by Shey Stahl
“He can’t stand to see Sway in pain.” Mallory added.
I leaned against the wall when I saw Sway sitting on the porch staring at the driveway and listened to the conversations surrounding me.
Everyone asked the same thing: “How’s Sway?” followed directly by “How’s Jameson?”
Why did people care how I was? I wondered but just by hearing those brief conversations, I understood. I understood because I wasn’t okay. Just like my wife, I was hurting. I’d known Charlie even longer than I’d known Sway.
People filed in and out of their home, paying their respects. It made me sick to my stomach any time I thought that he was actually gone. I kept thinking he’d come down the hall any minute and yell at Logan for something...but he wasn’t. It seemed the hardest part about all of this was accepting.
No one likes change and permanent change was even worse.
Blown Motor – Sway
Jameson stepped onto the porch, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark trousers. He leaned against the railing, the sleeves of his gray dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. I watched his slow steady breathing when leisurely he lifted his hand to run it through his hair—his head slumped forward staring at the ground.
I had snuck out here when everyone started talking about Charlie firing the staff from the track. I was really going to miss the crazy bastard. Nothing would be the same around the track anymore, or at home. I already felt different being here in this house without him. It felt empty, lifeless, but maybe that was just me.
“What are you doing out here?” Jameson eventually asked.
“Watching Mrs. Taylor’s cat lick his balls,” I replied imperturbably.
He chuckled and took a seat next to me on the worn wooden steps, bumping my shoulder.
“There’s a funeral going on in there.”
“Is that so?” I laughed bitterly watching Mrs. Taylor’s cat walk away, flicking his tail with each step. “I couldn’t tell with all the black. I thought I was at a Johnny Cash concert.”
We sat there and joked for a few moments before I decided it was time to give my speech. I turned to Jameson once we were inside.
“Jameson, I’m warning you...you leave me alone with Mrs. Taylor for more than five minutes and I’ll chop you dick off.”
Mrs. Taylor was our crazy neighbor who annoyed the fuck out of me, worse than the Lucifer twins did if that tells you anything. When I was nine, she paid me twenty bucks to get her mail for a week and deliver it to her. She talked so goddamn much I quit after two days.
“That’s a little harsh and you really should stop threatening my manhood if you want more children but...I wouldn’t think of it.” He slapped my ass once as we walked toward the back yard where everyone was gathered.
I had no idea what to say during my speech so I reached for the note in my pocket that I found from my mom, feeling the warm tears streaming down my cheeks. I looked over at Jameson who was standing near the fence off to my right—tears glazed his eyes as he held our son close.
He mouthed, “I love you,” to me and winked once.
I inhaled a deep breath before I began. “I...don’t really know what to say.” I paused feeling everyone’s eyes focus on me. “But I found a note from my mother that really summed everything up for me this morning.” Pausing again, I gave Jameson a small smile. “She told me to not look back. She told me that all of this I’m feeling right now, the pain, the anger, the depression is what I’m supposed to feel, and it’s natural. It’s normal. She said that everything that happens to you are the pages within the story and it’s your novel. Write the ending you want. She said that what would really define me was when I thought I couldn’t go on. How I went on would be my destiny.” I finally looked up to find Jameson smiling at me. “I don’t know what to say about Charlie except that he did the best he could for me. I never once felt like he didn’t love me nor did I ever feel like I let him down. He supported me in everything I did and that’s exactly the way a father should be.”
I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I was drawing a blank until I looked over at Axel once again. “Charlie’s only wish was to see me walk down the aisle and see his only grandson born, both of which he was able to do. He lived a full life and he had no regrets. Neither should we. He knew we loved him and that’s all that matters. That’s all we can ask is that we tell the ones we love how much we love them and appreciate them for who they are.”
I couldn’t say any more because at that point, staring at my son, I lost it again and walked away to hide in the closet again.
This time Jameson followed, concerned for his manhood.
So there we sat, Jameson and me in Charlie’s closet.
“Where’s Axel?” I finally asked after ruining his black dress shirt with snot and tears.
“He’s with Andrea.” He told me. “I think she needed him to cheer her up.”
“He does that for people, doesn’t he?”
Jameson leaned over kissing the top of my head. “Yeah he does.”
“We should probably go back downstairs, huh?”
“Nah...we can stay up here as long as you need to.”
We were quiet for another few moments before I began to pour my heart out to him.
“You know, I thought that if I avoided it, pretended it wasn’t happening that I could bandage the pain once it hit but that’s not the case. It hurts.”
“I know honey.” He pulled me to his chest. “I’m sorry I can’t take away the pain.”
Jameson and I had been through so much since we’ve known each other and I had no doubt this was just another obstacle that would increase our bond with one another.
In some relationships, what happened with Darrin would have destroyed the couple but not us. If anything, Darrin showed me just how much I loved Jameson and how strong our bond was.
“When do you need to leave Las Vegas?”
“I need to be there next Wednesday...so I have ten days.” He smiled with a slow wink. “Can you think of anything I can do in ten days?”
