|-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-| ~ SURVIVING MATT ~ |-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-| by reid
||||||||||||||||| || DISCLAIMER || |||||||||||||||||
This story isn't meant to imply anything about the views on sexuality as voiced by Mark Burnett, CBS, or anyone else involved with the great TV show known as Survivor.
As always.... Comments, Suggestions, and Criticisms can be sent to fear1980@yahoo.com
WARNING!!! My stories contain mature themes and may project images or scenarios that are inappropriate for younger or sensative readers.
Enjoy!
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| || Survivng Matt - Part 1 || ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
I knew it was coming. I knew it was coming like the literal other shoe dropping. But if you asked me, I thought that knowing something was coming should automatically make it less painful. But nope. Knowing that it was coming... now that just made it even worse. Like some mile long slide down a blade into a pool of rubbing alcohol. Like having third degree burns all over my body and getting shoved into a vat of lemon juice. The anticipation was the killer. The pain was the crescendo. Death would be the relief.
Of course, death wouldn't be an option. Wouldn't ya know it? Death would not be an option. But then again, after the pain, I wouldn't be aware of anything. The next three days would pass in a haze of loneliness and misery. Three days of menial time killing in the New Zealand forests. Accompanied by camera crews and sound guys and half assed reflections on "the game." Whatever. Bring it on. I didn't care anymore.
It was hard to believe that a scant forty-one days ago, I had cared. I'd cared with everything inside. This was supposed to be my big break. My chance to make a name out of myself, if only for a paltry fifteen minutes. Oh, I'd cared so much at the beginning! Every bit of my heart had been buried in going the distance, getting to the end, not winning the million dollars but winning the game. Now neither seemed to mean much to me. I'd already won... and now it was being ripped away from me.
Thunder crashed overhead, providing a decent backdrop to my thoughts. My thoughts of doom and gloom were perfectly complimented. I stopped a moment, my well-worn boots sinking into the moss on the trail. The sweet, green taste of the jungle air filled my lungs. At least I could be thankful for that. I'd learned to breathe again after twenty-two years in the smoggy valhalla of Los Angeles. Thank God for small-yet-large favors.
Ahead of me, I could see them. Well, all I'd been able to see for maybe 98% of the time had been Matt. From the first day, I'd been smitten with him. Smitten with his kindness, his sweet nature, his generosity, his love for life. It was a cruel twist. Becoming smitten and falling in love with everything that would ultimately tear us apart. But it was a cruel game.
As my mind churned with thoughts of despair and destroyed love, the rational part tried to speak up. Tried to remind me that in one day, twenty-four hours, I'd see him again. In one little day, I'd be able to hold him again, to kiss him, feel the passionate struggle of his body against mine. But it still hurt. In some irrational way, it was still as though I'd be witness to his execution.
Then the anger began to well up. I began to feel a seething venom against our compatriot in the final three. Robert seemed like a nice guy. He seemed like enough of a stand-up guy, even though he'd been the mastermind behind our alliance. Even though he'd shamelessly lied and schemed and stabbed others in the back. But that's the life of a lawyer. A single lawyer. A single lawyer who couldn't possibly understand true love. Who couldn't understand the pain and frustration of falling in love and having sex while trying to dodge video cameras. Damn him! Damn him all to hell!
Suddenly, I ran into a wall. A wall of sex appeal. We'd been stopped.
"You okay?" Matt asked softly while we waited for production to clear a snake out from the path.
I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat. I knew that if I tried to talk to him, I'd break out crying. I'd just start bawling like a little girl. Trying to interact with him verbally would be more than my carefully constructed façade of coolness could take. Bravely, I managed a smile. But it was difficult.
He smiled back. It was a weak, starved smile but it was still his smile. It was still the same bright, optimistic smile I'd fallen in love with. Something in it made me believe that things might actually be okay.
"Cut it out! I'll see you in a day... and I'll wash your back." His last words came as he leaned in, whispering in my ear. Not even the world class daze I had going on could quash the growing hard-on in my filthy Old Navy convertible pants. A bargain at $34.99 considering how they held up.
Matt noticed, "You're gonna miss me, huh?"
I smirked and squeezed his warm package, feeling it stiffen immediately. In the growing darkness, I heard him groan. I knew it was a risk to be so sexually open, but I didn't care. What could they do to us now? Matt would become America's Sweetheart either way. What mattered was that he was mine. All mine. For another hour, at least.
Our small groping session had cheered me up slightly, but not nearly enough. If I couldn't think about the coming pain without getting choked up or even speak to him, how would I deal with the actual moment? It gave me such a heavy, horrible sensation in my stomach. I guess it was comparable to the knowledge of death. If I had been the one dying, it wouldn't have been so bad. But it wasn't me. And that made it worse.
