The Legend

by Shey Stahl

  I didn’t have time to think, to pray, to react. I just knew I needed to get to him. That’s all that mattered. I don’t know why but I called his cell phone and it immediately went to voicemail. The message that played brought the only smile I would see tonight: “Do me a favor, don’t leave me a message. If I wanted to talk to you, I would have answered.”

  My mind wandered once we were in the air, back twenty years when Jameson was injured in Pocono. Only this time, the news painted a very different scene from Knoxville.

  During the flight, they showed the wreck and though it didn’t look horrible, the aftermath was.

  Jimi had come down on Jameson quickly, as though something broke on his car. Clipped his right rear tire and then hit the wall head on, flipped through the turn and then was hit on the side by another driver.

  Jameson’s car went air-born, flipped seven times, clipped the wing of another car in the air, and went air-born again eventually landing on the outside retaining wall.

  My heart literally stopped at the sight, that’s when I knew it was bad.

  The news reports simply said: “Our thoughts and prays are with these two legendary drivers...father and son.”

  They never went into detail to say what the injuries were, if they were all right, nothing. I knew that tactic over the years and understood it. Someone had died and they hadn’t told the families yet.

  They couldn’t die, right? That was my next thought.

  It just couldn’t happen. Not to a family that had endured so much over the years. Enough was enough, right?

  Axels’ voice brought me around. I seemed to be numb to everything. I didn’t even remember exiting the plane or Van driving us to the hospital.

  “Mom.” Axel asked slipping inside the SUV we were in. He had been waiting with Aiden in the parking lot for us, his hands fumbling with his phone in his hand.

  I knew immediately something was wrong, very wrong. Axels’ voice was timid but controlled. His eyes cautious but guarded. “They...uh...I don’t know what’s happening yet.” He admitted closing his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

  There was no sense in asking what happened, I saw the wreck on television. What I wanted to know was if they were okay.

  I knew my son well enough to know that he felt it, something. I wasn’t sure what but it’s the same bone chilling sensation all of us were feeling in that moment. We knew something tragic happened. Something none of us were prepared for.

  When we reached the intensive care unit where everyone was gathered outside, two doctors took us back to a private conference room that we could wait in privacy. The family gathering area was so crowded with fans and media, there was no room.

  So we waited, as time passed unbearably slow. They wouldn’t allow us inside the ICU and wouldn’t offer anything other than they are listed in critical condition.

  I couldn’t think or feel. My mind was numbly unaware of everything going on. Voices seemed distant and muddled. Motions seemed uncontrolled.

  My body jerked at the sound of the door opening. A tall doctor dressed in dark blue scrubs stood near the door. At first glance, his manner was professional and confident. One look into his eyes and I could tell he was exhausted. Not only that, he didn’t want to be the one to give the news.

  Nancy reached for my hand. Emma reached for Nancy and Aiden standing next to her.

  The doctor stood there, his body swayed slightly as though he was lightheaded. “Mrs. Riley?” his eyes then focused on Nancy as he swallowed. A sharp nauseating wave passed through me. It didn’t matter that he was now looking at Nancy. Because any loss, no matter who it is was, would be devastating to all of us.

  The doctor’s voice was just above a whisper as though he had never had to say something like this before.

  Kneeling next to us, he took in our appearances. “Jimi’s spinal cord was severed,” he paused and swallowed before looking Nancy directly in the eyes, “we performed CPR for 70 minutes...but we were unable to revive him.”

  No one said anything. I don’t think we knew what to say.

  You always see it portrayed in movies where the loved one is told their significant other or family member didn’t survive. They all have the same reaction: shock followed quickly by a breakdown of uncontrollable tears and sobbing.

  What happens when the blow is too strong for you to comprehend?

  Nothing

  Nothing is what happens. You’re unable to feel, unable to comprehend, unable to speak, cry, sob, nothing happens.

  Whatever the emotion is supposed to be, it’s not there.

  You’re numb.

