Tear offs – A plastic cellophane strip attached to the visor of helmets designed to improve vision when racing on dirt.
The afternoon light streamed in through the windows of their living room, the rays of light reflecting off the glass in front of me as I sat there in their living room and though it was familiar to me, it was different. It was different because I wasn’t with Sway and different because Charlie needed me. Hell bent on keeping me away from Sway for the last few years, now he wanted me to take over ownership of his track, which would mean always being around Sway.
“Why do you want me to take over?” I asked.
I couldn’t understand why he would offer up something like this. Grays Harbor Raceway meant everything to him. He turned a struggling track into a thriving business that drew hefty crowds each week.
Charlie was only forty-one so how could he possibly be thinking of retirement? My next thought was why me? Why not Jimi or, hell, even Mark, who ultimately contributed too much of the track’s success. Either man would be better, so again, why me?
He hesitated for a moment, selecting his words carefully.
“I have brain cancer,” he paused as his eyes met mine. “They’re treating it aggressively but ... it’s cancer. Metastatic brain cancer and there’s not a lot of hope right now.”
I felt the blood drain from my face as my heart pounded desperately, pumping the blood toward my heart.
He wasn’t serious, was he?
After a moment of nerve-wracking silence and hyperventilation, I choked out, “Cancer ...”
My mind raced to process everything he said. I thought of Sway’s mom and the way it affected her and now this? How could one person be subjected to so much and how much more would she be asked to endure?
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said and added one request that was deeply important to him. “Don’t tell Sway.”
“When are you going to tell her?”
“I’m not” —he sighed hanging his head— “She doesn’t need this.”
“She needs to know!” I demanded jumping to my feet. For the first time in my life, I wanted to punch him. For a minute, I hated him with everything I had.
Then the blinding anger subsided and I thought about what he meant to me, and the fact that he was dying. His affliction was evident in his shattered features. I could tell it wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell her and for a minute, I understood him completely because by not telling her, he was doing unerringly what I was doing.
Here was a man standing before me who had aided in my career. If he hadn’t allowed me to race sprints before I was sixteen, I would have never gotten the experience I did. How could I hate him for helping me so much and for protecting her in the same ways I was? Though we were both fighting two entirely different battles, I think we understood each other more that day than ever before.
“I know you love her in your own way.” He was standing by the door as I was leaving. “Just don’t hurt her, please.”
I didn’t answer, not because I didn’t want to but it didn’t strike me as a question, it was more of a demand.
Charlie said he would wait until he found out more from the doctors before transferring the title but the outlook was not promising. I left there with only one thing on my mind, Sway.
I looked down at my phone, my fingers traced over the numbers. What would I even say to her? I couldn’t tell her, not when he specifically asked me not to.
I had to see her though. There was no other option.
Unsure as to whether or not my schedule would allow me to, I called Alley. “When do I have to be in Talladega?”
“Tomorrow afternoon by four,” she told me sounding annoyed. “You don’t have time to go off and play, Jameson.”
“Goddamn it, Alley, I didn’t ask for your fucking advice!” I shouted. “I asked you what time I needed to be there.” I was tired of everyone acting like they knew what was best or that they felt the need to control me. “I’ll be there by four.”
“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?
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 was what depressed me.
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 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 nearly 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, 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 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 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 saw him not more than a month ago.
When I finally found the airport, much later than I should have, Jameson was laying on a bench outside of the closed airport asleep.
He looked adorable.
I felt like an asshole having gotten 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 shithole, 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, 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 he 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 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 discreetly 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 my breasts, 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 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 missed you, that’s all.” He turned back toward the television. “Sometimes I 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, geez, 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 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 wasn’t 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.
My phone buzzing woke me up that morning. I noticed the way we were laying 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 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.
Watching her that morning it was easy to see the change in me. For the longest time, it was so hard to see what was right in front of me, her. But now, it was so simple, so unmistakably obvious.
Just like tear offs on a visor, you don’t realize how obscured your vision is at the time, until you tear away that cellophane, and suddenly you can see and you’re wondering how the hell you made it through the last few laps like that. It was as though hearing Charlie tell me he was dying, cleared away any doubt I had that I was meant to be with Sway. In some way I was and I saw it so clearly now.
Sway, who’d been sound asleep until now, stirred in front of me. She was snuggled with her back against my chest, my arm draped over her waist resting against her stomach.
I should move. I thought to myself. I really should move. This was intimate, right?
And then she sighed.
“Jameson?” she spoke sleepy, “Are we sporking?”
Laughing, I had to spit some of her hair out of my mouth to reply. “It’s called spooning, Sway.”
“Spooning is a dumb word. So we’re forking?” she turned her head around to glance back at me.
I groaned. The woman was killing me.
“Nope—I’d have noticed if we were forking, for sure.”
A ray of sunshine broke through, shining on her face. God, she was so beautiful.
“I wish you were still traveling with us,” I told her kissing her forehead. “I miss you.”
She smiled. “I do, too.”
