by Stahl, Shey
With the pressure put upon drivers now, we had little time for personal relationships.
Sure other drivers were married and had girlfriends but they also traveled with them and were able to maintain a sense of normalcy that we wouldn’t have. I wasn’t in the position to offer her that and with the track she wasn’t in the position to give that up.
So where would that leave us?
I had no answers and didn’t have time to think of answers the day she left. I wasn’t even able to drive her to the airport because I had to leave her at the hotel that morning to catch a flight to Charlotte.
By Tuesday, I was like a zombie and had a day to myself before heading to Rockingham for the next race. At home, I had time to think or beat myself up, whatever way you want to look at it.
I heard my alarm going off that morning, knowing I had a team meeting to be at but I ignored it, hoping the awful buzzing would stop.
The sun was beating in through the window and my eyes squinted open painfully. Rubbing the grit from my eyes, I cracked my neck, relieving the pinching as my painfully throbbed.
I sat up slowly realizing that my phone was also ringing and I reached over to get it.
“Hello.” My voice was groggy.
“Where are you?” Alley demanded.
“Huh?” I looked over at the clock that flashed seven.
“Jameson, you are supposed to be at the shop this morning.”
“Oh, I don’t think I’ll make it.” I shook my head, still trying to wake up.
“Yes you will! Spencer is coming to get you.”
Before I could tell her no, she hung up on me. I scrambled to focus but I couldn’t.
I literally fell out of bed, hitting the floor in a heap of sheets. I was naked and my body felt like it was filled with lead. I couldn’t think or see straight. Probably because they only thing on my mind was Sway and the tears in her eyes when she left.
“Damn it.” I hit my head on the floor repeatedly. “Why does it have to be this way?”
I got up from the floor and stretched my muscles. The ache from my side was throbbing but I pushed past it and jumped in the shower. The bruises from some broken bones I suffered a few months back racing sprint cars were beginning to fade. Now if I could only get my feelings for Sway to fade.
I managed to make it to the team meeting an hour late, but I made it. Dad wasn’t too excited about me being late. After a few choice words, well yelling, he told me if I was late again he’d be taking it out of my pay.
I had the rest of the evening free and did what I always did to get my mind sedated; I drank.
Three hours later, I was sitting at the bar in my parent’s kitchen drowning my sorrows in a country song. I felt like a country song and then started to wonder who would sing it.
Staring through a whiskey glass, I saw the reflection of my brother walking back toward his room carrying Alley in his arms. I didn’t even bother to look up just grabbed a bottle off the table and popped a couple pills.
Squinting at the bottle I attempted to read the label. It was probably wise to know that the fuck I just took with whiskey.
Vicodin. Praise Jesus.
I need pain relief and lots of it.
Avoiding my thoughts, I turned the bottle around and read off the side effects out-loud. “Blurred vision...I’m okay with that...difficulty breathing...already had that...dizziness, drowsiness, mental/mood changes...hell, how is that any different from my usual personality?” I asked myself.
No one answered, so I answered myself. “It’s not any different...” I continued reading. “Severe allergic reaction may occur.” I squinted at the bottle. That did not sound okay with me. “Anxiety, fear, unusual tiredness.”
This shit wasn’t going to make me feel any better so I turned the bottle of whiskey around to see if it had side effects...none listed.
I gladly accepted the side effects though, anything was better than what I was feeling right now.
Emma pushed me off the chair when she walked into the kitchen. I didn’t bother to get up but tripped her as she walked by.
“You brought this upon yourself asshole.”
“Get out.” I rubbed my forehead.
“No, I live here too.” She sat down to annoy me some more. “Why are you so moppy?”
“Get out!” I roared and then calmed myself a little. My dad would skin me if he heard me yelling at Emma like that and I was sure he was somewhere within the huge house. “Please, just leave me alone.”
I think Emma knew me well enough to know when harassing me wasn’t a good idea and now was one of them.
I stared at my phone, wanting to call Sway, wanting to hear her voice.
Would she want me? Would she love me in the ways I loved her?
After the entire bottle was empty and I was searching the liquor cabinet for more, in walked Spencer.
He looked at me contemplatively, I think. I did just drink a fifth of whiskey, he could be flipping me off for all I know.
“You know,” he began and I groaned.
Why can’t people just leave me be?
“You can’t expect her to know how you feel if you don’t tell her.”
“I thought you were leaving for Rockingham tonight?” I growled slamming the cupboard door closed when I couldn’t find any more alcohol.
He shrugged taking a seat at the breakfast island. “No, I’m going with you and I’m hungry.”
I found another bottle of whiskey stashed above the fridge, pulled it out and dropped down next to him.
I pushed the bottle to him. “Here,”
“I said hungry,” he looked at the bottle of Vicodin. “Combining narcotics huh?”
“Fuck you.”
“I don’t get you.” He shook his head and took both my bottles away from me. “You fuck around for years avoiding what you feel for her. Then,” he emphasized this by throwing his hand in the air. “You finally pull your head out of your ass and realize you love her but you let her leave again.”