  Red Flag – Axel

  “Lily is on her way.” I told Justin who sat down beside me in the hall.

  “What do we tell the media?” Justin asked, his face the same stone cold emotionless portrait everyone else had.

  None of the racers, Justin, Tyler, me, or Cody had changed out of our racing suits but here all of us sat lined up in the hall outside the intensive care unit. Blood was all over mine and Justin’s from dad’s head injury. Tommy’s gray sweatshirt was covered with clay, methanol, and blood. He smelled worse than all of us.

  None of us were in any appearance to address the media.

  A group of doctors walked passed looking over charts. I caught a portion of their conversation as they rushed past. “He’s a forty-two year old race car driver brought in by air. Scan revealed a moderate lateral skull fracture to the temporal. He was unconscious at the time of arrival...ventilated…” their voices began to fade but I heard a string of words that followed them “...vomiting...asphyxia...”

  It didn’t look good. I knew enough to know, this wasn’t good.

  Spencer walked up with Lexi, both in tears, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she cried into his chest.

  “Is there any word on Jimi?” Justin asked Spencer.

  Spencer’s eyes looked from Lexi to me, and then at Casten hesitantly. He didn’t have to say anything, his eyes closed as he fought for control, his chin quivered. “He...didn’t...they,” his breath caught as he tried to control himself and Lexi who couldn’t stop crying. “…they couldn’t revive him.”

  I wanted to break down. I wanted to cry. I wanted relief from the pain I was feeling. But nothing would come.

  I guess maybe I was holding out hope. Hope that they were wrong. Hope that one could be saved. Holding out hope was the only option.

  Lifting wasn’t.

  Nothing prepares you for the bitter reality of it, nothing could.

  Shit happens and dreams are crushed. You can have it all only to have never really had it. Hope simply vanishes as though it was never there.

  Devastatingly painful thoughts and emotions red flag you into silence.

  Red Flag – Sway

  Sometimes it takes a loss to remind you what’s real and remind you of what you had to begin with.

  Then it’s gone, like the passing of a lap during a race, a beginning to an end or maybe an end to a beginning.

  Was it even real? Did you ever really have it? All the memories suddenly seemed so distant.

  Our family wasn’t strangers to this. We knew death and we knew pain like we knew ourselves. It still didn’t make it any easier, not at all. The pain was still there, still real.

  Thick and heavy, it reminded us with each breath how real and crushing it could be.

  I had no idea what to say to her. On one hand, I was hurting too; Jimi was my dad for so many years. On the other hand, I was hurting because my husband was in critical condition and my mom, the mom I’ve known for the past thirty years, lost her husband.

  “I’m going to find the boys,” Emma choked out a sob but remained collected and reached for Arie beside her. I think she needed a few minutes alone but I was relieved to see that Arie went with her.

  No one wanted to break down in front of Nancy in fear she would break.

  She looked up at Emma, her eyes glazed over but she didn’t say anything and no tears fell.

&nbs
p; There was absolutely nothing I could say and she knew that. Instead, we held each other. She never did cry, instead, stared at the wall waiting on any word on Jameson’s condition.

  I asked nearly everything five minutes if she needed anything but she never verbally responded, only shook her head as I response.

  I tried racking my brain, wanting to find some sort of consoling advice I could offer her. But I couldn’t. Because if Jameson died, nothing would make that better and if someone tried to comfort me, it would only piss me off. Nothing would make this better. No magic phrase would make you feel better and frankly, nothing needed to be said.

  Jimi died in a manner befitting to the champion he was, in the place he loved with his son and grandson. That’s what I told myself. Now would I say that if Jameson didn’t make it?

  I doubt it, but I had to hang onto something. I doubted I would be able to comprehend anything, just as Nancy was, if Jameson didn’t make it.

  If Jameson died, I doubted I could hold it together in the way Nancy was. She was strong.

