by Shey Stahl
My dad.
He wasn’t in them any longer after he said he loved me and that felt strange to me.
Then I was awake again, the dim lights of the room were comforting. Movements and sounds felt unfamiliar but I saw Sway again. She was standing beside a taller man in a white coat. I recognized him. He talked to me a lot through the memories I had and he was in the room a lot.
Sway touched me again, her voice soft and calm.
The man beside her spoke but I didn’t hear what he was saying or maybe I didn’t understand. Concentrating hurt. I couldn’t do it for long.
Movement occurred in the room and I panicked that they were leaving. I had so many questions and I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to see the darker images again and if they were here, maybe I wouldn’t. One question remained the same for me.
What happened to my dad?
“W-h-h-here...dad?” My eyes met Axel’s in the corner of the room; his rigid figure was blurry. Everything was blurry and nothing made sense to me now.
He didn’t answer me. I looked at Sway, careful not to move my head this time. I didn’t want the blinding sensation and the gut wrenching nausea to return.
Tears fell freely from her eyes, down her cheeks. “Jameson,” I watched as her tears increased.
I knew. My dreams were right.
“He didn’t make it.” The words came out slowly from her, echoing in my head. I felt cold, unbearably cold again.
This can’t be real, it couldn’t be. He was invisible, how could it be?
I’m not sure how much time went by.
When I focused again Sway was the only one in the room again.
“Are you okay?” Sway asked; her hand ran across my cheek. The feeling radiated threw me. I felt like I’d been jolted by the sensation.
I wanted to lie to her and tell her I was. But I wasn’t. I was confused, scared and most of all tired.
Lying to her right now wouldn’t change anything. I wasn’t okay but neither was Sway. He was just as important to her as he was to me.
Spindle – Sway
“Why don’t you two leave us alone for just a few minutes,” I whispered to the boys.
I could tell they wanted to stay but they also knew that Jameson needed a few minutes. He was just told his dad was gone. Hell, I even thought about leaving him alone but I also knew him well enough that he didn’t need to be alone right now. He needed me. He needed me as a spindle supporting the weight of the control arms.
Once they stepped out, I made my way over to the bed again. My hand touched his bare arm that was freed from the thick blanket. His skin felt different to the touch but I couldn’t place why. Maybe it was from the methanol burns.
His eyes that were once focused on the window, shifted toward mine.
“W...w...when?” His tough demeanor broke and his chin started to shake; his eyes blinked quickly, like he was trying not to cry.
I took a breath, determined to be brave for him.
“It was an accident, Jameson.” I told him hoping he’d hear me this time. “That’s all it was.”
“No.” he tried to take a deep breath but failed, wincing in pain. I could see the anger surfacing that his body wouldn’t respond to basic movements. It was frustrating him that it was so painful. His body had been through so much I was mad at myself for even telling him so soon after he woke up.
“Jameson, I don’t know what to say to you. I wish it wasn’t real, I really do.”
He stared at me for a long moment before the tears spilled over the dark bruises on his cheeks, his stare returned to the window. “It was...n’t...supposed...” he swallowed trying to speak. “...hh...a...ppen.” His distant cold gaze met mine for a second then returned to the window. “...not...like that.” He mumbled, his speech slurring.
“This isn’t your fault.”
He didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge that I was speaking.
There was nothing that I could say to him at that point to make this any easier on him. To Jameson, he lost a legend. But I would be there for him. I would be his tire within a tire, his safety shield, his spindle; I would be anything he needed me to be. I would provide him the same support he provided me when Charlie died.
Life changes, people die. But it’s not every day a man with Jimi’s clout dies.
In the sprint car racing world, and that included Jameson, it was as though their world leader had died. The significance of that had yet to sink in for us.
Death is never easy. Suddenly someone you spent every day seeing is now a memory. You didn’t ask for it but you’re forced to deal with all the shit that comes with it, whether you want to or not. Undeniably, there’s a side of death that no one considers. Dealing with it. Making a life without them.
Over the last three weeks, we were dealing with it, trying to keep his memory alive, but it wasn’t easy and it wasn’t supposed to be. Like I said, death is never easy.
“Jameson?” he wouldn’t look at me, just stared out the window.
I was crying again by that point but I had him to think about. If I broke completely, that just made it worse for him. I needed to be strong. I kept repeating to myself to be his spindle.
Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of my sweater, I gently climbed in bed next to him, careful of the wires and tubes still attached in various places.
His eyes closed when I got close. He tried to clear his throat but winced when he did so, then grunted in pain. For a moment, it seemed that I had caused more pain for him.
I tried to move again, afraid I was causing more damage by lying with him but his hand touched mine, his voice low and raspy. “No...s-s-s-stay. Don’t...please.”
I didn’t leave. I laid there with him until he dosed off again.
Casten was right, if anyone felt this loss the greatest and would assume the weight of it, that was Jameson.
He fell asleep within a few minutes and I was grateful he was resting. I watched him sleeping carefully detailing everything I saw in the event it was the last time I saw him. I wanted to remember every detail. I don’t know why, but I did. Maybe that was my way of dealing with death, holding on to what was in front of me.
