Fast Time

by Shey Stahl

  A week before Christmas, I took the boys out to pick out something we could give Jack for Christmas. Something we could put on his grave.

  Jonah, who wasn’t excited to go, took his time getting his shoes on when surprisingly Jacen, who refused to wear shoes, was in a hurry. He was out the door and standing next to my truck with his coat in hand staring at the ground.

  “In a hurry, little man?” I asked him, carrying a crying Jonah to the truck.

  Jacen looked back at the house, then to me, and to the ground, but said nothing. The way he watched the house struck me as odd as we pulled out of the driveway when I realized what he was looking at.

  Lily.

  She was in our room, where I had left her crying this morning, watching us leave.

  We were about a mile down the road when Jacen finally spoke. “Mommy sad.”

  My eyes shot to his in the mirror to find him looking at me, waiting for my reply. “She just misses Jack.”

  “I miss Jack, too,” Jonah said, watching the cars out the window.

  “I know, we all do. Let’s pick out something special for him today to let him know how much we love him.”

  Jonah looked over at Jacen, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t, he spoke for him. “She doesn’t want us anymore. She misses Jack too much.”

  Immediately, I pulled the car over onto the shoulder of the road and turned to face them. “Don’t ever think that. Don’t. Mommy and me, we love you guys very much. Very much.”

  Blinking slowly, Jonah looked at Jacen again. “But she cries all the time and doesn’t play with us anymore.”

  Reaching around, I shook Jacen’s foot so he’d look at me. The despondency in his stare made me downright angry that my children would ever feel this way. “We love the both of you. That will never change. Ever.”

  Jacen and Jonah looked each other and I smiled, wanting to show them it was okay to smile. We needed to. “Now, let’s go get your big brother something special and maybe, because we can, get some ice cream.”

  That brightened both their eyes, so we went and got the ice cream first. Didn’t matter that it was damn near snowing outside, ice cream cured a lot of things.

  In the midst of eating the ice cream, Jonah decided to tell Jacen about how Jack thought babies came from a man’s balls.

  “That’s not true,” I told them, laughing at the memory of Jack and his crazy theory on a man’s balls. “That was something Casten told him. It’s not true.”

  With Jonah being five and Jacen three, this wasn’t the kind of conversation we should have been having. “Where do babies come from then?” Jonah asked, taking a spoonful of his ice cream.

  Two pairs of bright blue eyes waited for my response.

  Tossing my empty container of ice cream in the garbage, I motioned with a nod to the door of the ice cream shop. “That’s a conversation for when you’re about ten years older. Now, let’s get to the toy store.”

  Thankfully, they both agreed and we went next door to the toy store. The boys both took their time picking out something for Jack, and then one toy for themselves. Jonah picked out a toy car, black, just like his race car was and Jacen chose a dump truck for him so he could dig his way back to us.

  Talk about breaking my heart.

  I took them both to Jack’s grave with me, holding on to each one of their hands as we trudged through the thick wet grass crunching under our feet. Everything sparkled with the frost of the day making the grounds look more like something out of a Disney movie than a cemetery.

  When we arrived at Jack’s grave, Jacen frowned at the ground. “It’s too hard. He can’t dig.”

  Setting the bag of toys down, I kneeled down to his level and took his mitten-covered hands in mine. “This might be Jack’s grave, a place where we can come to remember him, but he’s not actually in there anymore. His body is, but he’s in Heaven, watching over you.”

  I wasn’t sure Jacen could understand this, but he immediately looked up at the sky and pointed. “Up there?”

  “Yeah…up there.”

  With his head tipped all the way back, Jonah let go of my hand and took Jacen’s in his like Jack used to do for him. Pointing to a cloud, Jonah looked at his younger brother. “I think he’s on that cloud right there.”

  Following Jonah’s hand, I looked up at the cloud in the sky where the sun had broken through, the glow it gave shone right down on Jack’s grave highlighting his name like a trophy.

  The sight made me smile, knowing he was there with us right then.

  WHEN WE RETURNED HOME, I told Lily what we did for Jack and how excited the boys were to give him the presents. She heard what I said, even looked at me, but it was like she wasn’t listening. I finally understood what the boys meant.

  “They think you don’t want them anymore, Lil.” I said it in the softest voice I could, but it didn’t help the impact it had on her. Her body shook as she wept, a pillow held close to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Nothing I said, or did made her feel any less hopeless about it.

  Grief was suffocating us with a mounting anger. It was relentless and never gave up. It followed us. It wasn’t something that quietly crept in, it was sudden and just there. It left shattered memories of a spirited little boy in its path. It was everywhere we looked in the sad faces of everyone who stared at us, careful not to mention his name or hugging us when they could.

  Mostly, it was present on my wife’s face.

  Silently screaming, I wanted to shake her, make her see I was right here and trying to help her deal with this. But she wouldn’t let me.

  Lily

  I NEVER WANTED THE boys to think I didn’t want them around. And everyone was right, Jonah and Jacen were suffering in more ways than one.

  Jonah tried so hard to get me to cheer up. All I would have to do was have a look of sadness and he would hug me, or tell me he loved me. Anything to let me know he was still there.

