The Holdout

by Laurel Osterkamp

  Is that how I came off, as stuck-up? I was just trying to lay low. Beth continued. “And now, when she could have chosen me, she chooses that pretty boy Grant? Please. Everyone is kissing his ass but me. I know his game and I’m going to make sure other people do too.”

  Jack raises his eyebrows at that. “Did she ever tell you anything?” he asks.

  “No. She stopped speaking to me, and then she got voted out.” As soon as I say it, I clap my hand over my mouth. “Oh my God!” I say. “I didn’t just tell you that.”

  Jack smiles and reaches for his phone. “I’m going to Tweet and let the world know that Beth gets voted out of The Holdout tonight,” he says.

  I grab his phone. “No! The show will sue me if they find out I’ve disclosed any information.”

  Jack doesn’t try to get his phone back. “Relax, Robin. You’re secret is safe for the next sixteen minutes. Besides, I’m not even on Twitter.”

  I shove him in the arm and we return to watching.

  Bailey and Klemi conspired as they went for water.

  “We obviously need to talk to Grant,” Klemi said. She was wearing her mint green bikini and nothing else. She tossed her long, sun-kissed locks as she spoke in an utterly serious tone. “But I think we should vote off Robin next.”

  Bailey shrugged and looked away, clearly unimpressed. “Whatever Grant wants is fine with me.”

  I glimpse over at Jack, and he doesn’t flinch. If he’s been watching the show like he says he has, then it’s no surprise that Grant had formed one alliance with Beth and me, and another one with Klemi. Bailey was the only one privileged enough to be in both of Grant’s alliances.

  I chew the sides of my mouth and consider getting up for ChapStick, but decide against it. Nothing is going to ease the sting of what’s coming next, not even medicated wax. The scene cuts again to me saying goodbye to Jack, and then to Grant and me arriving back at camp. I got the cold shoulder from everyone. Beth wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Should I try and catch some fish?” I asked. “The Silver Perch were out in droves the other day.”

  “Did you guys hear something?” Beth said. “It’s like a weird, annoying echo is ringing in my ears.” Klemi and Bailey snickered and Henry stayed quiet. Grant shrugged it off the way he shrugged off everything.

  But not me. Getting shunned always hits me where I live, like cheap toilet paper or rough, pilling bed-sheets. Of course out there I would have loved to have had either, but I couldn’t stop myself from bristling from the harsh treatment. Later at nighttime I wandered off by myself to lick my wounds.

  But then Grant was behind me. “Hey,” he said. “Can I sit with you?”

  Tell him no tell him no tell him no, I say to myself now. “Sure,” I said.

  He sat next to me. It was dark, so it was hard to see, but his smile was bright enough to read and I remember this moment well. I know that for a moment I was smiling too.

  “I had a really good time today, Robin. I appreciate you bringing me, and I’m so sorry that you’re paying for it now.” He said this softly, so soft that it’s a wonder the microphone could pick it up. But I have no memory of a camera or a microphone. Just him.

  “It’s okay,” I said. I was fighting back tears, wondering if I’d just cost myself the game. I took a deep breath of the exotic evening seaside air.

  He stroked my knee with his finger, tracing my leg all the way up to my thigh. “So you and your cousin must be really close, huh? Closer than you are to the rest of your family?”

  I tried to keep my voice free of any self-pity or sadness. “My dad is accident prone. My one brother just adopted a baby, and my other brother…” I started to tell him how Ted can be a real ass, but I remembered the cameras and microphones just in time. “…he’s a high-powered business man with a tight schedule. And my mom, well, she’s dead.”

  I almost didn’t get that out without tears. I barely remember my mother, and the memories I do have are more manufactured than real. So why was this so hard?

  “Anyway,” I told him. “I shouldn’t complain. I’m not complaining. I love my family; and my cousin Jack, it was amazing to see him and it was amazing of him to come.”

  At home my cheeks grow warm. Jack just smiles and pats me on the knee. On television I keep talking.