I slammed my fist down on the granite not wanting to hear the truth. My head fell forward. I’d barely admitted this to myself, why would I want to hear someone else say it?
“You told me too.” I pointed out trying to emphasize he aided in my sleeping around.
“I didn’t think you’d listen!”
“Fuck you Spencer.” I ripped both bottles from his hands and stumbled to my room.
I couldn’t feel much of anything within an hour so I guess the intended use worked.
I knew I loved her, took me long enough to discover that but how could I actually have her?
I could cut the strings and let her go, let her have the life she deserved with a man that could provide her that.
It was a good idea except it didn’t give me her and it was impossible for me because letting go was not an option.
What else was I going to do, tell her how I felt?
Nope. That would be far too easy but the hardest part would be hearing she didn’t feel the same. It also goes back to finding the right words to say. I usually never faltered for words but with her, when everything depended on those words, I couldn’t form them.
The next morning Tommy stopped by, he was going to Rockingham with us and then back to Elma for a few weeks. I wasn’t in the best mood, I did drink a little, okay a lot but that wasn’t why. I still had no clue what I should do. I was sick of feeling like this.
For a guy who had been so vigilant on one mission for so long, I was thrown a curve ball with this newfound discovery that me, Jameson Riley, loved someone. That someone wasn’t just anyone either, she was my best friend.
“Did you change out the coil springs in Justin’s car for the torsion bars?”
“Yeah, I changed the gears too.”
Tommy tried to get me to talk but I remained silent most of the morning as we loaded the sprint cars for Greg West, the driver of the transporter for my sprint car team. Once that was finished, we had about four hours before we had
to leave. The nice thing about the next race being in North Caroline was that we didn’t need to fly.
“You know,” Tommy began, kicking my leg as I slumped on the couch in the race shop. “I’m tired of you being so stubborn.”
“I’ll be sure to drop you comment in the I-don’t-give-a-fuck pile later.”
“That’s harsh.”
“It was meant to be harsh.”
He dropped down beside me on the couch. “I’d offer you a beer but I think you had enough to drink last night.”
I was silent so he kept talking. Tommy never knew when to shut up. “Did you talk to her last night?”
I shook my head. “I fucked up Tommy. I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Let’s go fishing.”
“What? Why? I don’t fish.” How this had anything to do with my problem was what I wanted to know.
Tommy jumped up from the couch. “Well when my dad said he fucked up with my mom, we went fishing so he could think.
Not understanding his logic, we went fishing until we had to leave.
Tommy being Tommy didn’t allow me to think, he talked the entire time.
“If you don’t stop talking, I will throw you out of this goddamn boat.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Saying what? You’re not making any sense and I thought I was supposed to be thinking.”
“We are.”
“No, you’re talking. I’m listening. Well not really.” I dangled my fishing pole in the water but I had yet to catch anything and doubted I would. I knew nothing about fishing. Honesty, the sport seemed boring to me. To fish you needed patience, patience I didn’t have.
“Well then think...I shouldn’t have to tell you to think.”
“Stop talking.”
I did think a little but it just confused me more. I had no idea how to tell her what changed in me and I wanted more from her. Could I ask for more but still remain friends with her?
I wanted to know that if I couldn’t have her in all the ways I wanted, that I could at least have her in some way, the only way I thought she wanted me, and that was physically. It would be ideal. We wouldn’t have worry about all the hassles of a relationship that neither of us had time for.
23. Grid – Jameson
Grid – The starting order of cars, as determined by qualifying position. The cars line up on pit road prior to the race in qualifying order; this is referred to as the grid.
In racing, I honestly believe there comes a point in your career where everything changes. People stop seeing you for you and start seeing a NASCAR driver. From that point on, nothing is the same and everything you thought you knew about fame, was nothing at all.
That was the feeling I got when I arrived in Rockingham North Carolina.
And I will say that was also the point when I stopped and thought is this what I wanted?
The answer was absolutely. I had no doubt I wanted this. I wanted to be the best racer I could be and I was on my way to that. I could see the light.
I still had no idea what I wanted out of my personal life but all signs pointed to Sway in some form or another. Telling her would be the hard part and wasn’t something I could do over the phone. When we spoke on the phone, I never led her to believe anything had changed. This wasn’t something you tell someone over the phone or in a text. What would it say, “Oh and by the way, I love you more than anything. Can we just have sex and remain friends because I’m a dumbass and can only offer you that?”
Yeah, I wasn’t about to say that over the phone.
So instead, I focused on what was important, my career. It wasn’t hard to do either, everywhere I looked, someone was pulling me in a different direction.
That week was my second start in a cup race and I loved the track. Rockingham Raceway, nicknamed the Rock, is located in Rockingham North Carolina. It is a one-mile oval track with twenty-two degree banking in turns one and two and twenty-five degree banking in turns three and four.
Back in January, we tested for two days here so I knew a little about what to expect but testing is different than a race.
