Last Family Standing

by Jennifer AlLee

  “Jess, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did, but—”

  “I’ll tell you what you did.” She steps closer, and her voice grows louder with each word. “You gave your child away and never gave her a second thought all these years. But after sixteen days, you miss your dog.”

  Her words sting as much as if she’d slapped me across the face. “That’s not fair. You have no idea what I went through.”

  “No, I don’t. Because you never told me. You never tried to find me. You just handed me off like the mistake I was.”

  “It wasn’t like that at all.” There has to be a rational way to explain this to her so she’ll understand, but my heart is such a tangled mess of emotions, my head can’t think straight. “I did what I thought was best for you.”

  She huffs out a breath. “Sure you did. And I’ll bet you’ve thought about me every minute of every day for the last twenty-five years.”

  “Of course not.” The truth spills out, shocking both of us. “That didn’t come out right.”

  Her hands go up, palms facing me, as if erecting a force field between us. “No, it came out loud and clear. This whole thing was a big mistake. I never should have asked them to find you.”

  Heat ignites my cheeks. “Why did you want me here? If you’re so sure I’m such a horrible person, why would you want to meet me?”

  The force field drops. The iron set of her jaw loosens. The stony glare of her eyes softens and the tears begin to fall. “Because you’re my mother.”

  There it is. The irrefutable tie between us that can’t be denied, no matter how much time has passed. I step forward, arms open, wanting nothing more than to comfort her.

  “No.” She backs away, shaking her head wildly. “You don’t get to do that. You may be my mother, but you’ll never be my mom.”

  I watch her running toward camp, growing smaller and smaller, until finally, she rounds a corner and she’s gone. What do I do now? She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I don’t blame her. When it comes to Jessica, all I do is make one mistake after the other. Now, for once, I’m going to try to give her what she wants.

  Just like Jess, I run. But in the opposite direction.

  I run from my failures.

  I run from my pain.

  I run from the daughter who deserves so much more than me.

  The jungle darkens as clouds obscure the sun. Behind me, a male voice calls out.

  “Monica! Stop!”

  I keep running. Even when the sky opens and the rain pours down, forcing its way through the thick growth, I run.

  I run until I break out of the trees and there’s nowhere left to go. I stop short on the edge of a precipice, about six feet up. Then, as I stand there gulping in air, the rain soaked ground gives way beneath my feet.

  ***

  “I knew you wouldn’t make it to the end of the show without another injury.”

  That familiar male voice floats into my aching head. Slowly, I open my eyes. “Hey, Bruce.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Despite his casual attitude, I can tell he’s concerned. “Can you sit up?”

  “Maybe.” I try to push up, but the pain knifing through my wrist stops me cold. “If you help me, I can.”

  With one hand under my elbow and his other arm around my back, he gets me into a sitting position. I look around, trying to figure out where we are. It’s still raining, but we’re fairly well protected by a canopy over us.

  I point up. “Where did that come from?”

  “Emergency tarp. Super thin, super strong. We all carry one.”

  Then I look down at my legs. “I’m all muddy.” I look at Bruce. “So are you.”

  He frowns at me. “Yeah. Thanks for that. When you went sliding down the hill, I had to follow you.”

  “Why were you following me in the first place?”

  “You’re on a reality show, remember? Someone’s always following you.”

  I roll my eyes and immediately regret it because of the pain that shoots across my forehead. “No. I mean, why you instead of one of the other guys? I hardly ever see you around camp.”

  “Blame Rick. He was concerned how you and Jess would do after the Scotty left.”

  Bruce’s obvious dislike of Duncan is comical, but Rick’s concern is downright laughable. “Of course. Nothing boosts ratings like a mother/daughter argument.”

  “That had nothing to do with it. In case you haven’t noticed, Rick likes you.”

  Poor Bruce. I actually laugh in his face. “I doubt Rick has met a woman he didn’t like. No, thank you. I have no desire to join the ladies of the Wolff Pack.”

  He mutters something under his breath. “There is no Wolff Pack. That’s just a name the press made up.”

  “Well, they didn’t make up all those women he’s dated.” I saw pictures of the women. All those gorgeous, skinny, well-dressed women.

  “Sure, he’s dated a lot of women. But most of them were set up by his publicist and the woman’s publicist. When you’re in the entertainment biz, who you’re seen with is almost as important as how good you are at what you do.” Bruce shrugs. “He doesn’t like it, but it’s part of his job. That’s why I stay behind the camera. No one cares about my personal life.”

  So the Wolff Pack is just a way to get publicity. If I believe Bruce, which I have no reason not to, it explains some things. Like why Rick appears to have had so many brief flings, and why he has a different persona when the cameras are off.

  “You know, you’re committing the cardinal sin on the island.” I smile. “We aren’t even supposed to acknowledge each other’s existence.”

  He looks from his filthy clothes to mine. “Once you’ve slid down a mud bank to rescue someone, you just can’t ignore her anymore.”

  “Good point.”

  “Besides, I’ve known Rick since we were kids, so I feel the need to defend his honor. I’ll tell you this. He’s not a womanizer.”

