“I’m so sorry Ms. Zane. It’s nothing dramatic like that, just an anomaly that needs to be explained before we can give him his medical release to race again. That’s it, I promise.”
“What the hell? Then why all the drama?” I don’t know whether to be relieved or enraged. They let me think he was like dying or something by the way they were talking.
“Just come in and support him and we’ll tell you everything we know. I fully expect him to be racing again very soon so try and relax and drive yourself here safely.”
I hang my phone up without answering. I turn to Rachael to explain what the call was about, but she stops me.
“Come on,” she says, “I’ll drive.
At the hospital…
Marco is still in the exam room repeating the CAT scan when we arrive, so we’re directed to a waiting room and told he’ll join us in about thirty minutes.
“Would you like me to stay with you?” Rachael asks, “Or would you rather be alone?”
“I might be here quite a while Rach—”
“I’ll stay,” she says resolutely, and I’m grateful for it.
Then after a few minutes. “You know Carrie...I don’t remember you getting this worked up over Danny even when he was in that serious crash on Christmas day. This time is different.”
I look at her for a moment, then down at my feet. She’s right. I only really got bent when Danny died. Otherwise I was able to kinda stay detached when he was racing and even when he crashed, which wasn’t often. I think I know why too. It took me 8 long months to be able to say this, even to myself, but Danny was an abuser. He abused my for the entire time we were together except for that first two or three months when we first got together. That’s why I could remain a little detached, because there was that behavior that I knew was wrong and I shouldn’t be putting up with. I just couldn’t get away from the relationship or from him.
“You love him, don’t you?” Rachael asks.
Now that’s a question I’m not prepared to answer. I don’t even want to ask myself that question let alone let her ask it. This is all happening so damn fast I can barely believe it myself. One thing I do know is that I wouldn’t have shed tears this easily for Danny, that’s for sure.
May 13th 2012, Darlington SC...
The post-race celebration is off the charts. Danny’s won his unprecedented fourth race in a row. Rather than stay in Danny’s race trailer, we book a suite for two glorious days at the Charlotte Hilton in Charlotte South Carolina. We invite the entire pit crew, the owners, and our sponsors for the catered party. Everyone is in high spirits! People are talking like number 5 is already in the bag and setting their sights on Daytona. That’s the one feather Danny has yet to add to his cap. He has never won at Daytona in 5 years racing. His best finish was 11th, the year before last. Last year he got clipped and it sent him into the wall early on in the race. He got a little banged up, but that was it.
Danny’s crew chief is the last person to leave the party. It’s nearly two in the morning but we’re not tired at all. The room is spinning pleasantly and I am as excited and happy as I’ve ever been. Danny walks Stu Gustafson out and puts the do not disturb sign on the door handle. As he walks back to the bedroom where I’m pouring another glass of bubbly for us he is already stripping off his lucky tee. He’s sweaty, smells like the inside of a race car and racing fuel, but I could care less. I watch as he slips his pants down over his narrow hips and down around his ankles. What a sight.
By the time we pass out we’ve christened the bed, kitchen floor, coffee table, the balcony, and just about every other flat surface we could find. It’s well after noon when we both wake up the next day, feeling horrible.
“Dammit Carrie, you’re not supposed to let me drink so much!”
“What?” I’m not sure I heard that right. “That’s not my job superstar. If you didn’t want to drink why’d you buy so much liquor then?”
“That was for everyone else! I don’t drink, remember?”
“Guess I must have missed that memo.”
“What the fuck?”
“Since when am I supposed to keep track of your drinking?”
“It’s what the team does for its drivers,” he replies.
“The team?”
“Yeah the team. Everybody does their part to ensure success. If I win races, everybody gets paid. Your job is to keep me happy, and lettin’ me drink like a fuckin’ fish last night is not doin’ your job!”
“Look, you’re still half lit, so I’m going to just forget everything you just said and tomorrow we’ll just go about business as usual. We both need to just crawl back into that bed and sleep it off. We don’t have to check out for another 24 hours. How’s that sound?”
“Not good! Not so fuckin’ good! You still don’t get your job as part of this team and part of your job is keeping me happy and right now you’re failing miserably.”
“Really? So this...” I sweep my arm around indicating the mess around us. “This stuff, it’s just about doing a job for you and me and my job is to keep you happy?”
“Yeah that’s it.”
“So those blow jobs last night, that was just me working. And all that fucking we did in this fancy bed, and in the kitchen and on the balcony that was just work?”
“Yes.”
This time I don’t let him finish before I smack him across the cheek. I don’t hit him hard but hard enough for him to know he’s just crossed the line. The look of shock and surprise on his face is priceless. I have an idea that this is the last time we’re going to have this conversation.
I am dead wrong.
I don’t see the blow coming. All of a sudden my head snaps around sideways as pain explodes across the left side of my face. Out of instinct I raise my hand, but any thought of striking back gets lost in another explosion of pain on the other side of my head. When I can finally open my eyes and see something other than stars, I see Danny’s handsome face contorted with rage and I think, how can someone who professes to love me look at me with that...that face. His expression has become a mask of hatred. I recoil back away from him, terrified than his next move may be to take my life.
