The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (12 page)

Because after the anger and the rage comes the pain.

Oh God, the pain
.

Ripping me wide open to the white-hot sun, dissecting me
piece-by-piece, and even after I’ve been left eradicated and empty, it
continued to demand more, and more, and more, destroying me piece by piece.

I wanted to cry, but tears seemed too small, too inconsequential
for the massive void.

I wanted to forget, but the essence of my parents was
ingrained into every fiber of my being, and I could no more forget that, than I
could forget myself. I didn’t want to forget, I just simply wanted to
remember
.

Instead, I struggled to my feet and made my way across
the attic, shoving years of memories into cardboard boxes and trying to ignore
the fact that, every time another box was shut, a little piece of my soul
stayed trapped inside.

I moved methodically, removing anything and everything
that reminded me of them until there was nothing left. I wanted to run, to
scream, to destroy but I knew that wouldn’t help anything. I wanted anything
but to feel the pain I feel without them here.

It didn’t feel like I was just losing Charlie, it felt
like I lost my mom all over again once I was in the attic surrounded by her
memories.

It’d been years since I’d been up here, and when I was,
it was usually during a game of hide-n-seek. I was hardly up here to snoop
through boxes then, hiding was imperative. To say I was serious when playing
hide-n-seek was an understatement. I once punched my little friend Leslie in
the face when she gave my secret location away. Talk about hard-core.

I reached for a photo that was lying to my left. It was
of Charlie and me when he first bought Grays Harbor Raceway—I was six. We were
standing by the ticket booth and he was holding the title in his hand. I was on
his shoulders, smiling. We looked so happy, so carefree, but the funny thing
was that we were.

The Webster’s dictionary describes grief as keen mental
suffering or distress over affliction or loss; sharp sorrow painful regret.

Did I have regret? Yes
...
I
wished I had more time with them. My mother was twenty-five when she died and
Charlie was forty-two.

How was that fair? I just
...
wished
I had more time with them. I wanted, hell, I had no idea what I wanted. I
wanted to say it was enough whoever it was that was deciding how much I was
dealt. I wasn’t sure how much more I could handle anymore.

I’d been up here all morning going through old boxes,
remembering, avoiding everyone downstairs. Andrea was cooking with Nancy.
Spencer, Aiden, Van and Jameson were doing god knows what with Lane and the
twins, and Alley and Emma were
...
actually,
I had no clue what they were doing besides annoying me.

The next person that asked how I was I would probably
punch them.

It seemed everyone downstairs didn’t know that if they
were in the kitchen, I could hear them through the vents. When I was younger,
this worked in my favor on many occasions to know when my dad was coming
upstairs. I always had just enough time to hide any discriminating evidence.

Aiden and Spencer were arguing about something but I
couldn’t decipher what.

I laughed when I heard Spencer grumble. “Excuse me while
I find my balls. I’ve missed placed them somewhere.”

“Get used to it dude.” Aiden said. “Your wife is having a
little girl in four months.”

I shuffled through the box of Rachel’s belongings that
had been left up here and noticed an envelope, marked with my name. I’d never
seen it before and it remained unopened.

Once I opened it, I’d wished I hadn’t.

Again, this was another one of those times where I was
crying and not in a normal way, only this time it was amplified by my post-pregnancy
emotions and the loss of my father. Shit-storm is the only word I can think of
to put those few moments into perspective for you.

So the dictionary described feeling sharp sorrow but
grief can look like a lot of things that bear little resemblance to sharp
sorrow, as the dictionary will tell you. The thing with grief was that it
looked different on everyone.

I watched everyone once I made my way downstairs
observing how grief looked on them and wondering if that’s how I should be
acting. Was I responding in the ways Elisabeth Kubler-Ross described I would?

Andrea was standing in the kitchen, baking with Nancy and
Alley. When you think about it, it’s not only death that you’re grieving. It’s
life and the changing of your life.

Our lives would forever change by one moment.

