Black Flag (Racing on the Edge) (28 page)

“I
can’t
keep
doing this.” He bent forward resting his hands on the back of the car. His head
hung
slumping
his shoulders forward. “
Fuck
!” he
screamed toward the sky, all the muscles in his back flexed and tensed with the
movement.

My hands reached for
him wanting to ease his pain. This time he let me touch him.

And just like that, his
hostile mood returned, as though I expected anything less.

Abruptly, he turned
toward me as though I said his name. “What should I do? Is there
...
” his fists clenched again. “I mean, what
do they expect me to do?”

“I don’t know.” and I
honestly didn’t anymore. My hands slipped from his shoulders.

His face was tense when
I removed my hands and his anger had returned, luminescent like brakes at a
short track, glowing with the slightest form of pressure.

“No,” he said between
his teeth. “No one knows. That’s the fucking problem.”

He was burning inside
with such raw emotion. I felt it as I’m sure everyone else around us did too.
He was sick of this and he had every right to be.

“I don’t know what
everyone wants from me. They want me to by myself and when I am and speak my
mind, showing them who I am, they want me acting another way. I don’t
understand what they thought I would do.” His expression was one of
frustration, annoyance, and underneath that, determination and honesty and I
was confused for a brief moment.

And then I realized
this was him breaking apart. This doesn’t just have to do with Darrin. It has
to do with his lifestyle, sponsors, media, owners, drivers, obligations, and
sacrifices, all of it.

Jameson was right to
feel this way. What
did
they expect him to do with the pressures put
upon him? Did they honestly expect a twenty-three year old kid to know exactly
when and how to turn his aggression on and off?

I eventually got him back
inside the car and on our way back to Darlington since it was around two in the
morning.

I’m not sure whether he
slept, but me being pregnant and sleepy all the time, I woke up inside the
motor coach assuming he carried me there at some point.

When I rolled over, he
was there with his hands resting on his
stomach,
his
racing suit from last night was still on only the top half was pulled away. He
stared at the ceiling, eyes fixed and restless.

“Good morning.” I said
testing the air.

His eyes shifted toward
me briefly before darting back to the ceiling. “Good morning honey.”

Well that was a good
sign. He called me honey.

“Did you sleep?”

“A little,”

“I’m going to take a
shower.” I told him waiting to see if he said anything. His head jerked
slightly, the only indication that he heard me.

My tears broke through
once I was in the shower but just like that, he was there in an instant drawing
me near.

“I’m sorry.” His hands
framed my face. “I didn’t mean to take any of that out on you last night or put
you guys in danger last night.”

“I know you didn’t.” I
sobbed clutching him. “I’m just emotional I guess.”

He let me hold him or
maybe he held me.

Either way, no more
words were spoken and we just held each other. I know it may sound silly but
that’s what we both needed right then and the fact that he sensed that took
away the harsh actions of the previous night.

Since the Darlington
race was being held at night, the day wasn’t as rushed but by nine, race day
was in full swing and Jameson’s mood hadn’t improved. He’d apparently made
plans for us to sneak away for lunch but before that could happen, they had
their team meeting.

We walked to his hauler
to find Jimi was there standing alone inside the hauler waiting on Jameson.

“What was that last
night?” was his greeting.

“What?” Jameson shouted
as though Jimi was stupid for even asking.

Jimi tossed a wrench
across the floor. The sound of it hitting the wall caused me to jump.

“Stop raising your
voice at me and listen for once.”

“Listen to you?” Jameson
stared at his dad incredulously as his voice wavered at the end. “How can you
say that to me
...
?”

The truth was Jameson
heard every word Jimi ever said to him. If anything, he listened to Jimi more
than he listened to anyone.

“I heard about what happened
in Summerville.” Jimi arched his brow. “You should have called the police.”

Jameson grunted a
response that Jimi shook his head to, leaving me alone with him.

Jimi’s eyes met mine
briefly, before he smiled. “He’s worth it.” And then he too, left.

Jameson hadn’t gone
far, I found him standing outside signing autographs for fans that had
gathered.

He did that for just a
few moments before politely excusing himself.

He had a hospitality obligation
in the media center for Ayers Manufacturing who was sponsoring the race so we
took the long way and walked along the outside of the pits near the track.

“I don’t know what to
do anymore.” His eyes didn’t leave mine as the sun rose on backstretch. Light
filtered between the rows of Featherlite motor coaches.

“And I do?” My eyes
squinted into the brightness.

“Yes.” His tone evened
out, his gaze shifting from mine to the track as if it held the answer to this.

He looked restless
again. I wanted to take away his pain and his burdens letting him
be
the kid he deserved to be for once but that’s not what he
wanted. Racing for him was more than just a love and deeper than most cared to
understand. It was a comfort that pulled from beneath the surface of
self-control.

“I’m tired of making
you cry.” He exhaled stopping to look at me. I could see the swollen reminder
of last night that formed under his right eye and the split in his bottom lip.

“Then don’t.” I replied
sweeping the evidence of my hurt away with my sleeve.

I hated how often I was
crying these days and desperately wanted to have a talk with this little spaz
inside me regarding his or her effect on me.

