Running Wide Open (20 page)

“Big boys don’t cry,” I whispered as Mom’s old mantra popped into my head.

“What?”

“Mom used to say it. ‘Big boys don’t cry.’”

“That’s horrible,” Kasey said, stroking my hair. “What a cruel thing to tell a child.”

“But it’s true.” I was shaking now, fighting hard to hold back the tears. Quick as they always were to spring to the surface, I hadn’t let myself give in to them since I was a little kid.

“Oh, Cody. No wonder you’re so angry. It’s not a crime to have feelings.”

“My mom thinks it is.”

“Well, she’s wrong.”

I shuddered in Kasey’s arms. One whimper escaped, then sobs wracked my body. Once they started, I couldn’t make them stop. What if I never got to see Race again? What if he died?

Kasey held me tight. “It’s okay, Cody. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Someone you love is hurt, and you’re allowed to cry.”

* * *

Kasey went to check on Race again before getting herself a cup of coffee and me a hot chocolate from the vending machine.

“We should go down to the cafeteria and have some breakfast,” she said, sitting down beside me.

My stomach cinched up at the idea. “I don’t think I could eat anything.” Who’d have thought those words would ever come out of my mouth?

“I know. I feel the same way.”

We ended up staying in the waiting area because we were superstitious about leaving together, and neither of us wanted to go to the cafeteria on our own.

Kasey tracked down the ICU doctor after his morning rounds and got an update. Nothing had changed. She used the opportunity to ask questions, though. Lots of questions. It was almost like Kasey thought she could help Race get better just by understanding what was wrong with him. I heard more than I wanted to know about possible complications. The surgery put Race at risk of infection. Being on the ventilator made him susceptible to pneumonia. But the biggest concern was still brain swelling. If it got too bad, he might need more surgery. Even if none of those things happened, no one could say for sure if there’d be any lasting damage.

“You should understand that people are never quite the same after a traumatic brain injury,” the doctor said, explaining that Race could have mobility problems, difficulty thinking and speaking, even personality changes—if he woke up at all.

“He’ll get through this, Cody,” Kasey said when we were alone again. “I’ve never known your uncle to give up without a fight.”

“That’s a lot of stuff to fight.”

“They have to tell us about the possibilities so we’ll be prepared, but it doesn’t mean any of those things will happen.”

“They could.”

“Yes, and he could be just fine, too. You aren’t doing yourself any good by focusing on the worst.”

Wasn’t I? If I was ready for the worst, it couldn’t catch me off guard, like Mom’s letter had, or seeing Jim’s car slam into the Dart.

“You heard that doctor. He said people are never the same after something like this.”

“He’ll be okay,” Kasey repeated, and I wondered how anyone could look so exhausted and still so fierce. It hit me suddenly that she could be staying with Race in ICU—and that she wanted to—but she wasn’t because that would mean leaving me by myself.

“You care about him, don’t you?”

“Well, of course I do, Cody.”

“No, I mean you
really
care.”

Kasey didn’t answer, but her eyes told me I was right.

“I knew it. Race keeps saying you don’t, but I could see it all along. You’ve gotta tell him, Kasey.”

“I know.” Her voice was less than a whisper, and her expression echoed the question running through my own head. What if she didn’t get the chance?

* * *

When Denny showed up, Kasey filled him in on what the doctor had said.

“Damn,” he muttered, shaking his head as he settled beside me. He asked a few questions, but I shut the conversation out, wondering where Jim was. Shouldn’t he be here, too? It wasn’t like I blamed him for what happened, but he was supposed to be Race’s best friend.

The morning dragged by, the minutes not blurring together like they normally would, but each one separate and distinct. Grandma got there a little after nine and Denny gave her a curt but respectful nod. Apparently he didn’t hold her in as much contempt as he did Grandpa. When Kasey repeated the list of complications, I focused on the throbbing in my hand, trying to ignore the words. Every time I heard them, they got more real.

It was the longest morning of my life. Having Grandma there only made it worse. She agreed to let me stay with Kasey, but that was the only good part. She and Kasey got caught up in this odd verbal dance, like they weren’t sure whether to resent or respect each other. It didn’t help that Grandma insisted on referring to Race as ‘Horatio,’ making him sound like some kind of geek.

