It’s a Sunday night in October, and for the sixth week in a row, my house is full of friends, relatives, and neighbors who are here to watch Around the World in Eighty Dates. Miranda and I sit side by side in the center of the couch, the best seats in the house—I’m still considered a guest of honor, even though my final episode aired a couple of weeks ago. We haven’t seen Miranda get eliminated yet, but I know tonight’s episode is her last, based on when she showed up at the Portuguese beach hotel where they kept the eliminated contestants until filming was over. (In keeping with the cheesy tone of the show, everyone referred to it as Heartbreak Hotel.) Next week is the finale, when we’ll all appear one last time to cheer for Martin and Zora as they cross the finish line and are presented with a million dollars. Tawny and Steve, who came in second, each won a trip for two to Tahiti.
Natalie sits on my other side, her neon-green boots propped on the coffee table and the yellow crocheted pillow hugged tightly to her stomach. My other best friends, Chris and Abby, are sprawled on the floor at our feet, having a heated debate about whether they’d prefer to see Blake or Troy do a striptease. A couple of Miranda’s college friends are up from New York City for the weekend, and they’re taking her back down with them tomorrow to hunt for apartments in Brooklyn. Since I have Columbus Day off from school, Miranda has asked me to come with them to help her pick one out.
At one minute to eight, my sister stands up and taps her wineglass with a spoon, and everyone quiets. “I’d like to dedicate this episode to Claire,” she says. “You all saw how she stood up to Samir for me, and this is my way of saying thank you.”
Everyone applauds, and I take a surprised, confused little bow. “I’m flattered, but what does this episode have to do with me?” I ask. Miranda hasn’t told me anything about what happened on the show after I left, claiming she didn’t want to spoil any surprises.
She smiles cryptically. “You’ll see.”
The credits sequence starts, and everyone cheers and settles down in their seats. Chris and Natalie sing along to the superdramatic opening music, adding their own little harmonies and flourishes. When the pink heart-map logo pops up, flanked by animated Cupids, they both shout out the tagline: Where in the world will you find your soul mate?
Miranda’s laptop dings to indicate a new Skype call, and Steve’s face pops up on the screen. He’s watched every episode with us remotely from his dorm room at the University of Minnesota. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “One of the dryers in the basement caught on fire again.”
“Seriously, Steve, how many times do I have to warn you to check your pockets for explosives before you do laundry?” Miranda says.
He grins at her. “I have to keep things interesting around here somehow. It’d be a lot easier if you’d just come visit already.”
Miranda’s friends start oooohing and making smooching noises, and she blushes bright red, but she’s smiling. Though she keeps claiming there’s nothing going on between them, I’ve caught her on the phone with Steve late at night more times than I can count. Miranda’s been skipping from boyfriend to boyfriend without a pause since she was about fourteen, and I’m glad she’s finally taking some time for herself. But I do hope the two of them will get together eventually. I suspect Steve is one of the few guys who might actually deserve her.
Episode six opens with the Proposal Ceremony from last week, when Janine and Troy were eliminated in Sweden. After a brief reshuffling of partners, Miranda is left to race with Will Divine. Natalie boos loudly and throws a Cheez-It at the screen, and one of our cats bounds off my dad’s lap to chase it.
It’s been two months now, and though I don’t exactly miss Will, seeing him onscreen every week still makes my stomach twist. I never spoke to him again after our last interview, but watching the show has cleared up a lot of things for me. By this point in the season, I’ve seen Will “reluctantly open up” to every single one of his partners, and his stories have been different each time, specifically tailored to the girl. He was only afraid of flying when he was with me, and it’s clear to me now that he faked his panic attack in the air so I’d see him as vulnerable and reveal my own insecurities. With Philadelphia, he fabricated a girlfriend who had recently broken his heart. With Janine, he talked about his fear of failing his beloved dying grandmother. He told every one of us how beautiful and kick-ass and brave we were, and each of us looked equally flushed and flattered, convinced that we were special.
As disgusting as his strategy was, it was effective—the more of us he charmed, the earlier he was chosen in each Proposal Ceremony, giving him a bigger lead. Up on Acrocorinth, after my mortifying confession that I wanted Will to be my boyfriend, he wished that none of the girls in the race would realize that he didn’t really care about us. All he ever wanted was that shiny, elusive million dollars.
In front of my friends and my family, I pretend to regret having anything to do with Will. But the fact remains that without his encouragement, genuine or not, I never would’ve grown into the person I became on the race. Nothing he said to me was real, but the switches he flipped inside me were. It’s because of him that I pretended to be the bravest, boldest, best version of myself, and somewhere along the way, I slipped inside that girl’s skin and made myself at home.
Of course, that doesn’t mean I want to watch him hit on my sister. “I’m so sorry you had to race with him,” I say now.
“I would’ve picked you if I could!” Steve calls from the laptop.
