purple shirts, looking like they were preparing for a deployment rather than a race leg.

Alex and Ross were doing synchronized stretches in their bright yellow gear, their movements coordinated from years of runway work.

Gemini and Blaine whispered strategy in their matching burgundy shirts.

We were next, followed by George and Ernie, who looked relaxed in their orange shirts, sharing another energy bar.

The gay friends, Tyler and Brandon, bounced nervously in their turquoise gear, while the influencers, Zara and Maddox, in navy blue, documented everything with their phones despite the early hour.

As each team ahead of us left, they were filmed reading their direction cards, but out of our hearing so we wouldn’t know what was coming.

When it was our turn, I ripped open the envelope and read “Warning: Double Drop Ahead," and my heart jumped.

That meant two teams would be eliminated at the conclusion of the leg.

“Take one of the waiting taxis to the airport and book yourselves to Nice, France.”

We ran to the next taxi. “Simon Bolivar airport, por favor ,” Ray said to the driver. We both hopped into the back seat, while Cody slid in beside the driver. That way he could film the road ahead as well as look back at us when we spoke.

start here It was a relief to let someone else navigate those twisty, narrow mountain roads, and Ray leaned forward and asked if we could borrow the driver’s cell phone.

He used it to access the internet, which got better as we got closer to Caracas.

“We have two choices for flights,” Ray said.

“Through Paris or through Madrid. The Madrid connection leaves an hour earlier and gets to Nice two hours earlier.”

“Then we want Madrid,” I said.

Unfortunately, a car ran a red light as we neared the airport, and crashed into a small bus loaded with people and animals. “We could be here all day,” Ray said as our driver had to stop. He peered out the window. “It’s only a half mile to the terminal. Let’s make a run for it.”

He looked at me. “If you’re OK with that.”

“Right behind you, lover,” I said. We shouldered our backpacks and took off along the side of the road, past squawking chickens and the women chasing them. Cody was right behind us.

By the time we reached the terminal, the Madrid flight was full and we had to book the Paris one. The Paris-Nice flight would put us two hours behind the teams on the Madrid flight.

"Damn," Ray muttered as the clerk booked our tickets. "We're going to be behind from the start."

Behind us, I saw the Tyler and Brandon looking equally frustrated as they realized they'd missed the early flight. Cherisse and Desiree were already at the Paris counter, apparently in the same situation.

“With a double elimination, that means we need to beat both Tyler and Brandon, and Cherisse and Desiree, just to survive."

Ray nodded grimly. "No pressure there."

I was already thinking ahead to Nice, wondering what challenges awaited us and whether a two-hour deficit would prove insurmountable.

We had some down time as we waited at the gate for our flight.

I sipped a cup of coffee as Ray stretched out his muscles.

Watching him, I was acutely aware of the previous night—the way his body had moved with mine, the tenderness in his touch that had been absent for so long.

That connection had felt real, essential in a way that went beyond the physical.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I asked, catching his eye.

He was silent for so long I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally, he said, “Remember when we first got together, how everything was so simple?”

“You mean when you were gone most of the time being a jock?” The words came out more pointed than I’d intended, and I immediately regretted them. Old habits.

Ray didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he was thoughtful. “No, before that. When we’d just go hiking or swimming, and there wasn’t all this...” he waved his hand vaguely. “Pressure.”

“Pressure?”

“To be perfect. To never mess up.” He flexed his back muscles. “When I was with Russell, it wasn’t about love or even really about sex. It was about feeling like I didn’t have to be perfect all the time.”

I felt my throat tighten. Despite last night’s intimacy—or perhaps because of it—we were venturing into territory we’d been avoiding. “And with me?”

“With you, I always wanted to be perfect. Still do. And sometimes that’s exhausting.”

It was honest, and it laid bare something I hadn’t fully understood until that moment. Our reconnection hadn’t erased the complexities that had driven us apart; it had simply reminded us why those complexities were worth navigating.

"At least we know the way," Ray replied.

Tyler and Brandon approached us with their energy drinks in hand. “Mind if we join you?” Tyler asked. He was the younger of the two, maybe mid-twenties, with bleached tips and the kind of lean body that came from genetics rather than hours at the gym.

“Be our guests,” I said, gesturing to the empty seats.

