The Legend

by Shey Stahl

  Death isn’t easy. It’s not met to be.

  I remember feeling the way he’s feeling but I also had a new baby to take care of, a distraction. But don’t think I didn’t stay up late at night and cry for the loss that I felt.

  I wanted to comfort him, take him in my arms and never let go but he didn’t want that right now. I wanted to tell him about Grady, but I couldn’t, not right now. I wanted to protect him, be his arm restraints and keep him from getting hurt.

  I let him be as I always did these past few weeks because like I said, I didn’t want to push. The thing with Jameson was that if you pushed, the farther away he pushed. You had to know when to say when and give him the time to say when.

  The morning of Jimi’s funeral was tough. Everyone took another limo to the cemetery and Jameson and I were set to ride alone at his request.

  I kept my steps light walking up the stairs knowing we had to leave soon.

  And there, with his hands covering his face, sat my husband in the corner of our room next to the balcony. I saw it for the first time, something in all the years I have been by his side, that I’ve never seen before. Jameson was crying. I’ve seen tears before, but I’ve never seen him sobbing. It was hard to watch but harder to pry so I walked back into the hall and sat against the wall, crying myself.

  Within a few minutes, I heard him walking across the room with his cane. He stopped in front of me eyeing me curiously, his eyes swollen and red. “Are you coming honey?” His hand reached out for me as his chin quivered.

  Nodding, I took his hand and together, though nothing was said, we dealt with the pain. We dealt with the suffering and the reality that we had to deal with. That’s the hardest part. Dealing with it.

  Arm Restraints – Axel

  “Are you coming...?” Lily looked down at me sitting on the floor of our apartment.

  “Yes,” I whispered so my voice wouldn’t break. If she sensed my emotion, she too might crumble. I made the decision to be strong today and that I would be.

  Her expression softened by the ache in my voice.

  “Axel,” her fingertips traced lightly over the shape of my lips. “You don’t always have to be so strong.”

  I smiled under her fingers and touched the side of her face and then her stomach. “I know. I want to be for him.”

  Lily knew that today, of any days, I needed to be strong for my dad.

  The rain began to fall, calming in its wet musky smell, when the limo pulled up the drive. I watched out of the corner of my eye to see the leaves dancing in the street with the subtle winds.

  I sighed getting in. This was not what I wanted to be doing right now but I knew I’d be forced to attend and it wasn’t that I didn’t want to; without a shred of a doubt I wanted to pay respect to my grandpa...it was that I didn’t think I could handle it.

  Outside of Ryder’s funeral, I had only been to three funerals in my life and I couldn’t tell you anything about them as I was too young to remember them. Ryder’s funeral was different from this.

  When I got out of the car at the cemetery, I couldn’t but only because of him.

  In all my nineteen years, I had never seen my dad cry, ever. I never saw him cry when my mom left him. I never saw him cry when his team plane crashed and he lost members of his team. I never saw him cry when his Ryder was killed mere months after that plane crash.

  If he had cried, I never saw. I only ever saw the strong confident father he was to me. I saw the legend make his mark in history as the driver with the fiery disposition that could rattle even the toughest.

  But there, under a group of birch trees, he sat dressed in all black on the ground with his head against his arms that rested on his knees, crying; his body shaking with the sobs for the entire world to see. My dad was always good at letting his family see one side and the rest of the world saw Jameson Riley the NASCAR driver. But right now, he was a broken man who’d lost his father.

  I knew the dangers of racing, as did he, and grandpa—he knew as well. Even though we all knew, we never thought it, would take grandpa’s life someday.

  Mom was a mess. Grandma had yet to say a word to anyone today but offered her misty smile. Casten said nothing; just stared at his feet as uncle Spencer prepared to give his speech.

  With all this going on around me, nothing compared to seeing my dad crying, my hero, the unbreakable man I’d looked up to my entire life, crying, shaking in broken sobs. He thought this was his fault and just like everything else, he took the weight on his shoulders.

  He never came toward the grave. Instead, he remained in the shadows of the birch trees while my mom and I watched him. I knew mom wanted to comfort him as did I, but there was no way for us too. He lost the greatest man he’d ever known and he lost his hero. Whether you’re made of steel or not, that will take its toll on you.

  Nothing I could say would ever make that better. Nothing anyone said would make a difference to him right now. All we could do was try to let him know we were here for him. We would be his arm restraints if he needed.

  It was stupid looking back on it. None of us should have been out there, especially not grandpa.

  When the last words were spoken by Spencer, mom walked over to dad and collapsed beside him, pulling him into her arms. He clutched her tightly as though his reason for breathing was her, frantically needing her closer to him. His head slumped forward against her knees as she put her hands in his hair, comforting him in a way only she could.

  Arie left with Aunt Emma while Casten and I sat near the grave, watching mom and dad. You never expect to see your parents break but when you do, I guarantee you it won’t be what you expected. You look up to your parents for guidance on how to act when challenging times occur but what happens when they react in a way you’re not expecting?

  “Should we go?” Casten asked softly. “It feels wrong watching him cry.”

  “Yeah,” I stood motioning with my head toward the car. “Everyone is back at our house.”