You begin to wonder why it has to hurt so badly but the
thing you have to remember with anything, is how quickly that happy right now
can turn on a dime. I knew that well.

I also think that’s how you stay alive. When it hurts so
much you can’t breathe, that’s how you survive. That’s how you move on from
that numbing feeling. By remembering that, someday, somehow, you won’t feel
that way. It won’t hurt this much and eventually, you’ll find solace.

When I walked into the living room later that morning, I
found Jameson in Charlie’s old chair with Axel, intently watching the NASCAR
race.

I smiled knowing he missed the race for me.

He seemed fine with it, or maybe he was feeling the same
as me. Charlie was a father figure to him as well. His expression was blank as
he stared at the television as if he didn’t have any more room for thoughts.

Noticing how everyone around me was acting, I also knew
that grief comes in its own time for everyone and in its own way.

Don’t be surprised if you don’t feel the pain right away.
It’ll come eventually. Believe me when I tell you it will come
...
eventually.

The best you can do, the best anyone can do, is to be
honest with yourself and don’t deny how you feel. Just feel something,
anything, because feeling is the first step toward healing.

I couldn’t find the twins but I had a feeling as to where
they were.

When I opened the door to Charlie’s closet I found them,
crying in the corner holding each other.

So far, since I’ve met them, I’ve never once felt bad for
them
...
until now
.

They may be the Lucifer twins, but they were still only
six-years old and had just lost their father, the only father they knew. It
brought me back to when my mom died and I was sitting in her closet during the
funeral, alone.

Nobody was there to comfort me but here they both had
each other
...
and they had me.

The
really
shitty thing, the very worst part of
the grief that consumes you, is that you can’t control it. The best you can do
is just let yourself feel it when it comes and let it go when it passes.

I sat down with the boys, pulling them into my arms.

“S-w-w-way
...
”
Logan cried against my shoulder. “P-P-P-Pleassseee not leaveeee u-u-sss,” He
hiccupped and cried louder.

“Don’t worry.” I told him. “Who else would annoy me the
way you two do?”

“We
...
miss him.”
Lucas cried, throwing his arms around me.

For me, I think the worst part about feeling this way was
the moment I felt among the living again, it started all over again. And every
time—every goddamn time—it took my breath away, crippling me.

“Can we come live with you?” Logan asked after a few
minutes, still crying with an extreme amount of snot coming out of his nose.
His arm rose to wipe the snot on the sleeve of his black jacket.

I’ll admit they looked adorable in their little suits.

“No,” I told him in the nicest voice I could. “I’m afraid
I’d murder one of you
...
but I love you
guys. So
...
” brushing his chocolate hair
out of his eyes, he looked up at me. “I think it’s best if you stay with your mom,
here in this house. And for Christ sakes, have her cut your hair.”

Lucas looked over at me, ignoring my comment about his
hair as he too pushed his out of his eyes. “We don’t have to move?”

“No
...
this is your
house to stay in,”

I stayed in the closet with Logan and Lucas for close to
two hours before Jameson came looking for us.

We were in our second game of “Go-Fish” by the time he
found us.

I watched the twins make their way down stairs, thinking
of the way grief had looked on them and realizing that even though everyone
looked different, and acted differently to the grief and sorrow, there were
still five stages regardless of the appearance.

When the denial slowly moved to anger, we usually want to
bargain for more time, more of anything. Then comes that blinding depression.

But then, just when you think you can’t take much more,
you
finally
reach acceptance. You can try to avoid it as I usually do
but the reality is, sooner-or-later, you have to accept they’re not coming
back.

Whether it’s anger, depression, denial, or blame; none of
that will bring them back.

Blown Motor – Jameson

I sat there watching the race on TV with Axel—Justin was
racing for me. It sucked missing the race but there was nowhere else I’d rather
be than with my family.

Axel whimpered in my arms, snuggling closer to me after I
fed him his bottle. Poor Sway was in no condition to be breastfeeding today. It
was comforting to me that just so much as taking care of our son today was
helping her through all this.