Brandon plopped down across from me. “You guys were amazing on that bungee jump. We were totally freaking out watching you.”

“Jeffrey’s the brave one,” Ray said, abandoning his stretching to join us. “I just followed his lead.”

Tyler’s eyes widened with admiration. “That’s what we love about you two. You’re such a solid team. Like, hashtag relationship goals, am I right?”

Ray choked slightly on his water. I felt a twist in my stomach.

“How long have you guys been together?” Brandon asked.

“About twenty-five years,” I answered. “Married for fifteen.”

Tyler whistled. “That’s incredible. Brandon and I have been friends since college, but we’d kill each other if we had to date.”

“We’re good as friends,” Brandon agreed. “But watching you two—the way you communicate without even speaking, how you support each other—it’s inspiring.”

“You know we came on this show because we’re thinking of breaking up, right?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them.

Tyler’s jaw dropped. Brandon froze with his energy drink halfway to his lips.

“Separating,” Ray corrected quietly. “We’re separating. Or were. It’s complicated.”

“But you seem so...” Tyler struggled to find the word.

“Perfect together?” I supplied. “Yeah, well, appearances can be deceiving.”

An awkward silence fell over our little group. Brandon was the first to recover.

“Well, whatever’s going on, you’re killing it in the race. You’re, like, the only older team that’s keeping up with the frontrunners.”

“Older team?” Ray’s eyebrow shot up.

Tyler winced. “He didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ray said, his competitive edge suddenly visible. “We’ll take being the ‘older team’ that’s going to smoke you youngsters in the next leg.”

The two friends laughed, clearly thinking Ray was joking. But I knew that look. He was mentally calculating ways to outperform them at the next challenge.

“Well, we should get going,” Brandon said, standing up. “Need to stock up on snacks before the flight. But seriously, whatever’s going on with you guys... we hope it works out. You make a great team.”

I watched Tyler and Brandon laughing together, carefree and unburdened.

There was something both painful and comforting in how naive they were.

They had no idea what lay ahead—the compromises, the heartbreaks, the slow drift of two lives trying to remain in orbit around each other.

But they also had no idea of the depth that comes with building a life together, the kind of bond that could be stretched thin but never quite broken.

Ray turned to me. “Can you believe that? ‘Older team.’ We’re not even fifty.”

But I was stuck on something else. “Do we really look like we have it all together? Even to other gay men?”

Ray’s irritation faded. “Maybe we’re better actors than we thought.”

“Or maybe there’s still something worth saving,” I said quietly.

Ray was silent for a moment, watching Tyler and Brandon at the convenience store, playfully arguing over which chips to buy. “You know what? I suddenly really want to beat those two.”

“Because they called us old?”

“Because they have no idea how hard it is,” Ray said, his voice low and intense. “To build something that lasts for decades. To keep choosing each other even when it’s difficult. They think relationships just happen, like in the movies.”

I reached for his hand, surprised by the emotion in his voice. “Then let’s show them how it’s done.”

“Deal,” Ray said, squeezing my hand. “Starting with the next challenge.”

We had to wait for our group to board, and Tyler and Brandon waved at us as they walked onto the plane, followed by Desiree and Cherisse.

As we got onto the plane, though, we realized they were boarding from rear to front, and we were closest to the door.

I waved gaily to the teams behind us then settled into our seats.

I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with being behind in the race.

We weren't out yet, but the margin for error had just gotten significantly smaller.

As the plane flew, I oscillated between the warmth of our renewed intimacy and the familiar irritations that had always been part of living with Ray.

His restlessness in the seat beside me, his long legs splayed out into my space—these things still grated on my nerves.

But now I understood them as part of a larger picture: Ray taking up space was Ray being alive, being himself, being the man whose energy had attracted me from the beginning.

I elbowed him gently as he shifted again, disturbing my attempt to doze. “Even in sleep, you’re restless.”

He blinked at me in momentary confusion, then smiled sleepily.

For just a second, I saw the Ray who’d been so excited about building a life with me all those years ago—the same Ray who’d made love to me with such tenderness the night before—and my heart ached for what we’d lost. But maybe we hadn’t lost it completely.

Maybe it was still there, underneath the accumulated layers of routine and resentment.