Speedway Girl

I was jolted awake a little after 3 AM by a scream. "Jessica, NO!!"

I had never been so frightened in my life. He was sitting up in bed, shaking like he was naked in a snowbank, his eyes open and wide as saucers. He started sobbing and mumbling things I couldn't understand. I sat up and wrapped my naked body around him to warm him up, anything to stop his shaking.

I tried to console him while rubbing his back, "I'm here, baby. I'm here. It's OK. Everything is going to be OK."

I couldn't get through to him. I wasn't even sure if he was awake or not. His sobbing was replaced with kind of a moaning and then just lightly crying. Then just when I thought he'd calmed down, he'd wail, "Oh, JJ, no. Please no," and the waterworks would start anew.

It went on like that for an hour until I think he was out for good, only he'd twitch every so often like he had been poked or stabbed. There'd be no more sleep for me. I knew he was hurt, Dad had told me that Pop said he had nightmares, only I didn't think they had manifested so violently. My poor broken man. Now it was my turn to cry.

*

I asked him not to go back to California and to stay with me all week, which he agreed to. We were alone at the back of the RV again, this time making a relatively short drive to Michigan where our next race would be held.

He was a little moody all morning and not a lot was said between us while we packed up our hotel room and then made ourselves breakfast on the RV. I cleaned up and then instead of sitting opposite him on the bench at our little table, I sat next to him and took his hand.

I spoke gently, "I'd like to talk about what happened last night."

He responded exactly like I knew he would. "What's there to talk about?"

"Everything, Talbot." He looked me in the eyes in surprise that I used his actual name. "I was so worried about you last night, I've never seen you like that. How long has that been going on?"

"It was just a dream. Don't worry about it."

"Well I am worried about it, and it wasn't 'just' a dream. It was like PTSD or something. Real serious shit. Now I want you to answer me. How long has that been going on?" I knew the answer but for some reason I needed him to tell me.

He struggled at saying anything so he just pursed his lips and clammed up. I urged him, pleading, "Talk to me, baby. How long?"

He was starting to tremble, so I prompted him. "Has it been happening since my crash, the one that you pulled me out of?"

He just nodded his head. He finally found a voice though, "It doesn't happen every night. You don't have to make a big deal out of it."

But it was a big deal. Thirteen years of big deals. And it was all my fault. It's why he ran away from me even. I should have known about this, I should have followed him and never let him go. All these years I thought he left me to protect himself, but now, oh god, it was the other way around.

He looked at me like he understood. Then he turned it around on me. "I'd like to talk to you about what you did yesterday, going long on your tires well past where I asked you to come in."

I apologized with sincerity and promised I'd be more mindful, continuing to get him to believe me until my brain suddenly made a connection. I was asking about his PTSD and he made the connection for me by bringing up the incident from yesterday in not pitting when I told him I would. With every lap I didn't come in on those tires, his stress must have risen until he flat out threatened me. Could that be it? Did I trigger the dream last night because of my stupid disobedience, in his mind, taking a risk that wasn't worth the reward?

I was in over my head.

I just snuggled in close and asked, "Do you still love me?"

He put his arm around me and replied, "Yes. What a pair we are."

*

We were in New York for the last race of the season. And what a season it turned out to be in that last half. I had won three in a row before Jeffy got his own beast of a car and we started finishing 1-2 in various orders. I was never going to catch up on points given how my season started, but they buoyed my ego with each and every point. Dad played it more conservative, coming in at the back of the top 10, no longer racing aggressively and punishing his body like when he was younger.

It was a blast going head to head with Jeffy at times. Our cars were pretty evenly matched, and he had more experience at this level than I did, but I gave him a run for his money on every lap and at times I flat out outraced him. It was fun racing like that again, trying to perfect every turn of the wheel, every shifted gear just to get an edge on him. He told me he was feeling the same and could tell how much I wanted to be in the lead.

Meanwhile, Talbot's mood ebbed and flowed. He had only one more violent dream episode like the first one I witnessed, but I know he didn't always sleep through the night. I just didn't know what I could do for him other than smother him with love.