We got the go ahead from production, giving me something to do other than stand there and ruminate. Sweat lathered on my brow and at the back of my neck, making my spotty beard itch terribly. But it didn't matter. I didn't care. The bastard could have caught on fire and I wouldn't have given a shit. Sweat didn't matter. My Mowgli-The-Man-Cub-on-a-drinking-binge beard didn't matter. None of it mattered.
Gradually, I felt the heat of the tribal council fire. There was also the crashing of the waterfall. I heard the whirring of the cameras... and the TV in the production truck playing the opening to ER. The latter two kind of ruined the effect. Something about it didn't exactly play into the rustic, wild, native vibe they were going for. As we got closer, I could smell Jeff. All freshly showered and aftershaven.
Somewhere beneath my feet, I felt the finely varnished wood of the council set. Minwax treated, CBS approved. God bless 'em, they knew how to set the mood. At least it was warm. After a five-mile hike through the woods in the wind and changing weather, a nice big fire would be nice. No matter how pretentious.
The faux seriousness of it all had been something I'd laughed at before. Before had been different. It had been different when tribal council hadn't represented my light and love being snuffed out and removed from my world. Suddenly, the whole thing didn't seem so goddamn ridiculous anymore. To my horror, I realized that I'd become exactly what they'd wanted: a reality show convert. It made me sick to my stomach.
As we walked onto the set and took our seats by the fire, I saw Jeff step confidently onto the set. He wore his trademark smirk of superiority. If I were half the man I was a month ago, I'd have taken a swing at him. But I didn't. I was too tired and hungry and weak. My knees ached as they bent and allowed me to sit down on the designated stump, the relief flooding through me.
Jeff began, "Well gentlemen, final three. That's gotta feel like an accomplishment..."
He droned on as I stared into the fire, weak and thirsty. I didn't notice the usual pause as we allowed the cameras to move in. I didn't notice as the jury was brought in. At least, not at first. When I became aware of their presence, I looked up, my head feeling exhausted from just that much effort. Sweat ran into my eyes, stinging them. I was too weak to do anything about it.
I made eye contact with Molly. A smile crept onto my face. She looked beautiful after a shower. She looked like a princess. At the same time, it hurt my stomach to see her. It hurt to see her and know that she was... gone. Almost as if she was an angel staring at me from the other side. It reminded me that soon, Matt would be on the other side as well.
When she smiled, it made the lump in my throat grow bigger. Her smile was a mix of affection and concern. Even though she'd only been eliminated yesterday, it already felt like so long. She and I had lasted forty days like some demented Swiss Family Will & Grace. But she was gone. She was on the other side. The other side looked like a nice place.
Dimly, I became aware that it was my turn to speak. Jeff had finished with Robert, allowing him to relate the harrowing saga of keeping his hand on a rock for eight hours in one hundred ten-degree heat. He had the power, he was assured a spot in the final two, the whole nine yards. I didn't care. I didn't care anymore.
"Reid," Jeff began seriously, "Why should Robert take you to the final two?"
I took a deep breath, still able to draw upon my well of raggedy charm, "He should take me to the final two because I've pissed so many people off, it'll be a lay up. I could stand up here and play the hollowed out fish with a stick and I'd still lose."
The jury tried not to laugh.
I rubbed my face tiredly, "Seriously, I can't make Robert do anything. If you want to take me, take me. If you want to take Matt, take Matt. If you want my opinion, Matt deserves to win. He's the only person in this game with any likable qualities. He deserves it. Take Matt."
Jeff was shocked. Even at my most tired moment, I was still happy. I'd scored a touchdown. The only question was whether or not Jeff would allow it. I looked at him with a sardonic smirk. If he continues, it goes on the air. If he gets up and storms off, we reshoot it. I was a veteran of the Probst Aversion to Genuine Reality.
Jeff actually continued, "You realize you could be shooting yourself in the foot by saying that?"
I nodded, "It wouldn't be the first time."
Jeff nodded back, "Its time to vote. Matt and Reid, since your votes cancel each other out, only Robert is going to be voting," He turned to Big Rob, "Its time to vote."
My world went into slow motion as I saw Robert stand up and walk down to the voting station. I wanted so badly to hold hands with Matt. If we were women, it would be more than acceptable and even a little arousing. But not two guys. That would offend CBS and the Middle America viewing audience that makes the world of television go-'round. I yawned, feeling as though I'd taken Benadryl.
Matt nudged me with his knee, making me smile. The smile left as Robert returned from voting. Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit me like fourteen bad beers and a sound beating. The pit of my stomach dropped like a stone as Rob sat back down, sighing as he did so. He made eye contact with me, but not Matt.
