by Stahl, Shey
“If you’re not, I’m not making excuses for you this time.”
“I never asked you to.” I hung up after that and called Wes.
He answered after a few rings. “Hey kid, where are you?”
“Well I’m in Olympia now. Can you take me to Bellingham tonight?”
“I thought I was taking you to Dega?”
“You are but I need to make a stop for the night.”
“No problem.” He replied without hesitation. “I’ll see you in two hours.”
I thought a lot waiting for Wes.
What would I say to her? I couldn’t tell her about Charlie and telling her how I felt seemed just as hard. It goes back to that thing I couldn’t get over, with so much weighing on my words, how do you know what to say and how to say it?
Tear-offs – Sway
It was Tuesday night and I was doing what I usually did, studying for my Wednesday marketing class. I had a final next week that I wasn’t prepared for. I couldn’t wait for graduation, for one. I hated being by myself and I hated school but mostly, I was all alone and that’s what was depressing.
I thought of Jameson a lot. I watched every race faithfully and cried like a goddamn fool when he won and I wasn’t there. Every interview was taped and every newspaper article was clipped and stored in a box under my bed. I was damn near a stalker and it was disturbing even to me. But I loved him. It took me a while to understand why I loved him; it was gradual but surging.
I loved him more than I ever thought possible and with it came a world of passion, confusion, intensity, desire, jealousy, heartache and comfort. I wanted to tell him how I felt, make him see that we would could be great together but he didn’t need that right now. He needed to focus on his career and I’d just be another distraction he didn’t need.
“Ugh,” I groaned and once again opened my internet browser to read the latest news on him. NASCAR’s website had a picture of him holding Darrin by his racing suit, both still clad in their helmets in what appeared to be a heated conversation. I hadn’t read this article so I opened it.
Tempers flared in Texas
Around lap 72 of the Samsung Mobile 500 race, Jameson Riley, driver of the No. 9 Ford Simplex and Darrin Torres, driver of the No. 14 Wyle Products Chevy got into each other setting off a chain reaction followed by a red flag. That wasn’t the only red on the track as these two got out of their cars and were involved in a major shoving match that resulted in Riley nearing taking a swing until NASCAR got involved.
When asked by a television broadcaster what was said Riley replied with. “I wanted to see what his problem was. He seems to have a problem with me every week. I’m sick of it.”
Torres later said that if the incident was his fault he would take responsibility and apologize but he felt it wasn’t. “It wasn’t my fault.” Torres told ESPN after the altercation, “I have little respect for that kid. He comes in here and acts like his daddy is going to bail him out of everything. He’s got talent sure but his aggressive disregard out there gets him nowhere.”
Both team owners said the incident was unfortunate but refused to discuss it any further as they have appealed the fines handed down from NASCAR.
Engrossed in my own personal Jameson daze, I nearly pissed myself when my phone began vibrating on my desk beside me. I noticed Jameson’s picture pop up on the screen so, of course, I nearly broke my neck trying to get to it in time. The line was static and muffled with a loud humming.
“What’s that noise? Where are you?” I yelled attempting to talk over the noise.
“In an airplane,” Jameson yelled back over the humming. “will you pick me up at the airport?”
“What airport?”
“The one in Bellingham,”
“There’s an airport in...Bellingham?”
“There better be. That’s where the plane is heading.” He laughed. “I can only stay for one night.”
I was silent. Was he serious? Why would he fly all the way here for one night?
“Are you going to come get me or shall I call a cab?” he pressed impatiently.
“Yeah...” I cleared my throat. “I’ll come get you.”
We hung up and I panicked. I had no idea where the airport was and why in the world he was flying here for one night? Google had quickly become my guide for navigating but I was left with my paranoid thoughts and Google had nothing to offer me on that one.
I printed out directions from the internet and then headed out except there was one problem with this, or two really. First, I am navigationally challenged beyond-belief. I once got lost going to Jameson’s house when we were kids. I might add that he lived down the street.
So then you add the weather, yeah, I was having a hard time. I shouldn’t have been surprised living in Washington, guess what the weather was doing this fine spring evening?
Raining.
And not just any kind of rain, it was the kind that you couldn’t see a foot in front of your car, or in my case, the red dragon. Also, I didn’t have windshield wipers.
So there the red dragon and me were, trying to find the Bellingham International airport that wasn’t much bigger than a landing strip you’d see in Playboy. Oh and it was pouring. I might have said this already but this just added to the confusion because I was almost certain I was night blind. I needed all the assistance I could get at night.
It didn’t help that my mind was more focused on what Jameson wanted flying all the way out here for one night. Was something wrong with him or someone in his family? Something had to be wrong. He wouldn’t just come out here for no reason, would he?
I tried calling him a few times to tell him I was lost but as luck would have it, I had no cell reception. Staring at the screen it flashed, “No Service,” and I snapped.
“You stupid piece of shit with no service!”