  “But, even still, I know what loneliness feels like. And I didn’t want you to have to feel that today.”

  Grant’s eyes glistened and he looked right through me, as if he could interpret my thoughts. “I won’t let anything happen to you because of this. I promise. I promise on my little sister’s life.”

  He brought his thumb to my face and wiped away the stray tear that had fallen. I sniffed and smiled.

  “You put yourself on the line for me and nobody ever puts themselves on the line for me,” Grant said. He blinked and I knew I saw bare, naked emotion in his face. Was he faking that too? His eyes opened again and they were gazing into my own. “Robin, I feel…” his voice faded away.

  “What?” I asked, desperate for him to finish the thought.

  “I feel close to you,” he said.

  Then he leaned in and kissed me. Deeply. So deep that I can still feel his lips on mine all these months later.

  “What?! No! No!!!!” Jack throws a couch pillow at my television. I had momentarily forgotten he was there and I’m startled back to reality.

  Jack turns to me, waving his hands in the air. “How could you kiss that asswipe?” he sputtered. “He’s so obviously playing you!”

  I clench my jaw and my words come out in a ball of tension. “Obvious to you! Okay? Obvious to you.”

  “He was protecting Klemi!” Jack looks like he wants to smack me in the head to further drive home his point. But he settles for a verbal blow instead. “I mean, if he wasn’t having sex with her, it’s not because he didn’t want to!”

  I sigh. I guess that part isn’t a secret after all. “Yes, but I didn’t know that at the time. It’s not so easy when you’re there, and you’re not privy to EVERYTHING that is going on, all right? So leave me alone.” I stare at him with stones in my eyes before I deliver the final punch. “Who are you to judge, anyway?”

  Jack’s face falls and I regret my last three seconds, in addition to my last six months. Silently we turn back toward the television.

  Cut to the next day. They show the immunity challenge. Henry won because it was a test of knowledge. It’s almost like the producers wanted him to win and they came up with a challenge they thought he’d be good at. Huh. Then we’re back at camp. Beth “accidentally” tripped me as I went to tend the fire. I could have fallen into the pit if gravity had decided to pull me the opposite way.

  Afterwards I pulled Henry aside. “I’m thinking we should blind-side Beth,” I said.

  Henry scrunched up his face in surprise. “Didn’t you promise each other that you’d go to the end together?”

  I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and nod. “Yes, but she’s unpredictable. If you do one thing to cross her then she’s done with you. I’d rather be in the final four with you.”

  Henry’s eyes widened behind his square-rimmed glasses. “What about Grant?”

  “I’ll talk to him,” I said.

  Later Beth sat under the shelter, next to Bailey, who was taking an afternoon rest. “We’ve got to vote out Grant,” she said. “Not that I wouldn’t love to get rid of Robin first, but she’s more annoying than she is a threat. Grant could win though. And he’s lying to everyone. He’s dangerous, I tell you. We need to do it now while he doesn’t have individual immunity.”

  Bailey nodded his reclined head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  The first chance he got, Bailey found Grant and told him what Beth said. “I’ll take care of it,” Grant told him. He was as calm as concrete. Then Grant found me.

  “She’s useless in the alliance now,” Grant said. “And she’s turned against you. She wants you out. Better to vote her out now before she can convince the ot
hers to write your name down. “

  I nodded my head. “You’re preaching to the converted. I’m totally voting her out, and I think we should include Henry in our alliance instead.”

  Grant looked to make sure nobody was watching. “Really? Should I be jealous?” Then he stroked my cheek. We shared a hushed smile.

  “We’ll be in the final two together.” Grant was all but whispering sweet nothings in my ear. “If I’m not going to win, I want it to be you.”

  “I feel the same way,” I said. I closed my eyes and fantasized about one of us winning and then both of us going away somewhere, together. We’d have nothing but time and a million dollars to spend. I hugged him, and for the first time in a while I felt rooted to the ground.

  Cut to Grant shaking hands with Henry. “I’ll carry you as far as I can as long as you vote with me,” he said.