I knew it was happening. For real this time. My chest felt heavy and my lip began to shake. I fought it down with every pound of emotional muscle I could harness. I harnessed it effectively, but it was hard. It was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do. I badly wanted to look at Matt and steal one last gaze at his beauty, but I resisted.
Jeff returned with the jar, holding it protectively. My head rose and I made eye contact with Molly. She looked at me, trying to give me strength. No amount of strength would ever be enough, I could tell. I'd have to have the strength of Goliath and Samson combined to successfully swallow the Plymouth Rock in my throat.
Jeff looked at us solemnly, "The fourteenth person voted out of Survivor: New Zealand, and the last member of our jury, is..."
Matt nudged me with his toe.
Robert cleared his throat as he looked at the ground.
I inhaled, feeling the breath shake in my throat. I managed to smile, an actual genuine smile. Twenty-four hours wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would allow us to grow as individuals.
"... Matt." Jeff finished, holding up the stiff papyrus.
Then it all came crashing down as I stood up. I felt a tear begin to form in the corner of my eye, then it rolled down my cheek. It felt cold and wet in the breeze. Intense pain coursed through my veins, feeling like acid had been injected with a rusty needle. Matt picked his ragged backpack up and put it on, his arm muscles flexing. Even then, it still turned me on to see it. Call me a fetishist.
The moment I hadn't known I'd been dreading most was suddenly upon me. Matt turned to me, trying not to look me too long in the eyes. He was having the same problem. With the trademark disconnectedness of two straight guys, we hugged. It lingered a little long, probably. It lingered because letting go would really mean letting go. Letting him walk off into the night. It was, to say the least, a painful prospect.
His voice shook as I felt his hot breath on my ear, "I'll see you soon, okay? It's just one day. Don't give up."
I closed my eyes and nodded, still confident. I was still reasonably assured that our actions hadn't gone further than two guys that had become very close friends. It was just a hug. It had begun as "no big thang" but when we realized the situation, it meant a whole lot more. Simple as that. It wasn't a big deal. Nobody was outed. Everything was fine. Everything was just fine.
Matt gave Robert a consoling hug, not lingering nearly as long. I could hear Robert apologizing. It hurt him to vote the way he did. For the first time in forty days, the lawyer was showing emotion. How unexpected. How unexpected and vile at the same time.
With all the extraversion in the world, Matt thrust his torch down in front of Jeff. Jeff... our partyhost. I wanted to rip his head off and beat him with it as he extinguished Matt's torch. What right did he have? What right did he have to take a life, if only in tribal form?! My blood boiled at the sight.
"Matt... the tribe has spoken." Jeff said, brutally finishing off everything that meant anything to me.
No one had ever walked away with such grace. With such beauty. More tears fell from my eyes as Matt walked through the arch and out of sight. Just like that. Just like that he was gone. He was gone because I didn't have the equilibrium to stand on a goddamn fencepost ten seconds longer than I did. It chapped me something fierce it did. Forcefully, I wiped the tears from my cheeks before they became too obvious.
"Well," Jeff said with a sigh, "Tonight was obviously a tough vote but in this game, you have to make sacrifices. And that sacrifice is going to make one of you two a million dollars richer. You have a long hike back to camp before tommorrow and the final tribal council, so get some rest because its going to be intense."
Our walk back to camp was unremarkable. Just as we left tribal council, it began to pour rain, but I didn't care. It could flood the whole world. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered and there was no way around it. Before I thought I knew what pain was... but now I knew. Everything I'd called pain before was purely games. Purely fun and games.
Now it was real. Now it was how things really are. The game had stripped away everything. It had stripped away all my illusions about pain and loss and what it felt like to be alone, if only for a short time. For all I'd laughed about the faux seriousness of Survivor, it had really happened to me.
It wasn't all bad. I did have the rain.
It hid my tears.
"I'm sorry... if that helps any." Robert said, his arms folded in the light of the campfire.
I knew the camera was on me, its night vision making my eyes gleam maniacally, "Its all right."
"He was the biggest threat. Biggest threat in the game." Robert said it more to himself than to me. It was pretty clear that voting off the last redeemable person in the game had bothered him. I took more than a little guilty pleasure in seeing it.
Compulsively, I dug my hands deeper into the pockets of my crusty red fleece. The grime covering my skin hadn't been washed away by the rain. The rain had only given it a gritty, muddy texture than made it even worse. Nothing could take away your humanity quicker than being covered in filth. Nothing except being covered in filth and left without your life-blood, maybe. We'd thrown around the word "drained" to describe ourselves... but now it was true. I knew what "drained" truly meant.
In the light of the fire, I began to think. I began to think about the past forty days and forty nights. But I could barely remember anything before then. It felt like my entire life had been foraging for food, spear fishing, and trying to screw over everyone else before they could do the same to me. This experience had taken over everything. It was a scary thought.