I hated that I couldn’t tell her, I wanted to. She deserved to know how drastically her life would change. I also knew I couldn’t offer anything. I would do nothing but complicate the situation if she were with me all the time. Nothing would change by telling her.
My phone buzzing again ended anything I wanted to say to her in that moment. Wes called to remind me to be at the airport in a few hours so I decided to shower.
After I took a shower, I walked out into her living room to see Sway curled up on the couch, next to Tommy, who was eating cereal from a bowl in his lap. He was pointing to the television screen, thumb on the remote’s pause button, wearing a look of deep concentration. He looked much like a scholar extemporizing upon his area of passionate interest. Sway was watching the screen, equally fascinated.
“You see, you need lots of assembly lube. Eventually you can—”
“What are you watching?” I was praying they weren’t watching porn after watching her neighbors last night.
Tommy shrugged, eyes glued to the screen. “A video prepping the camshaft for insertion,” he said. “I’m giving her a rudimentary education.”
He can’t be serious.
Sway’s eyes focused on mine, squinting.
Running my hand through my damp hair, I motioned for the door with a tilt of my head. “I need to get going.” There was no way I could watch that, with Sway here.
She jumped to her feet dumping Tommy’s bowl on him.
“I’ll drive you,” she turned to Tommy. “Clean that up, fire crotch!”
As we walked to her truck, I saw a guy walking toward us who, by his grin, appeared to know her.
I said the first thing that came to mind.
“So... Blake, how is he?”
I don’t know why I asked that. I wasn’t sure if this dude was him and what would I have done if she said, “Oh yeah, we’re getting married. Let me introduce you.”
Not that she would have but I clearly was not thinking.
Did I want to hear this?
No.
Did I want to meet the guy?
Without a doubt.
She looked wary, and slightly embarrassed, her eyes glancing between me and him. “You suck.”
“I think he’s waiting for you,” I motioned with my head as he leaned against her truck.
“You stay here. I’ll be right back.” I did as she said. I didn’t need to beat the living shit out of some college kid just because I wasn’t man enough to tell her how I felt.
When he hugged her, relief washed over me. She looked uncomfortable by his advance.
The guy, Blake I knew for sure now, left as Sway motioned for me to come over. “That was nothing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, now that we have that all cleared-up ...”
She laughed softly, the tension visibly easing from her shoulders.
“You know, you can have other friends. I’m not that selfish,” I lied.
I hated to think that another guy was getting attention from her. I didn’t care if it was a simple smile. I wanted all those smiles and sweet gestures. I wanted to hear every giggle, see every roll of her beautiful eyes and hear every adorable sneeze she made.
Good lord, when did I turn into such a girl?
Sway smiled, eyes focused somewhere around her shoes.
“I know.”
We kept walking, her eyes trained on the ground, expression lost in thought. I was lost in my own thoughts, glad to have them to myself. She would undoubtedly be more than a little freaked if she could hear them. My brain was currently screaming obscenities at my heart, who was in turn telling my brain to keep the fucking noise down while it contemplated whether Sway would feel anything for me, ever.
That wasn’t what concerned me the most. It was what I would do if she did feel more. It was easy to see we could be more without even trying but how we both dealt with that was what was causing the uncertain trepidation.
“Oh shit, I forgot my keys. I’ll be right back,” Sway said turning to run back to her apartment.
I watched her skipping through the rain, bouncing in every puddle as though she was a child. How could someone not love this woman? I thought to myself, smiling.
I waited by the truck glancing at my phone, trying to ignore my brain. Wiping the screen a few times as a steady rivulet flow of rain fell. I breathed in deep, remembering why I loved this state so much. The smells of my childhood were all around me and reminded me of my attachment to Sway, and why I attributed so much of what I’ve done in my career to her. Everything about my childhood goes back to her. She has been with me through it all. Whenever it rained, no matter where I was at and whether or not she was with me, I thought of her.
“So you’re Jameson Riley?” a voice, from behind, asked.
I didn’t recognize it so I glanced over my right shoulder to see Blake standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. Standing within feet of him, I noticed now that he wasn’t a large guy by any means. A few inches shorter than me with dusty blonde hair, his eyes focused on mine.
I paid no mind to him and looked down at my phone.
“Last time I checked,” I mumbled keeping my gaze on my phone.
I didn’t want to know anything about this Blake guy in fear I’d have more to contemplate. I also didn’t want to like him.
“So you’re like what... her boyfriend?” he asked stepping closer to me.
I smiled despite what I was thinking.
“No. We’re friends,” he gave the impression this was the answer he was looking for, so I panicked and blurted out, “Though I wouldn’t say she’s available.”
Blake nodded.
“I never thought she was. It’s pretty obvious she’s taken,” he said and then walked away.
No matter how hard my heart wanted to let go and allow myself not to be in love with her, I couldn’t. I wished there was a way, but at the time, there wasn’t a way, she was and always would be like a security blanket. I couldn’t let go. I didn’t want to either. Just because I depended so much on her wasn’t necessarily wrong. It wasn’t healthy but it was vital for me. Opening up to the idea she could feel the same way, it both petrified and excited me.
