Racing the Sky

by Layla Dorine

  “Trying to move them just makes them hurt more.”

  “And it probably will for a while. The nurses at the hospital said these types of injuries take time and patience to heal.”

  “Easy for them to say.”

  “I doubt that,” Gray replied. “My mother was a nurse, remember. I know how hard it was for her to see people in pain and know that all she could do was offer them compassion and encouragement. Remember that you only have to live through this once; nurses see injuries like yours day in and day out. All that suffering wears them down after a while.”

  Sighing, Nicky didn’t say anything more. He just curled tighter to Gray’s side, running his hand lightly along Gray’s shirt as they cuddled. Gray talked to him some more about horseback riding, how it might actually be able to help him strengthen his leg, and for his part, Nicky grunted, refusing to believe that anything would help. It was only when Nicky didn’t stir for several minutes that Gray noticed his breathing had evened out and he’d fallen asleep.

  Chuckling to himself, Gray cradled him in his arms on the way to the car and strapped him in before driving him home. As he carried a sleeping Nicky into the house, Gray was shocked to see Vic waiting downstairs for them.

  “I’d forgotten it was your day off,” Vic commented.

  “Sorry about that. I’d have left a note that we were going to the movies. I didn’t plan the trip to the beach though. That part was kind of spur of the moment.”

  “You didn’t take him in the water; did you?” Vic looked aghast.

  “Yup, tossed him right in to see if he’d still float.”

  “Gray!”

  “Okay, okay, I didn’t toss him in. We just sat on the blanket talking,” Gray admitted, laughing. “He was feeling rather confined this morning. The ocean helped.”

  “Good,” Vic said, sighing as he stared over at Nicky’s sleeping form.

  “You look like you ain’t slept in a week.”

  Vic rolled his shoulder, cracked his neck, and then lowered his voice. “I’ve slept, just not well. The chair is hell on my back.”

  “So why not sleep on the couch, or up in your room?”

  “Because I sleep like the dead and Nicky’s stubborn ass would never wake me if he needed something. If I sleep in the chair his attempts to do stuff he shouldn’t ends up waking me.”

  Gray carried Nicky across the room and laid him down, removed his shoe, sock, and shorts. He tucked him into bed, soothing away the sleepy murmurs with gentle stroking of Nicky’s hair. “What the hell has he been attempting to do?”

  “Three nights ago, he wheeled himself into the kitchen. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t decided he wanted a milkshake and was trying to use the broom handle to knock the ice cream out of the freezer. Might have worked if a pile of frozen veggies hadn’t been in the way. He ended up dumping them all over himself and the floor, and when I caught him, he was trying to lean out of the chair to pick them up. The thing was pretty close to toppling. I had to grab the back to keep him from tipping over.”

  Gray breathed out sharply and shook his head. “Damn.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. Last night I caught him in the backyard. He’d wheeled himself out there to watch the stars. Again, wouldn’t have been an issue if not for the fact that there’s that little drop-off out there. Once he got down it, he couldn’t get back up. He would have been stuck out there until morning if I hadn’t woken to take a piss. He wasn’t even dressed properly. Just his boxers and a T-shirt.”

  “Jesus. It was down in the mid-fifties last night. Not bad, but not exactly warm to just be wearing that. What did he say when you found him?”

  Vic’s eyes narrowed and he shot a look at Nicky’s sleeping form. “That he wouldn’t have minded staying out there ’til morning and that I worried too much.”

  “He’s a stubborn one; ain’t he?” Gray chuckled. “In a way I’m glad. He’s gonna need it when physical therapy starts. Have they given a date yet?”

  “Next week, the doc said when I took him in yesterday.”

  “Thank the gods,” Gray exclaimed. “He’s so focused on beating himself up over the things he can’t do that he’s half convinced himself there isn’t anything he’ll be able to do.”

  “I know.” Vic sighed. “And that scares me. I tried suggesting college to him and all he did was call himself too stupid to ever be able to finish.”

