by Shey Stahl
One morning, his twenty-seventh day in that hospital, a younger female doctor came in to perform her exams. She was apparently the head of Orthopedics department and wanted to look at how Jameson’s bones were healing. His shoulder had been giving him the most pain but his chest seemed to be worse.
“I’m Dr. Baine.” She reached for my hand and shook it. “I’m here to look over Jameson and see if there’s anything we need to be cautious of before we consider starting him on a rehabilitation program.” She smiled. “I’m sure eventually he’s gonna want to get back in his car.”
Dr. Baine was familiar with race car drivers. Being the closest hospital to Knoxville, they had seen their fair share of injuries related to racing over the years.
Jameson didn’t acknowledge her presence, his gaze still on the window.
I gave her a smile for his lack of response and she smiled back. “Let’s get started.”
When she removed the blankets, his bare chest was revealed. My eyes traveled the length of his dwindling body to his chest, ribs and stomach that were still nearly completely covered in deep purple blotches mixing with yellow and brown. Some wounds were healing where others were making themselves known. It was hard watching him lose weight and muscle knowing the toll it was taking on him.
My eyes drifted to his tattoo across his chest under the bandage from his split holding his shoulder in place. Reading the scripture that matched the one on my spine, tears came to my eyes. Jameson’s met mine.
Jameson rarely let anyone see that particular tattoo as it was something very sacred between the two of us. It was the meaning behind how we fell in love. For so long, we avoided the change in our relationship into what was there, staring at us.
The doctor read it and smiled softly knowing she may have over stepped her boundary. Her cheeks heated and she looked away. “It’s a beautiful scripture.”
Jameson said nothing to her in response, his eyes still on mine. It was strange looking into his eyes now. They were different and I often wondered if they would change.
Jameson blinked watching me carefully as the doctor felt his stomach and then pulled the blanket down further to reveal his pelvis. His eyes never left mine.
I swallowed and dropped my eyes from his and finally looked at his injuries. You could see every bruise where bones had been broken and now were healing. Smiling, I noticed the marks of our drunken nights together before we were married.
My eyes drifted lower as she moved the blanket a touch lower revealing an area I didn’t think to highly of her seeing. I looked at Jameson. He was looking at me still, watching my reaction. I smiled letting him know I was okay and then took a peak down there. I hadn’t seen him naked in weeks and yes, I missed my camshaft. The thought of having sex wasn’t really on my mind these days but when she pushed the blanket just a fraction lower and I saw his camshaft, my mind immediately went there. Part of me was thankful it was still there, you know, still attached and all. I don’t know why I thought it wouldn’t but it was reassuring.
When I looked back up at Jameson, he winked. He knew me too well. I nearly cried it was the first wink I had seen since the accident.
The nurse left not long after that and left us alone. We didn’t speak much, small talk regarding the kids and his sprint car team.
We didn’t talk about his injuries and we didn’t talk about what I saw. We didn’t talk about a lot of things these days.
He asked questions but they were usually related to racing. We didn’t talk about the void we felt and the distance that seemed to be growing between us.
When Jameson finally watched the accident on television the reaction was similar to the one with Darrin but different because he knew a life was lost. It was nice that the media respected our wishes and never publicly played the video other than that first night. Knoxville recorded the race but immediately released the only copy to Alley at her immediate request. Something as horrifying as that video didn’t need to be seen. Sprint car crashes are extremely violent when the cars start flipping and that video clearly displayed the dangers and the aftermath.
I watched it with him and the only indication he gave that he was affected by it was the heart monitor he was connected to beeping. It was tough to watch, both his reaction and the video.
Of course it happened on lap fourteen. Everyone that knew Jameson understood fourteen wasn’t a number he liked. Everything bad that happened to him was related to the number in an eerie way.
“Get rid of that.” He told me as I took the DVD out of the player.
“You want me to throw it away?” I asked turning to face him, the DVD in hand.
Jameson looked from my hand to the window. He gave a careful nod and then closed his eyes.
I knew watching that had to have been hard on him and I didn’t want to go all Dr. Phil on him because he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be bothered. So I sat there and simply offered my presence.
I couldn’t sleep that night but I also didn’t want to stay at the hotel with Emma. She snored. Usually falling asleep beside Jameson in his bed, I removed myself once he was asleep because I didn’t want to hurt him. His body was still so fragile and one wrong move by me or him in the middle of the night could set his healing back more. There was also the possibility of him having a seizure. I was in bed with him when it happened once and it wasn’t pretty and he was more upset with himself for smacking me in the mouth than reinjuring in shoulder.
Through his window, I watched night give way to dawn, stars replaced with pinks and purples. Soon a haze appeared as clouds moved in and snow began to fall. My eyes stung from the tears last night and my back was aching from sleeping in the chair.
Rubbing my eyes, I looked over at him to see that he was awake, quietly watching me.
“You...don’t look good.” He studied my face for a moment, his eyes scanning and looking for something but what I didn’t know.
“Thanks.” I said rolling my eyes.
“I just mean…well…you haven’t been eating, have you?”