  After Jonah’s pre-school Christmas program, I was getting them ready for bed. Axel went over to his parents’ house to drop off the boys’ Christmas presents without them knowing.

  I wasn’t looking forward to Christmas in any way. I wanted to skip the holidays completely.

  Only I couldn’t, because I had two excited boys in the bathtub talking endlessly about what they wanted for Christmas.

  “I want a new baseball glove,” Jonah said, bubbles covering him up to his chin.

  Jacen stood, reaching for the race car he had in there with him. “I want a shark!”

  I want Jack back.

  Splashing in the tub caught my eye; the floor beneath my feet was soaked with water. Taking the towel off the counter, I placed it on the floor to soak up the water.

  If only I could put something over my heart to soak up this pain.

  I wanted to be better for them. I wanted to wake up one morning and have energy, for them, for Axel, for Jack’s memory.

  I just…couldn’t.

  As I was getting the boys into bed, Jacen watched me as I picked out his favorite book, Go Dogs Go and then carefully observed me as I slipped into bed with him. “You sad?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that.

  “They think you don’t want them anymore, Lil.”

  I never wanted to make them feel that way.

  Curling up with him, I patted the bed for Jonah to get in with us. With me in the middle, I wrapped my arms around both of them. “Mommy still loves you. I always will. I’m trying to be better. I just miss him.”

  I feel like he took a piece of my heart with him and I can’t function without that piece.

  Jonah’s brow scrunched in deep concentration. Suddenly, he popped up out of bed, rummaged through his toy box and then returned with a toy sprint car. “Here.” He pushed the car in my hand. “This one was his favorite. You can have it.”

  Tears were flowing by then. I couldn’t help it. Drawing them closer, I set the sprint car on the nightstand beside the bed. “How about I leave i
t in here and it reminds you of your brother watching over you.”

  Jonah shrugged. “If you want. But he’s up in Heaven. He talks to us at night. Tells us to make sure you smile.”

  I nearly lost it. I wanted a sign, something to tell me that Jack was okay and happy and not in pain. Had I finally gotten it through the innocent words of his brother?

  My tears couldn’t be stopped and that was when I noticed Jacen was crying, too. Picking him up, I made him sit on my lap. Jonah reached forward with his sleeve and wiped his tears away. “He’s sad that you are.”

  I made a vow right then, I had to try. Staring at my boys, I had to try.

  Bringing Jacen to my chest, I wrapped my arms around him and Jonah, and hugged them. Hoping that maybe me hugging them could be what they needed right then.

  I wasn’t sure what else I could offer them.

  I wanted to be better.

  I needed to be better.

  Axel

  DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Lily was sitting on the couch in the family room. I wanted so badly to hold her, but resisted. Anytime I did, I made it worse.

  Lily and I tried counseling. It didn’t work out very well because of my schedule and her unwillingness to move forward. Every appointment was the same, so I stopped going.

  She felt nothing but sadness and wouldn’t move on from that.

  “Quit, Axel,” she said, staring at me in the living room that night. “I want you to quit.” Her hand brushed across her cheeks, which hadn’t dried from tears since that day. “Our son…” She couldn’t even say it and I couldn’t blame her. I had a hard time saying it, too. “I don’t want you in those cars anymore. Just the thought of them makes me sick.”

  This pain we were feeling was different from when my grandpa died.

  This pain would never get easier, never fade.

  But quitting racing, could I do that? It wouldn’t make the pain go away. What would it solve?

  I swallowed, knowing this was the first time in my life I actually considered this.

  When someone died racing, or was seriously injured while doing so, everyone said, “Why are you still racing?”

  I knew that question was coming from everyone around us. They looked at us and thought, ‘You’d really risk your life for adrenaline?’

  Racers were a different breed of people. They didn’t think like others and never would. Most said we had a death wish. I wouldn’t go that far. We just liked speed and what that thrill gave us. I honestly believed it was something racers were born with.

  People also thought because there was a tragedy, we should give it up. As if it was easy.

  Walk away.

  It’s not like that for us.

  It’s our life.

  Most of us were raised on it. We raised our families around the love we had for it, gave our lives for it and occasionally, went broke doing it, just to curb the appetite. And it was all the craving that drove us.

  I swallowed, watching her reaction, cautious eyes watchful of my every reaction. I knew then I had to do this for her.

  “I don’t want you in that car anymore.”

  Jack wasn’t killed racing, but it was still a reminder of how dangerous the sport was. She was asking and I couldn’t ignore this. I always told her all she had to do was ask.

  A conversation from the day I said, ‘I do’ to her replayed in my head.

  “When I was growing up, do you want to know one of the best memories I have of my parents?”

  She nodded eagerly. She loved hearing about my parents and their epic love story. Smiling, I pulled her hands forward, kissing her ring finger.

  “I was probably around ten or eleven; anyway, my dad was always racing on my mom’s birthday, never failed. That particular year, he was in a close battle with the points, which left him on the edge going into the last race before the chase. The night before the Saturday night race was mom’s birthday. Our entire family was there wanting to celebrate with her, but dad wasn’t in a good mood that night. There was also a sprint car race going on in Lernerville the same night he was set to race.”