“Oh,” I sighed dramatically. “I can think of a lot of things.”
“Honeymoon?”
“Honeymoon,” I agreed.
Time alone was exactly what we needed.
With that acceptance comes moving on and living the life you’ve been given. You owe it to the ones you’ve lost to go and do what they no longer get a chance to—remember them in a way that brings you both happiness.
Charlie would have wanted me to continue to be a mother and a wife and that’s what I was going to do. My book was still being written. I may have some torn pages, maybe even dog-eared, but I tell you something else, it was one hell of a story.
7. Restart – Sway
Restart – The waving of the green flag following a caution period.
“This is a bad idea.”
“No, it’s not. He’ll be fine.”
“He needs me though.”
“Your husband needs you too.” Alley pushed me toward the door. “Go enjoy yourselves. Next week in Las Vegas you’re going to wish you’d taken this time. I’m telling you, this year it’s completely different at the track. He can’t even walk from his motor coach to the paddock without someone chasing him.”
“And he could before?”
“Not really the point.” She shoved me into the door. “Leave already.”
I handed her everything Axel would need for the next week and then some. Looking over the two suitcases full of clothing, toys and food for my little spaz, I clearly over packed.
“Just...don’t leave him alone with Emma and Aiden, I don’t trust them.”
“I wouldn’t either.” She laughed. “Last week Aiden asked me if he could take Lane to the bar with him because he was good at pool.”
“And one more thing,” I turned to face her before I made my way out the door, crying. “If I come back to a son with a mow-hawk...” I paused taking a dramatic deep breath. “I. will. Kill. Spencer.”
“Don’t worry Sway!” Alley laughed sitting on the floor next to Axel’s car seat. “Now go ride your husband’s magic stick.”
“Okay...uh that’s...weird.”
“Sorry...Spencer messed with my playlists this morning.” She shrugged and taking Axel from his car seat. “Now go, have fun.”
“Where are Spencer and Lane?” I noticed how quiet their apartment was. This was also my way of stalling for a little more time.
“They went to play flag football with Van and the twins.” She smiled.
Van had taken to the twins these days and made sure they did everything six-year old boys should be doing.
Being only thirty-one Van was like a big kid himself. He seemed tough on the outside when he was in protection mode but inside, he was a child just like the rest of the boys in our family.
I left after that because if I didn’t, I’d never leave.
I knew Jameson and I needed some alone time and not just at our house. It’d only been three days since Charlie’s funeral and we had yet to actually be alone. Every time we thought we may get a few minutes together, someone was stopping by to see if we needed anything. We needed alone time is what we needed.
My theories with death and grieving remained the same. Everyone was dealing with the loss in their own way and it affected everyone in our families, even Jimi who had to leave the next day for Grand Rapids. I’d never seen Jimi cry in all the years I’ve known him but when he watched his longtime friend lowered in the ground, the tears fell, as did everyone else.
Andrea was keeping busy with the twins but it was evident everything had taken a toll on her. For someone who usually had a smile upon their face, it was hard to see her without one.
Jameson was the quiet one with it all, said little but offered small gestures that meant the world to me, letting me know he was there for me. I also knew it was hard on him; he loved Charlie just as much as I did. Even though Jameson and I met when we were eleven, Jameson had known Charlie since we bought the track back in 1987. I just failed to realize who Jameson actually was until I was eleven.
I went through all the stages and finally I was moving on to acceptance, slowly. Nothing I could do would ever bring Charlie or Rachel back. It was out of my control. I still needed to be a mother to my son and I still needed to be a wife to my husband.
This was why we were now finally going on our honeymoon.
I came to realize through the unfortunate ways of life, that in life, you’re seldom offered a second chance at love or life in general. So you should take them when they come. Being married to a NASCAR driver, you’re seldom offered alone time...so take it when it comes.
We were sitting there on the plane in a comfortable silence. Jameson was looking over schedules for the track while I read a book on parenting. I didn’t even realize that he was paying any attention to me until I adjusted my funbags so they weren’t popping out of my dress. Then he was practically sitting on my lap, gazing at them.
“Wanna join the mile high club?” he asked, looking a little too cocky.
I smacked his hand away shaking my head.
“You forgot—we already have.” I pointed out remembering the time on his parent’s jet when we went to Savannah.
“It’s not the same,” he whispered against my ear in his perfected dirty heathen seduction voice. “Come on honey, it’ll be fun. I’ll be quick. In n’ out.”
In my head, I was imagining being arrested and sent to Guantanamo Bay or some shit like that for even contemplating doing this. How would I explain that one to Axel?
I was all for a little adventure but really, this had bad idea written all over it. When he broke out with the dirty engine talking, I ignored my inner warnings and followed his dirty heathen ass toward the bathrooms located in the back of the plane, overlooking the glances of other passengers.