Then, as if on cue, happier times filled my mind.
I remembered the first night. More like "our" first night. Everything in this game had become ours in some way. Our first night, our first victorious hug, our first kiss, everything had become some benchmark for our relationship. I remembered how Matt could seem so demure, but then he'd come alive during a challenge. I remembered how surprising it was when he rolled his sleeves up and carried nearly fifty pounds worth of sticks for our shelter, how he'd hoisted rocks and firewood... the memories made me lightheaded.
Somewhere, my brain tried to imagine what he was doing at that point. Showering, watching TV, sleeping in a bed... the concepts seemed so alien. They seemed almost heavenly. They were what you got when you went to the other side. When you died, you went to heaven. Matt was in heaven. The thought brought the lump back to my throat. I swallowed, my head swimming from the exertion that emotional reflection brought on.
Robert stopped rubbing his beard, "I have a question you could probably answer."
I looked up, my brain still fogged, "Hmm?"
"What was Matt?"
I didn't cotton, "What do you mean?"
Robert shrugged his narrow shoulders, "My best guess would be part Hawaiian. I never asked because it isn't the easiest conversation to have."
I smiled, "His mom was Japanese. His dad is part Brazilian, I think."
"Ah ha," Robert nodded, "I knew it was something exotic.
"Yeah."
I studied Robert for a moment. In the firelight, with his white blond hair and his pale blue eyes, his face looked even more angular than usual. More gaunt than it did in the daylight. He'd always looked like some swooping bird of prey. Almost like a condor. It was tough to imagine that he'd been pegged as the first to be voted off. He was thin but his skeleton was made of iron. I imagined that when the whole thing was done, I'd probably see him again socially. At the very least, I respected the hell out of the man.
"One last fishing run tomorrow?" He asked, his voice hoarse and gruff.
"Mmhmm," I nodded, "One will probably suit us fine."
"I want to be hungry when I hit the hotel suite."
I laughed, feeling the exact same way. By that time the next day, we would be done. The whole experience would be over. We would be relaxing in a posh hotel suite with gourmet food and a working bathroom. With satellite TV and a telephone. Such luxury sounded otherworldly. It sounded heavenly.
"Well," Robert said, looking up from the fire, "Final two, Cameron."
I smiled, "Final two, Richter."
We shook hands. I was glad that we'd gone to the final two together. It wasn't the same without Matt, but it still had its own merits. I wouldn't have picked it first by a long shot. But it wasn't as bad as I'd been telling myself. If I couldn't be at the end with the person I loved, I was glad to be there with someone I respected.
Suddenly, I wasn't really that great to see him feeling so bad. What in the hell had this done to me? Here I was feeling empathy for someone else. Normally, taking pleasure in the pain of others was something of a hobby of mine. Now it just seemed cruel and immature. I guess finding love does that to a person.
Sunlight always had a knack for hitting me in the face like a hammer.
Somehow, it managed to creep through the tied together slats of our makeshift shelter. Like some golden mallet, it worked its way through my eyelids and woke up out of my fitful slumber. At least when I was asleep, I could pretend that I was floating in some great cosmic void. Even my dreams had been warped by the experience. They had become abstract visions of time and space, representing only an escape from this primal hell I'd become so entrenched in. However warped, I would have preferred dreams to being awake.
In the soggy dimness of the hut, my body shifted on the heavy wool blanket. Every thing inside our domicile had become dirty and wet. The blankets that made up the floor, the mosquito netting that covered the whole monstrosity; even the walls had become streaked with grunge. But it was all in the name of good television.
My lungs reacted to their first conscious breath of air. I coughed several times and moved onto my knees, trying to keep from dry heaving. A few more gravelly coughs and I felt better... as better as one could feel. It felt like my joints had been steadily dying off and leaving me stiff and half-crippled. More coughs shook me as I stood up, wobbling for a second, then becoming more stable.
I tried not to stumble as I felt my way out of the hut. My eyes shut instinctively against the bright sun, but my lungs welcomed the fresh air. Mixing the fresh outside air with the dank air of the hut, my chest tightened and I coughed some more. Gradually, the bad air was expunged and the good air was drawn in with one long breath. I took comfort knowing that it was the last morning purge ever.
My beard itched. It always itched badly first thing in the morning. With any luck, my mid-morning starvation buzz would kick in and I wouldn't notice or particularly care. Now that was the winning spirit, I thought with a smile. Day forty-two, the final day on Nickel Kerry Island, a subsect of the Abel Tasman National Park, was already off to a good start. The only thing that could make it better was finally getting out of the pit and getting ready to face down media stardom.
