Uniformity – Tire to tire variation in size and properties. It’s a harder control size of a flexible tire made from rubber and fabric than it is something more solid such as wood, plastic or metal.
I leaned my forehead against the tiles in the shower letting the scalding water sluice down my back over muscles that have been strained for days. Everything hurt. It was a deep hurt, something that couldn’t be relieved. Blindly, I reached behind me to the faucet, and when I found it, I cranked the hot water up a little more, sighing at the sensation.
Sway was asleep by the time I came to bed, her face relaxed.
We were in Dover now, the night before my second race back and decided to stay at a hotel this weekend. Usually we stayed in my motor coach but we needed some place a little more private this weekend; a place where we could escape.
The air-conditioning came on and cycled through the room twice before I fell asleep beside my wife only to wake up an hour later.
“Anybody in there?”
“Yeah?” My voice was muffled from sleep. I propped myself up to look at the clock that read three am. Rolling over, shadows danced across the floor.
“Just checking for occupancy, sir,” a voice sounded and everything went quiet again.
“Clearly the sign indicated that,” I yelled back. Maybe it was rude of me, or maybe it was exactly what I should say. It wasn’t the first time a woman had knocked on my door in the middle of the night. There was a sign that said do not disturb.
A few seconds later, I heard her voice a few doors down and gathered this was her way of looking for an opportunity knowing a handful of drivers were in the hotel.
Turning over, I tried to sleep but quickly gave up. Fumbling with my shorts beside the bed, I slipped them on and swung my legs over the bed resting my elbows on my knees, my head hung.
Sway stirred beside me and then quickly found sleep again.
Looking around the hotel room now, everything seemed the same but different now. A feeling had started in my gut rising daily until now. I couldn’t avoid it any longer.
I didn’t want the uneasiness anymore. I didn’t want the sleepless nights, the time spent away from my family or the pressure to perform. I didn’t want any of it anymore. I wanted to race, yes, but I wanted to race for myself.
In the morning after I had showered and was heading back to the track, the feeling was almost gone but still resided in the pit of my stomach.
My conclusion was that this wasn’t for me anymore. My contract with Simplex was through the end of the season and I would honor that. After that I was done.
This lifestyle of seeing my family a few times a week and not knowing where my own kids were or when I would have time with my wife wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted more time with them. I wanted memories of life with them rather than seeing my life through photographs.
And, honestly, like I’d said, I was scared. I was scared of losing them before I had a chance to show them just how much they meant to me and how much a part of my success they were.
“Are you coming with us?” I asked Justin and Tommy Saturday morning at breakfast before I headed to Dover, Delaware, to the Monster Mile. It was the same track that holds the Monster Million each year.
“We wouldn’t miss this.” Justin took a bite of his pancakes. Chewing slowly, he smiled. “I bet Spencer that Jameson would tell someone to fuck off before the weekend was out. I need to collect my money.”
“You should have bet on him last week. He told Brody to fuck off after only being there five minutes.”
Tommy and I laughed remembering all the stories from Casten and Arie of him in the hospital. Dad wasn’t exactly the nicest patient to the hospital staff who saved his life.
I had learned over the years through stories and by watching him that my dad had proven his mettle with the best of them. He had a commitment and a determination with a strong belief in himself that he could be the best and would be.
And he was.
There was no question about that.
What would have taken someone else a year to accomplish in making a full recovery, he had done in six months. That right there was more validation than an average person could achieve.
It wasn’t easy on him … he bordered on the edge every day but still he had done it.
When I arrived at the track with Lily and the guys, I made my way through the mobs of fans and media to his motor coach to find him and Kyle laughing outside of it.
Without a doubt, Kyle missed my dad, as had Aiden and Spencer. Easton was cool but he wasn’t my dad … he didn’t have the same drive in him.
For example, if my dad was riding on cords toward the end of the race, he’d drive that car until the tires fell off if he thought he could win.
Easton, well he’d pit and then try to get a top ten. He was consistent, yes, but he wasn’t my dad.
We got to talking about the last few sprint car races I had ran in along with my return to Knoxville which was coming up next week.
“Are you scared?” Dad asked me after everyone else walked away and we found ourselves alone.
“Yes and no,” I said honestly shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I’m not scared of being at Knoxville again. I’m scared that I will never be what you guys were to this sport.” I had yet to admit this to anyone yet.
To my surprise dad laughed bringing a bottle of water to his lips. “You are,” he assured me with a smile. “Don’t try to live up to my clout or grandpa’s,” his eyes met mine and I was certain he wasn’t joking. “Trying to live up to someone else’s accomplishments only complicates the dream you want. Make it about you and no one else.” He continued to stare at me for a moment before smiling. “You’re a good kid, Axel. You’re going to make a good dad to that little guy. But you see only one angle to this. That’s not at all what it’s about.”
