When we reached the zip line station, Ray hesitated. “How exactly do I do this blindfolded?”
“You stand here,” I positioned him carefully. “When I say go, just step off the platform. The line will catch you and carry you across. I’ll be right behind you on the next line.”
“Just step into nothing. Sure, no problem.” He laughed nervously.
“Trust me,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”
Ray took a deep breath and stepped forward when I gave the signal, disappearing into the jungle canopy with a whoop that transformed from fear to exhilaration midway across. I followed on a parallel line, arriving at the switching station where Ray waited, already removing his goggles.
“That was incredible,” he said, eyes bright with adrenaline. “Terrifying but amazing. Your turn.”
I swallowed hard as he slipped the goggles over my eyes, and the world disappeared into a foggy blur of shapes and shadows.
“Don’t worry,” Ray’s voice came clearly through the darkness. “I won’t let you fall.”
Now the roles were reversed, and I experienced the unsettling sensation of moving through space without visual feedback. Each step required absolute trust in Ray’s guidance—trust I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to give him again after his betrayal.
“Small step to your right,” Ray directed. “The bridge turns slightly.”
I hesitated, my foot hovering over what might be solid footing or empty air.
“Jeffrey,” Ray’s voice softened. “I know what you’re thinking. But I promise, I will not let you fall. Not here, not at home. Never again.”
Something in his tone reached past my fear and doubt. I took the step, finding solid footing exactly where he’d said it would be.
With each successful movement, my confidence in his guidance grew. By the final bridge, I was moving almost naturally, supported by the steady stream of precise instructions from Ray. When it came time for the zip line, I stepped off the platform without hesitation when he gave the signal.
We completed the course successfully, and the guide at the final platform handed us our next clue as I removed the goggles, blinking in the sudden light.
As we headed down the trail toward the next part of the course, I felt a shift between us. A restoration of something vital that had been missing.
“You trusted me back there,” Ray said quietly as we walked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m getting there.”
“One step at a time,” he said, echoing our bridge-crossing mantra. “That’s all I ask.”
“As long as you keep giving me the right directions,” I said with a small smile.
“Always,” he promised. “From now on, always.” This brought a laugh from both of us, easing the tension.
Even though we had cameras attached to our heads, it was easier to talk out there in the middle of the forest, without Cody always around us.
As we moved to the next challenge – another zip line, this one much longer and across a ravine – I felt a strange exhilaration.
The initial drop made my stomach leap into my throat, but once I was gliding, the sensation was almost peaceful – until I realized I needed to brake before crashing into the next platform. Ray’s shouted instructions helped me manage a somewhat graceless but safe landing.
We continued through the course, each bridge and zip line slightly less terrifying than the last. Ray remained supportive throughout, offering encouragement without pushing. By the final zip line, the longest and highest of all, I felt almost confident.
“Look at you,” Ray said as I prepared to launch. “From terrified to zip line pro in under an hour.”
I managed a smile. “I wouldn’t go that far, but at least I’m not hyperventilating anymore.”
The final zip line deposited us near a small waterfall, where a race official waited with our next clue. Adrienne and Fletcher were long gone, but we’d maintained our position ahead of the other teams.
“Make your way to Orinoco Falls Viewpoint,’ Ray read from the clue. “For a Checkpoint Challenge.” He looked at me. “How are you doing?”
I thought for a moment. “You know, not bad. How about you?”