I tried to get him to talk it through with me but he just wasn't willing to go all the way with that. He loved me, so why couldn't he open up to me? We talked openly and honestly over everything else, but when we would get to that wall where he didn't want to go, he locked up the brakes.

I asked him if he would talk to someone else if he couldn't talk to me. A professional. I would go with him if he wanted, but he wasn't having any of it.

Because we were in New York, the network that broadcast our races was centered in the city, and our sponsor advertised heavily on their station, I was politely asked to do an interview on TV. Not. It was mandatory, else jeopardize our sponsorship.

I was getting a lot of publicity from my wins and close seconds. I was asked to do a commercial, and go on late night talk shows, but was able to beg off on all that. I was even offered a pretty hefty sum for a photoshoot for Playboy. I didn't want any part of that either. So when I was ordered to do an interview, I was glad it was kept to a live morning news, talk-show, variety kind of schtick.

Talbot went with me and waited for me in the green room while I was given a little make up and then brought out on set. I was interviewed on camera by the hosts, a popular former baseball player and a woman that had a popular sitcom on TV when I was a kid. I was a little nervous at first but I settled down and it was easy to talk about subjects I was really familiar with. What it was like growing up with a famous father, how I had been racing great the last half of the season, what it was like having racing in my blood, things like that.

The woman asked me about Talbot and the kiss that started all the hype. I could see from the monitor over my hosts's shoulders that they were playing film of it for dramatic effect. There was no point in denying anything so I honestly said to the world that I had feelings for him and that he had been my best friend my whole life.

The woman, all smiles, said, "Nobody can blame you for that, after all, he saved your life." Then that bitch looked right into the camera and said, "Friends, the footage of what we're about to show you is not for the faint of heart, you and your children might want to look the other way."

The shock of what she said stunned me momentarily and I didn't react quick enough. I could see the replay already running in the monitor, the number 35 car failing to pass my car, the little puff of smoke as I touched the wall.

I stood up and screamed, "Why the fuck would you show that?!"

I sprinted to the green room. Talbot had to have been watching. When I got to him, his head was in his hands, the footage concluded having played out on the monitor on the wall in front of him. I sat next to him on the couch and threw my arms around him.

He looked up at me with a quivering chin. "I thought you had died that day. When you were in my arms, I was sure you were dead. When I put you down on the grass, I just had to bring you back, but I didn't know how."

That was what he was never able to tell me. It must have been hard to tell me now. My chest felt like there was a cinder block inside.

I tried to talk him down off the ceiling, "We're here now. We found each other again. Everything is going to be OK. I love you."

He was still distressed, "What about next time? What if I can't reach you? What if you don't make it next time?"

I didn't know what to say but I was formulating an idea in my head. It would change my life, but it might be the only way. I pulled him up into an embrace and I felt him shudder before we walked out of the building hand in hand.

Not before I walked by the show's producer, ripped my microphone off of my clothes and threw it at him, hitting him square in the chest. Yet even screaming, "Motherfucker," at him as I did so, it didn't make me feel any better.

*

The site of Sunday's race was actually north of the city quite a ways, kind of in the middle of nowhere. Our cars were getting prepped in a series of garages on the outskirts of the oval and its expansive parking lot. It's where I found Dad, and he was with Beth. While I held hands with Talbot, I asked everyone to sit down but we had to resort to shop stools to do so.

Before I could get started, Pop wandered in and leaned against a racecar, chewing on a toothpick as he was wont to do. I had kind of wanted to do this with just Dad and Talbot alone but I had to do this now. Pop and Beth were family anyway, so, whatever.

Dad said calmly, "Darlin', you look like your head's going to explode. Get it out. You have the floor."

"Dad, I.. um.. I'm fully committed to meeting my obligation this weekend, but Sunday's race is going to be my last. I'm going to hang it up. Early retirement."

Talbot let go of my hand and exclaimed, "What?!"

I looked over at him and his face was a mix of surprise, shock, and a little anger. I looked back at Dad and he had a look of sympathy but not a lot else, like he wasn't even surprised.

He rapped his knuckles on the toolbox he was sitting at. "You sure about this, kiddo? Have you two talked this through?"