  Outside our protective canopy, the rain is letting up. “Do you think we should head back to camp?”

  “Nope. After that fall, I’m not taking any chances. We’re staying put until the rescue team finds us.”

  I start to panic just a little. “But we have no food, no water. What if they don’t come looking for us right away? What if we’re stuck here overnight? And how will they find us in the first place?”

  His answer is to unclip the two-way radio from his belt and wave it like a pendulum in front of me.

  “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll get to us before dark.” He leans back against a tree, stretching his muddy legs out in front of him. “But since we have some time to kill, do you want to talk about what happened with Jess?”

  Jess. I’ve made such a mess of things. Running from the problem certainly didn’t work, so why not talk it out with Bruce?

  He listens and nods while I give him the condensed version of the story. When I’m done, he scratches the coarse hair along his jaw. “It must hurt to have her accuse you of not caring.”

  I nod. “It does. I can understand why she would make that conclusion, but it’s just not true. I agonized over my decision to give her away. And I didn’t blindly hand her over to an agency without having a clue about who would get her. I chose the Becketts. She said she had a great childhood and she loves her parents. Well, the only reason they’re her parents is because of me.”

  Even to my own ears, I sound slightly hysterical. Bruce leans over and pats my shoulder, then speaks in the soothing voice of one who works with the mentally disturbed. “I’m sure you did what you thought was best for her.”

  “Yes! That’s what I tried to tell her, but she doesn’t see it. She thinks I popped her out, gave her away, and never thought about her again.” I make the mistake of motioning with my hands. I’m now certain that wrist is broken.

  “Of course you didn’t forget her. Who could do that?”

  Shame winds itself around my heart. “She isn’t totally wrong.” At his q
uestioning look, I go on. “At first, I thought about her all the time. Mornings were the worst. I’d wake up, and for a moment, I’d think I was still pregnant. But then it all came back to me, and I’d remember hearing her cry in the delivery room, and how I caught a glimpse of her red hair before they took her away.” My eyes burn, my nose tingles, and I’m terrified I’ll lose it and start blubbering all over Bruce. But he doesn’t look worried, so I keep talking.

  “It was like that for the first month. Then I got to where the mornings weren’t so bad, but I still thought about her. I don’t know when it was exactly, but one day, I realized I hadn’t thought about my baby in two days.”

  I bite my lip, remembering the tug of emotions, the desire to forget and be free of the pain, but the equally powerful need to remember. “If I had thought about her every minute of every day, the grief would have killed me. The only way to survive was to move forward, bury myself in school, then work.”

  “You don’t sound like a woman who doesn’t care.” Bruce is unusually serious. “You sound just the opposite.”

  “What’s the use?” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the tree. “Jess is so upset with me now, I doubt she’ll talk to me again.”

  “She might surprise you.”

  “I don’t think I can take one more surprise.”

  As if on cue, I hear someone call my name. Either the search party has found us, or I’m on the cusp of death and the angels are calling me home.

  “Did you hear that?” I ask.

  Bruce cocks his head, then grins like a boy with a rubber band gun. “They found us.”

  A few minutes later, Rick leads in a team of rescuers. He claps Bruce on the back. “You all right?”

  “Oh sure. Nothing that a long, hot shower won’t take care of.”

  Rick nods. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Bruce turns to go, but before he leaves, he picks up something from under a bush. It’s his camera, a red light blinking on top of the lens.

  It was right there the entire time. But had it been on? Was that red light a good or bad thing? If it was on, I’m in trouble. Because while I spilled my guts, Bruce’s camera could have caught every word I said.

  27

  As one of the medics wraps my wrist, he says he thinks I have a compression fracture, which is much better than a total break and will heal more quickly. But we won’t know for sure without an X-ray, and we can’t get an X-ray until we get off the island.

  The medic gives the bandage a final check. “Stay put. I have to take care of something, then we’ll get you out of here.”

  He walks away and joins Rick and the other medic, who are looking over some kind of grid on a piece of paper. Rick points at one of the boxes, shakes his head, then leaves them and comes to join me under the canopy.

  “What were you looking at?” I ask as he hunkers down beside me.

  “Just figuring out who won the pool.”

  “What pool?”

  “There was a pool about when you’d hurt yourself again.”

  Huffing out my disgust, I shake my head. “I can’t believe you bet on when I’d have an accident.”

  “Hey, I bet that you wouldn’t have another one.” He smirks. “I see now that was wishful thinking on my part.”

  “Thanks for your support,” I mutter. “Does this mean I’m out of the game?”

  His shoulders rise and fall in a casual shrug. “That depends on you. How does your wrist feel?”

  I hold it up carefully. “Better since they wrapped it. But it still hurts.”

  “The medical team cleared you to stay and compete, if you want to. Your injuries aren’t life threatening. But the last two challenges are already set to go. We won’t be changing them to accommodate your wrist.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s just . . . I want to do what I can to get Jess to the end. She deserves it.”

  The smile vanishes, and he becomes serious-Rick. “What about you, Monica? What do you deserve?”

  I laugh, but it’s not a happy sound. “I hope I never get what I deserve.”