It then sprung up with the message, “Call Failed” again.
Tossing the phone in the seat, I continued to navigate. I think most of my frustration was fear of why was he was coming here?
I could understand maybe if it had been a while since we’d seen each other but as it was, I just saw him not more than a month ago.
When I finally found the airport, much later than I should have, Jameson was lying on a bench outside of the said closed airport, asleep.
He looked adorable.
I felt like an asshole having got lost so many times. I’m sure it didn’t help that I was speeding to try and get here and I missed a few turns due to poor handling and visibility as a result.
When Jameson awoke, no longer adorable, he was not amused with my tardiness and replied with, “Nice of you to hurry.”
I also wasn’t amused because in order to navigate accurately the last leg of my adventure, I ended up sticking my head out the window. I now looked similar to a drowned rat or cat.
“Get up lazy ass.” I kicked him.
“Get up? I just spent the last two hours waiting for your ass.” He finally looked at my hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I don’t have windshield wipers. I got lost and I had no cell reception.” I shrugged swiping a few wet strands out of my face while one stuck to my cheek. “It’s your fault. Now let’s go get some ice cream.”
He smirked. “I could use some ice cream right about now.”
So we ate ice cream at Dairy Queen and then headed back to my apartment I was renting off campus this year.
When we walked in, Jameson looked around before slumping on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table, well not really. My coffee table was two sprint car tires holding up a piece of sheet metal.
“This place is a shit hole, Sway.” His eyes focused on the table. “Nice table by the way.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well...not everyone makes millions.”
“Neither do I,” he replied defensively.
“Fairly damn close and I know you’re lying when you add on what you make with the sprint car team and all those foam fingers.”
/> He shook his head drinking his chocolate milkshake. “I haven’t made shit off that sprint car team. All the profit goes back into the team right now. Although, those foam fingers may be my retirement someday,”
I was about to ask him how his sprint car team was going until my perverted neighbors began making noise.
Those assholes made me so jealous lately that I had to invest in a vibrator. I’m no audiologist or anything like that, but a quick assessment told me those were sex noises—sex noises that were not coming from me.
With the way our apartments were laid out—you could see into their dining room from my bedroom. Not once had they been in the dining room but there was always a first in the heat of the moment I guess.
So there Jameson and I were, lying on my bed watching Sports Center when I sat up to grab the remote, catching a glimpse of my porn star neighbors. “Holy shit, they’re doing it on the table.”
Jameson sat up.
“Who is?” his eyes frantically searched for what I was pointing at.
He hadn’t shown that much enthusiasm since the time, when we were fourteen, and had found a porno in the VCR of his parent’s living room, compliments of Spencer.
“My neighbors,” I giggled with a snort. “Right there pile driving her on the table.”
He burst out laughing and moved by my window for a better view. To be fair, we both watched.
“This feels wrong.” I said watching closely.
When he pulled back and lowered his head, I cringed. I didn’t want to watch this just out of plain jealousy.
“He’s doing it all wrong.” Jameson sighed rolling his eyes. “Jesus man, save some of your fucking dignity.”
I wanted to ask him how often he’d done that to know that this guy was doing it all wrong but I didn’t. I felt my entire body burst into flames when my perverted brain imagined Jameson doing that, to me.
“He clearly has no idea how to properly debur a crankcase.”
“I can’t believe we’re watching this.”
“It’s like live porn.” He pulled back from the window to look at me with an accusing smirk. “Is this what you do all day? You naughty girl you,”
“No, this is the first time I’ve watched this.”
“Yeah,” he shook his head. “sure it is.”
When the girl arched her back into him, I thought maybe this was too much. “We shouldn’t be watching this.”
“We can’t stop now. That’s like not finishing a race, it’s not an option.”
When they finally finished, Jameson fell back against the floor and slowly turned his head to me and winked.
“Did that turn you on pervert?” I giggled at his flushed appearance. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t turned on. It was like watching live porn.
To my utter surprise, he laughed.
“I’ll admit, I was, but here’s the thing, Sway,” He motioned with two fingers for me to lean in closer, so I did. Then he whispered in my ear, low and seductively. “I would pay money to watch you come apart like that.”
I think I let out a noise that was near a squeak but closer to a snort, either way, it sounded like something a baby pig would make and not at all sexy.
Was I trying to be sexy?
Jameson chuckled and fell back against the floor again, his rusty hair standing out against the black rug.
Looking down at him propped up on one of his elbows, my breath caught in my throat, thankfully, I didn’t choke this time. The desire and want was obvious in both our eyes as he looked up at me.
Without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
Jameson’s response was hesitant but he moved his lips against mine alluring, soft and patient.
I pulled back immediately thinking I’d made a mistake but he surprised me when he crashed his lips back to mine with a sudden urgency and need. The kiss was explosive but remained soft. I moved my hands up his chest to the back of his neck pulling him closer. He pushed his body closer in return, a muffled groan escaped him and he rolled us both over so he was on top of me.
