by Stahl, Shey
It’s being in the moment and giving yourself whether you intended to or not.
It’s a passionate love held in place by ice blue.
A good part of me was scared to love Dylan. But there was also a part, that child within me that had always been in love with Dylan since that first kiss. The other part was nervous to love someone like Dylan when I didn’t know myself. I knew that with Dylan, you could easily fall in love with him.
“Sometimes I wonder where on earth a boy like you came from,” I said my head laid gently on his chest, his breathing light as the mist on us.
Dylan gave that light chuckle I found so reassuring. “I think her name was Lauren…”
My smile tugged at the side of my face, a slow creeping smile that memories molded. “And she smelled like sugar cookies.”
Swaying side to side, he twirled me once before reclaiming my hips.
We slipped as the water beaded down the hood and landed on our asses after that.
Dylan looked at me. “I didn’t take into account how slippery it would be.”
Trying to keep from slipping more, I steadied myself but then lost it in a fit of giggles when I saw that Dylan’s foot had cracked his windshield when we fell. Instead of getting mad, he sighed shaking his head and sprawled out on the hood. “See, what’d I tell you…memories. I’ll look at that windshield now and say, damn, that was a dumb idea.”
I couldn’t stop from laughing and leaned sprawled out like he’d just done.
He looked over at me, taking a pull from the cigarette he just lit. “You’re so fucking pretty when you smile like that.” His left index finger tapped my nose. “Makes these freckles light up.”
Silence fell over us. Dylan scanned his eyes over mine as the tips of his fingers traced along my cheek until he cupped the side of my face. “If someone asked you what color the sky is, what would you say?”
“I would ask what time of day.”
“Why?” Dylan looked slightly perplexed by my answer as if I’d thrown him off guard. His hand dropped from my face as he leaned against the window, his left leg bent at the knee relaxing on the hood of dents and a busted windshield.
I looked up at the sky, it was a light gray but shadowed in part by the sun and soon it would set behind the blanket of clouds. The rain finally stopped and the smell of wet trees and dirt surrounded us. “Because sometimes it’s blue or gray or white.”
Dylan took a slow drag from his cigarette before blowing the smoke into the sky. “Fuck that, those colors are bland. Look beyond that. Imagine what could be. There’s gold and pink and purple and orange, there’s so much beyond the eye that most don’t see, don’t want to see or can’t imagine.” He kept an eye on me and nodded to the one sliver of clouds that had broken apart to reveal the sunset over my shoulder. “Thinking that way will not only suck the life right out of you but you won’t see what’s right in front of you, in the moment. You’re stuck seeing what you’ve always seen. Don’t be that. Be alive, be wide awake, be anything.”
Childhood to adulthood has a way of fading and making you feel this way, a way Dylan believed and never lost sight of. Deep down he was that little mischievous boy he once was; maybe he had a tougher shell these days. But watching him sing, hearing him say things like this, made me believe he was still in there and childhood hadn’t faded away, life had gotten in the way.
It also made me believe there was hope, even though we had no idea what our future would bring right now, we could do and be whatever we dreamed of being.
Silence settled like the rain, no words needed to be spoken, blue eyes that wouldn’t let the child in me get lost, make my head throb and my heartbeat. His eyes held mine, heavy weights in place and the most imaginable colors behind him.
“Are you glad we ran away?” I asked my lashes sprinkle water on my cheeks.
He looked at my lips and then my eyes before clearing his throat softly. “It’s our deal. It’s what we were supposed to do. So yeah, I am,” he sighed pressing his lips to mine, “now, let’s bucket list this shit and kiss me in the fucking rain.”
Our deal?
I wasn’t sure what he meant by our deal but a kiss in the rain was enough to erase any thoughts I may have had.
Memories flashed against my closed lids, memories we created when we were kids and now consumed me, made me feel those bleeding colors.
11. Dirt Tracks – Bailey Gray
Dylan and I made it to Dodge City around midnight after our kiss in the rain turned into more than a kiss.
We were trying to find a hotel but as it turned out, there was a race in town and all the hotels seemed to be booked. Dylan’s uncle Kyle, his dad’s younger brother, called and got us a room at the Best Western where a bunch of their crew was staying.
Now we were trying to find the Best Western.
“I’m starving,” he groaned into my hair, his lips brushing my ear as we drove around. “I’m so hungry right now I could eat your elbow,” he laughed slightly, his chest shaking me as his hand slipped around my shoulder, pulling me into him. His hand kept its journey lower and ran down my arm. “Matter of fact,” Dylan stopped and pulled my arm near his mouth, “give it here, I’ll nibble a little.”
I giggled twisting away from him with laughter. The last few hours had been nothing but laughter, lingering touches, tickling and wet clothes on the floorboards. We were both in our underwear and the heater on full-blast trying to dry them.
“What did you mean when you said our deal earlier?” I asked snuggling closer to his side.
Dylan was quiet for a minute, one hand rested on the steering wheel, the other on my upper thigh. “It’s not complicated brown eyes.” His lips pressed to my temple. “It’s just…our deal.”
“We have a deal?” I turned my head to look up at him. His eyes were on the road.