The announcers on TBS caught my attention as they began
speaking as to why I wasn’t at the race. It started by them talking with Justin
as he stood on the grid next to Bobby before the race.

“Now Justin, you raced for Jameson back in late July last
year after his wreck in Pocono
...
how do
you feel being in these full sized cars again.”

“I’m wondering where the wing is?” Justin teased glancing
over the car as though he was inspecting it. “Oh,” he pointed at the spoiler.
“That must be it.”

Bruce, the announcer laughed. “Yeah, that must be it. Can
you handle this beast?”

Justin laughed again.

“You tell me.” He pointed at the tree in the infield of
Rockingham where it read number nine as the number one starting position.

“Fair enough,” Bruce nodded. “Well good luck today without
the wing
...
do you think you can pull off
a win here for the Riley family?”

“I hope that we can.” Justin nodded with a smile. “It
would be great to win here today for that team. They deserve that much.”

The broadcasting station then cut back to the regular
tower announcers where they talked about Charlie and what happened.

Leaning back in the chair, I placed Axel against my
shoulder to burp him, hoping he didn’t puke on me. I couldn’t handle the puke
on me, it was repulsive.

“That family has had its fair share of turmoil in the
last year.” Rocky said, a former Cup driver that was now broadcasting the races
for TBS. “Here you have Jameson involved in that wreck in Pocono last July and
in a constant battle with the former driver of the No. 14 Wyle Product Chevy.”
I found it entertaining that even the news reporting stations wouldn’t even say
his name these days. “Then his wife was involved in a horrific accident in the
grandstands in Loudon in September of that same year. Having just given birth
to their first son; this was not the kind of heartache his, Jameson, and the
family wanted.” Rocky explained.

I hated that they were discussing this on national
television but it is what it is. It came with the territory. Everyone wanted to
know why I wasn’t racing this weekend and for the fans that supported me every
week, they deserved to at least understand why I wasn’t racing.

“Jimi Riley, owner of the Riley Simplex racing released
this statement Wednesday morning that said: “We appreciate all your support
during our family’s time of need. Jameson will not be racing this weekend in
Rockingham. Justin West, driver of the JAR Racing No. 9 Simplex/Power Plus
Outlaw sprint car, will fill in for the Rockingham race. Jameson will be back
in the car for the Las Vegas race.”

“With everything this family has been through you only
wish that they can get a break from all this heartache at some point.” Rocky
said looking to Larry, the other announcer in the booth.

“We haven’t talked a lot about this family in the past
but on both sides Jameson and Sway’s families come from a long line of racing
blood.” Larry said conversationally. “You’ve got the Riley side where Jameson’s
grandfather, Casten Riley, who, from the ground, built one the largest sprint
car/stock car engine manufactures in the mid-west; CST Engines out of
Bloomington, Indiana. Jimi, Casten’s son, followed in his footsteps into the
Outlaw series and then came Jameson who has made NASCAR history in just one
season. Now you look at the Reins family and Charlie’s dad, Luke Reins, who
raced sprint cars around the Northwest until he passed away from diabetes in
his late 40’s. In the spring of 1987, soon after the passing of his wife,
Charlie bought Grays Harbor Raceway, which happened to be the first track his
dad Luke ever raced. Now Jameson owns the track and his wife, Sway, is heavily
involved in the day-to-day operations. Racing is a huge part of their family
and always will be.”

Rocky spoke up again as I moved Axel back to my lap where
he sprawled out stretching after his milk-meal. “You know we haven’t talked a
lot about this over the years but we lost Ron Walker last year in Williams
Grove and now the racing community loses another great track promoter, Charlie
Reins. When he took over ownership of Grays Harbor, he was quickly drawing in
the track sponsors and cars flocked to the shady side.”

They went on to talk a great deal about track promoters
and how the racing world wouldn’t be what it is without these guys selling the
sales the way they did.