  “He chose racing over your mom’s birthday?”

  “No, he didn’t have to. She told him to go and they made a party out of the night for her in Lernerville. He even won the race for her and took her around the track in his sprint car for a victory lap.” I smiled up at her, hoping she understood where I was going with this memory.

  “It’s not about choosing,” she deduced with a small smile, her head tilted to the side.

  “It’s not about choosing,” I repeated. “My dad never had to choose because, just like you, my mom was ready and willing to support him. You’ve never asked me not to race.”

  “I never would. Racing is what makes you happy.”

  “Exactly…you have nothing to worry about.” I paused. “And if you asked, I would walk away.”

  It would be hard, but I would if she wanted me to.

  She didn’t say anything to me for a moment, staring at my cufflinks.

  Impatient, I moved closer, grasping her hands more securely. “Please marry me, Lily,” I whispered against her hands which I had pulled against my lips.

  “I will.

  Lily stared at me, waiting for my response. She looked away hastily, and then moved restlessly, her hands fidgeting.

  Taking a deep breath, I tried to ease her frustrations by speaking quietly. “What would I do? I’ve never held a real job.”

  “Work in the shop, or something, like Casten used to do.” She said the words tentatively as if testing the idea on me. “And you’d be home more.”

  Did she really want me here?

  “I have a contract,” I told her, staring at the ring on her left hand. “I can’t just walk away from it.”

  “The team owner is your dad.” I could see the flare in her eyes, the moment she became angry. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  This wasn’t going to work and I knew it. Our problems, the driving force behind what was tearing us apart wasn’t racing.

  I never thought I’d be forced to make a decision on this matter for anyone but myself. I guessed in some ways, I was doing what I loved. And I was doing something our son loved. Jack would never have wanted me to quit.

  Just thinking his name stabbed my heart and took my breath away.

  On my knees, I sat before her on the floor, hoping she’d give me something to go on. Tell me where we stood.

  I stared at her and then asked, “Are you going to ask your dad to quit?”

  Maybe it was rude. Maybe it wasn’t. But I needed to know if I was going to consider this, was it even about racing, or was it about me being away? Lately, it seemed she didn’t want me around, so which was it?

  “I’m not raising a family with my dad. I am with you.”

  “Is that what we’re doing? Because lately, all that’s been happening is you crying and me trying to get you to talk to me.”

  She didn’t want to hear this at all.

  Standing, she grabbed her phone from the table beside her. The throw pillow that was on her lap fell into mine as she stepped around me to go upstairs.

  I sat there for a few minutes staring at the photo on the wall. Our last family picture just months before Jack had passed away. The memory made my eyes burn. Grabbing the pillow off the floor, I laid it back on the couch where, once again, I would sleep. She didn’t want me next to her in bed.

  Not now.

  Maybe not ever again.

  Reverend Dickerson told us losing a child would be the hardest thing a marriage would ever face. He was right. And I wasn’t sure ours would make it.

  ANGER WAS A FUNNY thing. It made you do and say shit you didn’t mean. And the longer it’d been since my son was taken and the months blurred together, the angrier I became. It didn’t help that the one person I needed wouldn’t even look at me.

  My family tried to get me to talk to them, but I didn’t want them to help. Then it got to the point where I was just downri
ght mean to them.

  It was early January when I was at the shop, staring at my car, trying to make a decision. The eight beers at my feet didn’t help my mood.

  Casten approached me and I looked at him without seeing him. I didn’t want anyone bothering me today. I was trying to come to terms with the fact that my wife was making me give up the one thing I had left. Racing.

  He said something to me, I was not even sure I heard him since all I heard was, “Stay by Casten, buddy.”

  Anger surged through me immediately. Rushing through my body like methanol burning, silent, invisible.

  We stood there, face to face in the shop when he asked me what my problem was. Why I was treating him as if he somehow had something to do with Jack dying.

  I shoved Casten, hard, my hands centered in his chest. “Where were you?”

  “I was there, Axel,” he defended, practically screaming at me, catching himself against my car. “I was by him!”

  “Then why is he dead?” I shoved him again; his head slammed against the wall. “Why?”

  He seemed to struggle for words and then looked at me, hurt and confused as to why I was suddenly taking this out on him. “I don’t know.” He’d asked himself that question a lot, you could tell by the way he shook his head regretfully. “You don’t think I ask myself that every fuckin’ day? I was right there. He was on the four-wheeler out of the way. But don’t blame me for this. I was with him. It was an accident!”

  He continued to glare at me, never backing away. There was one thing my little brother was good at and it was never backing down when he knew he was right.

  The thing was, I was about to kick his ass if he didn’t get out of my face right then. Everyone was pushing me. Constantly. They wanted to make it better.

  They couldn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  “Fuck you.” I turned away, wanting him to leave it at that. Only he didn’t.

  He couldn’t.

  “No, fuck you, Axel.” Casten reached out and grabbed me by the arm. “Don’t act like a fucking douche over this. I’m your goddamn brother!”