by J. Lea
“Jake…” she says quietly. “Maybe this time, but what about next time? Next time, you may not be as lucky.”
“What are you saying?” My head is pounding, the result of the throbbing pain in my hand, fatigue, and her words.
“Look, I would never force you to choose between me and motorcycling, I know how much motorcycling means to you. That’s why I made the decision that it’s best if we part ways. I can’t handle this pressure, and this confusion in my head anymore. I’m going crazy worrying about you, just waiting for someone to call and tell me I’ve lost you, too. That can’t happen. My heart could not handle it.”
Her words cut like a knife. “Babe, you haven’t lost me. I’m still here. Why are you doing this to us?”
“Please, let me finish. It’s really difficult for me to say this. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but this accident reminded me why I made a promise to myself that I’ll never again date a motorcyclist. I think it’s time to listen to myself. Goodbye, Jake, and good luck with your racing. I love you, I will always love you, but I just can’t live in this constant fear anymore.”
I drop my head in shock, and listen to her cry. I don’t want to lose her, but on the other hand, I’m angry she gave up on us so easily.
“You can’t tell me you love me, and then break up with me in the same breath,” I say angrily. “You can’t do this to us. I need you. I won’t let you run away from us just because you’re scared.”
“Jake, please, don’t make things harder than they already are. Motorcycling is what you need, what you breathe. You’re meant to do this.”
“No!” I shout into the phone, then put myself together and calm my voice. “I won’t surrender just like that, and give up on us. I love you, too. Have you thought about what you’re doing to me? I finally found the right girl, in every sense of the word. I know you feel the same about me. You can’t…” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “We have to talk in person. I’m flying home right after the race on Sunday.”
“Jake, goodbye,” is all I hear before she hangs up on me. I kick the locker in front of me angrily. I want to throw my phone in the wall, but I would then have to buy a new one, and I don’t have time for that so I stop myself.
“Fuck,” I yell before I head to my trailer to watch the footage of my training and make an analysis.
When I get there and turn on the TV, the news is on, and there’s the footage of my fall and the interview right after the accident.
At the training before the qualifications, Jake Burns has injured a wrist when he lost control over his bike, and ended up on the abrasive sand by the track. Luckily, he escaped any major injuries.
The next shot is of me: “I know why I fell, it was completely my fault. I hit the brakes too soon on my second turn where the green rug was laid, which was soaked wet from rain the day before. I didn’t react correctly, and skidded off the track. I’ve learned from my mistake, and believe me this’ll never happen again.”
~ * ~
Ella and I had a terrible fight earlier, or if I use her words, we broke up. But in this moment, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. I’m on the other side of the world, which is frustrating as hell. I’ve been up the whole night, thinking about what she said. I know it must be horrible for her not to know what’s going on with me, and if I’m okay. I also know that there are many factors that added to why she reacted this way, not just because of my accident earlier today. The constant attention of the press doesn’t help either. She must constantly put up with nasty remarks from jealous, vicious women.
I turn to the other side, moaning because my wrist still hurts like hell. I try to go to sleep, at least for an hour, so I can be more rested as I have a very important race tomorrow. It feels like only a second since I’ve closed my eyes, and the alarm clock is already ringing. I groan sleepily, and fumble for the clock to turn it off. I sit on the edge of the bed, and rub my eyes. I reach for my phone, checking if Ella has called or left any messages.
Nothing. Not a damn thing.
“Shit,” I curse, and stumble toward the bathroom. I’m going to call her after the race. We have a lot of things to clear up. I have a few days off after the race, and I’ll go back home as I promised her. It’s killing me not to hear her velvety voice and her beautiful laughter. Perhaps, if we patch things up, I can convince her to join me at my next race. But right now, I have to put this aside, and focus solely on today’s very important race.
