Page 32 of The Big Race

I shook my head. “No, I think the panoramic overlook they mentioned is a different spot. There should be a viewing platform somewhere near the top with 360-degree views of the coast.”

As we climbed higher, the path grew steeper. Wooden steps had been embedded into particularly challenging sections, their edges reinforced with metal strips. I gripped the handrail, grateful for the support as my legs began to protest more vehemently.

After what felt like hours but was probably no more than forty minutes, the path opened onto a small clearing. A wooden signpost indicated several directions—Cap de Nice to the east, Fort du Mont Alban to the north, and Observatoire to the west.

“Observatoire,” I said, pointing to the western path. “That must be the overlook.”

The final stretch led us along a ridge with spectacular views on both sides—Nice’s urban sprawl to the west and the glamorous peninsula of Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat to the east. The Mediterranean stretched to the horizon, its surface glittering in the late afternoon sun.

Finally, we emerged onto a paved plaza with stone balustrades. A circular viewing platform extended outward, offering the promised panoramic vista. Julie stood at the center with a race official, the Stop’n’Go mat at their feet.

Ray and I, breathing hard but energized by our achievement, joined hands without discussion and stepped onto the mat together.

“Congratulations, Ray and Jeffrey!” Julie exclaimed. “You are the third team to arrive. And how was the climb?”

I looked at Ray, at the sheen of sweat on his face and the light in his eyes that I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that some journeys were worth every painful step.

“Challenging,” I said, squeezing Ray’s hand. “But the view from the top makes it all worthwhile.”

Adrienne and Fletcher had been the first team to arrive followed by Alex and Ross, the models. Then after us came Blaine and Gemini and Zara and Maddox.

“Oh, crap,” I said, as they checked in. There were only two remaining teams—Tyler and Brandon and Ernie and George. My heart sank when Tyler and Brandon came running into sight.

The afternoon sun began to sink in the west as Ernie and George straggled in. “I’m sorry, you are the last team to arrive,” Julie said. “And you have both been eliminated from The Big Race.” She paused to let that sink in, but it was clear the news was expected.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Our rental car broke down on the way to the beach, and by the time we got a new one we were too far behind to catch up,” Ernie said.

“But we wanted to finish the leg,” George said.

The race organizers had provided a bus to take us to our hotel, and we walked toward it with Ernie and George.

When we’d first seen the garbage collectors at the starting line—two burly, beer-loving guys with their team shirts stretched tight across their bellies—I’d made assumptions.

Ray had too. We figured they’d be the type to keep their distance from the “gay couple.”

How wrong we’d been.

George saw us waiting for them and burst in a big smile.

“Hey, it’s our favorite power couple!” he called out.

Ernie turned and immediately embraced Ray in another of his bone-crushing bear hugs.

I got my own hug and then asked, “What happened with the car?”

George rolled his eyes. “Engine just died in the middle of nowhere. We tried to flag down other cars, but no one would stop.”

“By the time we got another ride, we knew we were toast.”

“That’s just bad luck,” Ray said, shaking his head. “You guys deserved better.”

“Hey, that’s the race,” George shrugged philosophically. “Sometimes it’s not about who’s strongest or fastest.”

I remembered how they’d helped us in the past. “We’re going to miss you guys,” I said sincerely.

“Same here,” Ernie replied. “You know, when we first saw you at the starting line, we thought you’d be all uptight and fancy.”

Ray laughed. “And we thought you’d be uncomfortable around us.”

“Because we’re garbage men or because you’re gay?” George asked with a raised eyebrow.

“A bit of both, if I’m honest,” I admitted.

Ernie clapped a massive hand on my shoulder. “My sister’s gay. Best person I know. Taught me that people are just people.”

“And as for the garbage thing,” George added, “it pays better than most people think. Put both my kids through college on garbage money.”

We all embraced again, and I was surprised to feel a lump in my throat. In just a few weeks, these men had become real friends. We rode back to the hotel together.

“Listen,” Ernie said, in the hallway outside their room, his voice suddenly serious. “We’ve been watching you two. Whatever brought you on this race—and we can guess it wasn’t just for fun—we hope you work it out.”

George nodded in agreement. “You got something special. Don’t throw it away just because the going gets tough.”

Ray’s eyes met mine over Ernie’s shoulder. “We’re trying,” he said quietly.

“Good,” George said firmly. “Because my money’s on you guys to win this whole thing.”

George pulled a photo out of his pocket, showing us two teenagers. “My kids love this show. Can’t wait to show them their dad made it this far.”

“My daughter too,” Ernie added. “She’s nine, never thought her out-of-shape old man could do something like this.”

“That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?” George said. “Showing them what you can do if you try. That you don’t have to be perfect to make an effort.”

Something in his words struck me deeply. Isn’t that what Ray and I had always tried to teach Leo? That effort mattered more than natural talent?

They went into their room to pack and we went into ours. “I’m really going to miss those guys,” I said.

Ray nodded, looking thoughtful. “You know what I keep thinking about? What George said about their kids watching. Makes me wonder what Leo will think when he sees us on the show.”

“Probably wonder how his dads got so old and slow,” I joked.

“Or maybe seeing us in a new light,” Ray suggested. “The way we’re seeing each other.”

As we stripped down and collapsed, I thought about Leo—how he’d grown up watching Ray and me navigate our relationship, learning from our successes and our failures.

Had we shown him what was possible through effort and commitment?

Or had our recent struggles taught him that even the strongest bonds could unravel?

The thought of Leo watching us on this race, perhaps seeing us find our way back to each other, filled me with both hope and responsibility.

If garbage collectors from Detroit could cross the country to show their children what was possible, maybe Ray and I could show our son that a marriage worth having was worth fighting for.