The rest of the day passed with little excitement. Both Robert and I were given our end-of-the-game grillings, complete with repeated questions about each others weaknesses as players. Sleepwalking was what could best describe my behavior. The interviews had become such normalcy, almost pedantic. It would be hard to adjust to life without them.
Once the interviews had concluded, we were told to pack up and begin the long hike to the tribal council. After a fairly long shot of Robert and I looking around and "reflecting" on our home for the past while, we left. Just like that. As we walked away, I felt a surprising sense of sorrow. As much as I disliked the dirty, primitive living, it had become a part of me. I knew I'd take away a piece of the land. Probably a huge piece of it represented by the damage to my lungs and internal organs... but I didn't want to nitpick at such a late stage in the game.
The hike was everything I had grown used to it being. Difficult in the uphill portions, easier on the flat and downhill parts. I didn't care much to notice. When Matt had still been there, it was fun. We'd enjoyed the scenery and the knowledge that we were both safe. We knew that we would take care of each other. Or at least as long as we controlled the vote, which we'd managed to do thirteen times before our luck had run out. The irony of the number certainly wasn't lost on me.
Blessedly enough, our hike wasn't impeded by snakes or wild monkeys or anything else the wilderness could have thrown at us. All we had to worry about was the brain frying heat and the physical damage of extended time without proper food, water, or hygenic supplies. Such as a shower. A lovely, hot shower. Yet another thing that only existed on the other side. At least I'd be visiting the other side fairly soon.
Gradually, our hike wound down as the sound of the film trucks began to grow louder. After the whirring came the loud crackling of the chemically enhanced tribal council fire. Then the heat of the fire became pronounced. Our slow approach back into something resembling humanity was nearly complete. All that stood between the other side and us was the conclusion of the show and all would be done. All we had left to do was face down the jury.
I knew that Matt would be with the jury. It wasn't something I had forgotten or tried to block out of my mind. It was just something that I knew was coming. Seeing him again, on the other side, would be too painful to truly contemplate. Knowing that I would join him soon didn't help. Something about the cruel irony of me still being in the game, and he, the only person who showed any real integrity, being on the other side hurt me somewhere in my heart. Guilt was a painful feeling.
Knowing that he was feeling better and that he was well fed and taken care of did make me feel good. Knowing that he had finally been saved from this dirty, nasty game was something I found comfort in. Rather than sitting as one of the two best liars and manipulators in the game, he would be deciding who would win. His position was one of more dignity and that was how it should be. He and Molly were the only decent people in the jury, however, which made my feelings of pride seem somewhat feckless.
Putting my ineffectualness as a human aside, I stepped onto the tribal council set and took my seat before the fire. Ah, fire. Representing our lives in the game. It seemed like so long ago, yet so recently, that our original group of six had placed our torches in the fire and received life. Now, here we were, the last two remnants for a tribe named after the Maori term for the sea. Damned if I could remember the actual word.
Jeff began to talk. Like the talking head that he was. A tool of the producers. As he began to lay into his introduction and the ground rules of our final tribal council, I yawned. A long satisfying yawn. Suddenly, I was very, very tired. Those pure cotton sheets would be worth the million-dollar prize itself.
"Reid," Jeff said, my name snapping me back to attention, "Is there anything you want to say, just the three of us, before I bring the jury in?"
I shook my head, another yawn forcing its way out. They would leave this portion of the finale on the cutting room floor, I was pretty sure. To his credit, Jeff seemed to understand the fatigue and nodded, his half-smile setting up the grand transition.
"Now lets bring in the jury."
A shot of adrenaline zapped through my fatigue as I saw the line of finely scrubbed, nicely dressed jury members file over into their seats. Seeing Matt again was much different than I'd anticipated. Seeing him on the jury wasn't like seeing some angel and trying to reconcile the experience. He looked, oddly enough, very smiliar to what I'd remembered. As he sat down, I had a painful yearning to feel him again, to be reminded what it felt like to be with him. The million dollars could go to hell, for all I cared.
"As you can see, Matt is now a part of the jury."
Was he ever. For the first time, I noticed how different he looked materially. He was wearing a nicely washed white dress shirt, perfectly complimenting his tan. His hair was clean and conditioned, and he'd gelled it into naughty little spikes. He looked so adorable. Whatever stubble he'd managed to accumulate had been shaven, and although his face was thinner than it had been on the first day, it was still the object of beauty I'd fallen for so hard and so fast. I could only imagine what he smelled like. How clean and spotless he was. Although I'd grown somewhat perversely fond of his scruffy, wild look, his cleaned up look was nothing to sneeze at, by far.