  “He’s far from stupid,” Gray huffed.

  “I know that. I just wish he did.”

  Vic turned off the lamp and gestured to Gray to follow him to the kitchen, where he poured them both a cup of coffee.

  “Nicky’s sponsor called twice this week to see if he’d come down to the Madison races this weekend so the fans can see that he’s okay. He says there isn’t a single race that goes by without someone asking about him, but when I tried to bring it up to Nicky, he said not to talk to him about racing ever.”

  “I can understand that, in a way,” Gray said. He stirred a couple spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee. “He loved racing. To sit out and watch others do it won’t be easy.”

  “I find myself wondering more and more how much this has changed him.”

  “You’ve known him a long time. Ten years you said?”

  “Twelve,” Vic corrected. “Him and Terry both. They were heavy into dirt bikes and racing even then.”

  “That may be true, but I know he has more interests than that.”

  “Yeah, he does, and I’m hoping that after he’s healed he’ll get back into some of them and be willing to find new ones. It isn’t like him to sit still, so this has to be killing him.”

  “I guess the only thing for it is to be as encouraging as we can and help him out with a suggestion or two when it looks like he’s getting too down on himself.”

  “Yeah,” Vic agreed.

  “You know, I was thinking more and more about something today. Don’t know how feasible it would be, but with how much he likes to ride, maybe a horse would interest him. Learning to ride and all that. It wouldn’t be the same sense of freedom, but it would be close.”

  Vic’s lips pursed and he looked thoughtful. “That was something we talked about once. He likes westerns, and he used to talk about trying trail riding, but Terry reminded him about his allergies and that was the last time Nicky ever mentioned it.”

  “I’m really starting to hate this Terry,” Gray grumbled.

  “Join the club,” Vic said, and they shared a smile.

  Gray stifled a yawn and checked his watch. It was way later than he’d realized, and not for the first time, he consider getting a new apartment and looking for work in the valley.

  “I’d better go,” he said as he headed for the door, pausing by Nicky’s bed to kiss his forehead before he left.

  “See you Friday?”

  “Definitely,” Gray replied. “And don’t bother with breakfast. I’m making French toast.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Vic said.

  Gray stepped through the door and closed it behind him, letting out a sigh as he paused on the other side. It was hard to see Nicky hurting—even harder knowing there was little he could do but stay by his side and keep encouraging him. In the grand scheme of things, French toast was the least he could do, but at least it was something, and right now that was better than nothing.

  Chapter Ten

  He didn’t know why he bothered waking up. Each new morning just proved to be a reminder of every ache and discomfort. Movement brought pain, so Nicky tried to do as little of it as possible, but all the inactivity did was grate on his nerves with every passing hour. He tried going back to sleep, but as usual he’d slept so much the night before he wasn’t tired and was left to face the day.

  Some day. Court TV and a seemingly endless stream of cartoons to look forward to; Vic tiptoeing around him like he was too afraid to say something else that might set him off. All Nicky wanted was to yell at someone, throw something, and cuss until the walls melted.

 
; The knock on the door did not improve his mood, which tanked even further when Vic let a sheepish-looking Jason into the living room. Nicky couldn’t help the grin that slashed across his face. For once he was glad to be in the chair, glad he could shove himself right up to Jason and glare at the other man.

  “The fuck do you want?” Nicky demanded.

  Vic’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “Wow, not even a hello? Yeah, I’ll be out back with a book if you need me.”

  Nicky didn’t even turn to watch Vic walk away. His eyes were on the way Jason’s seemed to look anywhere but at him. He watched Jason fiddle with his keys, tug on a belt loop, and shuffle from foot to foot, pleased at the other man’s discomfort.

  Jason suddenly stopped moving and met Nicky’s eyes. “I wanted to say I was sorry. I should have given you the chance to tell your side of the story. I never even considered that Terry would lie about what happened. I was a dick. I’m sorry.”

