Ariana managed another gasping laugh as she shook her head, her emotions whirling her back into dizziness. Marie waited patiently. Finally Ariana knew, in her mind, what she had to do; despite its desperate protests, she allowed her heart no vote. “I ken. I will tell him tha I am a traveller an a performer and hae a terrible history o relationships, an ask him ta stay away.”
Marie nodded, whether she thought that was best or just to show support, it was impossible to say, but she did murmur, “Tha tis probably best, fer ya, fer the group, an fer him.” Then she carefully went over to the sink and thoroughly washed her hands and arms and face, and then took off her sweater and tossed it into the laundry hamper. She had never done this before while Ariana was watching, but she did think it was a good idea to emphasize to her friend the implications of the situation.
They had calmed down and tidied up by the time that their friends had staggered into the bus, a little the worse for drink. The bus had jerked into motion and they all fallen into seats to keep from falling to the floor as the bus maneuvered out of the lot and into the traffic.
Ariana avoided looking at Marie over the late night dinner, and answered every one of Cassie and Linnae’s breathless questions about hang gliding. Eventually the three drifted off to use the tiny bathroom and climb into their bunks. As they passed her chair they murmured, “Good show,” “Well run,” “Incredible,” and “I never knew ya had it in ya,” and other words to that affect.
Marie looked at her, not pitying, not condemning, just caring. As Ariana got up to take her turn in the bathroom, Marie asked, “Is it true tha winners of yer race get interviewed on Good Mornin America the mornin after the last episode airs?”
“Do they now? Yes, I guess tis so, at least I think tha ere in the contract,” Arian responded thoughtfully, pretending superbly that she hadn’t been stalling the Race staff and GMA about arrangements. “I believe that even the morning show people dinna know who won. All three teams hae to be in New York City on tha evening, or the show has ta fly out an interview team overnight if the winner can no make it to New York. At least tha is what I remember.” She nodded, “Thank you, Marie, fer bein me best friend.”
“Always, Ar.”
After an extended time in the tiny restroom, intended to annoy her best friend just enough to let her know that while she had appreciated her putting her through the emotional wringer, she had still put her through the emotional wringer. She slipped into her bunk and closed the privacy screen firmly.
She took out her laptop. She sent off an e-mail to Zoe at the production office, certain that she would get a reply by noon the next day. Then she settled down to the harder task of contacting Nathan. She wrote the e-mail a dozen times, wiping each out, and then rewriting. She picked her words with care, reread them in a critical way, trying to be certain they conveyed exactly what she wanted them to say – and nothing more.
Finally, in the terribly early hours of the morning, she hit SEND.
Nathan froze. He had been working late to make an urgent deadline on a project for an old friend. He had been totally focused – until an e-mail from Ariana sat, blinking, in his INBOX. His world slowed down and became very quiet… became nothing more than that tiny envelope icon. He had gotten no response from her for any of his weekly e-mails since…, well, since the end of the race. He had wondered occasionally if she had changed her e-mail address, but none of his missives had come back as undeliverable. He had wondered if she ever checked this address, but…. He clicked on the message, and it opened.
Nathan,
Will be in Knoxville on Saturday and Sunday, September 22nd and 23rd, for performances at Palace Theater. Please come to 8:00 pm performance on 23rd; there will be ticket for you at Box Office. It will be more convenient for Good Morning America if we are both in the same place Monday morning, since they won’t have to send out two crews.
Ariana
Nathan stared at the message, conflicting emotions churning in his chest. He had no idea how to respond. He had finally heard from Ariana, but it was nothing more personal than… an appointment. He wanted so badly to tell her how he felt. He wanted so badly to tell her that he knew – and that it didn’t matter to him. But how to respond? Then he smiled, hit REPLY, typed a short line, and hit SEND.
‘Your message has been sent.’
Nathan stared at the icon, summoning Ariana’s smile from the permanent archives of his memory. Now all he had to do was work up his courage to face her. He had a week.
More than a thousand miles away, Ariana was about to close out her e-mail when Nathan’s reply popped in. She stared at it. It was LONG after midnight where he was and a reply had come back in less than a minute. With just a hint of a tremble in her cursor, she opened it. She read the single sentence seven times, her heart pounding harder in her chest each time through. She could feel her throat slowly constricting, and her vision blurred as the tears she fought so hard against pooled in the corners of her eyes yet again. She archived the response in the same folder all of his previous letters and attachments were in, closed out her e-mail, and logged off.
Curled up in the safety and solitude of her bunk, she let her mind drift back to the madness of the final leg…
[Russian ballerina and daughter were last to arrive and were eliminated]