Black Flag (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  I shook his hand away, “No, I’m fine.” And then I was crying.

  Van shifted his weight from one foot to the next contemplating my denial and then his sighed taking a seat beside me. “Are you okay?” his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized things he may have missed before when I kept telling everyone I was all right.

  “No.” I admitted for the first time. “I thought I was but I’m worried. What if everything isn’t okay? What if Jameson can’t get past this?”

  He didn’t say anything, he too focused on the pool and its rippling water drops.

  “Just lie to me.”

  Van finally sighed, his t-shirt clinging to his oversized chest muscles. “I can’t tell you that because I don’t know that it will.” He finally looked at me, rain drops dripped from his dark hair. “I will tell you that a love like you have, with him, is enough.”

  “Will I be all right?”

  “Eventually yes,” Van smiled as he stood taking my hand to lead me back inside the room when the wind and rain started to pick up again. “but it takes time. Don’t give up on him.”

  Most of my life, I avoid everything in the hopes that it would magically go away and I wouldn’t feel anything. It didn’t work. There were times when the only thing we could do is feel the pain. At some point you’ll feel it, whether it’s instant or thirty years from now.

  You could be in the grocery store, getting your mail, driving, daydreaming. You can be doing and thinking about nothing and then all of a sudden you feel it. We may not know what the feelings mean but we have them and it’s important to have them, it’s part of healing, right?

  Back inside the room in bed, my phone buzzed, snapping me out of my self-pity party and I was relieved to see that it was my dirty heathen. Playing with the strands of my wet hair, I read his message.

  Missing you right now honey. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you, love you.

  He always knew exactly what to say and when to say it. There I was wondering how in the hell we would heal from this and here he was, thinking of me in that exact moment. I started crying again clutching my phone to my chest. Eventually my hormones calmed down and I was able to answer him.

  I love you too, congrats on the win.

  As always, it was for you.

  I know, thank you.

  Give my little guy a pat for me.

  I will, see you soon.

  The woo will be waiting for you.

  Slipping my phone under my pillow, I eventually drowned out the horrific noise of Emma snoring enough to actually sleep. I had a feeling the little flailing spaz could hear it too because he was flailing all around all night. Or maybe it was the pint of ice cream I devoured before bed?

  Being on a road trip with Emma had about as much appeal to me as setting myself on fire. Sadly, there I was somewhere between Ohio and Indiana and at that point, I could care less after everything that has happened so far on this road trip. It was a disaster.

  We stopped somewhere to get food and gas. I couldn’t tell you where because like I said, I didn’t care. All I knew was it wasn’t Elma.

  Being a punching bag for a child; I had to pee. Grunting, pushing and pulling just to get out of the car, I was amazed I was able to actually walk.

  Peeing in a taint tank aka porta potty also had about as much appeal as setting myself on fire but I’d go a step further on this one and include having my toenails ripped off.

  Just the smell in that damn thing was enough to make me want to puke.

  I intended on trying to place toilet paper on the seat and then just scratched that idea and did the hover over the seat thing. Well, that plan would have worked but I failed to realize how slippery the floor was.

  I’ll spare you the gruesome details but in my attempts to right my footing, my arm, the casted one, slipped inside the doom dump. Gagging, I almost vomited right there. I’m actually amazed I didn’t.

  Most disgusting, horrific, smelly, incident that had ever happened to me. Embarrassed and smelly, I made my way back to the car to wait for Emma and Van.

  What seemed like for fucking ever, Emma and Van finally emerged, and then burst out laughing.

  Fucking laughing!

  “Can you just help me?” I reached for the paper towels next to the pumps.

  I must have looked rather ridiculous. I mean there I was with a baby bump walking around with shit on myself.

  What was worse, my baby bump had popped out considerably. Now I looked like two sticks with a baked potato on top. Not to mention my pants kept slipping down because in my mad rush to exit the taint tank, I forgot to button them. I could apply for my plumber’s license any day now.

  More laughing, no helping and at one point Emma began taking pictures with her cell phone. Van was no fucking help either. He was doubled over, face turning red from laughter. I wanted to push his burly ass but no there’d be no budging him.

  How this is so funny is what I want to know? I’m covered in poo, hardly funny and those two could hardly look at me without giggles.

  “You know what assholes? Can you just laugh at me after we clean this off?”

  Van tried to nod, laughed and then reached for a hose.

  A little shit head of a kid walked past, staring at me in horror as he took in my appearance. “What are you looking at?” I blurted out.

  He gave me a look that was somewhere between scared shitless and horrified by what I had on me.

  The assholes finally stopped laughing and assisted me in cleaning up the mess but Emma being Emma wasn’t watching where she was throwing the used paper towels after we cleaned off my cast. I was tempted to cut the cast off because it smelled that bad.

  Anyhow, Emma was throwing them over her shoulder.

  They were not going into the trash.

  Instead, they went into the back seat of this old Plymouth parked beside us with an elderly woman sitting in the front seat. When her elderly husband got inside, he wrinkled his nose and gave his wife, I assumed, a look of complete disgust.