  He touches the back of my unbandaged hand with his fingertips. “You’re much too hard on yourself.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say.” Gently, I move my hand away. “But you really don’t know me.”

  An odd look crosses his face, one I haven’t seen before. “I shouldn’t be talking to you personally like this. But when the game is over, remind me to talk to you about what I know.”

  Before I can pin him down and demand to know what he’s talking about, he stands and goes to the medical team.

  “Let’s get her back,” I hear him say.

  Despite my protests that there’s nothing wrong with my legs, the medics strap me onto the gurney and carry me back through the jungle. It’s slow going as we jerk and dip along the uneven ground, and it brings to mind every stranded-and-struggling-to-survive movie I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, the undulating motion of the gurney begins to emulate the movement of the ocean, bringing on a bout of nausea. I cover my eyes with the crook of my good arm, breathe deeply through my nose, and take my mind somewhere else.

  Naturally, my thoughts go straight to Jess. I’m determined to stay in this game for her, but what if she wants out? She said coming here with me was a mistake. Does that mean she’s done? On one hand, it would be a relief to walk away from this island while I still have use of my legs. But the end of the game effectively signals the end of my interaction with Jessica, and I’m just not ready for that.

  The sound of several voices talking at once is my first clue we’re nearing camp. I lower my arm and raise my head, trying to prepare for whatever I’ve got coming.

  As soon as my litter-bearers deliver me into camp, I’m surrounded. Five faces hover over me and jostle the medics as they struggle to set the stretcher on the ground. Then, they all start talking at once.

  “What did you do now?”

  “We were really worried.”

  “Are they taking you off the island?”

  “Can you still cook?”

  “You scared me.”

  The only voice I pick out of that tangle is Jess, saying that I scared her. Where is she? I look on one side of the stretcher, then the other. Finally, I focus on her, standing by the right side of my head.

  I smile at her. “Sorry.” Then I struggle to sit up using my one good hand. As soon as I hold up the bandaged wrist, Jess and Malcolm, who’s on the other side of the stretcher, reach out to help me.

  “Thanks. Um, would you guys mind giving Jess and me a minute alone? We need to talk.” Everyone looks so concerned, even the usually self-absorbed Tracy, that I hate to ask. But there’s no way around it.

  “Sure.” Malcolm squeezes my shoulder and I think he winks at me. Either that, or something flew in his eye.

  As they walk away, Jess sits cross-legged on the ground facing me. She extends a finger toward my wrist, but stops just short of touching it. “Is it broken?”

  “Maybe. We can’t know until it’s X-rayed.”

  She nods. Looks away. Sucks in a shaky breath, then looks back at me. “I’m sorry.”

  For which part? Not that it really matters. We both have plenty to apologize for. “Me too.”

  The silence stretches out between us. On the other side of camp, I see Rick talking to the remaining four players. There’s a lot of expressive hand movements and pointing in our direction. They must be talking about the possible scenarios.

  “We have a decision to make,” I blurt out. “If you don’t want to be here anymore, I understand. This wrist thing is the perfect excuse for us to leave.” Her head lowers and she flicks at the sand with one fingernail. I’ve given her an out. Now I need to give her an actual choice. “But I don’t want to leave.”

  Her head jerks up. “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  “But what about your wrist? If it’s really broken, you need to have it set.”

  “I think I just sprained
it. It’ll probably be back to normal by morning.” Of course, it won’t. Even a bad sprain will take the rest of our time on the island to heal. But I’ve got on my happy game face, and I’m using it for all I’m worth.

  “I don’t know . . . ”

  “Look, even if we stay, it may not be for very long. We could lose the next challenge and end up going home anyway. But I want to give it my best shot.” My eyes meet hers and I refuse to look away, hoping she understands what I’m about to say. “I’m not going to give up.”

  She blinks and turns her head. I imagine all the different things she must be thinking, the pros and cons she must be weighing. Because this moment is about more than just the game. This moment, right now, will determine whether or not we have any kind of relationship in the future. And we both know it.

  “Okay.” Jess looks back at me, and she has that Mona Lisa smile like the first time I saw her on television. “Let’s stay.”

  “Great. Now please help me off this stupid stretcher.”

  No more looking like an invalid. I’ve got a game to play, and a daughter to win over.

  28

  Rick doesn’t seem at all surprised when Jess and I tell him we plan to keep playing. I am required to sign a medical release, stating that I’m aware of the fact I may have suffered a serious injury and I will not sue the production company should complications develop. Then one of the medics produces a nifty brace to keep my wrist immobile, just in case.

  Finally, the crew exits our camp, leaving behind only the ubiquitous steady-cam guys. There are two with us now, and neither one is Bruce. Either Rick is no longer concerned about Jess and me tearing each other apart, or Bruce wants to stay away from me so I can’t grill him about whether or not his camera was on.

  Layla strides over and sits next to me in the shelter. “In honor of your decision to stay in the game, we’re going to cook for you tonight.”

  “That’s great,” I say with a laugh. “What’s on the menu?”

  Bob walks up with his hand behind his back. “While you were off rolling around the island, we had a little excitement back here.” With a flourish, he produces a string of beautiful fish.