  Nicky glared up at him, but it was hard when he could see the sincerity on Jason’s face. “I didn’t need that job anyway.”

  Jason rubbed the back of his neck and started shuffling again. “Maybe not, but you were good at it, and I was a jerk. Shouldn’t have mattered what happened on the track; we were at work, and it wasn’t professional what I did.”

  “Doesn’t matter now,” Nicky said. “So…”

  He let his words trail off as he glanced at the door, hoping Jason got the point.

  “Yeah, I umm…” Jason’s own eyes darted to the door now. “Look, if you need anything, or you just want someone to hang out with…”

  Nicky paused, confused. “Why would you wanna waste your time doing that?”

  “’Cause I know how much it sucks being laid up; remember?”

  A slight smile crossed Nicky’s face as he thought back to Jason’s living room, two years before. He and Terry had practically staked camp each night after work, keeping Jason company while he’d recovered from a busted leg and several broken ribs.

  “So, if you could sit with me through that, why can’t I hang out and keep you from tryin’ to climb the walls?”

  Nicky thought about it awhile, but in the end he backed up and let Jason join him. He tried to turn his chair toward the television, only to give up with a growl.

  “Here,” Jason said, turning it for him and plopping down in the seat right next to it.

  “How’s work been?” Nicky asked, half to break the silence, and half because he truly missed the shop.

  “Busy. Dean had to come work in the bay with us yesterday, so you know things were tense.”

  “Yeah, I bet. The car show is coming up. Is he gonna have the old girl ready?”

  “I don’t think so, but he hasn’t given up on it yet. You know how stubborn he is.”

  “Yeah, remember last year? How he had us all out there until damn near four in the morning, just to decide he was better off waiting another year before entering.”

  Jason laughed. “What I don’t get is why he always waits until right before the damned event to start working on it. If he’d just put some effort into it throughout the rest of the year, he wouldn’t be bribing everyone with overtime to try and meet the deadline.”

  “’Cause it’s Dean, and if he actually planned something the gates of hell would open and swallow the shop.”

  They shared a laugh at that, and at the superhero-based cartoon that was currently playing. A huge grin crossed Jason’s face as he glanced toward the kitchen and back again. “You know what we need if we’re gonna watch this shit all day?”

  Nicky looked over, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Brownies, ice cream, and a couple joints?”

  “Oh yeah. Why don’t I sneak out and grab the brownies and ice cream? Then I’ll roll us a couple.”

  “Why don’t you roll me one before you go, since I know you’ve already had one this morning?” Nicky suggested, just itching to inhale the slow roll of smoke and let it carry him away.

  Jason pulled out a baggy and made quick work of the task, passing the joint to him, along with a lighter.

  “Be back in ten,” Jason said; then he was out the door again.

  That first drag was like heaven. Nicky didn’t smoke often, but when he did, he took it slow, holding the smoke in deep as long as he could. The soreness in his ribs meant he had to exhale sooner than he’d like, but Jason never bought crap and by the time he got back, all Nicky’s aches and pains had dulled. He slumped in the chair, listening to Jason rummage around in the kitchen for a pan to put the brownies in.

  “You’re forgiven,” Nicky told him when he plopped back in the leather seat and started rolling another joint.

  Jason flashed him a tiny smile. “Thanks, man. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna forgive myself anytime soon, though.”

  Unsure how to respond to that, Nicky said nothing. He just sparked the blunt again and took another drag. It wasn’t long before the living room smelled like pot and brownies and the two were digging into heaping bowls of gooeyness.

  ***

  When Vic stepped back inside, he had to stifle the urge to throttle someone; though which of them most deserved it he wasn’t sure. At least Jason hadn’t made a complete mess of the kitchen, and laughter drifted in from the living room: a sure signal that Nicky was having a good time.

  What the hell mixing pot with his meds was going to do, Vic had no idea, and that was what had him worried. Didn’t Nicky ever think? Didn’t he ever consider his health before being so irresponsible? The hardest part was that Vic wasn’t sure what he was maddest about. That it was Jason that Nicky was laughing with, that it had taken drugs to cheer him up, or that he hadn’t thought of it. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t smoked together a time or two.

