The Legend: The Love of Ryan Sumpter

by Samuelson, Philip

  After we got out of the shower, she took out one of our extra large towels and wrapped it around both of us. Like a couple of kids, we shimmied to the bed and laid down together. We kissed a couple times and she dug her head into my chest. Another sign from her that I knew very well. She wanted me to protect her. Loving Mary-Margaret wasn't enough sometimes. I had to protect her, guide her, be strong for her. She was very worried, very disconnected from herself at that moment. I didn't quite know why though. I knew I had worried her a lot that day and I wasn't proud of the man I had been recently, but why was she needing so much protection? Did she think I was pulling away? Or was she pulling away and desperately asking me to draw her back in? At least for the time being, we were connected again. And that was nice. My goal was to make sure we didn't fall apart again.

  Speedweeks came and went, and the morning after the race, we were hit with news that scattered our focus again. Hermann had driven all the way down from Reece City to Daytona overnight to deliver the news.

  I let Hermann in the room and he quickly put his arms around Mary-Margaret.

  “Hermann, what's wrong?” she asked him.

  “Your mother, dear. She passed on last night.”

  Mary-Margaret released Hermann and looked him in the eye. She was in such pain, it's indescribable. Mary-Margaret was not all that close to her mother after everything they'd been through, but it was still her mother. It took about sixty seconds for the news to land on Mary-Margaret. She crippled to the ground in tears. She was dead weight. All Hermann and I could do was aid her to the floor so she didn't get hurt. I held her as closely as I could. It wasn't much comfort to her though, she was in an awful lot of pain.

  The next two weeks were rough on Mary-Margaret. Ayrton, Chase and I helped her clean up the house and prepare it for the funeral reception. Her mother knew a lot of people, so it was going to be a big gathering and a long one for Mary-Margaret. I was nothing more than the man by her side through it all.

  The timing of the death was probably the worst part. At the end of February, Mary-Margaret had a photoshoot to do for some kind of southern magazine. She and her foundation were being featured because she had started a partnership with a wedding company. That company was going to be donating a portion of all sales to Mary-Margaret's foundation, which was a huge draw for her. It was a big step forward in her career, but this modelling gig was a vital part of it. She was going to be modelling wedding dresses for the company to showcase in the magazine.

  She hadn't ever modelled before. She had all the style and grace to do it. I knew she would be great. I was there for emotional support. Despite our busy racing schedule, there was nowhere else I would have been but at that shoot with her.

  Mary-Margaret was struggling with the gig. I could hear the photographer and his assistants criticizing her behind the camera. I got away from all the equipment so she could see me clearly. I got her attention and started talking to her. At first, the people on the set were angry with me. But once they noticed how Mary started to loosen up, they changed their tone. The photographer got some great shots after that, but one of them, to me, was one of those iconic shots. It wasn't used in the magazine, but the photographer had it printed and mailed it to me a month later. I never lost track of that photo.

  The rest of that year, Mary-Margaret and I were again very disconnected. She rushed around far more than normal, she buried herself in work. For the better part of the year, I didn't even see her. She still attended every race, she smiled at me and kissed me after each one. But some of the races, she took off right after our ceremonial hug and kiss without so much as a goodbye.

  Ayrton and Chase both expressed concerns to me about Mary-Margaret that year. She was burning herself out. Pretty soon, we all knew there wasn't going to be much left of her. Especially knowing her heart condition, I legitimately feared for her. It was like she was burning through the pavement anywhere she walked. I knew what she was doing. She was trying to escape the pain. I didn't know what I could do for her. Did she want me to stop her? Slow her down? Ask her questions about what was going on?

  I think I chose incorrectly.

  It was just days before the annual team Christmas party. After our 5th straight top level stock car title, the party promised to be a big one. For the first year ever, we weren't at the SoCal Beach House for the party. Ayrton and Chase loved snowboarding so much that they wanted a pad as a stronghold in the middle of boarding country, Big Sky Montana. They found a $4M house on Cottonwood Ave in western Bozeman for sale and bought it. We moved in at the beginning of December and already had the place pimped out and prepared for the festivities.