“Everyone has a deal,” he said. “An unspoken understanding…we were meant to be and you know it.”
“There’s a Taco Bell.” I pointed across his chest to the left side of the street at a strip mall. “Let’s go there.”
Just like that, the conversation twisted.
Dylan loved tacos so that was where we ended up. We took the food back to the hotel and ate there. There was nothing better than going through a Taco Bell drive-thru at midnight in your bra and underwear.
It screams inappropriate.
When we got to the hotel, we both crashed not long after eating.
The next afternoon was when it got interesting. Unlike Eddy, I’d never met anyone from the Wade side of the family other than Ken, Dylan’s dad. And after knowing Ken, I wasn’t sure what to expect of Kyle.
We met for breakfast not far from the racetrack in Dodge City. He brought with him his younger brother, the youngest of the Wade brothers, Gentry. He was nice and closer in age to us. I found out that Ken was the oldest, then Kyle and Gentry. From what Dylan told me, all three were very different. Ken was serious and kind of an asshole. That much I knew first hand.
Then there was Kyle, the more determined of the three brothers and heavily involved in racing. The youngest was Gentry, the goofball of the family. I could see that too.
He flirted with me that morning and Dylan had to set him straight right off the bat. “No dude, she’s taken.”
Gentry had fun with it like all uncles would have. It was in good humor and kept light.
After breakfast, we headed to the track to meet the rest of their crew and the NASCAR driver that Kyle was the crew chief for. Apparently it was a bi-weekend and he was back to racing the cars that he grew up racing.
I’d never been to a dirt track and I couldn’t exactly see the appeal. That was until I watched my first race. I completely understood the appeal. The rush, the adrenaline, the fans, beer, all of it was part of the experience.
Kyle had gotten us passes to go in and out of the pits but once the racing started, I found myself drawn in and not wanting to miss anything. Dylan was the same way.
“So what�
��s this driver like?” I gestured to the black number nine sprint car that was on the track qualifying.
The number board in the middle of the track flashed with the words fast time and Kyle smiled shaking his head with a laugh as he leaned back against the bench behind him. “He never loses that.”
Gentry, who was sitting in front of me, glanced over his shoulder at me. “The driver is an asshole. Just remember that and you’ll be fine.” He turned back around to drink his beer like nothing happened.
Kyle nodded. “He is an asshole but he means well. Just don’t be offended if he doesn’t talk much when he comes up here.”
I’d never met a race car driver before and I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect once they said he was an asshole.
Dylan put his hand on my thigh but laughed and raised it to my face when he looked over at me and brushed what I assumed was more dirt from my nose. “Are you having fun?”
I nodded my eyes giving me away and Dylan cracked a smile, his eyes drifting back to the track as the next car came out. One by one, cars made their way onto the track and made what Kyle said, a qualifying lap. Jameson Riley, the driver of that black number nine car held onto that fast time.
“So this driver, Jameson Riley,” I motioned to where he was standing in the middle of the track with a group of guys surrounding him as they talked to the announcer, “is he really good?”
Dylan nodded, his arm circled around my shoulders. “Yeah, he’s won the championship for NASCAR something like eight times now and he’s only thirty-one.”
“Wow!” I had no idea what any of that meant but it seemed impressive.
As the nights activities moved along, the wooden bleachers we sat in overlooking the clay track filled with families and enthused race fans. A burst of lights above made the cars and the wings shine with glimmer I found captivating right along with the sound. The sound reminded me of Dylan’s car, that sharp distinct growl of horsepower.
Dylan’s attention was mostly on the racing but he usually kept one hand on me at all times, feeling, remembering, making memories, our deal.
A few of the other drivers lingered in the stands prior to what they called the heat races began, none were Jameson but a few were said to be drivers that raced for him.
I don’t know why but I wanted to meet this Jameson guy that everyone, including Dylan, talked so highly of.
“He’ll probably come up here after the heats, maybe,” Gentry had said to us after he managed to get us beer. “But don’t get bent if he doesn’t.”
Kyle snorted, the noise in between humor and annoyance. “Just know that the only reason he’ll even talk to us is because he’s here, at a dirt track.”
That seemed a bit rude to me. Why wouldn’t you talk to people who came out to support you?
Dylan seemed to notice my questions shifting through my head and leaned in bumping my shoulder. “He’s not a bad guy.” He rubbed his forehead with his right hand before adjusting his hat. “He’s just the type that’s single -minded when he’s racing.”
“So you’ve met him before?” I said into his shoulder shielding my eyes from the sun as it peeked over his left shoulder.
He noticed and moved forward to block the light, his eyes squinting at the brightness before he moved his shades that were on his head down. “Yeah, once at a track back home. He’s from Washington.”
“Oh.” The thought that he was from Washington made me cheer a little harder for him.
Before the main events came on another group of people came into the stands. They were introduced to me as Jameson’s wife and two boys, Axel and Casten. They had a little girl too, Arie, but she was at the merchandise trailer, whatever that was.
In a matter of two hours, I had learned a whole new language that I never knew. The racing world.
Sway, Jameson’s wife, sat next to me when Dylan went down to the pits with Kyle and Gentry to look at the car.