Matt looked at me, his lips curling into a smile. Our eyes met and for a brief moment, I felt the lump in my throat return. In his eyes, I saw all the love and affection that had been missing before I'd applied for Survivor. It was the lack of love and affection that had allowed me to do something so self-centered. I'd never expected something so completely banal as to fall in love. In the forty days we had been together, Matt had given me what I'd been missing my whole life. The overwhelming sappiness of the whole deal was enough to make me want to vomit and cry at the same time.
Then he winked at me. The smile that I couldn't withhold must have been visible from a sattelite. I knew that no matter what happened, I'd won. Regardless of what happened in the game or with the money, I'd won. I'd found Matt and I didn't need anything else.
Jeff handled the tribal council with all the smarmy expertise I'd expected. The questions from the first four members of the jury proceeded with no surprises. The four twentysomethings we'd dubbed "Kids Incorporated Goes to New Zealand", peppered us with pointed barbs about our lack of honor, dignity, and honesty. Rather than levelheaded critics of the game, they came across as the spoiled brats they truly were. It really was entertaining in a trainwreck fashion, and I knew it would come across explosively on television.
The biggest surprise came after the fourth pissing session, courtesy of Erika, the twenty-six year old stay at home actress/professional bartender from San Diego. Once she had concluded with the line "I hope you'll be able to look at yourselves in the mirror because its all you have left", Robert had endured all he could.
Standing up like an irate football coach, Robert let loose. Ripping each member of the kids club to shreds, he chastised them for just about every unattractive complaint that had ever been leveled at people under the age of thirty. He called them lazy, incompetent, wreckless, and overall immature. What he forgot was that they also made up the majority of the votes on the jury. His entire outburst was completely contrary to his previous time on the show.
I guessed that the deprivation had affected him in a different way. Rather than become mordant and aloof like me, he had held it in. He had held all the anger in until it lashed out. With a dim sense of victory, I realized that Robert had just cost himself the entire game. If it hadn't been so surprised and bewildered, I would have given him a round of applause. As he sat down, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew what he'd done.
Robert leaned over, "You win. Checkmate."
I smiled, giving him s tired nudge with my elbow. Normally, I would have made a witty comment to attempt to placate his feelings. Something that would hopefully make him not feel as though he'd just thrown away a million dollars because of fatigue and a lack of patience. But I knew there was nothing I could say. So I just smiled and let him stew in his own misery. After all, he'd dropped the guillotine on my lover.
Once the questions transitioned into the members of our own tribe, they became much less venomous. Molly asked us whether we felt that we were the two alliance members that deserved to be in the final two. Hasaan, our thirty-four year old cardiosurgeon of Iranian descent but 100% American spirit, asked if we would pay off his student loans if we won. Robert assured him he would. I told him to spend it on Al Qaida. Once he began to laugh heartily, everyone else decided it was okay to as well.
Then it was Matt's turn.
Deep down, I'd been worried that Matt might have been playing me. That he might have been having sex with me; saying he loved me simply to advance in the game. Maybe he was really straight and had some forgiving girlfriend waiting back home. Maybe he didn't really love me. Maybe he was angry that he wasn't going to win. Maybe he was going to brutalize me with some question about how I'd come onto him trying to get further in the game. Abject fear had filled my soul, and I held my breath as he stood up.
"My first question is for Reid."
I arched my eyebrows, ready and waiting to go on the defensive just in case.
"Are we still on for dinner at my grandma's house when we get back to the US?"
I let out my breath with relief. I realized that everything was exactly how it had been. We were still together. Still in love. It felt like a warm wave had washed over me as goosebumps stood up on my skin. I looked down momentarily, thanking God for giving me that much consideration.
Mustering the last ounces of charm in my body, I looked up and smiled, "Of course. Tell your sister to wear something nice and arousing."
Matt smiled and winked again, before turning to Robert. With no hesitation, he exhaled loudly and shrugged, not knowing what to say.
"Big Rob... you're screwed, buddy."
Nothing more needed to be said than that. Matt returned to his seat and the jury readied themselves for the final task at hand. Jeff's face turned somber once again as he stood up. Delivering the instructions as if he were some sort of tribal elder, he bade them to vote for who they felt should win the million dollar grand prize.
Robert and I watched with a sloth never felt as strong by either as one by one, each of the seven stood up and went to the voting booth. Not a one of them seemed to hesitate very long in writing the name of the winner down. Something inside my body felt like it was dying. Like it was winding down like an old clock whose gears were beginning to fall apart from pure age. It felt like I couldn't lift my arms.
Once all the votes had been cast, I heard the helicopter. Jeff informed us that we'd waited forty-two days, we could wait a little longer. Why? Because we would find out the winner live in Los Angeles in six months time. If I had been the man I was when the game started, I would have hurled a piece of firewood at his head. But I didn't. I didn't care that much. We watched with bemused expressions as Jeff climbed into the helicopter and flew away towards, God willing, a fiery death.