I gave him a smile. “It’s kinda hard when your husband is attached to machines.”
He relaxed and a hint of amusement came over his worn features, “sounds stressful.”
We were quiet for a moment and he asked, “Are they going to give me food today or do I have to go get it?”
Looking over at the clock I noticed it was nearly eight in the morning. “She should be here any minute.”
Taking a deep breath, he made a humming sound that, well, turned me on.
In that moment, with that sound, my hormones went nuts. I think he sensed it, his eyes met mine. Then he did probably the sexiest gesture he had ever done and believe me, Jameson has done a lot of sexy gestures in his time.
His eyes that were focused on mine slowly traveled down my body. From my eyes to my lips and the path to my hips, he eyed me. Blinking slowly, he let out a shaky breath. His breathing had increased, the heart monitor indicating the reaction. Inside I was doing a victory burnout. I turned him on.
He winked again and gave a light smile, his voice hoarse from the tube being in his throat for so long and the usual rasp he had. “You’re still as sexy as I remember.”
Sitting on the edge of his bed, I turned my head to see if any of the nurses were coming in and hating the fact that his room was all glass. “Are you...getting aroused Mr. Riley?”
He tried to play it coy by licking his lips, his gaze focused on my lips. “Maybe,” he said unexpectedly.
Hot damn.
“Would it help if I showed you my boobs?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Show me and let’s see.”
So I did. I flipped my shirt up and showed him the funbags. Problem there was that his nurse decided to pick that moment to bring his breakfast.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry!” she screeched slamming the cart with food into the wall. “I should have knocked!”
When she did that, I turned and gave a full on shot to her of my chest.
Yep. Nice move by the Mama Wizard.
Hot damn?Pft. More like hot mess.
The nurse covered her eyes and hurried out of the room. There wasn’t much else I could do at that point so I turned to face Jameson and offered my only explanation. “I saw that going differently in my head.” I said between giggles.
Righting my clothing, I sat there still giggling and wondering what else might go wrong when I noticed that my picture, a much crumbled picture by now, had fallen out of my shirt and was sitting on his stomach.
I laughed. Loud cackling laugh and it felt good.
And for the first time in four weeks, I heard the sound I had been craving for. Jameson laughed. Actually laughed. His eyes were creased at the edges with that full on magical Jameson Riley smile plastered on his face. He looked so much like the boy I fell in love with right then that I broke down and cried in between my own laughs. I missed that boy so much.
Picking up the picture, he handed it back to me. “I thought Spencer was joking about that picture.”
I stuffed it back in my bra. “No, he wasn’t. I’m keeping you safe.”
“Oh, well,” he laughed again pulling my hands into his. “I’m happy to be kept safe.”
We stared at each other silently when his eyes darted to my lips again.
“Kiss me.” He said his voice low and husky.
With extreme caution, I leaned in and touched my lips to his. Fumbling with my fingers, he removed his hand from mine to cup my cheek and then he was holding me closer. So far, we hadn’t done more than a quick kiss. This wasn’t quick and I knew that he was getting turned on. His breathing, the monitors and his actions, all told me that he wanted more. A soft moan escaped his lips, his tongue found mine and we both gasped at the sensation, his body shifted involuntarily trying to get closer to me. The movement ended the moment a pain shot through him and he tensed as it radiated through him. He moaned jerking away from me and then moaned again when the motion of jerking way caused more pain.
Settling a safe distance from him, I gave him a smile. “Hopefully soon it won’t hurt as badly.”
Jameson was quiet for a few moments, the pain fading, and then found his window again with a sigh. “I hope that a lot of things don’t hurt as badly.”
I hoped...that he was right. I hoped that we were making the right adjustments for him, for us, for our family.
Set-up – Jameson
There are times that I wished I would have paid better attention to warnings. Not that it would have helped now but it might have. In a lifestyle sent soaring and then crashing to a wall, that’d you would have listened to that vibration a little sooner, checked that rising temperature, listened more, loved more, kissed more, made love more often, more of anything. Wisdom ignored, you fall for so long that you almost feel relieved to have finally stopped falling. You’re allowed to want more, feel more, and love more.
Time was all I had these days. I thought a lot, felt a lot, and remembered even more. I thought that he was full of wisdom that I ignored. It was right in front of me like a rising temperature or a vibration.
Since time was all I had, I thought about my dad mostly and the affect this was having on my family. Eventually I didn’t want to think anymore. Instead, I wanted out of this damn hospital.
Around that time, I hurled every ounce of hatred I had for the situation into recovering.
Within five weeks of coming out of the coma, I was starting physical therapy.
No one thought I would come back to racing. I watched the news. I knew what they were saying. The media, the fans, my family...they all thought I would retire. Sure I was forty-two years old and was nearly killed a month ago but that right there is what kept me going.
My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to quit just because he was killed in a wreck, with me.
He would have said something along the lines of, “Are you a fucking idiot?” if I told him I was retiring because of him.
But I did think about it.
Did I want to get back inside a race car?
Yes, I did.