Anyone could have said that to me, but because a man who I had looked up to throughout my entire life had said it just months after the man he looked up to his entire life, had said it gave the words a meaning and probably more meaning that I could ever describe.
“Thank you for... everything you did for your mom and me...” Dad looked away as emotion took his words away. “I never thanked you and I meant to. I know that what you saw and what you’re dealing with now is difficult.”
I couldn’t help it any longer and I started to get emotional too and walked over to hug him. He immediately stood and wrapped his arms around me.
Until now, we hadn’t talked about that night in Knoxville and we never would in detail. That wasn’t us. But sharing what we did, a hug between a father and son was exactly what we did do.
Axel had just left the motor coach when my mom walked in. She seemed in good spirits, as she always was these days. She tried hard. For the sake of everyone around her, she tried very hard not to feel the pain that part of her was gone forever. She felt it. Oh, God, did she feel it. I knew enough about my mom to know late at night, in an empty house that was once a home to a legend, was now quiet and filled with his memories. Once I had found her in the closet, asleep, in a pile of his t-shirts wearing one of his helmets. I never told her I was stopping by but when she woke up on my chest, she knew and we cried together.
It didn’t matter whether you maintained a smile. Their memory is there as it should be.
After taking a bottle of water from the fridge and a bag of chips from Casten who followed my mom around most days, she said while eating a chip. “I’m ready to talk to the media.”
I choked on my water, as did Sway, who was sitting beside me in the motor coach. We were all sitting around with Arie and Casten laughing about Axel and Lily’s latest visit to the doctor when they found out that they were having a little boy.
“What?” Sway finally asked since I was trying to catch my breath.
“Well,” my mom looked at Casten who put his arm around her. “I think it’s time they hear from me.”
Both the media and NASCAR had asked to interview her since my dad’s passing but she wasn’t ready. Why? Because she hadn’t dealt with the death herself.
What had changed?
After the memorial in Elma, she finally dealt with it and cried for nearly three days straight. And then she went to Tri-State Speedway with Axel and the boys. Being around the racing community again, she dealt with his death in her own way. The same way he would have. Being around what made him who he was. And, that in turn, made her who she was, a racer’s wife.
You see it was never racing that he was known for. It was racing that was him.
To understand that observation you would have to understand the mentality of a racer. And it wasn’t something I could explain.
“If you’re sure, it can be arranged,” I told my mom who was looking to me for approval. Aside from my brief press conference that had ended abruptly last weekend when the media had pressed for details, my family and I had yet to speak to the media and I wasn’t going to.
I had kept quiet but if my mom was speaking, it was only right that I would to.
“Do you think that it can be arranged prior to the race?” Mom looked from me to Alley.
“I can talk to NASCAR and see.” Alley said, wary of my reaction.
I wasn’t keen on my family talking to the media for the simple fact I didn’t want them judged. Any time you talk to the media your words are transformed into what they want. For this reason, my wife and my kids, aside from Axel, never did interviews.
And he only talked about his career with racing, never his family life.
It was something I learned very early on that first year racing. Don’t talk to the media about personal affairs.
But this was different. Jimi was an owner of a successful NASCAR team and sprint car team for over twenty years. The NASCAR community and fans wanted consolation and they wanted to show us their support.
When I was in the hospital I got thousands of cards and flowers and letters, all praying for a safe recovery. They cared and, in turn, we should say something publicly to let them know we cared.
I looked over at Alley who was waiting for my response. “Let them know that prior to the race we will both publicly speak.”
Sway gasped. “Jameson?”
I looked over at her. “I should speak to them. They want to hear from me as well as my mom.”
She nodded. “If you’re sure,”
“I am.”
The morning of the race, I tried to talk myself and my mom out of what we were about to do but I couldn’t. Instead I offered her an out.
“You don’t have to do this,” I told her. I wanted her to know there was no obligation for her to do this.
“Yes, I do.” Her misty eyes focused on mine. “For them... for us... I have to.”
For months she’d been quiet and now she was going to speak to thousands of fans about something very personal to her, to us.
We walked in silence to the stage in front of the large crowd at Dover International Raceway.
It wasn’t until then that I thought about what I would say to them.
I wondered how many of them had lost their fathers recently, or mothers, or husbands, or wives, or worse, a child. Maybe some were still dealing with the pain like it was yesterday for some, maybe they cried less and focused on what their death taught them and how their memory could live on.
Approaching the stage, I kissed my wife first, then my mom, and walked to the podium. Looking into the audience, my fears about what I would say seemed silly now because I knew what to say. I would say the truth.