  I couldn’t think of any place I’d rather be than with my mom in that moment. Of course there was that strong urgency pulsing through me to break down the doors of the ICU to see Jameson but they wouldn’t let us in regardless.

  About an hour after the doctor had told us Nancy looked over at me, weighted and somber. It was the first words spoken. “Can we see Jameson now?”

  “I...uh...not sure,” I reached for her hand. “But let’s go see.”

  As we made our way out of the room, everyone we saw looked at us with pity and I wanted to scream and then punch them in the face. We walked to where the rest of our family had gathered in the hallway outside of the intensive care units, waiting to hear how Jameson was.

  Most of our family and Jameson’s sprint car teams was waiting outside the doors. Justin and Tommy were pacing back and forth. Casten, Axel and Arie were huddled together comforting one another as they always did and that made me want to cry.

  Charlie and Noah were here now sitting across from my kids with Aiden and Emma. Lane, Cole and Lexi were sitting beside Spencer and Alley with Logan. While Spencer stared straight ahead, no emotion was visible. Alley was quite the opposite as she tended to her cell phone.

  Being Jameson’s publicist, everyone wanted to know his condition.

  “Why haven’t they come out and talked to us yet?” I asked Justin but he only shrugged his eyes on his feet.

  It was close to another hour before Nancy was asked to step away with the doctors. This time Emma went with her and I stayed with my kids, holding them.

  Doctor’s passed, nurses asked if we needed anything but no one had answers. Just that he was now in surgery.

  Right about the time I was ready to explode, another doctor came out in scrubs. I thought for sure he would tell me the same devastating news he told Nancy but he asked me to come with him. So, the kids and I followed him back to an intensive care room. The door to the room was closed as were the white blinds that hung over the glass window.

  “Mrs. Riley, I’m Dr. Howe, head of neurology.” He reached out and shook my hand. “Jameson is in critical condition and we are keeping him an induced coma right now.” The doctor gave us a look of more pity. My heart was pounding and it was hard to pay attention to anything he was saying. “When he arrived, he wasn’t breathing. We ventilated him and got him sedated. Keeping him sedated is the only way for his brain to heal properly,” but didn’t say anything. “When he arrived he was unconscious. We were able to get a few responses from him but his speech was slurred which alerted us to the severity of his head injury.” He looked down at his notes. “He’s got an almost completely crushed rib cage, a punctured lung and spleen. His pelvis is fractured, broken collarbone, and a cracked scapula. The head injury is our main concern and required immediate surgery. He’s got a lateral skull fracture.”

  I had to use Casten and Axel to keep from swaying. My boys wrapped their arms around me, each of us providing a comfort only family could provide. My throat constricted and I felt the rush of emotion as the tears rose to the surface.

  “After repairing the fracture and controlling the bleeding, I needed to relieve the pressure in his brain so I inserted a catheter to control the inter-cranial pressure. There’s also a device inserted to monitor the pressure and tell us exactly when it’s increasing. This seems to be helping but we have to wait a few days to see exactly how much damage has been done. After surgery he began experiencing seizures so I’ve given him some anti-seizure medication and that seems to be working. Although he’s had a few more, this is mostly from the trauma.” He then flipped the chart over. “His friend...Justin West?” he looked for confirmation he had the name correct. We nodded so he continued. “Justin indicated his helmet was cracked. Can I see it?”

  “Oh,” I looked around for Justin but didn’t see him and then I had no idea where anyone was.

  It was just me, Casten and Axel. I thought Arie was with us but she somehow disappeared without me knowing.

  “I haven’t...” I intended on replying but instead began to sob into Axel’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  My only thoughts seemed to be that I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t. I wanted to keep it together but I knew I was breaking apart inside.

  Gaining focus, I tried to comprehend what he was saying but I couldn’t. Axel held me tighter sensing the breaking point.

  “Can I see him?” I asked.

  “No, I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely sorry. “No visitors are allowed inside the room.”