  Ayrton, Chase, Seratti, and I were all in the living area waiting for Mary-Margaret to emerge from her morning routine. It took about an hour (it used to take two...), but finally she came down the stairs.

  “Hey, what're y'all doing here?” she asked.

  “We're worried about you, Mary,” I told her.

  “What? Why?” she asked sharply.

  “You've been running yourself ragged and none of us can figure out what we should do to help,” Ayrton said.

  “Yeah, I mean we know your mother died and you've been going through hell. But working every second of every day isn't the answer,” Chase continued. I could see her growing more and more upset.

  “Mary, you've been willing to let me into your life as your best friend. I'm worried about you and what you're doing to yourself,” Seratti finished.

  Oh boy. Mary-Margaret was not happy. Not one bit. Very, very not happy. She glared at me. “Ryan, may I see you in the kitchen?”

  I followed her to the kitchen. She put her hand on the counter and flipped her hair as the turned to face me.

  “What is this all about?” she asked.

  “We are all worried about you. Honestly, we didn't know what to do about it,” I told her.

  “Ryan, you think I'm running nonstop because my mother is dead? I didn't even like her!”

  “You never told me anything that was going on. How was I supposed to know any better?” I returned.

  “Ask! Talk to me! Tell me what's going on in your life and let me be a part of it! Ryan, every time I try to connect with you, you shut down on me and let me figure everything out on my own! It feels like our relationship has been nothing more than a string of one night stands for the past two years!”

  Ouch.

  “I don't understand how I'm supposed to read your mind and realize all of that,” I said.

  “You noticed something was wrong, Ryan. You knew something wasn't right. Instead of just asking me about it, instead of talking to me, you conspired with your friends to figure out what was wrong with me. You should have been talking to me the whole time,” Mary-Margaret said. Her comments were met with frustrated silence.

  “I have to get going,” she continued.

  “Are you going to be back for the Christmas party?” I asked her.

  “It's not for three days.”

  “I realize this. But it doesn't seem like you want to be here right now.”

  “When my boyfriend treats me like this, you're right. I don't want to be here,” she said.

  “If that's the case, perhaps you should find somewhere else to stay.” Why the hell would I ever say that?

  She stared at me for a couple seconds. She was partially hurt, partially pissed, partially in disbelief. And like an idiot, I just kept the same stern expression. What the hell was wrong with me? How could I treat her, my Mary-Margaret, like this? I was being so selfishly stubborn and I didn’t care at all.

  She was gone. She didn't come back that night. Or the next. Or on Christmas Eve. Christmas Day came and we were preparing for the party that night. I didn't know if she was going to show. As upset as I was at myself, I was equally pissed that she was acting like this. I focused on the party. We had some announcements to make during it and I wanted to see those go smoothly. We had almost a hundred people showing up.

  “Excuse me! Pardon
. Thank you all for coming tonight. I'd like to wish everybody a Merry Christmas. You know, we do this every year, but this is the first year in Montana. New place, new traditions. While I don't expect this to become a tradition, I am very proud to announce two key additions to our team tonight,” I said as I pointed at Luis and Marco. “Luis Torres has been hired as our full time pilot, and Marco Valenzuela has been hired as our full time chef.”

  Just as I finished the speach and the applause rose, I saw Mary-Margaret standing at the back of the crowd. I gave the microphone to Chase and shoved my way past our guests to get to Mary-Margaret. After some struggle, I finally made it to the foyer where she was alone and waiting for me.

  “It's quite the party,” she said.

  “It's a waste of time without you here. Thank you for coming. It means a lot that you would,” I said. I wasn't sure if I should apologize or how this conversation was going to go.