There were a few quick showers this weekend, but otherwise the weather held up. Currently, the sky is cloudy, it’s cold and a bit windy. We’ve just been informed about the temperature of the asphalt, which is lower than it’s ideal for racing, but the weather should be nice, dry, and with the occasional patch of sun. The temperature is 69 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m sitting in a spinning chair, wearing my leathers, and a baseball hat on my head. I’m listening to the last instructions before the race. I fix the sleeve of my leathers and breathe deeply. I got a shot for the pain earlier, and I’m feeling slightly better. I don’t feel the annoying pain anymore, and my wrist is mobile. I’m nervous, but it has less to do with the race, and more with Ella. I can’t stop thinking about her, about what she said. There are some stage nerves, which I welcome, because it helps me perform better. The members of press are walking around, and, smiling, I wave at some camera pointed at me.
The area around the track is full of people, from paddock girls to television crews and teams competing. I’m sitting on my bike with one of the paddock girls holding an umbrella above my head. It’s still cloudy, but the sun is starting to show here and there. They said it’s going to be a dry race, so I have slick tires on my bike. I pray the weather is going to hold up for another hour. I’m wearing sunglasses, and listening to my favorite song on my earphones. But it’s not as uplifting today as it usually is because Ella is constantly on my mind. Not just today, since Friday. I see people are starting to clear the track. Everybody heads to their designated places. It’s time for a warm-up lap. One by one, we start our motorcycles, I do a few zigzags to warm up the tires, and go around the track back to the grid. I had the quickest lap in qualifying, so I’m starting from the pole position again. My hands are gripping the handlebars, hard. I’m watching the red lights intently. As soon as they go out, I’m already on the track, and leave my competitors in the dust. Three laps in, I still am in the lead, but I hear a fellow racer breathing down my neck, trying to overtake me. I round the turns successfully, but I could ride better. I’m making too many small mistakes that could cost me dearly in the end. We’re on our fifteenth lap, and I notice a raindrop on my visor. I curse quietly. In front of me, I see a white flag being waved at the flag marshal post, which means we are allowed to change our bikes - the race has just turned into a wet one, but I decide to ride with this one few more laps. The track doesn’t look too wet yet. The majority of the riders pull into the pits and change machines, and yet, I still hold on to the hope that it won’t start raining harder than it is. On our twentieth lap, it starts pouring. I can feel the tires of my bike skidding from underneath me, but I manage to maintain the balance. I’m still in the lead. When I go into the left corner, my bike goes into a skid as I hit the curb at an awkward angle. I try to find the balance again, but I don’t succeed. I’m thrown over the motorcycle, and I crash to the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I see my bike sliding toward me full speed. There is no way I can move before it hits me. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins, and I widen my eyes as I extend my hands in defense in front of me. The next moment I feel the motorcycle collide with me. The impact is so severe, I’m instantly enveloped in darkness.
Ella
Even though I told Jake it’s over between us, I’m kicking myself for being so stupid. I finally love someone with all my heart, and in moment of selfishness, I broke things off. Yes, I was only thinking about myself, and the pain I felt when Josh died. So I broke up with him, instead of having to go through something s
imilar again. I didn’t even take his feelings into account. I know he loves me, he has showed it to me a million times, but I let my fear of loss overpower our love for each other, and now I’m regretting it. I should’ve ignored the feelings that overwhelmed me when Jake had an accident and put my fear aside. It has been two days since I told him to live his dreams and forget about me. Two long days. I’m sitting on my couch, eating ice cream from the container, and waiting for the beginning of the French Grand Prix to start. I’m listening to the commentators that are talking while waiting for the race to begin.
“As you have probably heard, Jake Burns suffered a wrist injury at practice two days ago. The injury is still causing him trouble, but we have been informed he received a shot for the pain, and will be able to race today,” the first one says.
“Yes, we’ll see how today will turn out for him, if his string of victories will break or if he’ll manage to bring in yet another win,” the second one responds. I ignore them and focus my intention on the riders, who are already on the track. I spot Jake, he seems fully concentrated on the race, determined and confident. After the warm-up lap, the race starts, and he’s already in the lead. I’m so proud of him. A few laps before the end, I notice everybody changes their bikes, but Jake still rides the same one.