  Henry nodded his head. “Okay.”

  Cut to Grant and Bailey sitting waist deep in the ocean water, while the sun set behind them.

  “Just tell me what the plan is,” Bailey said.

  Grant punched him fondly in the shoulder. “It’s the two of us until the end. That’s the plan.”

  Bailey nodded his head. “Okay.”

  Cut to Grant with his arms around Klemi. They were hidden in a thicket of trees as dusk settled into shadows.

  “Beth is trying to vote me out, and she has to pay for that.”

  Klemi sighed into his shoulder. “But you promised this time it would be Robin’s turn to go.”

  Grant smiled at her with tenderness. “Robin will go next time,” he said. “Not just because she could win, but because her stuck-up routine has gotten pretty irritating.”

  “I know,” said Klemi. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

  Grant laughed. Then he kissed her. “You and me until the end,” he said. “I promise.”

  She giggled and nodded her head. “Okay.”

  And months later, watching the exchange, my heart dies a little, like a battery that needs to be recharged.

  They show Grant one last time, by himself, speaking to the camera. “See?” He said. “This game is easy.”

  Chapter 6

  The next morning Jack is still asleep on the couch as I prepare to leave for the day. But the smell of coffee and the sound of my shuffling about must wake him, because he straggles into the kitchen just as I’m filling my travel mug.

  He notices my hair, pulled back in a severe bun, my fake, thick, dark-rimmed glasses, my purple sweater with shoulder pads, and my knee-length black wool skirt.

  “Why do you look like a secretary from a cheesy 1980s television show?”

  I secure the cap on my coffee mug. “I’m not really allowed to disguise myself, but I’m dressing in a way that doesn’t look like me. I don’t want anyone to recognize me from The Holdout.”

  He rubs at his eyes. “Why not? After last night I bet you have the sympathy of every woman in America. At least the ones who have been lied to.” He raises his eyebrows and scratches his head. “So that means all of them.”

  “Uh huh.” That’s all I can say, it’s all I want to say, and it’s all I’m ever going to say about last night’s episode. I’ve already endured numerous phone calls and chat rooms, and each friend, family member, or online community member marveled at my incompetence. It’s like Valentine’s Day and I’m Charlie Brown, and everyone would feel bad for me if I wasn’t such a blockhead.

  After last night’s episode I could barely sleep. The only thing that comforted me was the thought that this morning I actually have somewhere to be. I am drinking coffee before 10:00 a.m., I’m dressed in something other than sweatpants, and I will be too busy to go on my computer and read about myself. I prepare to go. Jack follows me as I walk to my coat tree. I select a gray felt jacket I refurbished with a wide collar and red buttons. “Will you be at the restaurant tonight, or will you be around when I get back?”

  “Back? Back from where?”

  I button my coat with the hand that isn’t holding my coffee mug and grab my purse. “Didn’t I tell you? I have jury duty!”

  “Seriously? How’d you get so lucky?”

  I decide to ignore the sarcasm. “I know! I can’t wait. So…Will I see you later?”

  Jack yawns. “I’ll probably be at the restaurant until 10:00. If you’re up, you’ll see me after that.”

  I grab the spare key that is hanging by my door and hand it to him. He sighs and smiles. “Thank you, Robin. I really, really appreciate this.”

  “No problem. But bring home leftovers tonight.”

  §

  I arrive at the courthouse in plenty of time, although several people got here before me. There’s a refreshment cart with coffee, juice, bottled water, fruit, and pastries. I refill my travel mug, grab a banana and a Danish, shuffle around the large conference table and take a seat in the same spot where I sat yesterday.

  We get our own individual jury room now, and I sit here undecided about whether I should stare at the gray walls, gray carpet, the white board at the end of the room, or out the large picture windows on one side. We’re on the fourteenth floor, so there is a postcard view of downtown Des Moines. They don’t make too many postcards of downtown Des Moines – go figure – so I suppose I should take this opportunity to focus on that.