  “I'm sorry I've been gone so long and I'm sorry about our argument. You were right, I need to be more open with you and tell you what I'm feeling,” she responded.

  Well that was easy. I didn't even have to apologize. She admitted fault. It was actually a great feeling, I thought I was right on this one. Many years later, I would find myself looking back on it wishing I had the benefit of my years of experience to know that I was dead wrong not to apologize to her as well, because I was just as much a part of the problem as she was. At the time, I would have promised you I was right. Like a stupid, arrogant man trying to lose everything I had, I was right.

  Mary-Margaret and I never really reconnected after that night. The next twelve months were very banal. The team won another championship, our sixth straight, but Mary-Margaret and I never found a stride. I didn't really know why though. She was always there for the race weekends. She stopped working quite so hard and wasn't burning out anymore. On paper, things should have been great. Instead, the entire year could be summed up with one story.

  It was just past 1 AM after what had been a great day. Mary-Margaret and I had gone to one of her society galas and as much as I hated working a room, she made it very easy that night. She had worn this ridiculously sexy red dress that made me want her all night. She clearly noticed and she led me to the restroom near the end of the night. She locked the door behind us, you can only imagine what happened after that. The poor faucet wasn’t straight by the time we were finished.

  Later that night, we were fast asleep in bed. Well, we should have been fast asleep. We were both awake. I was on the left side of the bed, she was on the right. This night was a silhouette of the type of night that had become far too common for us. We weren't touching. I remember we always used to make sure even on uncomfortable nights that we always had something touching, even if it was just our feet or a couple of toes.

  Nothing was touching that night. It was probably about the twentieth time that year it had happened. I could tell Mary-Margaret was crying. Sobbing, really. She was having one of those self-conscious moments when she was feeling insecure. I always made sure I stepped up during those times and made her feel safe.

  On that night, I did nothing.

  “Talk to me... Please talk to me,” Mary-Margaret asked.

  I closed my eyes to choke back my own tears. I could feel the space of the bed growing larger between us. I didn't say a word. I had made a lot of mistakes in my life. I knew I wasn't being the best version of myself for Mary-Margaret and she deserved better from me. But I didn't say a word.

  I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again as she repeated, this time bathed in tears – “Why won't you talk to me?”

  The next morning, Mary-Margaret and I met in the kitchen. We regularly showered together every morning, but after nights when we were disconnected, we wouldn't wake up together or shower together. Just like all of these days, I found my way to the kitchen and there she was.

  “Hey, is everything okay?” I asked her. The same routine.

  “Huh? Of course,” she said as I kissed her on the cheek. I always assumed this was enough. I showed that I cared by asking if she was okay, and then I just walked away.

  Not saying anything the night before was a pretty big mistake. So was walking away.

  - 6 -

  The Worst Year Ever

  Things with Mary-Margaret stayed roughly the same. I was pretty happy, perhaps because I was blissfully ignorant. She still smiled every time I looked at her. She still loved to hug and kiss me at random intervals. And we had enjoyed our month off since Christmas, no more of those bad, disconnected nights. We spent most of it at the SoCal Beach House. We even flew Hermann out so he could be there with us. The year had started off to be all-time.

  Our break was almost finished. Soon I was going to be working with Ayrton for 15 hours a day getting the cars perfect. We had less than two months before the Sports GT Challenge Series started on March 19th, and just nine days after that we would need to be in Monza for the opening World GT Championship round. Two championships in a new discipline of racing. This was going to be a long season.

  The long season started before the first green flag ever dropped. The entire situation caught me so far off guard that I can't even remember how we got there. I can't remember what we were supposed to be doing that night. Something to do with a charity opera? I think? Something Mary-Margaret was involved with? I can't remember. My memories of how it all started are fuzzy at best.

  “Are you ever going to give up this unhealthy obsession with racing?” Mary-Margaret asked me. That was one question I never expected to hear.