  “Irma, did you shit yourself again?” he asked his wife.

  Emma, Van, and I all looked at each other at the same time. We had no choice but to laugh uncontrollably at what just happened until I actually peed my pants.

  18. Spoiler – Jameson

  Spoiler – A metal blade attached to the rear deck lid of the car. It helps restrict airflow over the rear of the car, providing down force and traction.

  I believe our bodies are like the engines we run. We are pressurized systems, except we have blood instead of oil pumping through our veins. Just like an engine, there has to be a safe way for us to relieve the pressure built up before it finds its own way out. This is essential, because when an engine explodes, usually the connecting rod goes through the engine block, producing a lot of smoke and steam, and the results are catastrophic not to mention expensive.

  Throughout my racing career, pressure was continually building until I eventually reached my breaking point. What I needed was a way to relieve this pressure before I exploded and released my own smoke and steam, like I did the time I was racing USAC and Sway left for college.

  While sitting inside my motor coach alone, I took a look at the NASCAR website, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Lately all the articles focused on how out of control I was. They weren’t altogether wrong, but some upset me more than others because of the way they were written—portraying me like I was a childish rookie who let his violet temper tantrums control him.

  The headlines would all read the same.

  The Rise and Fall of Greatness

  A storm brewing in Black and Red

  Where’s Torres? Ask Rowdy Riley

  Reading through the lies and miscommunication between me and the media, I couldn’t help but smile despite my rage. When I came across the one that read:

  Quell on edge of Desperation

  I tossed my laptop across my motor coach. It didn’t make me feel any better. It just meant I needed to buy another, my third
this month alone. I just couldn’t believe the lies written and the believing ears waiting to read it.

  I made my point known too. Every report out there wanted to question me on Darrin and where he was. Guess what, I ignored them. That’s when the lies appeared. But the thing was, NASCAR made it that way. I couldn’t speak my mind for the simple fact that they would fine me.

  It was no secret that NASCAR controlled our interactions with the media. When we were at the track, it was their stomping grounds. We needed to behave in a manner they felt appropriate. If they deemed your language during an interview as inappropriate, they fined you. Let’s just say I had a lot deeming going on these days. It turn, I declined interviews with just about everyone. By doing that, I had my sponsors deeming me too.

  They would say things like, “Jameson, we respect your aggression you show out there and the way you can make the car come to you. Even though you’re not on the track, you’re still representing us. Your fans, your sponsors, your team, all depend on you. If you can’t represent us in the manner we wish, we have a problem.”

  It was suddenly like no one understood me anymore or why I felt this way. More importantly, it felt like no one knew me.

  Even my family who supposedly knew me better than everyone.

  “Jameson you need to snap out of this shit!” Alley screamed in my face before the Dover race, her calico hair falling into her eyes as she brushed it back behind her ear, her face flushed with anger. “If I have to make another public statement as to why you accosted another NASCAR official, I’m going to accost you!”

  I knew the strain my recent polemic with NASCAR was putting on my team but I snapped once again. I slammed my fist down on the table inside the hauler, the water bottle that was balancing precariously on the edge fell to the floor.

  “What the fuck do you want me to do?” I growled back pulling at my hair, my head rested against the table.

  Most race car drivers fear the unknown and we fear ourselves. It’s almost like there’s a shadow of fear following us around. It’s fear, it’s doubt, it’s anxiety, it’s everything all the time. But the thing was, we couldn’t let on we had this fear. If we did, people would know we weren’t those mythical creatures they thought we were.

  Instead, we hope that by winning more races and outsmarting the competition on setups that we can outrun all this fear, doubt and anxiety, and be those mythical creatures.

  Some say you can’t outrun a shadow. So how do you leave it behind? How do you leave behind fear and move forward?

  Alley looked down at me, her face relaxing. “I don’t know...just...you’re being fined again.” she threw the paperwork at me. “You cannot throw your helmet at an official and not get fined. You can’t flip an official off and you sure as shit can’t try to run one over with your car.” Her eyebrow arched. “I know damn well your foot didn’t slip off the brake.”

  “Whatever.” I mumbled.

  “Don’t whatever me.” she protested punching my shoulder. “You need to take this seriously.”

  “Don’t touch me, Alley!” I stormed out of the hauler before I said something I’d regret, or destroyed something. The metal door slammed behind me. I was tired of everyone telling me what I needed to do or how I should feel about all this.

  “Jameson?” I heard someone call from behind.

  I glanced over my shoulder but kept walking and noticed Tate trying to catch up with me. “Jameson, hold up a minute.” He took a few large strides before he was beside me.

  I drew in a deep breath, ran my hand through my hair and turned toward him.

  “What’s up man?” I was trying to act patient but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t considering I wasn’t even looking him in the eye, my attention was focused on my phone checking my messages.

  “You want to grab some dinner?” he asked keeping pace with me.