After several seconds of inactivity, Robert and I were ushered off by two of the producers. Immediately, I became agitated. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. I was supposed to see Matt now, and shower, and shave, and be with Matt. I wasn't supposed to get ushered off by two ugly ass producers.
"Wait," I said, walking as fast as my weakened legs could allow, "Where are we going?"
"We have to record your final thoughts."
"What about the jury?"
The producer nodded with a practiced care, "They're going back to the hotel. We'll take you there when you're done with the final thoughts segment."
Beautiful, I thought to myself. My final thoughts were going to be very colored by hunger and sexual frustration. All I wanted was to be with Matt at that point. To be with him, take a shower, and eat. Three things that I would have little issue doing with him. I became excited at the thought of being able to spend time with him again, except in a normal, human setting. Like actual humans. Like actual people.
My pace picked up and I smiled, actually feeling all right. On the dark path, illuminated by tall floodlights, I realized that the game may have been over, but a new experience was beginning. The experience of celebrity; albeit a different kind of celebrity. Classier than Cops, trashier than actually doing something redeeming. Viva la America, I thought.
As we finished the walk to the production camp, I began to whistle.
Stepping onto the spotless white fabric of the hotel suite was like some bizarre universe. After the feeling of the carpet came the scent of the room... the crisp, clean scent of a room. No dirt, no wet, no bugs or rodents or anything that could carry disease. This room had a ceiling built of stone, wood, and steel. It had a working bathroom and an actual television. A telephone. A beautiful, real bed with clean sheets and real pillows. Soft pillows. What was a pillow, again? I'd forgotten.
My filthy, dirt smudged boots ground more of their muddy layering into the clean carpet. In the starched spotlessness of the hotel room, I became aware of my own less-than-perfect scent. I smelled like I'd just spent forty-two days in the mossiest, dirtiest forest in all of New Zealand. So the smell was fairly accurate.
The stiff fingers of my right hand uncurled and my backpack fell to the floor with a thud. I must have looked like quite the oaf, standing there staring at the pillows. The beautiful white pillows. My eyelids suddenly became heavy with the fatigue of forty poor nights of sleep. I longed to remember what pillows felt like.
As I inhaled the clean air of the hotel suite, it burning my nature beaten lungs, my eyes traveled over to the open door of the bathroom. It looked like the beckoning door to some heavenly oasis. An oasis containing soap, clean water, and a toilet that wasn't a hole dug into the ground. How could such a thing exist?
I peeled the sweat hardened bandana from my head, leaving it on the floor like some navy blue sweat sponge. My feet, grinding mud into the clean carpet perpetually, moved me towards the bathroom with as much energy as they could produce. I became aware that my beard was itching, but it still didn't bother me. It would be gone soon. I would be shaving soon. Another thing I couldn't remember the feeling of.
There I stood in the door of the dark bathroom, my eyelids fighting off the intense fatigue in my system. Reflexively, my fingers reached up and flipped the lightswitch, bathing the spacious room with light. Oddly enough, it looked like just about every bathroom I'd ever been in (albeit much bigger and ostentatious than most). It had the toilet, the bathtub, the shower, the sink with a large mirror. It was a bathroom... but holy God was it ever beautiful.
One thing was amiss, however. Sitting on the countertop beside the sink was a large wicker basket. Said basket was filled with the most grandiose assortment of candy bars, soft drinks, and plain old junk food that one could imagine. Seeing such luxuries as Cheetohs, Snickers bars, cans of Pepsi and Coke, deli sandwiches, and any other comfort food imaginable made my tounge ache. I reached out and ran my fingers over the bounty, fighting to control the flood of saliva in my mouth.
"You found the gift basket."
I recognized the voice immediately. I smiled, not turning around as I stripped off the filthy red fleece I'd worn almost constantly. Part of me had hoped that Matt wouldn't see me until I'd been able to clean up and his presence made me rather apprehensive. Then I realized that he'd seen me in just about every position. Being modest with him wasn't anything I had to worry about.
I nodded, my voice sounding far away as it bounced off the interior of the bathroom, "Is it any good?"
"Yeah, it's very good." From the sound of his voice, I could tell he was smiling.
For the first time since he'd entered, I turned around. My first look at him since the tribal council was just as amazing... but somehow more touching. This time, we didn't have to keep things on the down low. This time we could say... or do... anything we wanted. This time, it was so much more intimate.
Matt wrinkled his nose, "You need a shower, bro."
I stripped the sleeveless gray t-shirt over my head, the air conditioning causing my nipples to stiffen. I threw the shirt on the ground and began to undo the button and zipper of my pants. Matt chewed on his bottom lip, enjoying the show. His little voyeur side was being temped quite heavily as my previous fatigue seemed to lighten up a bit.