  “What're you talking about, Mary-Margaret? It's my career.” I responded. I couldn't help but snicker at the thought. She had to be joking.

  “You said it yourself, it's a selfish obsession and I don't even exist when you're in that car. And now you want to go gallivanting around the world, putting yourself in even more danger. How am I supposed to be okay with that?”

  “Hun, we've had this conversation before. I thought we had an understanding and it was okay.”

  “Yeah, and now you want me to give up everything I've done with my foundation to follow you around the world. Ryan, when are you going to give up something for me?” she asked. This argument was taking a bad turn and quick.

  “I never asked you to give anything up. I simply asked you to be there for the races. How is that too much to ask?” I retorted.

  “Because my life is here, Ryan! Everything I am is here! I just – I don't know how much longer I can do this. You saw what happened to Dale --”

  “Of course I did. I lived it. What's your point?” Her point seemed foul. She knows how devastated I was on the day Dale died. After all, I had an integral part in that wreck.

  “Tessa, she said goodbye to Dale before the race. I don't want to have to sit there for hours wondering if you're going to come back to me.”

  “Mary-Margaret, I am always coming back to you,” I told her.

  “Ryan, you are not invincible! You said it yourself, what happened to Dale was the perfect storm of everything going wrong at the same time. He didn't even hit the wall that hard, but he hit it just right. Don't you see? That can happen to you. You don't always have control of everything.”

  “Where is this going, Mary? What do you want to get out of this conversation?” I felt defeated. I couldn't really argue against her. I always felt in control behind the wheel, but common sense always told me I was just in control of something that was completely out of control. Anything can happen behind the wheel. But I would argue the same of life. It's all one crazy ride. Nobody knows what's going to happen next. We might as well all be meteorologists.

  “I can't do it. I can't follow you around the world. I won't give up my life for that. I mean, I don't want to be the girlfriend, or fiancee, or wife who has to say goodbye to her love and wonder if he's coming back,” Mary-Margaret said.

  Those weren't the last words spoken before she walked out, but they were the last I heard. I sat there, stunned. It was hard f
or me to wonder... Was this about my selfish obsession with racing? Or was it about the fact that we'd been together for five and a half years and I hadn't yet proposed to her? I was never afraid of marriage, I always wanted to get married and have a family with someone like Mary-Margaret. It was a dream of mine. I had just completely forgotten about it. I was so happy with her and my life, I couldn't believe where I was at and I was enjoying every second of it.

  She wanted to get married. I always prided myself on making sure I wasn't selfish off-track, because I knew how selfish I was once I put that helmet on. I had destroyed this one. I screwed it up so bad. I was so selfish loving where my life was, I didn't think about what I could have done for Mary-Margaret to make our lives better. I would never feel tied down by marriage. I wonder if she even knew that.

  She left. She walked out. And at the time, I was too stubbornly upset to do anything about it. I left the Beach House, got in my truck, and started driving. Next thing I knew, a day and a half later, I ended up in rural Minnesota, just outside of the twin cities.

  I hadn't slept a wink. My heart was beating faster than I think it ever had. I couldn't believe what I had just done. I left her. All I did was compound my mistake and I didn't know what to do about it. I called her, she screened my call and sent me straight to voicemail. I didn't leave her a message. Did she want me to leave her a message? What the hell was I supposed to do? I cared about her so much, I understood most of what she said. I knew my career was selfish. I knew how crazy it was. But in many ways, the only times I felt truly alive were the hours I spent in that car. Maybe that's because I had never let myself feel alive with her.

  She looked so sexy in that dress she had on for the night. She knew how pretty shiny stuff set me off. That girl, she didn't need to do much to make me blow a gasket. So often I thought about throwing her on the bed and just getting down and nasty with her. But it always felt strange. It felt kinda dirty really, she was such a model of perfection. I didn't know if she wanted me to do something like that. She never failed to make me gasp for breath when looking at her.