The frame freezes, and silence hangs over us all for a moment.
Dana’s not smiling anymore, and her voice is serious when she speaks. “Matt . . . Walker . . . do you want to tell us what happened between you two in that moment? I mean why, in the middle of a life-and-death situation, did you end up in a scuffle?”
Matt’s jaw tightens, and he stares down and ahead of him, at some invisible spot the rest of us can’t see. “I panicked,” he says. He looks at me. “I heard her ribs cracking, and I panicked. I thought he was hurting her.”
He leans forward and looks past me to Walker. “I wasn’t thinking, going after you like that—I overreacted, and I don’t blame you for . . .” He shakes his head.
Dana lets his sentence hang unfinished for a moment. I watch Walker for some sort of reaction, to try to get a read on him, but he sits statue-still in his chair, his expression unchanging.
“Do you think maybe you overreacted as well?” Dana asks him. She looks at the screen, which replays just the punch, this time in slow motion, before it freezes again.
Walker glances at Matt, then looks at Dana. “No,” he says flatly. “But you do, I guess.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Dana backpedals. “I mean, things like that can happen in the heat of the moment.”
We’re all quiet, and Walker just looks at her, unblinking.
“I had to,” he says, with a note of finality.
Dana gives an almost imperceptible nod, and the video comes back on. For a few more seconds, Walker pumps on my chest, and Matt stays where he is on the deck of the boat, and then a voice behind the camera says, “That girl is gone. There’s no way she’s gonna live.”
The screen goes black and Dana looks us all over carefully, without saying anything. I can feel the camera panning over our faces just as she is.
When she’s stretched the moment for maximum drama, she turns to the camera and repeats the last thing said on the video in a low, serious voice, enunciating every syllable. “There’s no way that girl is going to live.”
Now she turns to me. “Most people who witnessed that probably would’ve said the same thing. But you did, and you’re here, and you’re okay. All thanks to him.” She motions at Walker, who now avoids making eye contact with any of us.
“How did you know what to do?” she asks him.
I see his jaw tighten as he looks at the ground. “I’ve done it before,” he says flatly.
“Really?” Dana seems genuinely surprised. “Where and when was that? Was it on the fishing boat? Out on the water?”
“No.” Walker levels his eyes on her in a way that I think we all understand as “Stop asking me questions.”
There’s a brief moment when I think she’s going to press the matter, but then she backs off and turns her attention to me.
“So, Olivia, let’s talk about how it actually feels to see what happened to you. It’s got to be completely surreal.”
I want to tell her that showing the video without warning us feels like a cheap way to try to sensationalize her segment, that it wasn’t necessary to make us sit here and watch it together, hoping for a reaction. But I don’t. And this is a question I can actually answer. “It is surreal,” I say. “It’s like I’m watching someone else.”
She nods with exaggerated empathy. “It’s interesting that you say that. I was thinking of what that voice said at the end: ‘That girl is gone.’ Do you think there’s any truth to that?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I just have to imagine that experiencing something as traumatic as this accident, and surviving, seems like it would have the potential to change your life in a very fundamental way. Is that girl gone? Have you changed?”
She pauses, giving me—or any of us—space to agree. All I can think of is that she doesn’t know the half of it, and I’m so glad. I don’t want to talk about any of this anymore with her.
None of us says anything, so she continues. “I mean, this seems to have brought the two of you closer,” she says, gesturing at Matt and me and our hands clasped solidly on the couch between us. “And I can only imagine the gratitude you must feel for this person who was a stranger, who became your savior. There’s a connection there now. One that will always be there. And this is the first time you’ve been face-to-face with him since the accident. Is there anything you’d like to say to him?”
There is—so much—and I thought I’d be able to say it all, but I can’t. Not like this. Not in front of her and her cameras. And not in front of Matt either. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already so clearly does by saying everything I want to say to Walker.
But this is my chance to thank him, and I at least owe him that. We don’t know each other, and we don’t share any history. I don’t know if I’ll see him again.
I know how uncomfortable this is going to make them both, but I let go of Matt’s hand and I turn to Walker, who is as far away as he can possibly be on the other side of me. Every bit of his body language says Don’t touch, so I don’t reach out my hand to him like I want to. Instead, I try to catch his eyes, really catch them, and for a second, I do, and we’re locked like that, looking at each other across the small space that feels like miles and miles.
“Thank you for what you did that night,” I say.
There’s a second where his eyes soften, and he gives the slightest nod, and I feel a flicker of connection because his guard comes down, just a little.
“For both of us,” I add, wanting Matt to know I’m thinking of him too.
And just like that the wall goes back up. He nods again, then looks away.
Someone behind the camera makes a motion to Dana, and she focuses her attention on us. “Well. This really has been a miraculous story, and it’s been SO good to have you all here. Let’s hope that you continue to heal and recover, and maybe even come out of this with a whole new way of seeing the world. Thank you so much for coming.” She looks at the camera. “And thank you for tuning in.”
The guy behind the camera makes another motion, and the little light blinks off. “That was great, you guys!” Dana chirps. “Thank you so much!” She’s smiling like we’re all on the same team. Like she didn’t just blindside us or ask uncomfortable questions, or any of that.
Walker stands and yanks the mic off his shirt. He tosses it in his empty seat and turns to Matt and me.
We stand too. Matt’s face is serious, but he extends his hand across me, to Walker. “I know it’s not enough, but thank you. Again. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t do what you did.”
Matt puts his arm around my shoulder, and Walker glances at it, but seems careful to avoid my eyes. Then he looks right at Matt. “You would’ve lost her.”
It’s like a second punch. Beside me, I feel Matt flinch.
Walker looks at me. “You two take care.”
I stand there, not knowing what to say to that. I’d wanted to thank him off camera, and hoped I’d have the right words to do it, but no words come after that.