  With a sigh, Vic did the dishes and was contemplating joining them in the living room when he heard Nicky thank Jason for coming by, that he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. Those words pierced right through Vic. Deciding to head to his room before he said anything he might regret, Vic skirted the living room, the laughter, like a mocking song, following him all the way.

  ***

  Come morning, there was no laughter when Gray arrived to wake Nicky for breakfast and physical therapy. As he shook Nicky awake, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of the pot clinging to Nicky’s shirt and hair.

  “Go away. I wanna sleep,” Nicky groaned, trying to bat at Gray with his good hand.

  Ignoring Nicky’s protests, Gray reached beneath him and dragged him into a sitting position. “Whatever made you think smoking that crap was a good idea?”

  “Please, no lectures, Gray. I’m tired,” Nicky whined, even as his stomach growled loudly.

  “And hungry too. Yes, I get it. But you should know better than to mix pills and pot. Do you have any idea what could happen if you have a bad reaction?”

  “Yes, an entire pan of brownies and half a gallon of ice cream died a quick and painless death, and I laughed more than I have in a long time; okay?” Nicky twisted to glare at Gray.

  Muttering, Gray helped him into the chair and wheeled it to the bathroom to get Nicky cleaned up and dressed for the day. Once that task was done, made longer and more difficult by Nicky’s protests about wanting to sleep, Gray headed to the kitchen and whipped up a huge batch of French toast and sausages.

  The smell brought Vic down from his room, looking bleary-eyed and sleep tussled.

  “Mmm, that smells good. Did you use nutmeg instead of cinnamon?”

  “I used eggnog instead of milk.” Gray laughed.

  “Holy shit. Where the hell did you find eggnog this time of year?”

  “It’s homemade. I make it all the time at the diner. Seems like folks don’t particularly like having to wait until the holidays for eggnog French toast, or eggnog pancakes for that matter. I’ve even got to where I make an eggnog whipped cream to put on top of the waffles on Sundays, just for an added treat.”

  “Better than a pancake house any day,” Nicky added. He closed his eyes
and let his head tilt back, a blissed out expression crossing his face, reminding Gray of sex. The reminder, and the desire to have Nicky that way again hit him like a sucker punch to the gut and he had to turn away, adjust his jeans, and calm himself down while plating up a batch for Vic.

  By the time the three were full, there wasn’t anything left but crumbs and a couple of sausages. Gray placed those on a smaller plate in the fridge; then he loaded Nicky in his car and drove him across town to physical therapy.

  “I still don’t see why I can’t skip today.”

  “What good would skipping a day do you?” Gray asked as he took a left.

  “Well, for one, we could spend it together doing something fun, and, for two, we could spend it together doing something fun.”

  Gray couldn’t help but laugh, despite the annoyance he still felt over Nicky’s smoking. It wasn’t that he was against it, just that he worried about what the medication interaction could have been and how little Nicky seemed to have considered the consequences.

  As they pulled up in front of the large, brick building, Gray turned to look at Nicky. “I have to work this afternoon, but—”

  “See, all the more reason not to waste the time we have,” Nicky pleaded.

  Gray couldn’t help the stern tone that crept into his voice. “It isn’t a waste, Nicholas. This is your future. This is how you get your independence back.”

  “Like it’s gonna matter.”

  Face flushed with anger now, Gray got out and came around the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. “With that attitude, no it won’t!”

  Nicky jumped a little, especially when Gray yanked his door open. Both were silent as they headed into the building.

  A short time later, Gray watched Nicky struggle to squeeze a small ball the therapist placed in his hand. His fingers twitched, trembled; then he stopped trying and the ball fell to the ground. The therapist retrieved it and moved to place it back in Nicky’s hand, but Nicky lashed out with his good hand, smacking it away.