“Jake, what are you doing?” I murmur. I’m a little worried about him, but he’s a professional, he knows what he’s doing. Not long after, his bike starts skidding weirdly. My breath hitches in my throat as I watch him try to stabilize the bike. But he can’t, and he’s thrown high up over the handlebars of his bike and lands on the ground. The motorcycle is sliding quickly toward him. Putting my hand over my mouth, I stand up and watch the collision. I don’t wait long—the next second, the bike slams into him with full force, and they slide toward the barrier.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” I chant, my hands over my mouth. “No, Jake, not again.” The cameras show two ambulances driving toward Jake. He’s still lying on the ground, motionless, and a big crowd of people has gathered around him. They put a neck brace on him, and lift him into a stretcher. The ambulance drives off, and I’m overwhelmed with the familiar feeling of loss again, as if the half of my heart, the one that was beating for Jake, has stopped beating. Panicking, I call Sophie. She books a flight to France for us immediately. I need to see him, to make sure he’s all right, if that’s the last thing I do. I let Sophie arrange everything. I’m not capable of anything in this moment.
Late next day, we are landing in France. Mike told me which hospital Jake was taken to, and we take a taxi there as soon as we find one at the airport. I don’t know how Jake is doing, as I haven’t heard anything from Mike since we spoke yesterday. I don’t know anyone else who could tell me anything so I’m completely in the dark, scared and crushed.
“Sophie, let’s stop for a moment,” I tell my friend, as we are about to enter the hospital. I need a minute to take some deep breaths. “He’s going to be okay. Tell me he’s going to be okay because I won’t be able to survive another loss.” Sophie hugs me comfortingly, tucks my hair behind my ears, and gently tilts my chin up with her hand.
“I’m sure he’s okay, but if we don’t go in, we won’t know for sure. Come.” She grabs my hand, and I nod to her. She takes me to the reception area where she asks about Jake, but nobody understands her. They start saying something in French, and I start panicking. What if he’s not okay? What if Mike didn’t call because he’s grieving after him? Suddenly feeling nauseated, my head spins, and I stagger into the wall.
“Are you feeling okay?” Sophie asks worriedly, and I shake my head.
“I just want to see Jake.” I notice Debbie walking down the hall with the corner of my eye, holding two cups of coffee in her hands. I run to her, Sophie right on my heels. “Debbie,” I yell, and as she disappears around the corner, she turns around in surprise.
“Ella? Sophie? You’re here.” She looks pleasantly surprised to see us, and gives us an awkward hug while juggling her coffees.
“How is Jake? Please, tell me he’s going to be fine,” I wipe the tear that rolls down my cheek. Smiling gently, she nods.
“He received a massive blow to the head, but otherwise he’s going to be okay.” Relief washes over me, and I have to sit down for a second, as my legs are too weak to carry me. “Do you want to go in and see him?” she asks us. I quickly nod. She takes us to his room, and I hesitate before entering.
“Go on. I’ll wait for you here,” Sophie says.
“Are you sure?” She smiles and nods. “Go get your man back,” she winks.
When I step inside, I notice it’s very bright, with only one bed in it—and it’s empty. Wrinkling my forehead, I look around. Suddenly, the door in the corner of the room opens. Jake walks out, pushing his IV pole in front of him. His head is bowed so he doesn’t see me right away. My breath catches, and I freeze in the spot. When he raises his head and our eyes meet, his eyes widen in shock. Tears start streaming down my cheeks. Tears of happiness and relief that he’s okay.
“Jake…” I hesitantly extend my arm to touch him, but he’s out of my reach.
“Ella? What are you doing here?” he exclaims in surprise.