  The media and fans gathered at the funeral home we used in town but no one knew he wasn’t actually buried there. It was a front on our part just because in sprint car racing, Jimi was more popular than Elvis. We had to take security measures.

  Spencer, Casten and me took off to Elma a few weeks after grandpa was cremated and had the ashes in hand. His wishes were to be spread across Grays Harbor Raceway with Charlie, my other grandpa who died right after I was born.

  Casten and I left my parent’s there and soon they left since the media was basically invading them. When they pulled in the driveway, dad walked down the road that led to the sprint car shop.

  Mom walked inside to greet us.

  “Where’s he going?” Arie asked walking out onto the front porch where we were standing.

  “He said he wants to be alone when he sees it,” Mom said softly, tears spilled down her cheeks. She reached out to hug Casten who wrapped his arms around her. “We should give him some space for now.”

  We left him alone, for a few hours and then I decided to go check on him. I understood how scared he was and angry and he had every right to feel that way.

  He’d been out there in the shop for hours before anyone braved walking in. We knew him well enough to know it was best to just leave him alone at times like this. Luckily his shoulder would prevent him from hurling any transmissions through the wall this time like he did when Ryder was killed.

  He looked tired, very tired. I knew how he felt. It was hard to sleep these days.

  Dad hid it well but you could tell he still felt responsible for it. He’d never let on to others though, he just said, “It’s an accident,” but I don’t think he’d convinced himself of that just yet.

  When he heard the shop door click shut behind me, he looked up.

  His face was that of a guilty man. Once again—he took the brunt on his shoulders. For a moment, I couldn’t speak. This was my father, the unbreakable man, the legend...crying.

  He quickly brushed away the t
ears and cleared his throat. “Did your mom send you after me?”

  “No, I sent myself after you.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He stood straightening out his jacket and tie he’d pulled away from his neck. For a moment, he stared at me. His silence was a loaded weapon and seemed to be a mask behind his indifference. “We should get back anyway.”

  I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to talk about it right now. He closed himself off.

  Few people could get through to my dad. Actually only three and one was gone.

  Arm Restraints – Jameson

  There was something that occurred to me, actually a few things, in the shop that afternoon as I sat inside his sprint car, the metal jagged mess of the car wasn’t easy to sit in. For one, after looking at my car, I knew that I was lucky to be alive.

  But there was something I couldn’t bring myself to admit for a long time. It had been brewing since Ryder’s death. I was scared. And it wasn’t that I was scared on the track, the speed didn’t bother me. Neither did a wreck. What scared me was leaving my family.

  That meant one thing.

  I hated that too. This wasn’t me but then again, it wasn’t about me any longer and I finally realized that. This was about my entire family.

  I steered clear of everyone inside the house, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I respected the way others dealt with death by discussing Jimi’s life and that wasn’t me. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  So instead of saying something disrespectful to someone who tried to push their thoughts in my face, I made my way up to our bedroom.

  Soon Sway came looking for me only to find me sitting out on the balcony drinking a beer. I forgot how good they tasted.

  “You shouldn’t be drinking with your pain pills.” Sway said stepping out onto the balcony. She smiled leaning against the railing.

  I smiled back at her. “I know...but it takes the edge off.”

  “Are you doing all right?”

  Was I?

  No, the pain of his death was real again and I still hadn’t really gotten over that inside. I felt like it was my fault that he was racing that night. He shouldn’t have been. When he came to me and asked that I get a car ready, I jumped at the chance to race with my dad again.

  “Talk to me baby.” She pleaded kneeling down in front of me. Her small hands reached out for mine. “I need to know that you’re going to be okay. It’s killing me seeing you like this.”

  My tearful glassy eyes met hers. “I’ve tried to forget.” I choked. “I have. But I can’t.”

  “And you shouldn’t.” she looked at me, really looked at me. “But you need to realize it’s not your fault.”

  When the few people I allowed to ask about the crash, they ask something along the lines of, “Do you remember?”

  For the most part, the answer to that question is no. I don’t remember.

  But late at night, drenched in sweat, in the flash of darkness overtaken by a restless night, I hear the accident and the blistering screech of metal on metal. I smell methanol, the sound of a sharp growl of a sprint car running lean and then the pop of it lifting. I hear yelling, by who I don’t know.

  So yeah, there were times I had to forcefully stop the memory. I couldn’t take it. Mostly, it was that I didn’t want to remember. I took comfort in knowing that my mind was blocking the memories for a reason. I did understand that it wasn’t my fault.

  “I know it’s not my fault honey but it doesn’t make it any easier. I see the crash. When I sleep, I see it. It’s just a constant reminder.”

  “Like you did with Darrin?”

  “Yes...exactly. It’s the same thing.”

  “You moved on from Darrin...do you think you can move on from this?”

  “I’m not sure but I know I have to or I’ll never get inside a car again.”

  Sway didn’t say anything, just listened as she always did.

  “I never imagined it would feel this way.”

  “Neither did I.” she agreed climbing onto my lap, her tears wetting the side of my face.

  It wasn’t just me hurting here. Everyone was suffering and if anyone understood how I was feeling, it was my wife, the woman that knew me better than anyone, the woman that protected me and kept me safe.