“I’m Sway, Jameson’s wife,” she said patting my knee. “Those little hoodlums are Axel and Casten.” She tapped the tops of their heads as she introduced them but neither turned around. Instead, they sat quietly eating hot dogs. Sway laughed when they didn’t turn around. “Don’t let the rapt attention on the track fool you, they’re never this quiet. I had to beat them in the truck for throwing dirt at me. They’re only acting this way in fear I’ll tell their dad, which I will.”
“That’s a cool name,” I said smiling and feeling comfortable around her already. I had a hard time getting to know people back home because usually they were afraid of me―being the mayor’s daughter and all. Now, no one knew that side of me.
“Yeah.” Sway tossed a sweatshirt over her bare legs when the wind picked up slightly. “My parent’s named me after a Rolling Stones song.”
We made small talk for a moment, I told her about leaving home right after graduation. She thought it was funny and understood why. Finally, someone didn’t give me a look of what-the-hell-were-you-thinking.
Sway was easy to talk to and I found myself engrossed in everything she had to say. It was like I had some kind of girl-crush on her. She was adorable and I wanted to kiss her. Not really but she was cute.
“How long have you been married?” I asked taking a drink of the beer Gentry handed me and trying to get over my girl crush on this woman.
Sway glared at Gentry shoving his shoulder, her diamond ring shined with the movement. “She’s eighteen dude, not cool.”
“Whatever.” Gentry flipped his hand up with a smile and sat down next to the boys in front of us.
“We’ve been married almost eight years,” she said. “We got married when I was eight months pregnant with that one.” Leaning forward she tapped the top of the older boys head. He gave her a nod but paid no attention to her when a string of five sprint cars came onto the track for what they called a trophy dash.
These weren’t your average NASCAR car either. They were about half the size in length with large back tires, open wheels and a wing on the top. They were adorable.
Then we started to talk about the situation Dylan and I had now found ourselves in, confused, lost, running from something we didn’t understand.
I felt bad pouring my heart out to her but Sway had that type of personality that I started spilling my guts to her and forgot all about the race.
Sway smiled. “We were eighteen once. I don’t think Jameson and I could get anything right at that age and it was like we had to do everything wrong before we did anything right.”
“But you were together eventually.”
“Well yeah,” she motioned to the two little boys sitting quietly on the bench in front of us both wearing black racing hats and sweatshirts that matched their dad’s number and sponsor. “But we broke each other’s hearts before we ever got to the point where we were actually together.”
“Would you have done anything different?”
The older of the two kids looked up when he saw his dad approach, his racing suit tied around his waist with a swarm of fans following him, mostly women. The idolizing smile was undeniable when his dad grabbed the two boys into a hug hauling them over his shoulders.
Sway laughed lightly, “No,” she looked at the older boy with a smile, “I wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Jameson didn’t stay long, said nothing in acknowledgment to me, kissed his wife and then took off in the other direction with two other drivers, his head down, hat drew low to avoid eye contact with anyone.
The night progressed and I spent more time talking to Sway and her sister in-law, Emma, than I did Dylan. He didn’t care, he was in heaven surrounded by fast cars.
Emma was something else. Other than that crack head we picked up in Oklahoma City, I’d never met someone with that much energy and she had two kids wrapped around her. These women were amazing.
Jameson ended up winning the main event, which seemed to put his family in a good mood. His sister Emma invited us back to their pit to hang out.
Jameson cam
e back into the stands after receiving the trophy. He looked up at Dylan and me but said nothing, his eyes scanning the crowd. He seemed uncomfortable surrounded by them and appeared to be focused on getting away.
“Come back to the pit,” Emma said holding one of her sons by the hood of his sweatshirt so he couldn’t escape, the other one was held by who appeared to be their dad. “We’re going to cook some burgers.”
Dylan was all about food and Emma wasn’t taking no for an answer.
When we got to their pit near the back of the large dust field, it was scattered with cars, a large black and grey bus, three large haulers that stored the sprint cars and a handful of ATV’s and dirt bikes. There wasn’t any shortage of toys either. Inside the haulers, you could tell this whole thing was a family affair and they were all very close. I felt a little out of place but Emma and Sway were good at making us comfortable.
Food was everywhere too and so was the beer. Dylan’s favorite.
Sure enough, I looked over at him, standing next to the black and red hauler beside Kyle and another guy I hadn’t met yet, drinking a Coors Light.
Jameson was standoffish, kept his distance for the most part but after two beers, he began to open up and started joking around with his team. You can tell they feed off him. He’s full of attitude, much like Dylan, and set’s the mood around him. If he was quiet, they were quiet. When his mood lightened, they started in.
Aside from all this, Jameson never lingered far from his wife. They were always within a foot of one another whether they meant to be or not.
Sway was kept busy with the kids but every once in a while she would stop and talk to me.
The kids were entertaining to watch. I still hadn’t seen the girls they said were around but the boys, who stood near the fire after we ate hamburgers, all throwing sticks and rocks in it. They alternated between throwing stuff in the fire and riding around on a mini-dirt bike they had.