  “Is he in there?” I motioned behind him hopeful for a glimpse. “Can I just peek through the blinds? I just want to see him.”

  “No.” he said remorsefully. “He’s not on this floor. He’s in the Neuro-ICU where he can get one-on-one care with us.” The doctor paused again, his brows furrowed in concentration as he read a report. “He is also suffering from toxicity.”

  “Toxicity from what?” I asked.

  “Methanol,” he answered. “Regardless of how it enters your body, in this case, it was being poured on his when he was upside down in the wreck. The problem is the CNS depressant properties in it can make it fatal.”

  I gasped. Not only does he have a life threatening head injury but methanol could kill him too?

  My god.

  “It can be treated with antidotes of ethanol or fomepizole. Both drugs act to reduce the action of alcohol dehydrogenase on methanol in his blood by means of competitive inhibitors so it’s excreted by the kidneys rather than being transformed into toxic metabolites.”

  He was speaking Greek. Complete fucking Greek.

  “What does that mean?” Casten asked.

  It was the first time I’d heard Casten speak since we arrived. I looked over at him as though I didn’t even know who he was. His rusty loops that matched Jameson’s matted from sleep and he was still wearing pajamas and that kind of made me want to laugh because they were footy pajamas.

  “It means we could smell the methanol when he arrived and caught it before the accumulation of toxic levels could formulate in the blood and cause death from respiratory failure.”

  Once again, he looked at his notes. “Now he’s a professional race car driver, correct?”

  “Yes, he’s a NASCAR Cup driver.”

  He frowned shaking his head. “He won’t be racing for a while. That head injury alone will set him back at least six months if not longer and that’s if there’s no damage to his brain other than swelling.”

  “He isn’t going to be happy with this.” Casten teased softly. He was only trying to make light of the situation which is what we all needed at that point. Axel finally noticed his pajamas and gave him a funny look only to have Casten roll his eyes and point to the doctor mouthing “Pay attention,” to him.

  Dr. Howe frowned and looked over at Casten next to me. “I know it may be touch and go for a while but Jameson just needs to be thankful he’s even alive right now. Some weren’t so lucky.”
The doctor shot back at him.

  “My dad will feel this more than anyone in our family right now, I guarantee you that!” Casten snapped back at him, tears spilled over his red cheeks. It was very rare for Casten to get angry and even rarer for him to cry. I understood right then how real this was. “Don’t act like you know how we feel or how he will feel.”

  Casten was absolutely right.

  When detonation occurs, not only is the result fatal to the life of the engine but the pistons, the driving force of the engine are destroyed.

  Not just burned, there was nothing left, only fragments of metal remained. That was us right now, fragments of metal trying to focus on the detonation that occurred.

  What drove Jameson all these years was Jimi. He may think it was me. But Jimi taught him everything he knew, in turn, he wanted to make him proud, just like Axel did with Jameson. Jimi was his hero. His legend and now he was gone.

  We made our way back to the waiting room when Justin was sitting outside. I sat beside him as the boys and Arie went back to the waiting room with the rest of our family.

  “Do you have his helmet?”

  Justin didn’t answer right away but stared straight ahead before the sound of someone opening a door snapped him out of his trance. He blinked slowly, agonizing dread seeping from every movement, and looked over at me, his eyes tired and confused.

  “Yeah...it’s over there.” He said flatly pointing at a bag of Jameson’s gear they took off him in the ER and at the track.

  Opening the bag, I peaked at the helmet covered in dirt and blood. It was cracked down the entire left side. Inside the bag were not only the helmet, but his racing suit, gloves and neck restraints. All of it covered in blood and clay. My stomach turned, this was my husband’s blood. I swallowed trying to hold back the rise in my throat. Removing the black racing gloves I bought him for Christmas, I held them to my chest and collapsed beside Justin.

  “Oh my god,” I gasped covering my mouth, tears surfaced again. My mind replayed the crash and what Axel must have saw. I pictured him lying there, in pain, struggling to understand.