I qualified for the pole and set fast time in both practice sessions. In happy hour, I raced in race-trim and wasn’t surprised that the car was awesome. I could drive in hard and the car wouldn’t slip.
By the time race day arrived, I couldn’t wait for the race but I was a little apprehensive that Doug Dunham was starting on the outside of me.
The pressure put upon drivers to win is tremendous and I knew Doug was feeling that. The longer they go without a win, the more rattled they become with shoddy performances. This is reflected in their driving. Usually where a driver would say, “Nah, that’s just not worth it,” when trying to make a hole where there isn’t one, Doug made them.
I was confident in the power with my beast that once the green flag dropped my car was up to the challenge.
You always hear people talk about their first cup career win. They remember everything about the win to when pit stops were to who they passed and years later, can recount them just the same as they did that day.
I can’t say the same. I was all over the map emotionally in that race. I fought Doug hard to pass him and then Andy Crockett was up in the mix for a while as was Tate and Bobby but like I said, that car was awesome.
By the time there was ten laps to go I had a two-second lead over Tate and was feeling like I was about to win my first race.
When the checkered flag waved and I did win, I was silent. I didn’t know what to say. I had just won my first Winston Cup race, on my second start. Fortunately, for me, I was in the car with a helmet over my face so no one could see the emotion I was feeling.
Not only was there a point when you realize nothing will ever be the same but there is also a point when you think to yourself, “I can do this.”
You know you’re different.
Every professional anything whether you are a race car driver, basketball player, football player...you realize at some point in your life that you’re different and have something more to offer.
I always knew I could do it and that I had talent when it came to racing but after Rockingham, it became real because not only had I moved from one series to the next but I’d won in different divisions now.
All doubts I had about this being what I was meant to do, vanished with that win. Here I was a dirt track racer from the Northwest and I won a NASCAR Winston Cup race, on my second race. I knew I was different.
I had an understanding for the way things worked with a win and the post-race activities from the Busch series. It was fairly similar with cup.
By the time I left the track and was able to grab some food, I was exhausted and not up for any company. Alas, Spencer, Aiden and Tommy went with me. I was okay with that but I wasn’t okay with Spencer’s behavior that night.
I wasn’t paying attention to what was going on around me as I was busy texting Sway.
I read her last one before looking up. I’m so proud of you!
Aiden nudged my shoulder. “It was nice meeting Sway last week.” His blush said it all.
Sway and Aiden met in Daytona and Sway’s way of introducing herself to him was asking if his carpet matched the drapes. Aiden had this rich golden blonde hair that you would think belonged on Malibu Barbie, not a country boy from Alabama. Sway also asked Tommy this when she first met him as well. Although back then, we were only thirteen when we met Tommy, it sounded funny coming from a thirteen year old girl, but that was Sway. She could make any man blush if needed. It’s an acquired skill and she had it mastered.
Smiling, I took interest in the commotion at the table. As you know, Spencer was into playing practical jokes on everyone. As usual, I was his target this time.
My newfound fame, was also that target. I don’t know how many times we’d walk into a restaurant and we’d be quietly enjoying our meals when my model citizen of a brother would stand up in his chair and shout: “Hey look, it’s Jameson Riley.”
I just won a race that most of these bystanders had watched. This wasn’t the ideal situation for a number of reasons. I didn’t joy the herding fans, I hated attention and I was fucking hungry. Leave it to Spencer to ruin my evening.
“Spencer,” I seethed. “You better run for your motherfucking life!”
This did nothing to Spencer, who relished in finding new innovative ways to annoy me. He zoned in on his newest clever trick that I was sure wasn’t good.
About the time I was ready to kill my brother, Spencer started playing with our food. And I don’t mean, “random touching” sort of playing. I mean, four-year-old playing.
Taking a French fry, he scooped two fries from Lane’s plate into each one of his hands. He then bit the top of one fry away creating a height separation between the two.
Walking the taller fry across the table toward the shorter fry, he started speaking in a high-pitched “girl” voice, but with a stupid cartoonish accent.
“Oh Jameson! You’re so sexy and delicious and I was just wondering if you could check my oil!”
Then he lowered his voice to a low rasp, wiggling the taller fry back and forth.
“Oh honey, I’ll check your oil and your bearing alignment. You know, whatever it is us racers do.”
He was putting on a play.
About me and Sway.
With French fries.
Spencer knew I had a thing for Sway and it was frequently becoming a point of interest for him, or target I guess you could say.
“Oh Jameson,” he wiggled the short fry. “I just love your hair! It’s so messy, and hot. It looks like it just got fucked by a room full of monkeys. Hey, are you, like, huge? You know...in the camshaft area? I’ve always wondered...”
My dad, who was seated next to me angled his body away from us as though he was trying to get away. I wanted to do the same but instead my eyes were drawn to the play before me wondering what would happen next.
The taller fry stood taller, if a fry can do that.
“Sway, you’re so hot. Maybe one day I’ll be able to talk to you and we can figure out that we’re fucking perfect for each other. Then I can finally stop speed bleeding over you and we can do some micro polishing. Maybe even do some align boring?”