“Stop calling him that,” I finally snapped.

“It’s his name, Cody.”

“Yeah, well it’s Grandpa’s name, too, and you call him William.”

“Your grandfather’s always gone by his middle name.”

“So? How come he gets to choose what to be called and Race doesn’t?”

My grandmother’s eyes locked on mine, challenging my insolence, but after that she dropped the Horatio bit.

Time continued to crawl. Every hour Kasey or Grandma would go in to spend a few minutes with Race. His condition wasn’t improving, but it also wasn’t getting worse. My head buzzed with fears and unanswered questions, and now that Grandma had made an issue of it, I couldn’t help wondering what was gonna happen to me. If Race didn’t make it, or if he was so messed up that I couldn’t stay with him, where would I end up? I couldn’t stomach the idea of moving to Phoenix or living with Grandma, and I didn’t think Dad would be willing to take me back.

At about noon, a middle-aged woman joined us in the waiting room. She had a girl my age at her side who looked like Kasey, only with freckles and hair that was more brown than cinnamon. Guilt drilled into me when I realized I was sizing the girl up. Sure, she was cute, but how could I be thinking about something so shallow when Race might be dying?

Kasey hugged the woman hard. “Mom.” There was a note of relief and sadness in her voice that, just for a second, made her sound ten years old.

We went through the whole medical update again for Kasey’s mom and her little sister, Brooke.

“They can only tell so much from the CT scan,” Kasey said. “One indicator for determining the severity of the injury is to see how long it takes him to wake up once he’s no longer sedated. Even then, they really won’t know how bad things are until he’s fully alert and strong enough to do the things he’d normally be able to.”

Brooke sat beside her mother, listening wide-eyed. Her fingers coiled around the paperback she’d brought with her, twisting it into a cylinder. When Kasey went on to list the things that could still go wrong, I leaned forward in my chair and buried my face in my hands.

“Brooke,” Kasey said. “Why don’t you take Cody down to the cafeteria? He hasn’t had anything to eat since last night.” Her eyes met mine and I understood. Kasey had to talk about it to stay sane.

* * *

In the cafeteria, Brooke got French fries and a turkey sandwich. Nothing looked appetizing to me. My stomach was a clenched fist. I finally chose broccoli cheese soup, something that could slide down my throat pretty much on its own without causing any major upsets.

“Poor Race,” Brooke said as we found a table and sat down. “I can’t believe this is happening to him.” She set her book beside her tray. It was a romance novel, the historical kind with a roguish-looking guy on the cover, his shirt ripped open to expose muscles nobody but Arnold Schwarzenegger actually possessed.

“You know Race?”

“Sure. I stayed with Kasey for a couple of weeks last summer. I got to help out at the speedway.” Brooke smiled as if that were some great honor. “Race is sweet—and he’s got such a cool sense of humor. I like him better than any of the other guys Kasey’s dated.”

“She’s not exactly dating him.”

“No, but she’s interested.”

I steadied my soup cup with my bandaged right hand, stirring the lumpy mixture with the other. “Seems like everybody but Race has that figured out. And I think Kasey only realized it this morning.”

“My sister’s not big on romance.” Brooke tore the top off of a pack of ketchup and squirted a puddle beside her fries. “She was always too busy helping Dad at his shop, or taking care of us younger kids, or studying so she could win a scholarship. My theory is she never got comfortable with the dating scene, so she tries to avoid it.”

I pushed my soup around in its paper bowl. It was starting to congeal. Raising the spoon, I took a bite, but the glop just sat there on my tongue. I almost gagged when I tried to swallow.

“Race said he asked Kasey if she was interested in dating him, and she told him no,” I said. “But it’s obvious she really cares.”

“You know what I think?” Brooke asked, popping a French fry into her mouth. “I think she’s always been crazy about him, but she was afraid of scaring him away. She does that, you know. With every guy she dates. The minute it starts getting serious, she sabotages the relationship.”

“Why?” That sounded totally neurotic—not like the Kasey I knew at all.

Brooke shrugged. “Maybe she can’t stand not being 100 percent in control.”

“Maybe.” I pushed my soup away. As shaky as I felt from not eating, I couldn’t get my stomach to cooperate.

