The Legend (53 page)

“I’m
sorry.” I said hating the words as they brushed through my trembling lips as
they meant nothing but words. She didn’t need me to tell her as she knew.

“Help him
Sway. Hold onto what we have and what’s in front of us. I never worry about
Spencer or Emma. Jameson
...
I
worry about him. Jimi meant more to him than he led anyone to believe.”

I knew
that. I knew that because I saw it in the way he hung on his every word growing
up. When he won a race as a child, and even later in his career, he looked for
idolatry Jimi had for him when he got out of the car after winning. Jimi was
proud of Jameson, for this was his son, his own flesh in blood that followed
his legendary footsteps.

“I don’t
know how to help him.” I divulged to Nancy. “I feel like he’s pushing me away.”

“He’s not.
He needs you and he knows it.” Nancy wiped away her own tears and took a drink
straight from the wine bottle she was holding. “To Jameson, the vow you guys
made to each other means more than anything else. When he promises something,
he means it. I know that because Jimi was that same way. They are spitting
images of each other.” A careful smile formed as she spoke her next words. “And
that’s why I’m making it through this. I’m remembering what’s right in front of
me and what I have thankful for. I have a little piece of Jimi in all my kids,
even you, and that’s what I’m going to hold on to.”

More
tears. Blubbering like a goddamn idiot. Even Nancy was concerned. Waving my
arms around, I grabbed her bottle and drank half of it.

After
controlling myself, finding another beer, and checking on my tipsy mother
in-law talking with my fifteen-year old hoodlum about what island in Hawaii had
better surfing, I made my way back to the table we were seated at before dinner
was served.

Taking a
deep breath, I sat next to him quietly as Carl, a representative with Simplex,
was talking to him about upcoming sponsorship obligations. I watched him a lot that
night, talking with his team who was all hopeful of a quick recovery for him.
He made a few comments to the fact that he wanted to return before the Richmond
race. He always loved Richmond.

He was
colder and more direct with people than I had ever seen him in the past but I
understood after what happened with Grady. It would be a long time before he
trusted someone, outside of our family, again.

He took my
hand under the table and held it on his thigh, the muscle under my hand
tightened when I flattened my palm and kept it on his leg. Looking at him now
it was apparent he had drank too much by his hooded bloodshot eyes and slouched
appearance but I wasn’t about to take away his beer.

He smiled for
the first time that night when Nancy started teasing Spencer.

When he
saw Grady, the fire returned and his mood immediately went to shit. Within a
minute, he stood on the table knocking over glassed and plates to do so with a
microphone in hand. I looked at Carl seated next to him, his eyes wide and
stunned at Jameson’s behavior.

“To my
wife,” Jameson head bowed with a slight tilt pulling the microphone closer. A
shocked heavy silence spread over the crowd. “
...
thank you for being there for me and never lying to me.”

Some might
take that as a backhanded comment, given the circumstances, but I didn’t lie to
him. He knew that and it was a sincere gesture he was making because he
understood that had he asked me, I would have told him.

It wasn’t
hard to see the anger rising quickly when he looked at Grady and raised his
beer above his head. “And to the fucking douchebag that stole from me!” Jameson
shouted, the sound echoed throughout the room. He made eye contact with Grady.
Alley, who sat on the other side of me, leaned into my shoulder knowing where
this was going. “
...
Thank you
for making me
realize
family was
...
is the only real honest people in the fucking
world. So,” he raised his beer higher. “Fuck you Grady!” He dropped the
microphone at his feet and stormed out of the room.

Yep. He
did that. In front of family, sponsors, friends, you name it, they witnessed my
husband’s verbal chastising.

To most of
us, it was nothing new.

That was
the last we ever saw of Grady. Clint and Van left with him but I knew this
time, Grady would legally be held accountable for his actions.

Some
people would say that my husband was hasty and insensitive to those around him
that night, a night that was supposed to be about the people who were
supporting him. To them I would say, well, there’s times when a driver jumps
the start. They get sidetracked by the commotion around them and go for it.
Repeated jumping of the start does result in a penalty. Jameson knew that. He
had every right to respond the way he did.

I watched
him sleep that night.  I tried to force the tears that flowed away. And
the fact that I was crying again, for him, for his mom, for our entire family
made me angry because I didn’t want to cry anymore. Our lives had been changed,
rearranged to the point where we didn’t know where that clay met the rubber
anymore. But I knew, deep down, that we could find it again. I vowed to never
give it up and remembered my vow to him even before the wedding. The vow I
wrote on a napkin with eyeliner:

Here’s to a
lifetime of making sure you have the correct tire pressure.

24.
          
Seat Time – Jameson

Seat Time –
Time sitting behind the wheel, competing in a race, qualifying and practicing.

There’s
something that I learned back when I raced for the Triple Crown at eighteen. I
was that seat time, whether it be racing, qualifying, or even just logging laps
in heat races, was that eventually, you get a handle of the way your car
responds in different situations and track conditions.

With all
that seat time comes and understanding and a sense of respect for what each can
teach you. I knew that no matter what the track conditions were or how my car
handled, I could never run high at Terra Haute. I knew that if Skagit was dry
and slick, the high line was the only place I could run. And Lernerville, I
knew that when the track glazed over, with my driving style, I would end up in
the field at some point.

There’s
something that I learned now, twenty years later about all the seat time I have
had all these years. I learned that no matter what, no matter how many laps you
have logged, nothing prepares you for when the track, your favorite track,
changes. When the conditions you set your car up for no longer work and you
have to hang on and hope for the best. I guess that’s what I would say happened.