I scramble off the bed, grabbing my phone and purse. I dress quickly, and as I’m about to go out I catch my reflection in the mirror. There’s a handprint on my left cheek. My right eye looks like it’s beginning to swell in the corner. I search through my purse till I come up with my sunglasses. They won’t cover the handprint on my cheek but they’ll cover my eye. I take a deep breath and open the bathroom door. I walk out. Danny is still sitting on the bed. I don’t dare look at his face.
“Carrie,” he begins. “I am so sorry. I never should have drank that much. It’s the alcohol you know...this is not me...” He finishes lamely.
I don’t trust myself to speak. I just have to keep moving and get out of there. I hurry for the door. Once out I take a deep breath. Safe. There should be a cab in front of the hotel so I shouldn’t have to wait. I don’t really think Danny will follow me out, though. I can barely walk and he’s in worse shape than me I think. By the time I get to the lobby I have four texts from him. They’re all variations of I’m sorry, it’s the booze’s fault, you know I would never harm you. Fortunately there are several taxis out front waiting for fares. I get in the first one.
“Darlington Raceway please.”
Bristol Motor Speedway track hospital, present day…
“Ms. Zane?”
I wipe my eyes and look up. I guess I dozed off. I glance around the waiting room. It’s just Rachael and I. There’s a doctor standing in front of me.
“Yes?”
“My name is Doctor Mayhall. I’m the chief Radiologist here at Bristol.”
“Yes doctor, how is he?” I ask, standing up.
“Well, he’s doing fine. We just saw something on his first CAT scan that needed to be clarified. That’s the reason for the second scan.”
“And...?”
“We’re pr
etty sure your...friend here suffered a seizure while racing.”
“What? That can’t be right. He wrecked because he made a bonehead move ignoring his spotter and cut another car off who hit him from behind. That’s what happened. He didn’t have a seizure.”
“He had a seizure alright. It’s crystal clear on that last exam. We don’t know when exactly it happened. Do you know the time it was when he wrecked?”
“Oh wow...I’ve got no idea, sorry. But how could he be driving while having a seizure? It would make him crash right?”
My heart is sinking slowly. I think I have an idea where Doctor Mayhall is going with this and I don’t like it. This is not good news...holy crap this is bad.
“So he wouldn’t necessarily crash,” Dr. Mayhall is saying.
“What? Sorry doctor, could you repeat that last part, I was lost in thought.”
“Sure, I know this is a lot to take in. What I was saying is that the seizure was pretty insignificant so he could have easily had one and not even been aware of it. He could have had several and not crashed.”
Phew...that was close. For a second there I was afraid they were gonna tell me he has to stop racing.
“Ms. Zane?”
“Huh? Sorry, so what now?”
“Now we have to conduct some more tests and I’m afraid until those tests prove or disprove seizure activity I can’t clear him to get behind the wheel again.”
“What?” Shit! Suddenly I feel like someone just kicked me in the gut. I can’t seem to breathe. I can’t believe I’m hearing this.
“You can of course get a second opinion; in fact I suggest you do given the importance of the situation here. If you like I can give you some names or if you have someone else in mind...”
He pulls a card out of his pocket and extends it to me. “If you have any questions or if Marco has questions please don’t hesitate to call me. If you want that list of other doctors please call me and I or someone from my staff will get that for you. Would you like me or my nurse be there when you break the news to Mr. Panata?”
I am stunned. How can this be happening to me again?
Chapter Nine
Things Remembered
“Motor racing can never be totally safe and it never should be in my opinion....” Murray Walker
Carrie
June 17th 2011, Poconos Raceway
Danny is at an all-time high, and I’m at my lowest low. He should not be racing today. I don’t know which doctor cleared him to race, or if anyone did, but what I do know is that the track never got Dr. Carmichael’s medical report banning him from racing until further tests could be completed.
Say that Danny did get a second opinion and that doctor cleared him to return to racing, there is no way that Dr. Carmichael would not have been consulted and his findings examined. That’s standard procedure set up so that people like Danny can’t pull one over on race officials and doctors. He could not have been cleared without a note from Dr. Carmichael on the report that eventually clears him. Even if Doctor Carmichael doesn’t feel he is fit to race, Danny could still race providing that the new doctor cleared him but only after consulting with the first doctor who benched him. I didn’t know all this before but I still had time to contact race officials and warn them to check out Danny and see Dr. Carmichael’s report.
So why didn’t I do that? Lots of reasons. Fear of his reaction is a big one. Fear of his team’s reactions for me ratting him out. Dozens of people would be out of a job if their premiere racer is benched. Danny’s racing pays the salary for thirty plus people. Who am I to take that away from all these good people? I just couldn’t bring myself to do that. I’m sure it’s safe for Danny to race. He’s been racing since he was a kid and that condition has never caused him a problem and I’m sure it won’t today. This is his first pole position since his rookie year and no way am I going to take that away from him.
After giving Danny a last minute kiss for luck, I take my place just over the wall at our pit box. I’ve never been a good faker, or liar for that matter, and I’m finding that even more difficult today.
“Why the long face?” Rachael asks as I take my seat.