"No," I admitted. "He would have tried to talk me out of it, that's why I needed you two together. Dad, my racing is making Bolt sick, and I love him too much. You understand that, right?"

Dad just looked at Talbot, "What do you have to say about that, Son?"

I looked over at Talbot and he took my hand again, "You'd do that? For me? You love me that much?"

I nodded my head, yes, "I do. Bolt, you are the most important thing in my life. I love you."

He scrunched up his face and squeezed my hand a little harder for emphasis, "I love you too. Which is why I won't allow it."

"What do you mean you won't allow it? It's my choice to make and I choose you." He had to understand that.

With a determined expression, he said, "Look, this isn't a love triangle, and you're forced to pick one or the other. If you quit on racing, it'll be because of me, and you'll resent me for it, maybe even grow to hate me for it. I won't allow it."

I shook my head to clear it. "I'm doing it for us."

He wasn't buying it. "You're going to race, I'm going to get over it, and we'll be together. OK?!"

I pleaded for him to understand, "No, I want what's best for you."

"JJ, I want what's best for you, and having you hang up your helmet isn't it. It would eat away at you from the insides, not being behind the wheel. I can't let you do that."

Total impasse, I tried to read between the lines. Is he telling me we can't be together? Again?

Beth broke the silence, "I don't want to oversimplify things and butt into your business, but, could it be as simple as Talbot just doesn't watch you race, Jessica? You take Sundays apart just during the racing season?"

What a stupid thing to say, I thought, but I was desperate. I looked at Talbot with questioning eyes. Would that help?

He read my unspoken question, grimaced and looked away. Then he shook his head in response. No.

I gave it another shot, "What if? What if you didn't watch me race, Bolt? You didn't watch my races when you were away teaching. Were you sleeping better when you were away? Were your episodes fewer or less upsetting?"

He wouldn't answer me. That meant it was 'no'.

Pop spoke up, surprising all of us, and addressed his son, "My boy, you didn't know your mother. I really wished you had. If you did, you would know why you are so attracted to this woman." He winked at me before continuing, "Your mother was a tough cookie. Smart. Stubborn. And she had a heart of gold. As I watched Jessica grow up, I couldn't believe how much she was like your mother in so many ways. You were helpless to not love her, son. And you need to keep this gal. You can't live the good life without her."

Pop pulled the toothpick from his lips and continued, "I loved your mother deeply. I did. And I never held anything back from her, never kept anything from her. You need to do the same and tell Jessica about while you were away, you weren't really away."

Talbot hesitated but forced out, "I watched all your races. I've never missed even one."

I was shocked. "How?!"

He answered, "Pop gave me access and I streamed the video feed from the team's cameras and full audio of your radio chatter with the crew chief."

I was trying to process all that. "Why?" I asked in almost a whisper.

He replied sullenly, "I had to know. I just had to."

"Know what?" I asked. He didn't respond but it hit me, he had actually said it in the green room at the network. "Oh."

*

Dad shooed us out of the garage and told us we had a lot to talk about and it should just be between the two of us. There was an undeveloped hill behind the garages with a trail that afforded a good view of the racetrack. We hiked in silence until we got to the top and I waited until he caught his breath. I was in much better shape than he was as I worked out vigorously every day to maintain the stamina I needed to race.

"Our first fight as a couple," I pointed out to him. "And it's a doozy."

He rolled his eyes, hands on his hips, trying to bring his breathing back to normal.

"Bolt. I have to know. Do you want to be with me?" I asked, trying to mask the desperation from my voice.

"Yes," he responded honestly, "and we're going to be together. Nothing can keep us apart now. OK? You get me?" I nodded, he took me in his arms, "There is no scenario in which we aren't going to be together going forward. Only there is no scenario in which you aren't going to race."

I started squirming in protest but couldn't break his embrace. I might be in better shape, but the man was strong. He rubbed my back and said softly, "I'll get help. Professional help. Just like you suggested. I'll do anything I can and I'll go in any direction you point me in. If it helps, great, if not, we'll just slay my demons together, OK?"

I repeated what he had asked me earlier, "You would do that? For me? You love me that much?"

He chuckled gently, "Yes, JJ, you are the most important thing in my life. I love you."