I watched as Matt turned on the faucet inside the shower stall, adjusting the water to a humane temperature. Something about the sound of the rapid water hitting the inside of the stall was very appealing. Very appealing and very relaxing.
My pants fell to my ankles, my underwear following soon after. Matt held the curtain of the shower open as I stepped through, anticipation causing my stomach to flutter. Before the curtain closed, I felt his hand slap me playfully on the ass, sending a jolt to my rapidly growing erection.
"Take your time. I'll be here when you get out." He said before shutting the bathroom door. I heard movement on the other side, but was too beckoned by the water to care much about it currently.
All thoughts of sex were washed away, almost literally, as the hot water hit my skin. The intense pleasure of hot, clean water cascading over my body made my knees week. My hands shook as I held onto the walls, my forehead resting against the far wall. As the water ran down my back between my shoulder blades, I began to feel an intense dislike of the dirt in my pores. My fingers struggled as I tore the paper off one of the bars of hotel soap, lingering as my nose picked up its scent.
For what felt like hours, I scrubbed furiously at my skin, removing the accumulated dirt that ocean bathing just couldn't remove. I washed every inch of my body twice, three times, four times, until I lost count. I scrubbed my hair, using nearly twenty bottles of the hotel shampoo, scrubbing until the nasty, waxy feeling went away. I scrubed every inch, every hidden area, every place that even suggested a feeling of dirt. I scrubbed until the water running off my body was as clear as the water that sprayed onto me.
After a contented sigh, I went about removing the unsightly, spotty beard that had accumulated on my face. It took lots of slow, relathering work. In an odd, sick way, I was almost sad to do it. My face felt naked afterwards. Forty days ago, I wouldn't have liked feeling naked but now... it was cool. I had a feeling that quite a bit of my daily life that I'd worried about before would now be... cool. Just cool. And that was okay.
My stiff arms managed to function as I pulled the plush, white bathrobe down from the brass rail. It felt like magic to have clean, soft fabric against my equally clean skin. A shiver ran through my body, the joy of feeling human again becoming quite intense. I felt like I was floating on air as I walked out of the bathroom, my stomach rumbling impressively as the pangs of hunger began to work in earnest.
As soon as I crossed into the bedroom, my nose was filled with a scent that nearly knocked me over. It was almost alien, it seemed so alien but at the same time so familiar and comfortable. It was food. It was my favorite food. Something that in forty days I had managed to expunge from my sensories.
I looked over to the bed and saw Matt, under the covers of the large king sized bed. From what I could tell, he was nude. From the waist up, at least. On the fluffy white pillow next to him was a white cardboard deli box. Dark grease stains called to me from the sides of the box. As I looked a the box, the scent of green peppers and barbecued beef filled my nose, making my mouth water impressively. God bless the Philly Cheese Steak.
"They had it flown in." Matt said, propping himself up on an elbow.
I ran my fingers through my now clean hair, "They could have cooked it in a ditch digger's ass and I wouldn't care."
I guess he said something about the nastiness of my statement, but I was too busy demolishing the box and digging into the blessedly greasy concoction to hear him. Just to taste such pure, unadulturated food made me lose all contact with the outside worl. I ate ravenously, not tasting the food at first but gradually easing back into the whole "appreciating the taste" aspect of eating. Appeciating the taste and nearly weeping at the pure extacy of eatting fatty, unhealthy food once again.
"Shame on you," Matt scolded, "You didn't read the card."
I looked up, "What card?"
He clicked his tounge and picked up the fancy white embossed paper, "'Dear, Reid. We're so proud of your accomplishment and performance in the game of Survivor. We've gone to great lengths of have this gourmet steak sandwich sent in from the mainland. We hope you enjoy it. Regards, Mark Burnett.'"
"How nice of him." I shrugged, finishing the last of the sandwich.
"Was it good?"
"Hooo yeah." I sighed, laying down on the soft covers, momentarily stupified by the pleasure of the sensation.
Matt reached across and stroked my hand, "Want any dessert?"
"More than anything... but I'm not sure I remember how to do it in a real bed."
He lifted up the covers slowly, allowing me an almost delicate preview. Chills ran up and down my spine as I felt that certain instinct return. With trepidation, I slid forward, feeling the slight burn of my bare legs against the clean sheets. My hand moved downwards, first caressing his stomach with a feather touch, my fingers shaking slightly.
As I removed the bathrobe and turned off the light, my lips curled into a smile. Then as my hand traveled downward and my lips touched his, taking such comfort in their warmth, I felt a great sense of happiness rush through me. Happiness and then a little bit of security. Maybe I did remember how to do it in a real bed.