“I’m not sure I know
how to.” I felt his breath stir my hair as words were whispered into my skin.
“I’m sorry.” His fingertips caught the tears that remained on the base of my
chin. He had that look like he wanted to say more but didn’t.

I tilted my head to
meet his gaze. “I know.”

“I’ll never stop
trying.” He breathed against my neck.

I knew Jameson well
enough to know he was sorry and he wouldn’t quit but there was a small portion
of him that was guarding for the unthinkable should it happen. He was shutting
down parts he knew could be damaged.

I shivered despite the
warm haze, goose bumps of a different kind grazed over my skin. His lips
brushed against my neck one again. “I really am sorry.”

9.
                   
Balance
– Jameson

Balance – When a car
doesn’t
understeer
or
oversteer
and is said to be riding like
it’s
on rails.

Throughout my life with
Sway, I have managed to fuck everything up.

The first time we had
sex, we were drunk. The first time I told her I loved her, it was right after
we had sex, and I made her cry.

When she told me she
was pregnant, I was in the hospital, high as a fucking kite.

So
me
thinking I could pull off a proposal was wishful thinking, especially with my
family and hers around to assist me in fucking it up. Not to mention this
weekend had turned to shit on more than one occasion with everything that happened
in Summerville. A weekend where I wanted to propose had turned into me
constantly apologizing for making her cry. So that afternoon, I tried again by
taking her to lunch before I had to be back at the track for race day activity.

Trying my luck once more,
Emma made reservations for Sway and I so that I could propose. That was the
plan at least.

The restaurant was
romantic and everything you would think a proposal
should
be.

Most of the meal, I
couldn’t stop thinking about what the fuck I should say. Part of me wanted to
blurt it out, part of me wanted to just hand her the ring and hope she
magically understood and the other part of me, the scared shitless part, wanted
to leave. Not leave Sway, but leave this restaurant for even considering this
goddamn idea. It just seemed so cliché now that we’re here. It’s been done
hundreds of times. The man pulls out the ring under the candle light and asks
the woman he loves to marry him, cliché. That wasn’t us. There was so much more
to this than the standard cliché.

She deserved better. We
deserved better than a cliché.

While my inner
struggles continued, Sway dropped her napkin to the floor when she reached for
another bread stick. Automatically I got down on my knee to get it for her, and
when I looked up, I almost did it. The words were there but I wasn’t. Like I
said,
cliché. And after last night, she deserved so much
more than a cliché proposal.

Instead, what did I do?

I blurted out will you
marry me in Italian because I knew goddamn well she wouldn’t understand.
“
Mi
vuoi
sposare
?”

Sway blinked curiously
when I handed her the napkin, the question hung between us. I wanted to smack
myself in the forehead it was that dumb.

“What did you say?” she
smiled probably thinking,
“Wow, he’s completely lost it.”
Either that or
she was agreeing to my dumb thought.

“Umm
...
I said
...
you’re beautiful.” To add to my problem, “you’re beautiful”
came out like a question.

She giggled, eyes
scanning the nearby guests and then gestured with a flick of her hand for me to
move. “Get off the floor, silly.”

“I can’t do it like
this. I’ll do it when it’s right, but right now, like this,” I motioned between
us. “
just
feels rushed.”

“What are you talking
about?” Sway asked with a mouth full of food.

“Nothing,” I mumbled
completely embarrassed that I didn’t have the fucking balls to do this. “How’s
your ravioli?”

“Delicious.” She wiped
cheese off her lips and winked.

Another failed attempt,
I was never gonna get this right. And to think I still had to race today. With the
proposal heavy on my mind and now Darrin, I was hardly ready to race once we
got back to the track.

“What would you give up
for everything you’ve ever wanted?” was a question my dad often asked me.

The veracity of it was
that it was a loaded question that couldn’t be answered without weight.

My grandpa used to tell
me, “Jay, you can have anything in life you’ve ever wanted, if you give up
everything else for it. There’s a price tag on everything.”

I knew those sacrifices
very
well by now and had since my first race.

I’ve found that the
basis to being a competitive and successful race car driver was what I gave up
to do it. Sleep, friends, and any chance at a normal life. I sacrificed it all
for the moment when I could call myself a champion. Sure I’d won track
championships before and the USAC Triple Crown National title but to have one
in the big leagues, that’s what I wanted.

And I’ll admit that
there were days when those sacrifices seem worthwhile like winning a race or
making a pint sized fans’ day by signing his t-shirt. Then there were days when
everything felt like a sacrifice and I didn’t even know myself anymore or why I
was doing any of it. Like the other night with Darrin. Those were the times I
questioned this lifestyle.

But then there were the
parts of my life that I couldn’t figure out
why
I was giving them up.
Not being there for Sway being the biggest.

I can’t say I regretted
the decision to become a race car driver but there were times when I honestly
felt alone with the lifestyle, the politics, and the overwhelming push to
perform.

I couldn’t have normal
friendships because what kind of friend wants to hang out on my terms? On the
contrary, this was the life I’d chosen and I knew I would always be faced with
sacrifices, some I would be okay with and others, well, they were harder to
deal with but still I sacrificed for the glory.

What I worried most
about were the sacrifices my family was forced to make. Was I worth them giving
up any chance at a normal life? Would Sway resent this lifestyle after a few
years? Would my brother and sister, two people who have stood by me through
everything?