Once inside the tiny bathroom, Jameson grabbed onto my waist, holding me against him. His lips skimmed across my throat. It didn’t take long for him to be shirtless and writhing against each other. His lips teased me as my hands explored his flawless body. We were seldom alone these last few weeks with the funeral and sex was usually the last thing on our minds. It’d been at least four weeks since we were actually alone intimately in any sort of way.
He managed to get my dress up around my waist and sat me in the sink before his fingers slid inside my panties. I decided to up the ante. With a hell of a lot of skill and determination—I was able to not be totally distracted by Jameson’s fingers and my hand found its way into his jeans. My fingers skimmed over his sensitive skin of his camshaft for piston stroking, causing his movements to falter. I smiled smugly and used my knees and feet to push his jeans and boxers past his hips.
“Sway,” he moaned.
I knew sex wouldn’t work in here but I knew what would.
A few seconds he had managed to wipe the smugness off my face and replaced it with something that probably looked like near orgasmic shock. My eyes rolled back and I nearly bit my bottom lip off as I shook against him.
The touching and teasing became a battle of wills that was sporadically interrupted when one of us would become so caught up in the emotions running through our bodies that we forgot what we were doing.
“You feel so good,” Jameson groaned against my neck, tightening his grip and then sinking his teeth into my shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”
I shook my head arching my body up against his as I moved my hips with his fingers. “Oh god...” Jameson added another finger and every coherent thought in my mind was gone. “Jesus Christ!” I yelled entirely too loud for an airplane.
Someone began knocking on the door but we both ignored it, too caught up in our own personal bliss.
Fortunately, for Jameson, when I was in the middle of seizing against him, my hand happened to tighten around him. It wasn’t too tight or hard—apparently, it was just right, because Jameson groaned and thrust his hips toward me while the knocking turned to pounding and loud voice came through.
“Dude, I have to go!” More knocking, “Come out already!”
What did my hotheaded dirty heathen do?
He pounded against the door keeping one arm tightly against my waist. “Fuck off!”
“Let go,” I panted against his shoulder.
He nodded almost frantically as his lips found mine again. Sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, I tried to enjoy his touches concentrating on making him feel just as good.
My spastic jerking seemed to work and Jameson was soon moaning and muttering incoherently against my neck before his weight slumped against me, pushing my ass inside the sink.
What if I’m stuck?
I smiled when his lips brushed along my neck and collarbone before he leaned back and reached for the toilet paper. Smirking, he cleaned off my hand and then pulled his boxers and jeans back up.
“Open the door!” The annoying voice yelled again pounding his fist against the door.
Jameson practically growled and punched the door leaving a dent in the plastic. “Get lost asshole!”
Right about then was when I realized I was stuck and that we really are going to Guantanamo Bay.
“I’m stuck.” I announced.
Jameson looked between my legs, smirking.
“Don’t joke.”
“Not joking...” I wiggled frantically, not smirking, not joking. “I’m stuck. Not joking.” I repeated in just as much of a frantic voice one would use while stuck in an airplane sink.
Would they flush me out like waste now?
“Seriously?” he ran his left hand through his hair examining my position in the sink. “You’re really stuck?”
“Yes asshole. I’m stuck!”
“Shit.”
The pounding continued and Jameson spent more time arguing with the douche on the other side of the door than helping me. I was not impressed with his lack of concern for me and my ass.
“What am I going to do?” I asked myself because Jameson was
far too engrossed in the shithead on the other side of the door to care about an evacuation plan for my ass.
I tried to suck it in but really, how does one suck in their ass?
If anyone knows, I’d really like to know because that really does seem like a useful trait to have.
Ass sucking did nothing and just when I was mentally preparing my speech to my son about how mommy and daddy were arrested and deported to Guantanamo Bay, Jameson reached behind me to turn on the water—that was up my ass crack—and started threatening to kick the shit out of the guy outside.
“Wait until I open the door asshole.” Jameson added hitting the door.
So there I was, stuck in the goddamn airplane sink, my husband was pounding against the door and simultaneously tugging on my legs.
It felt strange, water filling in around my ass. I wondered if that’s what an enema would feel like. Not that I ever planned on having one but I could imagine that’s how it would feel.
After a good ten minutes of flowing water, it greased me enough that I finally got loose only to realize Jameson was standing in about an inch of water.
How do we always end up in these situations?
I stood up—well I tried to, my ass was sore. Straightening my wet dress, I attempted to right my panties but realized very quickly they were destroyed.
“You need to cut this shit out. It’s getting old...”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He snapped at me pounding on the door.
“Asshole,” I kicked his shin. “Now I have to spend the remainder of the fucking plane ride with no underwear on.”
He waggled his eyebrows.
“Lucky me,” he leaned forward and kissed along my neck again. “Husband two, wife...still zero.”
“I’m not playing that game with you.” Despite my bitter tone, I was amused and laughed. “You know...it’s not the mile high club unless we have sex.” I pointed out with a waggle of my own.
“Pft...I’m not risking my manhood. If we hit turbulence...” he cringed zipping his jeans, “I’m not risking it.”