Page 5 of The Big Race
Loving Leo
R ay had always said that marriage was a team sport, but filling out the Big Race online application made me wonder if we’d been playing entirely different games.
“Relationship status?” I read aloud from the first question, fingers poised over the keyboard.
Ray leaned over my shoulder, chewing the end of a protein bar. “Just put ‘husbands.’ Or ‘married AF.’ That’s fun.”
“This isn’t Instagram, Ray. It’s an official application.”
He shrugged. “They want personality, right? That shows we’re relatable.”
I ignored him and typed Legally married for 15 years; together for 25. “Next: ‘What makes your team unique?’”
Ray grinned. “Gay dads. Middle-aged, but still fit. Former jock meets computer geek. Raised a great kid. That’s gotta be unique.”
“I can’t just write ‘gay dads with abs and anxiety,’ Ray.”
“Why not? It’s accurate.”
I opened a Google Doc to organize our answers. “We need to present a compelling narrative arc. Something emotional. They’re not just casting contestants—they’re casting characters.”
Ray gave me a look. “Jeff, it’s a reality show. Not Masterpiece Theatre. ”
I forged ahead. “‘What is your greatest strength as a team?’”
Ray answered instantly. “We balance each other out. You’re brains, I’m brawn.”
“That’s reductive.”
“It’s succinct.”
I frowned. “What about emotional intelligence, communication, shared values?—”
“Did you say ‘communication?’” Ray cut in. “Jeffrey, we haven’t had a meaningful conversation in six months until last week.”
I sighed. “Fine. ‘We bring complementary strengths—Ray is physically driven and thrives under pressure; Jeffrey analyzes challenges and strategizes.’”
“God, you sound like a job applicant.”
“That’s what this is, in a way!”
He leaned back and took another bite of his bar. “‘What’s your biggest weakness as a team?’” he read aloud.
We looked at each other.
“Trust,” I said.
“Control,” he said at the same time.
We both paused.
“Interesting,” I muttered, typing Learning to trust each other again after a breakdown in communication.
Ray raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“It’s true,” I said, not looking up.
“Add that I can be impulsive and you’re overly cautious,” he said. “That’s honest, right?”
“I prefer to say I’m detail-oriented.”
“Uh-huh. And I’m ‘strategically spontaneous.’”
The next question read: What’s the most difficult challenge you’ve faced as a team?
I hesitated. Ray didn’t.
“Adopting a grieving five-year-old and raising him,” he said. “No contest.”
He was right. That had been the mountain we’d climbed together, hand-in-hand and sleepless.
I typed it in: Becoming parents overnight to our five-year-old nephew after a tragic accident—and building a loving, stable home for him as two gay men in Florida.
Ray read over my shoulder. “Damn, that actually gave me chills.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised by the emotion in his voice.
Then came the final question: Why do you want to be on The Big Race?
Ray leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Because we need to find out if we still work as a team.”
I looked at him.
“That’s what this is for, right?” he added. “Not the prize. Not the travel. It’s us.”
I nodded, feeling that rare moment of clarity settle between us. I typed:
To find out if what we built—through love, through parenting, through challenge—is still worth saving. We’re not the couple we were when we started. We want to know if we can be a new kind of team.
Ray exhaled. “Okay. Maybe don’t put that whole thing. Just write: ‘Middle-aged gay dads on a redemption arc. Plus, we look great in matching travel outfits.’”
I smiled, then saved the answers. “We’ll send the video next. Leo’s gonna have a field day with this.”
Leo returned from college the following weekend with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, a hard-sided case full of video equipment and the relaxed confidence of a college student with the world ahead of him.
I watched from the kitchen as Ray met him at the door, their hug revealing both the easy physical affection they’d always shared and the extra inch Leo now had on his dad.
“Hey, Pop,” Leo called, spotting me by the coffee maker. “Made any for me?”
“As if I’d forget,” I said, sliding an FSU mug his way, fresh steam rising from its surface. “Three sugars, splash of cream.”
Leo took a grateful sip and plopped down at the kitchen island. “Are you guys ready to start filming the Big Race video?”
The nausea churning in my stomach as I prepared for our audition video reminded me of the call I’d gotten from my cousin Sally nearly fifteen years before.
Sally’s brother and sister-in-law had been killed in a car crash, leaving their five-year-old son.
She thought Ray and I were the best able to adopt him, and after much discussion, and meeting him in Philadelphia, we’d agreed.
On his last night in Philadelphia, we brought Leo to our hotel room and set him up in the bed next to us. After he’d gone to sleep, I said, “We’re going to have to make some big changes.”