Just as I allowed myself to dream, I thought of Charlie and what his sickness would undoubtedly mean for us. We couldn’t be together for the simple fact that we didn’t have time. She was needed in Elma and me, well, I was a puppet with more obligations than most twenty-two year olds could even imagine having.
The entire drive back to the airport that morning Jameson didn’t say a word and stared out the window watching the rain.
The wind had picked up today and each time a strong gust rocked the truck from side-to-side, I watched as his body seemed to tense.
“Are you okay?” I asked entering the parking lot of the airport.
He shrugged instead of answering.
I don’t know what he wanted to say but it seemed like he just couldn’t form the words. When he finally did speak, I wished he hadn’t.
“Your graduation falls on the night of the All-Star race,” he spoke soft and slow, looking directly in my eyes. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I’m sorry.” Once again, his eyes stayed connected with mine.
Although most people never bothered to, if you looked close enough, everything about him shone through his eyes. They saw what they wanted to but I never did. There was fire, fear, a hint of torment and possibly a look of being lost?
I couldn’t tell.
Tears flooded my eyes and spilled over and a whimpering gasp escaped me as I tried to force myself to gain control and not look like a lovesick fool in front of him.
Was it graduation that meant so much?
No, it wasn’t.
It had nothing to do with graduation. It was the fact that he had obligations, obligations I was no longer a part of. Part of me, the irrational pit lizard, wanted to tell him how much I loved him and that I would wait for him to see that we could be perfect for each other but she was quickly ruled out by the logical lucid Sway who recognized that Jameson didn’t need this. He didn’t need irrational clingy Sway. He needed judiciously stable Sway, if she still existed.
“Did I upset you?” His words were so unsure, so hesitant, that I wanted to lie to him.
I closed my eyes preparing for the conversation and attempting to redeem myself from the mini nervous breakdown I seemed to be having.
“No, you didn’t upset me,” I told him as we sat in the parking lot of the airport. “I just wish you could be there.”
“I wish I could, too. You know that it’s hard for me, right? I... don’t like being away from you.” His eyes were careful, the way they were when he was hiding something.
When I didn’t say anything, he continued, his lips pursed as he nodded once and hung his head. “You don’t think it’s hard for me?” he muttered shrewdly.
“I guess I feel like you have this life now—a life that I’m not a part of.”
I turned my body to face him when he didn’t speak, surprised by the pained expression he wore.
“You are a part of everything I do. You’re more than just a best friend to me Sway. You’re a part of me whether you want to be or not, it’s just who I’ve become.”
I smiled as a tear slid down my check. He always knew exactly what to say to make me feel better. The words were there, I wanted to speak them, tell him how much I loved him... but chariness routed me. I couldn’t form the words. For someone who was determined to live each day to its fullest, I was becoming really good at charlatanry.
There was a droning silence with Jameson’s phone vibrating obsessively before he leaned over and kissed my check.
“I have to go, honey,” he pulled back, his hand rose to my cheek as he thumb ran over my lower lip. “Take care of yourself.”
I nodded, unable to choke out anything else and he once again opened his mouth as though he was going to speak and then sighed. He took a deep breath and then pulled away. This time he didn’t look back, he reached for his bag and left.
Watching him walk away, I remembered my most important question, why he was here in the first place. He never said but it seemed so urgent and unplanned. I sent him a text.
S: Wait! You never told me why you came all this way.
I watched him closely as he trudged toward the plane, his back was turned to me but I saw him reach inside his jacket for his phone.
The loud thumping of my heartbeat drowned out the roaring of the jet’s engine.
Jameson stopped going up the steps of the plane, to glance back at me, wearing the same expression he wore in the truck... sadness... confliction... I couldn’t place it.
I got out and continued to walk to the plane, the rain blurred my vision of him but I could tell he was still standing there.
Dropping his bag at his feet, he jogged to meet me halfway. I kept it together, crying that is, and wrapped my arms around his neck tightly. He pulled me snug against his chest, his strong arms wound around me, pressing his face against my neck.
His lips brushed across my skin as he spoke softly.
“I needed to see you. I needed to know... needed to remember what’s real.” The low resonance of his voice sent shivers down my spine.
Have you ever thought about when your life is changing paths? Do you see it happening or do you feel it? Whether the change is somatic or not, you feel it some way. It can be something someone says to you, or something they do.
In this case, it was the words spoken.
I would forever be what’s real to him. I needed to make him see I was real. I wasn’t just a pit lizard, I was his pit lizard. Never wanting to be a distraction, I failed to understand that it was never the distraction he didn’t need, it was the opposite actually, and he needed a coil spring system. He needed someone who was simplistically indulgent to what he really was. I needed to see past the imperfections and see him for who he was, perfect. In racing terms, I needed to remove the hood pins and see what he was running under the hood to understand the intricacy of him.
From the time we were eleven, that was all I’ve ever saw. I saw the gritty pessimistic man who saw the world the way he wanted, one left turn at a time. I saw him for who was, who he wasn’t, and who he wanted to be.