Track
conditions had changed. Now we had to make adjustments.

Spencer
looked over at me sitting in the family room, his eyes rimmed with tears. “Does
it feel real to you?” he asked softly looking at a picture of our dad on the
mantel above the fireplace. The picture was of me and Spencer standing beside
him and his sprint car after he won Knoxville Nationals the year before he
returned. The memory stung like acid, a reminder I could still feel the pain of
his absence.

I’d never
seen him cry other than the time I smacked him in the nose with a crow bar for
stealing my birthday cupcakes when I was seven.

When I was
with my family, it didn’t hurt as bad because I knew they felt the same way. It
wasn’t any easier on me or them. We all felt the same pain. And in a way, that
was comforting to know that someone understood.

“No,” I
mumbled dropping my eyes to my cane. “It doesn’t feel real. I keep thinking
he’s going to walk through the door and call me an asshole.”

“Oh, I’m
sure Emma has that part covered.” Spencer chuckled sitting on the couch across
from me.

It took
him a few moments but he eventually asked what I knew he was going ask.

“Was Grady
arrested?”

I gave him
a tight nod and he knew I didn’t want to talk about it. Grady had signed a few documents
when he started with JAR Racing that prohibited him for stealing among other
things. He also had to answer for the charges brought upon him for what he did
to my car. Needless to say, he would be going to jail. But I was done talking
about it.

I didn’t
dwell on it nor did I have any feelings about it the next day. With all the
time spent thinking about how it would all make me feel, honestly, I was done
and it didn’t make me feel anything. Pissed? Fuck yeah I was pissed but that
was about the only reaction I had from it.

“When are
you coming back to racing? We miss you out there.”

Getting
back to racing was on my mind a lot lately. Easton was doing good and keeping
the sponsor happy but I wanted back in that car badly. Fuck the double vision,
I wanted to race.

“I have a
test session in two weeks in Charlotte. I have to pass an exam by NASCAR before
they will grant the license again—something about vision and stability.”

“That’s
probably a good idea though.” Reaching forward, he took his beer from the
coffee table. “What do they make you do
...
a
sobriety test or something?”

“Something
like
that.”

As I
understood it, they wanted an exam performed by a doctor they authorized, a
vision exam and mobility. So yeah, pretty much a sobriety test. I kept thinking
they would make me walk around the track on the yellow line just to be sure I
could.

Regardless,
the only thing I was looking forward too was getting back in the car and sex
with my wife. Everything else, I ignored and pretended it wasn’t happening.

What was
happening was life around me and that was a good thing.
Aside
from Rosa.
She pissed me off daily because every morning after physical
therapy, she came into our room and decided at that time to vacuum. Once again,
I came out of our bathroom and she was there looking at the vacuum cleaner like
it was a bomb.

“You have
no idea how to clean, do you?” I turned to the dresser to pull out my jeans and
then made my way inside the closet. She followed me and then shoved the vacuum
into my heels.

“Get out of
here!” I shouted back only to have her laugh. “Stop it.” I demanded trying to
keep my towel in place. “Go someplace else in the house.”

Rosa
always had something to say so I sat there staring at her waiting for her next
remark, one hand securing my towel. Her eyes ran up and down my stomach and
chest and then lower. I felt like a goddamn piece of meat.

“Jameson?”
she looked up to give me the news. “Your ass is showing champ.”

“Stop
looking.” I quickly righted my towel. “Go clean.”

“I’m too
tired today. Maybe tomorrow,”

“You’re
the worst maid ever.”

“
Isso
é
discriminação
,
que
você
sabe
.”

“Oh my
god,” I walked past her to the bathroom again, shouting over my shoulder.
“That’s Portuguese, not Spanish, which you said you spoke last week! You really
should figure out what language you’re going to speak and stick to one. Half
the time you don’t make sense. And no, it’s not discrimination. Nice try.” I
slammed the door shut and felt damn good about it.

When I got
downstairs I wanted food after my workout but there only seemed to be healthy
shit. I wanted a fucking hamburger badly or worse, barbeque.

Sway made
me eat healthy after the accident. I ate healthy before that I could remember
so it wasn’t much of a change. The problem was that I couldn’t taste much so nothing
sounded good aside from barbeque.

She
wouldn’t let me have barbeque and that wasn’t gonna fly with me. I wasn’t
happy. Did she want me to stop living?

Since Rosa
this morning and no barbeque, I wasn’t in a good mood when Casten rolled his
ass out of bed at noon.

“Nice of
you to join the living today,” He mumbled some sort of reply to my comment but
said nothing until he found coffee in the kitchen.

“Aren’t
you too young to drink coffee?”

“Uh no,
I’m fifteen. I can drink coffee if I want. Besides,” he gave me an eye roll. “I
was up until three this morning. I need coffee.”

“Why were
you up until three?” I looked around the house to see if I missed a party or
something.

“Fucking Tommy
took a wrong turn coming back from Farmer City. We ended in Bloomington before
he figured it out.”

“That’s
thirty miles out of the way.” Pushing the laptop aside, I laughed at him.

“Exactly,”

“What are
you doing?” Casten sat down next to me and changed the channel from Sports
Center to some shit on movie he found on HBO.

“Give me
that.”

He held
the remote above his head knowing with the soreness I felt after physical
therapy that I wouldn’t move to get it. “Come get it then.”