  Sitting beside me, Juror Nine sighs and mutters more to himself than to anyone else. “Here we are. Day two. Yeehah.” He’s as dejected as someone who just graduated college with a philosophy degree.

  Okay. So not everyone is jazzed about jury duty. I wonder: If this was The Holdout, and we had to vote each other off, which one of us would get voted off first? Who would be the lone survivor, privileged with getting to decide the verdict of the case?

  But of course that’s not how it will work, and instead of being stuck on an island we’re stuck in a room. Nine has a cold and his stuffy, nasal breathing fills the silence. Jurors number two, six, and twelve are here as well. Yesterday we said our names at lunch, but at that point the excitement of being chosen was still charging through me and I’ve since forgotten them.

  But I remember other stuff.

  I turn to my right, where Nine is sitting, reclined, with his legs stretched out. His salt-and-pepper hair is a shade lighter than his mustache, which accentuates his big face on his even bigger neck. “How was your drive this morning?” I ask.

  He sniffs thickly and wipes his nose with a tissue. “Good. When I left it was so early there wasn’t any traffic.” Nine lives outside of Ames, and he’s the system op for a grain company. Since this is federal court, people were summoned from all over the state.

  Two lets out a deep and throaty laugh, unintentionally displaying the dimple on the left side of her cheek. I think she’s close to my age but her dyed red hair and dog-collar necklace make her seem young. “My drive wasn’t like that. I was coming from Ankeny.”

  Six, who is sitting to the left of me, looks up from her phone. Her cologne reminds me of apples and air-freshener. Six’s round cheeks and prominent chin make her face memorable, and her blond hair looks natural even though she’s got to be in her sixties. “I’m from Ankeny too! I manage a clinic out there. What do you do?”

  “I waitress at an Olive Garden,” answers Two.

  “Really?” I say. “I love their breadsticks.”

  Twelve, who could be a model with her dark wavy hair and lipstick that always seems freshly applied, takes off her iPod and joins the conversation. “My fiancé and I got engaged at an Olive Garden!”

  I do my version of a mini-squeal, which comes out like an injured meow. “Oh, that’s so awesome! When did you get engaged?”

  Twelve describes the entire evening of the proposal, shows us her ring, and tells us all about the wedding plans. I try to follow along, but inwardly I sigh. I’m so bad at small talk. But I want to fit in this time. I couldn’t take it if another group of people thought I was stuck up.

  Two, Six and I continue to chitchat,
while Nine feigns no interest and plays with his phone. One comes in. He was the only guy dressed in a suit yesterday and he’s in another one today as he sits in his chair, skinny legs crossed, and reads the Financial Times. When Four enters she does so in a flurry, with quick, erratic movements that contradict her large frame and composed appearance. She takes a restless seat next to Six.

  “You wouldn’t believe the morning I had! I got up early to make sub plans, and I found my classroom had been completely rearranged! The desks weren’t even in rows anymore. Seriously! How am I going to be gone for two weeks if this is what happens when I’m not there?!”

  Six gives her a maternal pat on the knee. “Don’t worry. Your students will get by.”

  I chime in. “I’m sure it’s stressful though.”

  She turns to me as if her problems are all my fault. “Stressful? You’d better believe it’s stressful! Grades are due next week, and the kids have a test coming up. I’m going to be grading and lesson planning when I’m not in court. It’s like I’m working two jobs now.”

  I nod and express sympathy, but already I’m thinking she’d be voted off first just for being annoying. Yesterday she was always on her cell phone because she’s trying to plan her wedding and buy a house, and she made sure everyone knew it so she could inhale their sympathy like a huffer on glue. Oh well. Let her have her freak out. As long as she doesn’t recognize me, she can curse her bad luck all she wants and I’ll listen to every word.

  Eventually the other jurors come in. All the females join in conversation, while the men act like there’s somewhere else they’d rather be, or like they’re hung-over, or both. Except for Number Ten. He sits and listens to the women talk, nodding his head without saying much.