by TC Matson
“Where are you going?” Norman’s voice comes from my right just before he steps in front of me with an intimidating glare.
“I, uh…” I glance behind him toward the RV lot.
Malice rides with his chuckle. “You aren’t even trying to step into his world and learn anything about him. The first race you’ve actually attended and you can’t stick it out? Why?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Another sharp pain steals my breath.
“At least trophy wives show minimal interest on the arms of their husbands for their paychecks. You don’t give a shit about him, do you? It’s always been about his money.”
“You don’t have a damn clue what you’re talking about,” I bite and then spin around to leave, fed up with him.
Snatching my arm and digging his fingers into my skin, he jerks me back around to face him.
“Ouch!” I cry out.
Vicious, mad animosity scowls at me.
Another searing pain drives through me, this time threatening to take my legs out from under me. I clench my jaw, sucking in a breath. Something that looks an awful lot like concern crosses his gaze but is quickly steeled away.
“Ma’am. Are you okay?” A woman asks from somewhere behind me.
“Just because he doesn’t see you trying to trap him doesn’t mean I don’t.” Norman grits and releases me with a shove.
Blinking back my tears, I watch as he walks away. My stomach tightens again and then a gush of warmth pools between my legs. I turn to rush toward the driver’s lot but suddenly the edges of my vision become blurry.
“Ma’am?” Her voice sounds like she’s talking into a cup. It echoes, bouncing close and farther away. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Stomach bug,” I stammer. “I need to get back to the…” It starts at the very top of my head. Heat pours over me, burning my skin and blazing a trail straight into my toes as another cramp hits me hard. I gasp. “I need to…”
The blur flashes, bursting into a hazy blackness.
And then…peaceful quiet before the panic.
* * *
I wake to the sound of distant hustle, voices, and far away beeps. A blue curtain, the color of a cloudless sky, encloses me in a makeshift room. The blood pressure cuff startles me when it begins to blow up. Dropping my head back to the bed, I close my eyes.
Memories flash behind my eyes—the lady talking to me and telling me the ambulance was on its way. Several other people—men and women—crowded around me. The paramedic with freckles across his cheeks kept smiling at me although the concern was seared into his eyes. The pain…
“Hi.” A short nurse with long auburn hair pulled into a floppy ponytail smiles at me. “You took a good nap. How are you feeling?”
“My baby? Is he okay?” I ask.
Her smile slips and becomes a fraud. “The doctor will be in here in a few moments.”
Something twists in my chest, my heart weighted down. “I…I need to call my husb—” I shake my head. “My boyfriend.”
She hands me a clear plastic bag that contains only my cell phone and leaves, closing the curtain behind her.
Me: Are you still racing?
Right as I send off the text, the doctor walks in. He’s a tall middle-aged man with white hair and…sad eyes that punch me in the soul. “Hi. I’m Dr. Rodriguez. How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Confused. What’s going on?”
He tightens his lips. “Do you need to call your family?”
Safe questions with hidden meanings…
“No. My boyfriend is at work. What’s going on?”
He inhales, squaring his shoulders, as sympathy washes over his expression. “Unfortunately, you’ve suffered a miscarriage. You…”
His words vanish, disappearing into a vast numbness. The air in my lungs empties. His mouth is still moving, still explaining, but I don’t hear him. The only sound I hear is my heart breaking and crumbling around me. My soul weeps.
He squeezes my shoulder as I sob into my hands, devastated. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know how long I sit in the room alone and cry, weeping for my unborn son, for failing him as a mother when my tears finally subside. The room is empty… the silence is deafening. I try to call Declan again, but he doesn’t answer. My thumb scrolls down to a name I loathe—Norman—but after one ring, I’m sent to voicemail. I attempt Declan one last time and again am met with his voicemail. I don’t have the guts to tell him…
The pain rips out of me as I bawl, curling onto my side.
Tears run down my face, chasing each other down my cheek as they find the bed.
My son… I’m so sorry.
TWENTY-ONE
“Hell yes, baby!” I shout my elation, slapping the roof of my truck.
There’s nothing quite like the feeling of victory, the rush I get when I cross over the finish line and under the checkered flag. This high never gets old. The triumph overshadows the anxiety that was gnawing away at me during the final lap. Dale insisted I was a half-second ahead of second place. Cale promised I had enough fuel to get me there.
The official hands me the checkered flag and I make my way around the track one last time, waving at the fans. I want to say something to Amelia, but I know she and the rest of the team are moving over to victory lane. I grin, knowing in less than five minutes, I’ll be able to scoop her up in my arms and give her a kiss. That’s the only trophy I really want right now.
After the post-race check, I’m directed to pull behind the wall and onto the white and black checkered paint leading to victory lane. While the reporters and cameras set up, I have to remain in my truck—all part of the show for TV. My team waits for me, all smiles and shouts, but I can’t find the one person I was hoping to see in the crowd.
With the okay to go, I climb out of my truck and stand on the windowsill with my hands above my head. Camera flashes flicker as confetti and drinks shower around me. My team bombards me as I jump down, slapping my shoulder, congratulating me. Cale rushes in and bear hugs me, squeezing the shit out of me.