Casten came back in the room and the low lights and humming of the electronics put him to sleep in a chair beside Jameson.
My mind went back to a memory of Casten and Jameson when Casten was a baby.
Casten was small just like the rest of our kids with plump cheeks and my nose. Jameson was kissing the top of his head, saying the words into his hair with his eyes on mine. “I can’t believe we have another son.”
Casten didn’t move, sleeping against his chest. Jameson adjusted him in his arms trying to turn him so I could see my little guy. “He looks like Axel but I see my dad in him too.”
“Me too.” I told him. “He has your dad’s eyes, like the shape and everything.”
I gasped at the memory, Casten still had Jimi’s eyes only they were grass green, not the piercing blue Jimi had.
Casten woke up, hungry of course, and smiled at me. He was always good for a smile. “I told grandma I would get her some ice cream. Do you want anything? Lane’s gonna take me to the store.”
“Yeah, some water would be great.” I reached inside my purse on the floor for money. “Here…”
He took the money and then gave me a look. The look. “You need to eat mom. I’ll get you food too.” Just as he was about to leave, he stopped by the glass door and looked back at Jameson and then me and smiled again. “You might want to tuck in that picture, mom.”
I tried not to laugh, but I did. That picture from the magazine, the one next to the condom ad, yeah well I had that folded up in my bra. It’s right where Jameson would have wanted to be. So I put him there.
When Jameson woke up a few hours later, I was right by Jameson’s side again.
“Can I get you anything?”
He seemed confused for a few minutes, taking in the room and me, and then closed his
eyes before looking over at the window. His gaze was that distant cold shield that I couldn’t judge. Jameson was there but there were times when I could tell he still wasn’t there.
This would take time and I knew that but he also surprised me with how much of him was really there. I guess you could say the instincts were there, he wanted to be lucid, and he was fighting like hell to be but his body was telling him he wasn’t ready.
He looked back at me, his fingers moved toward mine over the blanket, searching. Quickly I reached for him not wanting him to move too much. “Are you cold?”
He closed his eyes again, sighing. Wincing once again, he let out a shaky breath.
“I-I-I...lo…ve...you-u-u.” He croaked; his voice raspy and rough, those somnolent bloodshot eyes looked up at me.
“Oh god Jameson...I love you too!” I felt a gush from the slightest bit of hope that I had in days. He knew me.
Looking at him now, I couldn’t help but think that it would be a long road to recovery for him physically but emotionally, would he recover? I couldn’t help think about what happened with Darrin and that took him nearly twenty years to come to terms with. Would this be the same?
“Please don’t blame yourself Jameson. It’s not your fault.” I told him stroking my fingers gently over his hands. I noticed they were bruised so I lifted my fingers.
I felt him try to take in a deep breath but winced once more. He never responded to me, just stared at me. His eyes were tired and I could tell he was minutes away from falling asleep again.
But he surprised me when he asked. “Wh-h-at?”
“Do you want to know what happened?”
He made a slight nod with his head, just enough to indicate he wanted to know more.
“You and Jimi were racing side-by-side for the lead when his tire blew. The axle and bearings came apart. He cut down directly in front of you. They airlifted both of you from Knoxville. You were conscious when you arrived but were in an out and then you stopped breathing. They took you into surgery right away since he had a lateral fracture to you skull.” I paused. He was looking out the window again, the sun had just set. The colors reflected against the white snow. I wondered if this was too much but he looked at me when I hadn’t spoken for a moment. His eyes told me to continue.
“Jimi showed no signs of response after the accident and wasn’t breathing. They performed CPR at the track and for nearly an hour at the hospital but they weren’t able to revive him. His spinal cord was severed at the base of his neck.”
Jameson tensed again, grunting at the onset of pain from his muscles tensing.
“They tried everything to bring him back baby. I’m sorry.”
He made the tiny nod again. “Co...m...e...clos-s-ser.” His speech was hard to decipher but understood what he was asking.
I did, carefully and laid my head next to his.
“W-w-as anyone?” I could tell he was trying hard to speak but it was difficult for him and incredibly painful.
“Was anyone else hurt?”
He nodded carefully, the motion caused him to gasp and then tense at the onset of additional pain. I waited for him to relax before speaking.
“A few guys were checked out at the track but it was just you and Jimi that were airlifted.”
“Axe-l-l-l?”
“He’s fine, baby. A little shaken up but he’s fine.” I saw another tear slip down his cheek and brushed it away with my fingertips. “Please don’t blame yourself. Your mom, your kids, me, the rest of your family needs you right now. We can’t do this alone.”
His gaze that was fixated on the window, shifted to me. The blood in his eyes seemed so prominent now. The green, it was there but it was different. It could have been the medication but I tended to think the latter and guessed it was a front. He was trying not to feel anything, whether it be emotionally, or physically.
“I...k...now.” he whispered softly before placing a tender kiss on my temple. “I...n-n-eed you guys...”
And he did. He needed his family and our love more than ever now.