  “I need to go call Sway.” I told him, my voice full of forlornness. “But after that we can.”

  “Sounds good...call me when you’re done,”

  When I entered the motor coach Spencer and Aiden were in there playing Xbox. One look from me and they were making up excuses as to why they needed to leave, which was fine be me.

  I changed out of my race suit and then sat down on the couch.

  I knew I was fucking up. I knew I needed to snap out of this bullshit but I honestly had no clue how to.

  My thumb hovered over Sway’s number but before I called, I needed to get my shit together. She didn’t need to speak with the out of control reckless man I’d become these past few days. She needed the man she fell in love with.

  I could see the sun on the horizon, dark to light, nothing changed though. For me, I remained rooted in the shadows of the aftermath trying to make my way through rubble.

  I pressed send and waited for Sway to answer. Her voice was soft and tranquil when she answered. “Hey handsome,”

  “Hey yourself, beautiful,” I smiled to myself that just the tone of her voice could relax me. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good. Feeling better every day,” She told me. “How was practice?” her voice had a certain jovialness that made me smile.

  “Thanks for the sixty three voicemails last night. I had no idea my phone could hold that many.”

  “Now you know. Tommy was behind some of them. By the way, that shit head managed to get himself kicked out of here!”

  “How the hell did he manage that?”

  “Who knows. How was the race?”

  She knew I was stalling.

  “It’s was okay...I got fined though.” I knew once Jimi heard about another fine, I would be in hot water once again with him not to mention Simplex.

  “Why?”

  “I kind of threw my helmet at an official when he black flagged me during practice.”

  “Jameson!” Sway growled. “You need to knock that shit off.”

  “It doesn’t fucking matter anyways.” I mumbled inertly.

  “Why not?”

  “It just doesn’t.” I began fumbling with the hem of my shirt. “The season has already gone to shit. I just want it to be over with.”

  “Jameson Anthony Riley, you need to stop this and pull yourself together!”

  “How?” I shouted back, instantly regretting the tone of my voice.

  “Okay...” Sway paused for a long moment and I knew she was pissed. “I will put up with a lot of shit from you Jameson, but I will not sit back and watch you throw your career away because of that douche bag. I’ve been by your side, watching, waiting, and supporting you through it all. So for you to just give up now, what does that say about us? What does that say to our son?” Sway’s rant stopped briefly as she sighed. “I can’t watch you do this...I won’t sit back and watch you do this to yourself. I get it...I really do. I feel the pain as well. I know how this has left its mark on us but I can’t let it destroy me. We can’t let it destroy us. If we do...if we let it destroy us, he’s won. They’ve won.”

  The line was silent aside from the static from the cell phone reception, only our labored breathing filled the air.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Sway had never gone off on a diatribe like that before, with me anyways. And the worst part, I couldn’t blame her.

  “I...uh—”

  “Unless you are going to tell me that you’re sorry and that you’ll go out there and be the man I agreed to marry, save your bullshit for someone else.”

  I crumbled fast.

  “I’m sorry...” my voice broke. “I really am honey...I’m lost. I just don’t know how to be that man for you right now. I just don’t know.” I drew in a shaky breath. “All I see is that video on an endless loop. I look at you and see the images...and I can’t make it stop. I want to but—”

  “I know Jameson. I really do understand but what I’m saying is that I fell in love with the arrogant, cocky dirty heathen who knew what he wanted out of life. He knew exactly what his dreams were and was determined as hell to achieve them, no matte
r what. I fell in love with the strong-minded eleven year old that thought he was the shit compared to men three times his age, and you know what? He was. You are.” Sway let out another sigh. “I want that man. That’s the man I agreed to spend the rest of my life with. The man that stood his ground when everyone said he couldn’t make it out east when he was eighteen. The man that showed the world that an eighteen-year old kid could go to a track he’d never raced at before and break the track record first time out. I want him.”

  “That’s still me Sway.” I told her, defeated. “I’m still that man.”

  “No, not right now you’re not. I see that man, but I also see him slipping away. Champions aren’t made, Jameson. They’re born. You were born to do this.”

  Shadows of fear can be suffocating if you let them. At some point, you’ll get tired of running from it. At some point, you have to face it and turn on the light.

  “We can’t waste our time trying to get back what he took from us. We’ll miss out on what’s right in front of us.” She said softly before she hung up.

  As always, she knew exactly what to say. She was right. We had a chance here to overcome this and stop running from the looming shadows.

  I will say that being away from Sway gave me time to calm down and think. I wasn’t reminded every second of the goddamn day of what Darrin did to her by staring at the bruises that still lingered. But I still thought of them, I was still reminded every second of the goddamn day that they were there because those images had been seared into my brain.

  I tried to keep focused but it was a constant battle within me. I tried to keep that light off in fear the doubt of my shadow would return.

  “I’ll get the smoked chicken and a Jack n coke.” I handed the menu back to the waitress over my shoulder.

  “I’ll have the same, please.” Tate smiled politely toward the waitress.