“Where’s Amelia?”
His expression wilts. “She wasn’t feeling well. Said she was going to head back to the motorcoach during first stage. She made me promise not to tell you so you could focus on racing.”
Wasn’t feeling well…
“Great job!” Norman claps my shoulder. “You’re ruling in points now. It’ll take a miracle for anyone to take away the championship.”
Ignoring him, I look back to Cale. “What do you mean she wasn’t feeling well?”
“She didn’t elaborate.”
“Probably overwhelmed since it’s her first race,” Norman adds.
“You got my phone?”
Norman tips his chin to everyone waiting behind me. “Your job first.” I don’t like the way that sounds, but he’s right.
Even though something feels off, I celebrate my victory with reporters, fans, and my team for another thirty minutes. Finishing with the last of my post-race interviews, I’m finally able to head to the bus and celebrate my victory with my wife. I grin ear to ear thinking about it.
Chuck’s waiting for me on the golf cart when Norman hands my phone to me. “Go celebrate with your wife. I bet she’s anxiously waiting for you.” His smile is fake.
The golf cart begins to move down the path when I check my phone. Immediately, my heart slams my chest. I’ve got five missed phone calls from her and a single text.
The Wife: Are you still racing?
It was sent over an hour ago.
Knowing I can get to the RV faster on foot than staying on the golf cart track, I jump off and run to the bus. I fling the door open and spring up the stairs.
“Amelia?” I call out but am met with cold silence.
I rush into the bedroom to find it empty when suddenly there’s a pounding on the door seconds before Cale enters. The victory is no longer on his face. Instead, he’s saturated with affliction.
“
Declan…” His tone causes my stomach to drop and my body to tense.
A man and a woman stand just outside, the man rubbing the woman’s arm as she wipes away tears that are falling down her cheeks.
“She flagged me down. Said Amelia didn’t look good and passed out. She left by ambulance.”
My blood runs cold.
“I need a car,” I bark out, but no one moves. “I need a fucking car!” I shout, shoving past Cale and storming outside where Chuck is just now pulling up. “I need to go to the hospital.”
* * *
Amelia’s back is toward me when I rush into the room. She’s curled onto her side, staring blankly at the chair.
“Baby,” I don’t try to conceal my worry.
“I…” she chokes. “I lost the baby.”
The sound of my heart shattering melds with her sobs. I climb into the bed, wrapping my arms around her, and hold her as her body shakes. I don’t have the words. I don’t know what the fuck to say. Tears burn my eyes and I tighten my grip on her.
“I’m sorry,” she cries, and it crumbles me. “I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault,” I whisper against the back of her head and press a kiss to her.
The room falls quiet except the sounds of her sobs. I don’t know how long we stay like this, but it’s long after her cries subdue, and she falls asleep.
TWENTY-TWO
It’s been three days since Amelia was released from the hospital and I brought her back to the motorcoach. She’s been distant, mostly holed up in the bedroom and barely saying much. But when she breaks, she lets me hold her. I’ve been trying to be strong for her, trying to be her rock. I don’t let her see my weak moments when I’m left to my thoughts. I haven’t seen her smile or the twinkle in her eyes in days. They’re dull and it breaks me to not know how to handle this. To fix it.
Normally she watches out the window and takes in all the new sights as we travel, but the entire way to Texas Motor Speedway, she never lifted her head from the couch where she stayed curled up against me.
Thankfully, today I don’t have many obligations and I’ll be done early. I’m determined to get her mind off life, even if it’s for a little bit.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” I kiss the side of her head. “There are a few phenomenal restaurants close by. I’d like to take you to get something to eat later.” Fuck the rules. I’m leaving the track today to put a smile on my wife’s face through dark times.
She blinks, as if she’s coming back to reality, and then shakes her head in disagreement.
I squat in front of her, taking her hand in mine. “Baby. We need to get some fresh air before the walls close in on us. Please let me take you out for dinner. Maybe something else after if you feel up to it.”
Tears fill her eyes and she finally looks to me. “I want to go home.” The anguish in her whisper breaks my heart.
“We can leave Sunday,” I tell her.
“Alone.”
The single word rips the air from my lungs. I flinch back. “I can come for a few days. Just let me—”
She jerks to her feet. “I said alone, Declan. I want to go home to my family alone.”
“Baby, I want to be there for you,” I say.
Fire bursts from her eyes and she burns me with a glower. Manically, she laughs. “You want to be with me? Where were you when I was delivered the news? Where were you when I was alone bawling?” Her voice cracks and her tears fall. “Where were you for an hour as I dealt with the blow alone? I couldn’t get ahold of you. I was alone,” she cries out.
“Amelia. I didn’t know. The moment I found out, I rushed to the hospital.”
“What if I was home? How long would it have taken you then? Hours? Days? Who the hell knows, Declan.” My name drips from her mouth like venom. I step to her and she throws her hand up, stopping me. “Leave me alone.”
“Amelia…” I plead gently. “I want to be there for you. We can get through this together.”
The tears stream down her cheeks. “No. I don’t think so.” She shuts the bedroom door without looking back.