20. Wheel Hop – Axel
Wheel Hop – A hopping action of the rear wheels during heavy acceleration. Traction is lost and gained in rapid cycles after power is applied to the rear wheels.
“I’m tempted to board that window up.”
“Don’t you dare,” mom warned biting her nails. “It’s all he has right now.”
“Please tell me that photo is out of your bra?” Emma asked mom leaning over to peak down her shirt.
Mom smacked at her trying to get away when Emma’s arms wrapped around her waist. “Don’t look down my shirt!”
Alley giggled beside them on the floor in the hallway outside my dad’s room as they performed a CT scan. My grandma, bless her heart was watching them interact, a soft smile drifted over her and then, for the first time in a week, she laughed.
All of us stopped and watched her and then broke out into laughter together. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to be a family though we were missing pieces of it now. My mom told me once, when our dog Rev died and I cried for two weeks, that change was something that scares everyone. It comes and goes, like a track changing from a tacky track to dry and slick, it’s drastic, tons of grip to no grip. What once was a track that provided different grooves is now a tire-shredding monster and you are forced into one line, one direction. You can try to ignore the change, run the line you want, but you can’t discount the way your car handles. Soon you have wheel hop and you’re forced up the track to the line with the most grip.
You may not want to run that line, so close to the wall that can reach out and bite you any second but you deal with it. You hang on and hope the new line gets you to where you wanted.
Smiling at the memory of mom holding me tightly at eleven-years old, crying with me, she did what she always did best for me. Explained the change in our lives they only way I knew our family to explain anything, Racing terms.
I sat there and watched all of us interacting together, finally breathing for the first time in three weeks. Because so far, the praying was answered, the waiting had stopped, he was breathing, he was speaking, kind of, but one was saved.
It left a mark, sure. We had something to be thankful for, my dad was awake.
Standing, my mom, and grandma watched me closely as I looked at my dad lying still in his bed, looking out the window as doctors spoke to him.
“I have to leave,” I said regretfully. Mom stood and wrapped her arms around me. I noticed then that she was losing weight, weight she didn’t have to lose. “Mom, you need to eat something.”
“I know baby. I will.” She said twisting from me. “When does Lily and Ami’s flight come in?”
“They landed about thirty minutes ago. Roger is waiting for me at the airport to take me back to Mooresville.”
“Okay,” she said checking her phone for the time. “How’s everything going there? Did Sherry get all the flights scheduled for Justin and Tyler for SoCal Showdown?”
I nodded trying not to give any details for what was going on back home. They didn’t need to know that Grady had altered dad’s roll cage or that he was actually Darrin’s son. No. They had enough to worry about.
Arie, who sat next to grandma holding her hand, looked up at me hoping I didn’t say anything. Our eyes met and she pleaded with me and I silently offered my agreement to her.
I left after that, had lunch with Lily and then I was heading back home to prepare for three weeks on the road. I wanted to block the pain I was feeling, the everyday aches of the change that occurred and racing was the only way. Dealing with it the only way we knew.
When I walked into the shop, I knew that dealing with it needed to have a little more effort.
The problem was that it didn’t matter, any way we looked at the situation, it felt like things were falling apart without dad here to yell at us.
My other surprise that night was the boys breaking out a case of beer after we got the walk through done
on the cars and loaded in the haulers. When Greg and Rusty took off for Barberville, Tommy and Willie started drinking. Soon it was only natural that I join them.
“It’s quiet without him here yelling at us.” Willie said almost conversationally looking around. All three of us laid on the concrete shop floor. “I keep thinking he’s going to yell at us for sitting around.”
Tommy giggled. “He saves that for Rosa.”
“By the way, Tommy,” Willie propped himself up on his elbows. “How’s Rosa these days?”
“Tommy giggled again taking a long pull from his beer. “She’s good.”
It’d been a while since any of us drank, me included, probably because I wasn’t of legal age, but we needed it that night.
Justin and Tyler came by around ten that night and brought more beer. Soon they too were lying on the floor with us, drinking. We reminisced and talked about jokes they used to play on my dad and grandpa. They told me stories of my dad and uncle Spencer cutting the locks to the haulers in the pits when they were kids and then replacing them with new ones so that the morning of the race none of the guys could get into their haulers. They told me stories of my parents growing up together and ones of my dad’s first season in the Nationwide series when he couldn’t make a pit stop to save his life and every time got into the box sideways.
It was what we all needed.
“We’re doing a shitty job at this.” Justin said raising his beer in the air.
“I don’t think we’re doing that bad.” Tommy defended but then looked around at the mess of parts scattered everywhere and just about every box we had opened in the last few weeks. It didn’t help that Charlie and Noah didn’t understand organization either. “Okay…maybe we have some work to do.”
The side door opened drawing our hazy attention. It was Arie.
“What are you guys doing? Get up.” Arie kicked Willie in the thigh.
“We’re stressed out?” Tommy asked holding the beer in the air. “We drink!”
“What are you doing here?” I asked Arie rolling onto my stomach.
Her eyes shifted around the shop. “I was looking for Easton. Have you seen him?”