*

We lay in bed in the darkness of the room, barely dusk outside but the suite's curtains being of the black-out variety. I was a little crusty but mostly gooey, and he was too. The multiple 'wet spots' from our afternoon of make up sex being unavoidable, even given the size of the enormous bed. I didn't care. He held me close so he obviously didn't care either.

I tested the waters, "Bolt?"

He responded softly, "Yeah, babe."

"If you watched all my races, then you saw Daytona four years ago."

He sighed heavily, then responded flatly, "Yes, I did."

"It wasn't my fault."

"I know." He paused before, "It's a good thing that Rusty Sweeney isn't racing any more. If I had seen him at any time over this season, I would have punched him in the mouth." I relaxed a little, thinking he wouldn't go any further. I was wrong. "He bumped you so hard from behind, there was no way you could have maintained control. Only, why were you still on the track when he did what he did? At that very moment, where should you have been?"

I didn't respond, it didn't need saying. My crew chief had asked me to come in and pit to get new tires, and I kept racing, passing the pit row entrance. It should have never happened.

"I'll be good for you, Bolt. I promise."

"I know you will. I can tell."

*

I proved it to him too. I was in a familiar place on Sunday, in the lead, needing a yellow flag that wasn't going to come before I outraced my tires. Bolt's voice firmly said into my helmet headset, "I'd like you to come in on the next lap, JJ. We'll give your car some juice, and two on the inside. We'll hope for a yellow and then give you two more or we'll bring you back in under green in 10."

I radio'd back, "Affirmative," and did exactly as he asked.

In the pit where my team was a blur, doing an amazing job, I could just make out Talbot in his elevated chair. I made an arc motion with my gloved finger in front of my helmet mimicking a smile. He smiled back and gave me a nod of approval.

I raced my ass off, before and after that. I had to. Even with the fastest car on the track, I had my work cut out for me as I had to come from the back. Even though the network 'bleeped' me out when I said the F-word on national TV, my mouth revealed exactly what I had said, and it went viral. That, and because I walked off set before the interview was over, the syndicate punished me by putting me in the back row to start the race.

I didn't care. I was going to prove my mettle over these 400 miles and make the victory all the sweeter. In my mind, it was destiny and I was not going to be denied. It came down to me and Jeffy in the final laps but I eked out the win.

Dad even pushed himself and gutted it out like he was younger, coming in third, blocking the field from 10 car lengths behind where me and Jeffy were duking it out, exchanging leads. Our sponsor finally got its 1-2-3 finish and put us all in the press conference shoulder to shoulder. The two deans from Talbot's school were in attendance and were tickled too. We even brought them to the winner's circle and photographed them with my champagne drenched car as the backdrop, the university logo on full display.

The team partied hard that night, celebrating the finish and it being the finale for the season. From what I understand, it raged long into the night. Not that I would have known. Dad, Jeffy, and myself were exhausted. Together, we slipped out of the party and went up to Dad's suite with their wives and my boyfriend. We sat and chatted quietly in an arranged circle of furniture, sipping from crystal glasses filled with an amber liquid, poured by Dad from a special bottle of scotch he had summoned. It was a beautiful moment shared that I'll never forget though I'm a little foggy as to when the group broke up and went to bed.

Talbot slept all through the night. Whenever that happens I'm extra energized in the morning, my soreness from the race completely forgotten. I made good use of his morning erection when he finally woke.

Eventually we got up and took care of our ablutions, but met back up in bed as Talbot had asked. He wanted to talk, and looking back, our best talks were had in bed, naked, with as much skin on skin as we could manage comfortably.

I was pretty sure he was going to tell me he was going to head back to his condo and his teaching. I could only hope he would ask me to go with him.

He started brightly, "I talked to deans after the race. I told them I wouldn't be returning to teach."

"What?!" I spat out in surprise.

"Well, we need to discuss this. It is decided that you are going to keep racing and we are going to be together. My obligation to the university is done. And I've come to the realization that the best way to keep you safe, is to keep you in the front of the pack, in every race. That means you have to have the fastest car. What do you think? Will you hire me to be your engineer?"