“I know, honey,” Miranda says, patting the computer screen. “But then you wouldn’t have gotten a trip to Tahiti.”
Steve considers that. “Yeah. I made the right choice.”
“Now, if you were to take me to Tahiti to make it up to me, I wouldn’t complain.…”
“Shh,” Natalie says. “Flirt later. I can’t hear Isis.”
Off to the side, my parents have already started whispering a never-ending stream of questions to our neighbor—they’re the sort of people who listen to opera simulcasts and carry public radio tote bags, so reality TV baffles them. Weirdly, they’ve gotten kind of into the race, though they’re still not too pleased that their daughters were on a show with a dating component. I’ve told them over and over that I never had to do anything too inappropriate, and I’m pretty sure they believe me. But watching them watch me lick honey off Will Divine’s neck still ranks among the top five awkward moments of my life, just below the time my dad tried to give me the Sex Talk when I was sixteen.
On the screen, the teams are instructed to fly to Nairobi, Kenya. Will and Miranda book a flight through London, and the other two teams go through Frankfurt, which should get them there at the same time. But Will and Miranda arrive at Heathrow in the middle of a thunderstorm, and their connecting flight is delayed six hours. By the time they finally arrive in Africa, I can tell that no matter what they do, the game is over for them.
In the outdoor market where their first challenge is taking place, Screen Miranda reads an instruction card aloud. “In Kenya, some men dress in women’s clothing for a month after their weddings to get a sense of what it feels like to be their wives. In homage to this, the male member of your team must complete this entire leg of the race dressed in women’s clothing his female teammate chooses at the market. Have fun dressing your date!”
When Tawny and Zora dressed their men earlier in the episode, they chose long, loose, comfortable dresses that allowed Steve and Martin to move freely. But Miranda has other ideas. The shot cuts to her talking directly to the camera, and she says, “I knew we were way too far behind to stay in the game. And you all saw how my sister went out with a bang, right? I knew I had to live up to her amazing example.”
“Oh my God, are you really about to do what I think you’re about to do?” asks Natalie. “Because if you are, you’ll be my hero forever.”
The next thirty seconds are a montage of my sister dressing Will Divine. First comes the short red skirt, so close-fitting he can barely separate his thighs. Then comes the purple bra with cups pointy enough to satisfy 1980s Madonna and some sort of pink tunic. Then come the heavy beaded necklaces and the strappy gold sandals with stiletto heels—I don’t know what those were even doing in a Kenyan market. Will’s hairy toes poke out the front by at least an inch, and he can barely balance without clinging to Miranda. Last of all, my sister plucks off his stupid gray hat and replaces it with a pink headscarf, which the laughing merchant gleefully ties for him. As he totters off to do the next challenge, there’s a shot of his lucky hat lying abandoned in the dust.
By this time, Natalie and I are laughing so hard we’re crying. When Nat insists on rewinding the sequence and watching it twice more, nobody objects. After what Will put me through, there’s nothing more delightful than watching him stagger around like a drunk sorority girl, looking exactly as ridiculous as he made me feel. For the next twenty minutes, we watch him try to herd cattle and learn a traditional Bantu dance in his insane outfit. As I watch him curse and trip over his own blistered feet, that last breath of sadness over what happened between us flies out with my laughter and dissipates into the air.
When Will finally stumbles into the Cupid’s Nest with my sister hours after the other teams, perfectly composed Isis takes one look at him and lets out a legitimate guffaw. When she manages to rearrange her face into a sympathetic expression, she says, “Welcome to the Cupid’s Nest, Will and Miranda. You’re in last place. Your race around the world has come to an end.”
We all knew that was coming, but everyone in our living room boos and shouts in protest. Natalie throws more Cheez-Its, one of which hits Chris in the face. “It’s okay,” Miranda calls out. “I’m still glad I did it.”
As if on cue, Isis asks, “Miranda, what has this race taught you?”
“I learned to be flexible enough to change my expectations,” my sister answers, and I feel like she’s talking directly to me.
Isis nods at her sage words. “And, Will? What have you learned?”
Will pulls off a gold shoe and flings it furiously into the darkness. “I learned that being a girl sucks.”
“It’s not so bad,” Miranda answers. “Nature made us stronger. It’s the only way we could possibly deal with men.” Isis holds up her hand and gives my sister a totally undignified high five.
As everyone in our living room breaks into applause and whistles, I scoot closer to Miranda on the couch and link my arm with hers. “Thanks, Mira,” I say quietly.
“There once was a dumbass named Will …,” she says in response.
I grin. “He seemed oh-so-charming until …”
“He proved he was evil …”
“And caused an upheaval …”
“So kicking his butt was a thrill.”
On the screen, there’s a closing shot of Will struggling into his pack and walking away, tottering unsteadily on one gold heel.
“Man, karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?” my sister says.
“Yeah,” I say. “For real.”