by Stahl, Shey
“Come on, bud. You need to focus!” Kyle yelled back at me when I continued to rant about NASCAR’s latest call. “It’s not personal.”
Not personal?
It was personal and I knew Gordon, the Director of Competition, and Darrin’s uncle, had something to do with this. So far this year, I’d been penalized for speeding on pit road eight times. With everything that could happen in a race, we didn’t need outside forces aiding in that.
Let me tell you something here, pit road speed for Darlington was 30 mph. This meant if my RPM’s were on 5600...I was going roughly 30 mph, give or take. We didn’t have speedometers so my theory wasn’t exact science but everything was based off your RPM’s. NASCAR allowed a 5 mph leeway, which meant I would be within that.
It was personal.
“Oh, well hell...that’s a relief, Kyle!” I shouted back at him because this was complete bullshit, and he knew it. “Not personal? It’s fucking personal to me damn it!”
Like I said, it wasn’t just one thing that decided the outcome of a race. What they didn’t understand was how much want I had for this. I was not a man that just settled for a taste. I wanted more. I wouldn’t settle for less. Even if it meant I wrecked trying, that’s just the type of racer I was. NASCAR wasn’t going to take this from me with some bullshit penalty. I wanted this too badly. With everything I sacrificed, I needed this to prove to myself that I wasn’t giving those things up for just nothing.
Ever since I was little, my answer to my dad’s questions of, “Do you want this?” has always been yes. I did want this.
Around lap two hundred, I got my lap back with the help of the “lucky dog” rule (being the first car a lap down) and was running thirty second. My mood hadn’t improved as I fought my way back through the traffic.
“Your lap times are—” Kyle began but I cut him off.
“Don’t tell me lap times unless I ask.”
“Outside one...outside...at your rear...clear.” Aiden announced as I moved up to thirtieth position.
“I’m just trying to help—”
“You know what would be really fucking helpful Kyle?” I growled nudging the back of Mike Tanner’s car who failed to yield to the blue flag.
“What?” he asked just as annoyed with me as I was with him.
“Just stop talking and let me drive!”
That shut him up. I knew I was being rude, but Kyle understood. He knew too what it took for us to get here. It wasn’t right nor was it respectful for me to treat him that way but if you understood the pressures put upon us each week to win, you’d understand then how heated it gets.
By lap two sixty-seven, I was twentieth and gaining quickly on Tate. I passed him but then when I got up to ninth, he caught me again and was looking for redemption.
“His brakes are really hot. He’s not going to make it riding your ass like that.” Kyle chuckled when Tate bumped me from behind once again.
“I know.”
“You’re holding him on purpose, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I could pull away anytime I want. If I keep him here...he runs his tires and brakes up. Good for me, bad for him.”
As race car drivers, we lived our lives on the racetrack. We lived for each turn, each front stretch, and each back stretch. After a while, our ways of racing became our ways of life. Other drivers understood because, given the chance, they acted in the same manner. We pushed our luck just to gamble for the win. We played with fire until we got burned, and then, the following Sunday, went back to playing with that very same fire. Everything, and I mean everything, was a competition. The jackass that said winning wasn’t everything had obviously never raced in the cup series.
For a moment, I felt bad racing Tate like that but I also knew, given the chance, he’d do the same thing. It was all or nothing.
“How’s the car?” Kyle asked when the caution came out on lap three twenty nine.
“Sporty.” I replied keeping focus.
“Huh?”
“Sporty.”
Kyle laughed as did Aiden. “Do you want to make any changes?”
“No!” I barked. “Don’t touch a goddamn thing.”
The car really was perfect. I could drive in hard and pass high or low.
“How’s your brake’s?”
“Good, fans are on. They’re soft but I think they’ll be fine.”
On lap three eighty four, I passed Bobby for the lead.
“All clear, go like hell. This is your race to win.” Aiden praised when I got around Bobby on the outside.
“You completed lap three-eighty seven with a 1.3 second lead there, keep focused. Clear by ten in front.”
I was focused because the next thing I heard was: “Coming to the white flag next time by,”
My heartbeat thudded loudly in my ears making it almost impossible to hear anything else, until Kyle came back with.
“NICE JOB!” Kyle yelled when I crossed the finish line. “Way to bounce back. You drove your ass off out there tonight.”
That was the fucking truth. I was exhausted.
The moment I took the checkered flag, I was relieved but I couldn’t say anything over the radio. The pressure I put upon myself, my team, and my family was rewarded at times like this. All the hard work, all the late nights and early mornings, all the times away from Sway, all those personal sacrifices were veiled by the fact that I could come out here after an injury and still win. I could come back from a lap down and still win. I could drown out everything around me and win, for this team, for us.
“Thanks guys, I couldn’t have done it without you.” I choked out. I wanted them to know how much I appreciated them, even though I didn’t exactly show them all the time.
“I’m so proud of you!” Sway screamed into the radio. It was rare for her to talk to me through the radio as we kept it strictly professional between the teams but she must have ripped Kyle’s headset away.