“For our son? We’ll do whatever we can.”
I looked at Ray, his face soft in the dim light of the hotel room, and felt a wave of love for this man who was so quick to open his heart, to say “our son” when Leo had been in our lives for barely seventy-two hours.
“You’re really ready for this,” I said.
“More than I’ve ever been ready for anything.” He squeezed my hand. “We’re going to be great at this, Jeffrey. All three of us, figuring it out together.”
And for a long time, we were. Those first years with Leo reshaped our relationship, giving us a shared purpose that transcended our differences.
Having Leo made us better versions of ourselves, more rounded and complete.
It also bound us together in ways we couldn’t have imagined.
Every milestone—Leo’s first day of middle school, his first solo bike ride to a friend’s house, his first school dance—was something we shared, markers in our family story.
But somewhere along the way, being Leo’s dads began to overshadow being each other’s partners. Our conversations revolved around Leo’s schedule, Leo’s needs, Leo’s future. When we disagreed, it was usually about Leo—Ray thinking I was overprotective, me feeling Ray pushed too hard.
By the time Leo left for college, we’d grown so accustomed to orienting our lives around him that his absence left a void we didn’t know how to fill.
Ray and I exchanged glances. We’d rehearsed this conversation all week, but now that the moment had arrived, neither of us seemed eager to begin.
“We have something important to tell you,” I said finally.
Leo’s eyes darted between us, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “Is someone sick? Did something happen with Grandma?”
“No, nothing like that,” Ray said quickly. “Everyone’s healthy.”
“Then what’s with the funeral faces?” Leo set his mug down. “You guys are freaking me out.”
Ray took a deep breath. “Leo, I did something... something I’m not proud of.” His voice wavered slightly. “I had an affair.”
The words landed in the sunny kitchen like stones. Leo’s face went blank with shock, his eyes widening as he processed what he’d just heard.
“An affair,” he repeated, the word sounding foreign in his mouth. “Like, you cheated on Pop?”
Ray nodded, unable to meet his eyes.
Leo turned to me. “And you knew? For how long?”
“Three months,” I said quietly. “I found out three months ago. It was already over by then.”
“Over.” Leo’s voice was flat. He pushed away from the counter and stood up, running his hands through his dark curls—a gesture so like Ray’s that it made my heart ache. “So why are you telling me now? Is this... are you guys getting divorced?”
“We don’t know yet,” I admitted. “We’ve been seeing a therapist, trying to work through things. If we apply for the race, we have to make that clear.”
Leo sank back onto the stool, his expression cycling through confusion, anger, and then something harder to read. “You’re going to use a reality show to decide if you stay married or not?”
When he put it that way, it sounded absurd.
“We thought it might help us...” I searched for the right words. “See if we can still function as a team. If there’s enough left between us to rebuild.”
Ray said, “I know how it sounds. But it’s more than that. The race strips everything away—comfort, routine, distractions. All that’s left is how you communicate, how you solve problems together.” He glanced at me. “Whether you still want to be on the same team when things get tough.”
Leo was quiet for a long moment, studying us both. Then, to my surprise, he stood up and opened the hard-sided case.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting out my camera so we can get this video going. Duh.”
“Leo, we just told you something huge,” Ray said, clearly thrown by this response. “Don’t you want to... I don’t know, yell at me or something?”
Leo looked up, serious beyond his years.
“Oh, I’m pissed. Really pissed. But I’m also not blind.
I’ve seen how you two have been the last couple years—living in the same house but hardly connecting.
Like two planets in different orbits.” He tapped at the camera.
“And I’m not a kid anymore. I know relationships are complicated. ”
“We didn’t want to burden you with this,” I said.
“I’m not a burden to be managed,” Leo replied sharply.
“I’m your son. Your family.” He softened slightly.
“Which is why I want to help. If this race is your Hail Mary pass, then let’s make sure you get on the show.
I already put together a storyboard. We’ll just have to adjust it.
We’ll do all the stuff I have in mind, and then we’ll sit you down for an interview.
That’s where you’ll drop the bombshell about why you’re really applying. ”
“You think we should tell them about the affair?” I asked, shocked.
“Absolutely.” Leo’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Reality TV lives for that kind of drama. And it makes you different from all the other middle-aged couples applying.” He closed his laptop decisively. “Trust me, this is my world.”
“When did you get so grown up?” Ray asked, a mixture of pride and sadness in his voice.
“Probably around the time you guys stopped noticing,” Leo replied, but there was no real heat in his words. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need some time to process the fact that my parents’ marriage is hanging by a thread. I’ll be in my room working on shot concepts.”