* * *
I cut my day early, unable to think straight or be of any use. As I step into the RV, it feels off…empty. Her suitcase is gone. Her clothes are missing from the closet and drawer. She is gone. On the end of the bed is a note and the necklace with her wedding band placed on top of it.
I’m going home where I don’t feel nearly as alone as I do with you.
It’s over. We had our fun.
Shit.
Pain slices open my chest and rips out my heart. I sit on the edge of the bed, raking my hands over my face and through my hair when the door opens. Hope springs me to my feet. Maybe she changed her mind, but it diminishes the moment Chuck steps in with a sullen expression.
“I saw her get a ride from one of the event staff. By the time I caught up with them, she was getting into a cab.”
Gritting my teeth, I exhale through my nose.
He clears his throat. “She, uh. She stopped short when she saw me. I tried talking to her, but she wasn’t hearing it.”
“I should’ve been there for her,” I voice my thoughts.
“Sometimes things happen that are out of our control. We can’t always be there for everyone, not even for the most important things. Don’t think you’re the only man who wasn’t there when his wife miscarried. Think of the men serving our country. They miss a hell of a lot. People miss things, Declan. You can’t beat yourself up over this. You live through it, learn from it, and heal.”
Blankly, I shake my head. “She doesn’t want me in her life.”
“She’s hurt. She just lost her baby.”
“We just lost our baby,” I correct him, anger stinging my voice. Or maybe pain…
“Everyone heals in their own way. The track has always been your therapy. What does she have here? She’s alone in your world.”
I drop to the couch and hang my head. “Yeah. I know.”
He claps my shoulder and squeezes. “Don’t give up. If she’s worth the fight, fight for her.”
* * *
I’m milking a beer when my phone rings. I snatch it up, hoping it’s Amelia letting me know she’s home. Instead, I’m staring at Milo’s name.
“What’s up, man?” he says when I answer.
“Watching time tick by,” I respond grimly.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
I open up to him, needing someone to unload on. A safe place to just…fucking feel. All my words tumble out as I spill them. How we were great, all the fun and good times we were having. The plans we had for us to tell her parents—a picture of the ultrasound with “Grandma & Grandpa” on matching coffee mugs. And then how shit hit the fan. How I wasn’t there for her, pouring out all the guilt that’s been eating away at my soul. How she left me…
“You love her, right?”
“Yeah,” I admit.
“Then why aren’t you on a plane chasing after her? Why the fuck are you sitting there twiddling your thumbs? Call in Jeremy to cover your next race and get the fuck to Alabama.”
Those thoughts have crossed my mind, but… “She made it clear she doesn’t want to be with me. She wants to be alone and I can’t blame her. I’m her husband, boyfriend—whatever the fuck I am—and I wasn’t there. I failed her miserably.”
“And you’re going to sit there and mope about it instead of trying to fix it? Instead of trying to help her deal with the pain?”
I say nothing.
“When you hit the back of the pack because of a penalty, what do you do? Give up? Drive back to the pits and cry about it?”
“Fuck no,” I snap.
“Run her down, D.”
TWENTY-THREE
As soon as I got home, I went straight to my parents’ house and came clean about everything. The wedding. The pregnancy. The miscarriage. I hated the sympathy in Mom’s eyes and loathed the disappointment in Dad’s, but they didn’t ream me as I expecte
d. Instead, Mom held me as I bawled while Dad rubbed my back. Kirsten was pissed for about ten minutes for not calling her when I was in the hospital, swearing she would’ve been on the first plane out, but her anger subsided to heartbreak and she hasn’t left my side since. She packed a bag and is staying with me in my guest room. I’m okay with that because even though I said I wanted to be alone, I need my friends and family.
Declan has tried calling and texting, but I won’t answer. I haven’t listened to any of the voicemails because I don’t want to hear his voice. It’ll only remind me that he isn’t here now and wasn’t there then. I’m trying to get the hell over it, not wish for things to change that can’t.
“What’re your plans this morning?” Kirsten sips her coffee, her hip propped up on the counter.
I lift a shoulder. “I’m thinking about going to that new coffee shop downtown. Maybe after that head to the gym. Clean the house. I don’t know,” I deflate. “I have a ton of time to do whatever since Dad doesn’t want me working yet. I came back here to fall back into my routine, help get things off my mind and move on.” My bitterness shows face. “I can’t if no one lets me.”
She rubs my arm. “Dealing with it helps, Mel. Your dad is only trying to help.” I hate the sadness in her voice. I hate the pity in everyone’s eyes. I hate this. All of it. “That dance studio downtown opened up a few months ago. They have dance classes. From what I hear, the new one is hip-hop. We should take it. Show up and be the best students because we all know our asses shake better than anyone else in the town. Want to go check it out when I get off?”
“Yeah. Sure.” I offer a smile even though I really don’t care to do it.
She hugs me. “Deal. Meet me the restaurant at four and we’ll head there.”
Once she’s gone and I have the house to myself, I’m left with my thoughts, the empty feeling, and a need to get the hell out of here. I’m in my room changing when there’s a knock on the door. Mom has threatened to bring breakfast and lunch and I smile thinking about her homemade biscuits and gravy. They’re the best.