“Thank you honey,”
I pulled down on the apron of the finish line, grabbed the checkered flag from the official and did my burn out, waving the flag around. There’s one thing I loved more than winning and that was winning under the lights of a night race. It always brought me back to the days racing at Elma when I was a kid and only raced under the lights.
When I was finished my burnout, I got out of the car and climbed the fence giving those devoted fans a piece of the action. The swarm that gathered screamed and hollered, so I threw the flag into the crowd for them. They roared to life.
It was such an intense feeling being near all the fans after you won. These were the people who made this worth it. They believed in me just as much as my family did.
Eventually I made my way toward victory lane for the fifth time this season.
This win felt different. I proved to myself and everyone else out there that I could do it. I could come back from a Pocono and still be competitive. I could come back from being a lap down and win. Above all else, I was now in position to snag that championship and prove to Darrin I wasn’t the kid he pegged me to be. Just because my dad funded the team didn’t mean I couldn’t win.
The drive down pit road toward victory lane was slow as all my fellow drivers congratulated me on the win. They understood because they felt the same way. I showed I could do it tonight and nothing could stop me.
Every track had victory lane located in a different location. Usually it wasn’t hard to find, you just followed the crowd more or less. It was fenced in, authorized personnel only and fairly well landscaped for the television.
Once in victory lane, my family had already gathered and was patiently waiting for me. It took me a while to get out of my car, mainly because I didn’t want the entire world seeing me so emotional. When I’d choked back my emotions, I pulled myself from the car beating my fists on the roof, provoking my team into a frenzy. I laughed as they sprung to life shaking Pepsi, champagne and whatever else they had over us.
Spencer and Mason were the first to my car,
followed by Kyle and my dad.
Sway and the rest of my family lingered in the shadows letting the boys rough me up with their rowdy hugs and loud raucous remarks. The media was in my face the next second asking me how it felt to get my fifth win on a night when we really needed it.
“My Simplex Ford was awesome all night. The penalty really put us back but Kyle kept me focused and we managed to pull it off despite the bad call.”
That provoked him.
“So you feel the penalty wasn’t justified.”
“No, I don’t.” I shook my head wiping my face with a towel Alley had tossed my direction in the commotion. “I’ve been called for speeding eight times this year and not once was I pulling away from any other cars on pit road. Kind of makes you think it’s not me, doesn’t it?”
Of course he didn’t have a response and directed the conversation away from NASCAR.
Spencer interrupted spraying me, and the reporter, with champagne. “We saw you gave the flag to the fans out there.” He hedged wiping the champagne off the microphone.
My face and upper body were completely soaked now.
“I think I actually hit somebody with the checkered flag. Somebody got it though, they deserve it. Without the fans this sport wouldn’t be what it is.”
I was trying my hardest to get away from the reporter, I just wanted to celebrate with my family but this is part of the game I guess. Sacrifices, right?
With everything that happened this weekend, I didn’t know when the right moment would be to propose to Sway. My many attempts this week ended in complete disaster. But in that moment with the cheering and adulation of the screaming fans, champagne spraying, the smells of burnt rubber, racing fuel, loutish calls of my teammates and excitement swirling around through the air, I realized the moment was perfect, for us.
I had imagined proposing to Sway some place romantic, on the beach or surrounded by candles. A place, a moment, where I confessed my undying love for her, but that wasn’t us. Being at a race track, that was us. I’d been holding on to the fantasy that I could create the perfect proposal for the perfect woman. I failed to realize, that wasn’t us.
My eyes focused on hers, warm emeralds gazing back at me with adoration, devotion, worship, love...I saw it all in that one glance. I watched her for a moment, her face flushed from the excitement of being in victory lane. Dancing around with my family, she was breathtaking. The camera flashes illuminated her skin in the summer night surrounding us. Covered in beer, sweat, champagne, I knew this was perfect because it balanced out everything we were when everything else was loose.
In that moment, I didn’t care that the whole world was watching. I didn’t care that people surrounded us.
Sway noticed me leaning against the hood of my car, a familiar stance, watching her. She made her way through the crowd toward me, our eyes locked. When she finally reached me she stopped, smiled, and wrapped her arms around my neck, her delicate body molding to mine as it always did.
Slowly I reached up to take her face gently in my hands, kissing her softly. She didn’t hesitate to throw herself into the kiss, it didn’t matter to her that we were surrounded by people or that the entire world was watching.
I continued to kiss her for a moment and then pulled away with a chuckle. Suddenly I was nervous. Drawing in a deep ragged breath that probably sounded ridiculous, Sway glanced up at me, concern flashing over her features when she noticed my breathing had increased.
One of the first things we learn as a kid is how to communicate with others through speaking. This is ironic because as we get older we tend to have difficulty coming up with words to effectively tell someone how we really feel.
Sure, you can chalk up this difference between children and adults to a greater consciousness of social graces, or fear of rejection, but really, there is no excuse. Ultimately, adults must learn to rely on, and appreciate, a different method.
Words are not everything. It is what you do that matters.
Kids throw tantrums when they don’t get what they want. Hell, I’ve resorted to that tactic too. I’m not saying that this is the best way to go about things. What I’m saying is that, sometimes, actions are needed in order to get you noticed. To get you true feelings heard, the words that fluttered around in my head like a knocking engine, eluding diagnosed, always ended up expressed most effectively through my actions.