I moaned as his hips moved against mine and for a moment, we were lost until he froze.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” His voice marred by his heavy breathing as his eyes fell closed and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay.” I was panting just as hard. “We always seem to end up this way at some point.”
“Does it bother you?” He whispered moving to sit up on the floor, his back rested against the foot of my bed. I watched as he not so discretely adjusted himself.
“No, it doesn’t bother me at all.”
He nodded before he stood reaching for my hand.
“Let’s go watch a movie before I do something stupid.” His eyes raked over my body before he sighed shaking his head. “You are too beautiful for your own good.”
I felt my cheeks flush as I let out a nervous giggle-snort. I was becoming good at these embarrassing noises.
“Why do you say things like that to me?”
“Because it’s true,” He told me without hesitation. “You are very beautiful and incredibly sexy. You should know that.”
Leaning forward, I kissed him again. Falling to the floor again, any willpower I had was non-existent tonight when he said things like that. No one had ever told me I was sexy before, aside from him. Once again, he ended up between my legs. This time I pulled away when I thought of why he was here.
“Sorry, that was my fault.”
Still lying on the floor, his head fell back when he groaned.
“You’re killing me, Sway.” He muttered with a light chuckle.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I only said that because every time I’m around you—I think about you naked.” He winked with a cocky nod.
Was he flirting with me?
Conscious of my tension, he laughed. “Let’s get up.”
So we moved to the bed, he attacked me once more and when his hands made their way to the funbags, he pulled away again only this time he set pillows in between us.
“Apparently we need barriers tonight.” Trying to catch my breath, he kissed me again, his lips exultant. He moved his mouth to whisper in my ear—his breathing just as ragged as mine. “Stay on your side, honey.”
I giggled despite my embarrassment that we couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves.
Continuing to watch Sports Center, I blurted out. “What made you fly across the country for a night?”
His head turned on the pillow, his thick eyelashes fluttered closed a few times before he gave me a soft smile. “I just missed you, that’s all.” He turned back toward the television. “Sometimes I just need to remember home.”
“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
“It’s not important.”
Not important? How could it not be important?
“I’m home?” I pointed at myself awkwardly. I’m not so sure it was presented as a question, or even a statement.
“Yes,” he smiled.
His eyes focused on the picture on my nightstand of us when we were around fourteen in Mexico on the beach.
How was I home? Oh jeez, I was so confused.
Why did he say things like this? Why was he so cryptic in everything he did or said to me? Could it be that he was just as confused about where our relationship had gone as I was?
Jameson has always reminded me of a sprint car set-up. They can be some of the most temper-sensitive cars out there when it comes to weight distribution, just like Jameson.
Take the suspension for example. You can either have a coil spring/shock combination, torsion bars, or a combination of both.
A coil spring system is used to store energy and subsequently release the energy to absorb the shock or maintain a force between contracting surfaces. When you think about it, Jameson and I used each other as coil springs to absorb anything that happened in our lives. For that, I held him to different standards. Anything else in my life,
I was precipitately impulsive. When it came to Jameson and telling him how I felt for him, I couldn’t form the words.
When he fell asleep on my bed, I watched him like the stalker I was. I couldn’t stop staring at him, entranced by his beauty. My stupid girly brain imagined that he was here because he wanted me in all the ways I wanted him. Could it be that he got the same energized rush when he saw me as I did with him? Could it be that when we kissed, he felt the same crushing zeal?
I wasn’t really a stalker, was I?
I mean he is my best friend, that’s not a stalker, right? I didn’t know what the difference would be. It all felt the same and now that the term was defined, I figured I should look into therapy.
And then I wondered how I would present this to a therapist?
“Hello, I’m stalking my best friend. Do you think you can help me? I’m afraid that if he doesn’t love me back; I might resort to further stalking and with my arrest record, I’d be going to prison for the three strikes and you’re out deal.”
Yeah, that doesn’t sound dumb at all.
Tear-offs – Jameson
My phone buzzing woke me up that morning. I noticed the way we were lying and smiled. We ended up cuddling sometime throughout the night. Thankfully, we were still fully clothed.
The sun had risen, but the rain had yet to slow. The metal roofs of the cars outside pinged as the rain drops fell. I remembered the sound well, having lived in Washington where the cloud cover and rain were unrelenting.
I watched her sleep through the mirror over her dresser, the morning light providing the right amount of luminosity. Her features softened from sleep were almost seraphic. I wanted to stop time right then and never move from this place with her securely in my arms, away from any harm the world would cause her. Since hearing from Charlie, I alternated between confusion, anger, fear and sadness.
Please just let her be okay with this.
The problem was, she wouldn’t be okay. He was dying. The only biological family she had left was dying. I couldn’t think through this. I couldn’t find a way for it to be okay, she wouldn’t be okay. I could only hope I would be there for her when she needed me.