  We ended up staying up in our room the rest of the night. It may have been rude but everyone understood. This wasn’t easy for us.

  That night, in bed, Sway’s hands roamed over my body carefully. She whispered against my stomach, kissing along the scar I had now that ran vertically up my abdomen. “You’re thinking of retiring, aren’t you?”

  My eyes closed, I hadn’t admitted it to anyone yet as I was still undecided. This wasn’t easy for me.

  Her soft touches moved from my stomach to my left arm. “This scar here...is from when you broke your arm in Skagit.” her hand moved to my shoulder to the three-inch long scar across my shoulder, her voice remained soft and low. “This one is from your shoulder surgery when you were twenty-four.”

  I laid there watching her but said nothing.

  “This one here,” her fingertips touched a two-inch scar above my eyebrow. “Is from when Aiden smacked you with a brake caliper six years ago for pushing him into the lake,” she laughed lightly hovering over me on her hands and knees. “And this one,” her lips touched to my scalp where you could easily feel the scar from the brain surgery. “Is from when I nearly lost you...” she pulled back and looked down at me, tears fell down her cheeks. Her dark hair fell from her shoulders and onto my chest when her body pressed against mine carefully. My bones had healed but it was still uncomfortable at times. I would take the pain though, anything to feel closer to her.

  “So like I know your body—I know you.”

  She didn’t have to say anymore. I knew that she meant she knew I was thinking of retirement.

  Gently and with extreme caution, I rolled us over so I was hovering over her. My left hand reached out to touch her neck and then slide along her jaw. My thumb traced her lower lip before I pressed my lips to hers.

  “I know you do, honey.”

  Arm Restraints – Sway

  After the funeral and gathering at our house, we left for Elma for the memorial race. It was nice being back in Elma and around the place we called home for so many years but also, sad.

  Standing there, looking over a track that made so many racers lives comes true, took a few, and created legends, I knew the change that was happening in my husband.

  Jameson shook his head wistfully, the twinkle I always knew present as we watched Axel and his buddy Shane take a few warm up laps. Right then, I saw that eighteen year old kid fighting his way to the Triple Crown with a love for racing and a passion for a sport that knew him better than anyone ever could, including me. You see, this was where he was comfortable. This was where Jameson was himself. And now, after Knoxville, I wasn’t so sure that connection was there any longer.

  His head tipped toward the sprint cars rumbling down the backstretch. “Those were the days that made racing what it is. Not this manufactured shit that’s going on now where they attempt to control outcomes, reality TV and overpowering media attention.” His eyes glanced to a cameraman not far from us. “This is where is began. It’s the reason I still race.” A frown settled over his features. “Or at least why I still want to race,”

  His hand raked over the stubble of hair that grew back, his face adapting a sudden grave edge showing our true age. “It was about the noise.” His voice faded out, a pensive protected look returned but faltered as he mumbled a phrase I knew well. “Where the clay meets the rubber,” He gave the track a nostalgic glance before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans walking to the pits.

  Hearing him utter his father’s words or wisdom was difficult but I loved that saying. For a moment, I could actually picture Jimi, clad in his famous black racing suit, his blue eyes sparkling with aliveness where’d he say to us: “Where the clay meets the rubber is where
a love was formed for the Riley family.”

  Now, looking at Jameson, I’m not sure that love survived Knoxville. I also knew that retirement was heavy on his mind though he wouldn’t say it.

  Arm Restraints – Jameson

  “I think you should run the memorial lap.” I told Axel after the heat races they ran.

  “But you’re supposed to.” He said removing his helmet and pulling himself from his car.

  I nodded my hands remained in my pockets. “I know but I think you should.”

  Axel didn’t question me again, he knew me well enough to know that it wasn’t up for negotiation. I didn’t feel comfortable doing it.

  Over four hundred cars showed up for a two-night feature. The final night, Saturday, we did the memorial where we spread the last portion of his ashes over the track before the A-Main event.

  Originally, they wanted me to make the memorial lap but I opted out of it and had Axel do it. I wasn’t sure when I would get back inside a sprint car. I knew eventually I would, but right now, tonight, it seemed fitting to have Axel do it.

  Instead, I stood with our family in the infield and watched.

  The double zero sprint car my dad raced his entire career made a slow memorial lap prior to the main with Axel holding the canister of his ashes out the side of his car and then came to a rest in front of the flag stand.

  Immediately it reminded me of the first memorial we had for Charlie some twenty years ago when I did this very same thing for him. Sway started crying beside me, I reached for her knowing she was thinking the same thing. Losing your parents never gets easier.

  Axel pulled the coupler out, the engine revved until the gas ran out and the car died. The crowd was completely silent as Axel sat inside the car for a few moments before loosening his belts and climbing from the car. Standing on the rear tires, he climbed on the wing and waved to the crowd.

  I honestly don’t think there was a dry eye in the stands that night.

  The strangest part for me was not racing. I was just as comfortable holding my mom’s hand while she finally cried. My dad passed away nearly three months to the day and the night of his memorial was the night she finally cried for him.