“Ah you know me...always stressed before the start.”
“Uh...actually you’re quite the opposite. What’s going on? How can you not be happy? The way I hear the car’s been running, the way Danny’s been racing, capturing the pole position, you should be thrilled like the rest of us. So spill it!”
At that second, in my moment of weakness, I just about spill my guts and rat out my fiancé, but I don’t. I plaster a smile on my face and swallow my guilty feelings as far down as I can. I’ll really be able to smile soon as the race is over whether Danny wins or not. In fact, for the first time I could care less if he wins or not. I just want the damn race to be over!
“That’s the Carrie we all know and love!” Rachael exclaims, seeing my expression.
The race is more than half over before I finally begin to relax and, dare I say it, enjoy myself. I can’t believe I was paranoid enough to believe that Danny was going to crash and kill himself. Of course not. He is fit to race and is on a tear. He’s running third and has been in the top ten from the start except for one short period. He even held on to first for the first fifty laps despite frequent runs from the notorious Oliver Busch in the double zero car. Eventually Danny had some tire trouble and had to take an unscheduled pit to take care of the situation. Unfortunately that cost him the number one spot. He got back on the track in the twenty-fifth position and has battled back ever since.
Danny, Oliver, and Reyes have been battling it out for more than an hour now and with ten more laps to go it’s anybody’s guess who’s going to take the checkered flag. Then with 4 laps to go Danny suddenly slingshots around Oscar Reyes on the high side, then slips down into second right behind the double zero car driven by Oliver Busch. It was a perfectly executed move and Reyes didn’t have enough left in his engine to hold him off. Now it’s between Danny and Oliver for the checkered flag. Two laps to go! We’re so close to victory I can taste the champagne in my mouth. I can feel the bubbles tickling my nose. We’re going to have a party tonight.
One turn left, then it’s a long straightaway, and the way Danny has been conserving fuel and power I think he’s gonna do it. Oliver is having a harder and harder time keeping his car in front of Danny’s. The pace has even dropped and the third and fourth place cars are closing the gap. Danny doesn’t have to drive this slowly. He’s just waiting for the perfect time to make his move.
And he finally does it. In front of thousands of screaming fans all on their feet to see the underdog win, my Danny goes to the right, slingshots right around Oliver and passes him in a flash. The crowd erupts in a thunderous roar. Now coming into the last turn he has a full second on Oliver and the gap is widening.
I didn’t see the exact moment it happened. I looked over at Rachael for a second to see if she was just as excited as me. I heard the crash and the collective gasp of thousands of screaming fans instantly silenced. I didn’t even have to look up to know it was Danny. For some reason he didn’t pull out of the turn and hit the wall at the very end at close to 200 miles per hour. Then, like a bomb going off, the whole track full of race fans exploded with cries of shock, surprise, and grief. The carnage was so complete there just could not have been any chance for Danny to survive. I’m vaguely aware of someone pulling on my arm.
“We have to go Carrie!” she’s literally dragging me to our ambulance.
“I’ve killed him! Oh my god Rachael I’ve killed Danny!”
“Shut up, no one’s killed anyone. Now let’s get out there and bring him back.”
Rachael climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine while I, still in a daze climb in the passenger’s side.
The weird thing about it is, in spite of the crash and Danny hitting the wall, he actually took the checkered flag. He was moving so fast that when his car finally came down to the track after sai
ling through the air for 200 yards (according to race officials), Oliver’s car hit him in the rear and gave him the shove he needed to cross the finish just before Oliver did. Reyes took second, and some guy in the number 123 car took fourth.
We get to the wreckage in no time. Just about the only thing left is the capsule where the driver sits. The rest of the car has been shredded and torn from the frame. The moment our vehicle comes to a stop I jump out and at a dead run reach Danny in a matter of seconds.
I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies before and I usually know when I’m seeing another one. Even though my mind tries to trick me, I know. There are no injuries that can be seen, but there is just something about the position of his body. Even as I’m reaching in to check his pulse he suddenly stirs.
“Did I win?” He asks.
I am so angry, so happy, I don’t know what to say so I just smack him on the shoulder.
“Damn you, Danny!”
Chapter Ten
My Marco
“Newman’s first law: it’s useless to put on your brakes when you’re upside down…” Paul Newman
Carrie
With a boulder sized lump in my throat and my heart aching, I open the door to Marco’s room. He’s stretched out on the bed watching ESPN. His smile instantly brightens my dark mood the second he sees me walk in. How can I crush that smile? I smile back but I’m not certain I’m convincing enough. I walk over to his bed and sit on the edge.
“Guess this place is hurtin’ for dough huh? Two CAT scans in two days? These tests are damn expensive and for what? To check and double check the fact that I’m perfectly fine. And since when do they give you CAT scans for minor concussions?”
“Stop complaining.”
“So, you here to spring me out of this joint?” he asks.
“Soon. Just as soon as Dr. Mayhall signs the paperwork.”
“Good, cause I am seriously getting stir crazy in this place. So when’s he coming back to sign my medical release?”
Fuel To The Fire (New Adult Contemporary Romance) Page 7