Why, because I needed to know that I could. A man like me, someone who has been so single-minded on one specific goal for the last forty years of his life, doesn’t just quit like that. Not without thought at least and I had a lot of time to deal with that thought.
I’ll tell you one thing though; no time spent inside a hospital was a good time. In fact, it was horrible. I think mostly because over the years, if I didn’t want to hear what you had to say, I left.
Now I couldn’t do that.
What bothered me most about this, was the one person I did it to so often, was no longer here. It was waves of emotions, one minute I was fine and then next I wanted to say fuck it all.
Reality is fucking stupid. That was my general conclusion.
I love it when people bitch about a bad day now while me, and my walker, are strolling around the hospital trying to get away from my family. I wanted to say, “Fuck you, wish for that! Wish that you didn’t get your coffee or the nurse didn’t get your extra pillow, jerk off.”
I’d take a bad day over this overwhelming anxiety any day. It doesn’t make the shit any easier. Knowing that it is reality only makes it fucking real. When your life is ripped apart so suddenly like mine, it makes not getting your coffee pretty fucking desirable.
I wasn’t left alone very often but when I was, that’s what I thought about. Reality. I thought about what I would have left everyone to deal with. My family, my team, my sponsors, it was reality.
Other times my room was filled with family and though I enjoyed that time with them, it was a constant reminder that our family was now one short.
My kids helped as did Sway. They knew me better than anyone and were always trying to make me laugh. Which hurt but Arie claimed laughter was the best medicine.
Because of this, they sent Casten in a lot. That was when he had time. He was trying to go to school and help out as much as he could with the sprint car team. I felt bad but he claimed he was having fun doing it.
Casten may have quit racing but he still relished in race life, always fast paced.
“I need a favor.” I told him one morning after he arrived to watch Sports Center with me. After I broke a TV last week, I could only watch television supervised now and then never handed me the remote when they left. That was probably because that’s how the television was broken in the first place.
“Uh, I’m leaving.” Casten said jetting for the door.
“No...help me!” I yelled after him. I didn’t yell, yelling hurt. But I did raise my voice.
Casten frowned, his brow pulled together in disgust. “I have no desire to see you naked. I’ll get mom.”
“Casten,” I chuckled trying to shift in the bed but decided against it when moving my hips shot excruciating pain throughout my body. “I just need the remote.”
“Oh yeah,” he grinned reaching for it. “Here,” then he slouched in the chair holding his cell phone. “Now about that nurse of yours...how old is she?”
I grunted flipping through the channels to find something interesting and not that reality TV bullshit. “Fuck if I know. Older than you,”
These nurses were making me crazy. They were too attentive. I only wanted that type of attention from one person, my wife.
“Pft...that doesn’t matter.” He craned his neck to watch her walk past carrying a clipboard. “She’s hot.”
Most of my time spent with Casten was him trying to win the attention of the nursing staff.
Axel and I talked mostly about racing. So far, he’d won the three night show in Barberville and then the Outlaws at Pike County, the Texas Shootout and just won the Las Vegas Nationals. He was racing the perfect season this year.
This just proved to me the kid was a spitting image of me. While he was determined to win, I was determined to recover and get the hell out of this hospital.
When he was able to visit the hospital and not talk about racing, he asked if I was scared
.
Was I?
In a way I guess you could say I was but not for obvious reasons of wrecking or safety.
I was scared of seeing the look I saw in my mother’s eyes, on my wife.
Arie came to see me almost every day and forced me to watch ridiculous shows while she gave me all the dirt around the track. Emma and Arie were far too alike but I found her entertaining to say the least. Even though Sway thought for sure she wasn’t like her, I saw it in the way her lips pouted out when she slept or the way she would look at the bright side of everything. She was like her. Arie also had this way that she needed to disobey every order given to her.
One afternoon she showed up with ice cream and donuts; two things we loved to eat together; and sat down beside me in the chair next to the bed.
“So, listen dad,” she began flipping the lid of her ice cream and handing me a donut. “How are you really feeling?”
“Huh?” I took a bite of my donut biding my time for an answer. I couldn’t lie to my daughter. Just like Sway, she knew me.
“You know what I mean.” Her brow furrowed in warning, her green eyes met mine. “You blame yourself.”
I was quiet for a while before I answered. “It’s complicated.”
“I know it’s complicated, but holding yourself responsible for grandpa’s accident, is not healthy.” She set her ice cream aside. “Grandma...mom, they need you right now and holding this inside like that is hurting them too.”
Arie was right. I did hold myself responsible but she was also right that everyone needed me now, I needed myself. I couldn’t hold it in like this. But it also wasn’t something I could just turn off like a switch. Feelings don’t work that way.
Instead, I focused on recovery. That I could control.
I had physical therapy every day along with spa time as the doctor called it. Really it was just me sitting in a fucking bath. Physical therapy wasn’t ideal. It’s intense, painful and challenging. Everything I was used to with years of racing, pushing my body and mind to its limits. Being in excellent physical condition before the accident played a huge role in my recovery as did my mindset that I would return to racing.