Brooke looked at the barely-touched soup and reached across the table to slip her hand over mine. Her blue eyes pulled me in like a hug. “He’s going to be okay, Cody. Race is a fighter.”

“That’s what Kasey said.”

“Well, she’s right. Just because he’s mellow doesn’t mean he can’t dig his claws in.”

My eyes got hot and I blinked hard, staring down at the table. “That’s how it was with me. Race decided he was gonna save me from myself, and no matter what I did, he never gave up.”

Brooke’s hand squeezed mine.

“I gotta go back upstairs, Brooke. It makes me nervous, being down here.”

* * *

Kasey’s mom and sister had to get back to Cottage Grove, but Grandma and Denny stayed with us the rest of the day. While Kasey and Grandma alternated sitting with Race, Denny hung out in the waiting room with me. He didn’t say much, just thumbed through magazines and offered occasional words of encouragement, but having him there made me feel better.

The lack of sleep caught up with me late in the afternoon. Slumping against Kasey, I dozed in a weird twilight state. I wasn’t fully awake or asleep, and I could hear everything going on around me. Grandma talked about what Race had been like as a kid—how she was always butting heads with him. She chose her words carefully, but it was clear she believed Race had been slumming when he hung out at the track. I wondered what Denny thought about that. He hardly said a word when Grandma was around. Kasey tried to explain the appeal—how the people at the speedway were like family—but Grandma didn’t seem to get it.

Then the tone of the conversation shifted. “I can’t stop thinking about that helmet,” Kasey said. “I almost bought him a new one, but he’s so stubborn about accepting money, even for the car.”

“You shouldn’t have to take responsibility for his choices,” Grandma said.

In that half-conscious zone, with the world buzzing around me, I felt warm and safe. I wanted to stay there so badly that I closed my mind against their words. But a tiny finger of misgiving wiggled its way into my thoughts. Was there something that could have prevented all this?

At dinnertime, Denny had to leave, and Kasey dragged me down to the cafeteria. I hesitated in the buffet line, rejecting all the possibilities until she started making choices for me. She stuck a cup of chicken soup on my tray, then a bowl of green Jell-O and a carton of milk. When we sat down I poked at the food, making an effort so Kasey wouldn’t have to worry about me, too. I noticed she was having as much trouble as I was trying to force anything down.

“Is it true about the helmet?” I asked, toying with my Jell-O.

“What?”

“If Race had a better helmet, maybe this wouldn’t have happened?”

Kasey sighed, regarding me with a frown that said she wished I hadn’t asked. “It’s possible. Or at least it wouldn’t have been as bad.”

I chopped at the Jell-O with my plastic spoon. “Then it’s not just an accident.”

“Cody, the thing you have to understand is that probably half the drivers at the speedway are guilty of some sort of safety violation. They use harnesses that have sat out in the weather for years. They wear firesuits that have been washed so many times they’re no longer flame resistant. Some of the roll cages in the Street Stock class are practically cobbled together with bailing wire. Safety is the last thing most drivers worry about.”

“It should be the first thing.”

“I know. But racing is expensive, and if it’s the difference between a new helmet and a better cam, the cam is going to win every time. It doesn’t help that young men—and race car drivers in particular—have a tendency to think they’re invincible.”

I shoved the Jell-O away and reached for my milk, struggling to open it one-handed. “Then why don’t the officials do something about it? Aren’t they supposed to inspect all the equipment?”

“Yes. But a lot of times it doesn’t happen the way it should.” Kasey leaned across the table to help with the carton. “At any rate, none of that matters now. It won’t change what’s happened.”

But it did matter. Race had taken a chance he shouldn’t have. He had gambled, and all of us had lost.

Chapter 19

At around nine-thirty that night, Kasey came back from ICU wearing an expression that was a mixture of exhaustion and euphoria.

“He’s doing better. They think they’ll be able to take him off the ventilator sometime tonight.”

Relief washed over me the way cold water does when you plunge into a river on a scorching summer day. I felt weak, like the only thing that had been holding me together was my fear. Then at the back of my mind a little flare of anger blazed up. Kasey and I shouldn’t have had to go through all this.

Grandma was long gone, attending some charity dinner, so Kasey called and left her a message before sitting down beside me.