“Which of us is the queen in this scenario?” she countered dryly.
Once we were both in Charlotte and the big night rolled around, my sister uncharacteristically panicked, refusing to attend.
“You’re going,” Mitch insisted. “I already told my old players I’d drop in, and I won’t lie when people ask where you are, Jenny. If you’re miserable after an hour, we’ll leave.”
The reunion was at a pub on Selwyn, and we were stunned by the chorus welcoming our entrance. Mitch had always been beloved by his players, but Jenny was greeted as if she were Julia Roberts. Andeveryonerushed me, a hurricane of embraces from upperclassmen I’d barely known, all inquiring breathlessly about the NFL combine and the media attention. When my speechless sister eventually left for an after-party hand in hand with the former captain of the baseball team, I promised her we were good. ThatIwas. Mitch was completely sloshed, the football alums having drowned him in celebratory whiskey shots, the older boys who’d loomed over me now toasting my father for getting his son within spitting distance of the NFL.
I got in the driver’s seat despite Mitch’s protests. I was at least more sober than him. We turned onto Queens Road, and Mitch was slurring about the bar’s soggy fries when suddenly came the bright headlights of an unlucky janitor, driving home from the nearby movie theater. He collided with a drunk kid who ran a stop sign.
“A drunk kid who was me,” I concluded, words I’d never said aloud. “My dad called in every favor to keep it quiet, told me to never say anything, to protect my reputation. If the NFL found out, it could have ruined my draft prospects, but with my leg, I couldn’t even play, so… moot point. The janitor was fine, thank God. He didn’t press charges. The only person seriously injured was…” I didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“I’m sorry, Luke. I’m so sorry…” Arjun rubbed his eyes, uncharacteristically somber. He inched closer and brought a hand to the back of my neck, fingers subtly massaging my tense muscles until our foreheads met. Neither of us moved until his lips gently landed on mine, the specter of cheap tequila lingering on his breath. He froze, pressed against my mouth as if testing whether I’d recoil, but the whole time I was waiting forhimto snap out of it, this magnetic demi-god who’d somehow bathed me in his light. He adjusted his head, and I relaxed my jaw, surrendering to his mouth and wandering hands, taking every cue from him.
“I’ve wanted to do this since the airport,” he eventually whispered, searching for my eyes. “You okay?”
“Never better.”
His smile faltered. “You know we can’t tell anyone. Not even Imogen.”
I didn’t reveal Imogen was way ahead of us both (she even caught me sneaking in later that night, silently winking at me from her bunk). My mind instead whipped back to reality, remembering an entire camera crew was literally minutes away. It never occurred to me to protest or that I was trading one secret for another. Any price was worth what I felt that night. I guess I assumed he’d eventually change his mind. I took for granted my supportive family, how free I was in that moment—no fame, no fortune, no future in which I was anything other than who and what I was. Arjun had everything to lose.
The average episode ofEndeavorback then ran 42 minutes, not including commercials. That first season had twelve episodes (including the Reunion special), totaling roughly 504 minutes, a whopping 8.4 hours. We filmed for almost two months. The viewers saw half a percent of the time we all spent together that first summer—.565 percent, to be exact. I did the math not long after I got the worst news of my life. That Arjun was dead. And I was the reason why.
9
2015
SEASON 19, EPISODE 12:
“Reunion”
As summer drew near, the DC humidity elbowed its way through the manicured lawns of our neighborhood. The weekdays were ghosts of our previous routine, me and the kids half-heartedly executing bygone habits. Wallace floated from room to room like an untethered, deflated balloon. It crushed me that these would be his foundational memories, any semblance of a two-parent household memorialized by YouTube videos documenting the inevitable destruction of his fathers’ marriage. Andie understood better what she’d lost, wreaking havoc at school, but the imminent summer vacation appeared to spare us meaningful repercussions. Her worst tantrums were reserved for Barnes’ turnstile of nannies, which I can’t pretend I didn’t secretly enjoy. Nonetheless, I tried to populate the evenings with fun activities—board games, movies, drives to Ben & Jerry’s—but it was rapidly descending to bribery.
On Fridays, a black SUV retrieved the kids for their weekends at the townhome Barnes had rented in Georgetown. My house empty, I devoted mornings to exercise, imagining Barnes’ head as I slammed my medicine ball. Evelyn conceded finances were my biggest custody hurdle, no matter a judge’s politics, so my afternoons were spent combing job listings. Mysearch for teaching or coaching positions quickly devolved to a grim general inquiry at the local YMCA. Not many opportunities for a thirty-four-year-old who couldn’t come up with three references.
Eventually nostalgia inspired me to look homeward for work in Charlotte, fantasizing that there the kids might escape whispers about their dads. Maybe I could finally fade into obscurity too. But even obscurity costs money.
Imogen used to say she’d “gotten in to get out.” She planned to buy her own gym and hoped reality TV cash would jump-start that dream. Maybe that was what bonded her and Arjun; they both wanted to win so badly. He wanted his own fame, and she wanted her own funds. She’d pull a Joni Mitchell, she joked. “Make a lot of money, and then quit this crazy scene.” However, even she hadn’t followed her own advice. AnyEndeavorbillboard confirmed she’d stayed on the show for the long haul. Ironically, Ihadlistened to her, but my money was long gone, spent on Mitch’s medical bills and Barnes’ first campaign.
I’d think of her often during my mental tours through the last decade, attempting to discern when I should have woken up. Was it when I betrayed my best friends on primetime television? When I stood silent as my husband ruined people’s lives? When strangers started calling me a bigot? It’s easy to believe problems don’t exist when you distract yourself with diapers and charity galas, but now I had nothing. No career, no relationship, no friends, no clue how to make it right. I only had Andie and Wallace, and I’d have to fight to keep even them.
On my fourth weekend alone, the kids had just departed when my phone rang, a number I didn’t recognize. Thankfully most press had backed off since I’d hired Evelyn, but experience had taught me an unknown number was either a journalist or a psychopath.
I let it go to voicemail, then promptly listened to it. “Hi, it’s Sally David at the Chevy Chase YMCA regarding your inquiry. We actually have a spot open on our fitness team. We don’t get many Ivy League applicants, but I’m happy to discuss the certifications you’d need. Speak soon!”
Well, young man, thereisa place you can go when you’re short on dough… and I would indeed have to put my pride on the shelf.
My phone rang again. Another mystery caller, but I cavalierly answered this time, unable to suffer worse indignities. “Hello?”
“Luke!” a cheerful man answered. “I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”
News outlet. “No comment. Goodbye—”
“Wait, it’s Troy Harvey! I’m one of the current showrunners onEndeavor!” I restrained myself from ending the call. “We’ve not actually met, but I’m a massive fan.”
I gazed around the kitchen I now despised, wondering how I always ended up here at my lowest points. “What can I do for you?”
“Wow! Right to the chase! Okay, we aired the live Reunion for Season 19 last night, which means that very soon we’ll start filming Season 20—”