“I needed to see you, to make sure you are okay. After I saw you…” My throat chokes with emotions, and I can’t speak. I cover my face with my hands, and before I know it, he removes them off my face. “I’m sorry. I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I couldn’t help myself,” I sniff, and wipe my nose into my sleeve.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” he says, causing me to blink a few times. “You’re not the last person I want to see, but the only one I want by my side right now. I love you. I know you didn’t mean it when you said you’re breaking up with me.” He wipes my tears with his thumb.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “If I hadn’t been such a frightened mess and pushed you away, none of this would have happened. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.” He squeezes me tightly in his arms.
“Shhh, none of this is your fault. It’s not your fault it was raining. It’s not your fault I didn’t change bikes, and it’s not your fault I fell. These things happen. Do you understand?” His hands are on my cheeks, and he’s looking straight into my eyes.
I nod. “You need to go back in bed, you must be feeling weak.” I feel bad for being the reason he’s standing up, and I walk to his bed.
“Now that you’re here, I’m feeling much better,” he assures me, and kisses my forehead before lying down, and patting the empty space next to him. I hesitate, but he says: “Ella, lie down next to me. I don’t want any excuses.” Biting my lip, I finally join him. I turn on my side, facing him, and put my hand on his chest. “This is everything I need—your warm body next to mine. Nothing is better than this.” He places a kiss on my forehead, and we’re lying quietly for some time. I notice he has fallen asleep, so I cuddle into his side, and listen to the steady beating of his heart. Suddenly, the door opens, and an older couple barges in. They look at me in surprise, and I jump out of bed.
“Who are you?” the woman says sharply. She examines me from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” Shocked, I open my mouth and close them again, swallow hard and collect myself. I extend my hand toward her.
“My name is Ella. I came to visit Jake.” They don’t shake my hand, only push me away from the bed, and move to stand by the bed.
“Well, you saw him, now you can leave. I’d like to be with my son without some groupie hanging around.” As I realize who these people are, my eyes widen in surprise. I never imagined meeting Jake’s parents under these circumstances, especially looking like hell—with eyes red and puffy from crying, messy hair, and old clothes. I must look terrible.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just wanted to see Jake.”
“Goodbye,” his mother says, curtly, and sits down in a chair by Jake’s bed. I walk to the door with my head down. What do I do now? Should I just go back home? I don’
t want to leave yet. Just as I grab the door handle, I hear Jake’s booming voice:
“Ella, don’t you dare leave. Come here.” I stop in my tracks, and turn my head to him, when he starts getting up.
“Jake, what are you doing?” His mother is worried. “You need to rest.” Jake ignores her, and gets out of the bed. His blue and grey eyes are watching me intently, and he grabs my hand and takes me to his parents. He firmly says:
“This is Ella, and she isn’t going anywhere. She’s staying here with me.” I hear his mom gasp, right before she covers her mouth with her hand. Eyes averted to the floor, I take a step back to hide behind Jake, but he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me in front of him. “Ella, these are my folks, Mary and Jeff Burns.” I don’t know whether to offer my hand in greeting again, or just stand there and wait for them to say something. I go with the latter.
“Jake, you can’t be serious,” his mother’s voice rises. His father is still standing on the other side of the bed silently. She whispers something in Jake’s ear, just loud enough for me to hear what she’s saying. “After all Liz put you through… Are you sure she isn’t just playing you? Do you know her well enough? Just look at her…” I look down at my old sweats and stretched out T-shirt. I obviously look even worse than I thought, but my clothes weren’t a priority when all I was worried about was Jake.
“I’m looking at her, Mom, and I like what I see.”
“Jake, I think it’s best if I go, and let you talk with your family in private.”
“She’s right, Jake,” his mom says, and Jake angrily cuts her off.
“Ella, you’re not going anywhere. Mom, what’s the matter with you? Why are you acting so strange?”
“Jake, honey, I know you’re not blind. Don’t you see history repeating itself? It’s the incident with Liz all over again. Open your eyes.” Who the hell is Liz? I make a mental note to ask him about her later.