“Sway,” I breathed against her lips before looking into eyes that reflected all the love I had for her. “I’ve...been in love with you for longer than I can remember.” She smiled nervously fumbling with the collar of my suit. “Now I know I’ve made some mistakes, but I will never hurt you like that again.” My head tipped, her gaze followed.
She looked at me confused as to where I was going with this in the middle of victory lane, on national television.
I smiled back.
Surrounded by our family and friends, teammates and fans, I’d never seen our future as clear as I did right then. I knew what I wanted and what I wanted to say.
Finally taking her left hand in my trembling one, I slowly dropped down on one knee in front of her while she sat on the hood of my race car.
Sway gasped loudly, her eyes rimmed with tears and put her hand over her mouth. “Oh my—”
She knew.
I shook my head, interrupting her, struggling with my own emotions. “Just...let me do this, please.”
“No, Jameson...this is for you.” She tried tugging on my arm. “This is your time to celebrate, don’t...”
I grinned shaking my head. “Don’t you see...It’s not though, honey. It’s always been me and you since we were eleven. Without you, none of this would be possible. You were there for me when my career began and I have no doubt you’ll be there when it ends. So this...” I motioned to victory lane. “is about you and me.”
Pounding heart, shaking hands and well, my breathing was a little ragged too but I managed to reach inside my racing suit and pull her grandmothers ring out.
Her eyes dropped to my hand, widening when she took in the ring.
Sway nodded, almost frantically for me to continue. By then, I noticed the party going on around us halted and every eye in victory lane was now focused Sway and I. Here we were, surrounded by the world but I only saw her.
Slowly I opened the black velvet box, revealing the ring, earning me yet another gasp and great deal of tears from Sway.
“Sway Marie Reins...” I was embarrassed to say my voice cracked. “I promise to love you every moment of forever...will you marry me?”
Her eyes that were glued to the ring slowly met mine. She stared at me long and hard, not immediately answering. I tried to be patient, but not knowing what she was thinking or if she would say yes was driving me mad.
But she surprised me, as she often does by whispering an emotional, “Yes.” tears streaming down her cheeks.
I smiled widely; kissed her hand I was holding and then slipped the ring on her finger.
It was no longer just Sway and me in that moment once she said yes. It was the entire fucking world. Both our families were in our faces, the media was there, fans were screaming that they just witnessed the proposal in person...it was a shit storm but I didn’t regret it, or at least I didn’t in that moment.
Even with the swarm of people screaming around us, Sway reached for me as I reached for her. In that moment, we let the world slip away once again and enjoyed the peace within our tiny bubble of perfection.
Balance – Sway
Some say a fairytale is only scripted in a child’s book or the movies. Never believing, never seeing, they also think such happiness will never happen to them. I believe in making the fairytale, deciding for yourself when, how, and with who. You see, I believe in the fairytale but I also believe in such a thing as happy right now. Maybe the complete fairytale was still being written.
When I was a child, I had this fantasy of what my life would be like. I imagined there would be the perfect white wedding dress,
a prince charming that’d carry me to some huge castle with a dragon who guarded me at night. I remember believing in all the magically mythical beings that were scripted in those stories.
I believed all that shit was true with every fiber of my being. I was a kid. But eventually I grew up and one day I realized the stories were full of shit. Actually, Charlie informed me all that was just bullshit. Fairytales don’t exist. But when you’re a little girl who grew up without a mom, it’s hard to let go of that fairytale entirely because I still believed that maybe it would come true for me. I hoped something in my little world would go my way.
Believing in something is a funny thing because when you’re least expecting it, it shows up in ways you never imagined it would.
The castle turns out to be an unfinished house and the prince charming turns out to be a dirty heathen with anger issues.
Happily ever after isn’t important.
What’s in front of you is. Happy right now it what’s important.
Before we could make it inside the house on Lake Norman, I was suddenly whirled and pressed against the door by a very intense Jameson. His eyes burned into mine as he pressed against me, his hips strong, his hands wildly impatient. One wild hand slid down my leg, grasped my thigh and hitched it around his hip. I moaned at his touch, overwhelmed. Once inside our unfinished house, I was speechless.
Like I said, in a simple gesture, sometimes people can take your breath away.
The living room had been transformed into something out of a fairytale. The empty house was ablaze with candles, bathing the dark room in a soft warm glow. The windows and French doors were open, allowing the warm summer night air to swirl throughout the house. The smells of fresh cut grass, flowers and my Jameson next to me flooded my senses making me light headed. If I listened closely, I could hear the rippling of the lake and the water slapping the deck.
And there, leaning against the wall, with a smirk on his face, resembling something out of a James Dean movie was my dirty heathen...my prince charming, my knight in shining armor. His hair was messy, body strong, his white dress shirt unbuttoned all the way down, thanks to me, and his black tie loosened around his neck. The way the cathedral candle monstrosity danced across his skin it made him, well, he sparkled and his rusty hair glistened. His hands were tucked into his pockets leaving his jacket pinned between his forearm and side.