I spoke with a sorrow that I felt deep in my bones. Not just for my dad but for everyone who had ever lost a loved one. I spoke with a sorrow for the little bright-eyed boy who captured my heart with his chocolate eyes and his strong will to survive though his body couldn’t. I spoke with a sorrow for a man who taught me what coming home really meant and understood my love for his daughter before I ever did. I spoke for a sorrow for those lost on my plane and a sorrow for a true friend who died doing something he loved.
“I think that most of you want me to say something heartfelt and meaningful. Something that will make you feel better when searching for solace. You want something that will make a loss so great maybe not hurt as much, but I can’t. Words can’t capture the heartache and they’re not meant to. They are there to offer a mere comfort that someone understands. It can’t heal you but it can let you know you’re not alone. Your tears and support for our family have touched us deeply and we thank you for that.” My hand found my chest over my heart. “We feel it here. We feel that just like you that we’re not alone in this and are forever grateful for your support. Thank you. All that I can say is that we are here, living the only life our family knows. Racing.” I motioned behind me to the track. “This is how we keep our memories alive.”
The crowd in attendance cheered and clapped as I finished the speech but my eyes remained on the track behind me. It was a place where one year ago I watched my son dance around like a pimp throwing one-dollar bills into the crowd. It was the same place where my dad had chuckled with emotion when he watched his sons and their bond of raising the window net together. It was a race track. A place that was home for us. Confined between concrete and asphalt, it had the power to heal wounds you never thought would heal. It was hard when you thought about the past and looked to the present. It felt like you were moving on without them but you weren’t. You were living life with their memory.
The crowd was still clapping as I stood on the side of the stage. My eyes caught my mom who was holding Arie and Lexi close to her side as they cried.
I looked to her one last time. Arie and Lexi moved to the side and reached for Sway and Alley, who were also crying.
“Are you sure?” I asked leaning into my mom to whisper in her ear.
“Yes,” she whispered before kissing my cheek and then Spencer and Emma. “For us,” she whispered.
Casten, who stood on the other side of Sway, smiled and gave me a wink. I chuckled shaking my head. He always knew when I needed a smile.
My mom was never a woman to get up in front of an audience. She enjoyed the shadows and being anonymous in all of this. But being the strong woman I had always known her to be, she knew that his fans wanted to hear from her. Since the accident, she had yet to speak publicly about him and this being my first race of the NASCAR season, they wanted to hear from her and me.
Jimi had not only shaped the sprint car racing community to what it is today but he had left his mark in NASCAR. Starting out as a one-man team he built an empire and behind that empire was the woman who drove him.
Wearing a sun hat, dark sunglasses and the dress dad had bought her on their anniversary many years back, she stepped toward the podium in front of a few hundred thousand people. I could tell she was nervous, just as I was. She was speaking of the man she knew better than any of us did… and I was about to announce my retirement.
Sway stood strong beside me as she always did and clutched my arm securely as mom began to speak.
My mom smiled at us and then nodded once bowing her head. “For the past few months everyone has asked me how I’m holding up or how our family is holding up.” She paused for a moment before wiping away her tears as the entire crowd silenced. “I can’t tell you that because we don’t know how we do it, just that we do. We’re a racing family. It’s all we’ve ever known and will ever know. We can’t tell you how because it’s in our blood. We know the dangers are out there but it doesn’t change anything. Jimi Anthony Riley was a son, a father, a grandfather and a husband, and one of the greatest sprint car racers of all time.
“He made history in sprint cars and he died in one but looking back on it, though I am angry that I lost him, he died doing something he loved. Some may say that it’s dangerous and why let him do something like that but how could I ever ask the man I loved to quit doing what made him happy?” the crowd applauded her before she continued.
“I loved him before he was the legend everyone knew him as and I will love him just the same now that he’s gone. That doesn’t change anything for me because I was a racer’s wife. I can tell you every race he ever won, every lap he ever led because while he was in the spotlight, I was the one in the shadows that kept him together. Just as I’ve said, I knew the dangers just as well as he did, but as a racer’s wife, I would never ask him to stop for the one reason that he did it because he loved it. I knew every time he climbed inside that car that I might be leaving the track alone but I would never ask him to stop. I may have stood in his shadows but after the thrill of the victory had washed away, I was there for him and that’s all that matters. I gave him all the love I had and, in turn, he gave me happiness. He gave me three wonderful kids and unconditional love. So he may have been a legend in sprint car racing to you but he was the greatest man I ever knew. He was my legend. His memory will forever be with me and our family.”
I was sure some expected her to say more, but in my opinion, what she did say was perfect.
Just like the uniformity in a tire, everybody dealt with death in their own way and in their own time. Sometimes it didn’t happen right away. It couple happen a week later, a month later, or a year later. Or maybe it didn’t happen for ten years. Either way, uniformity could be appreciated.
Before driver introductions were scheduled, we had one more press conference scheduled with the media. My mom went with the girls back to the motor coach away from the media and I walked back to the paddock alone.
Walking through the paddock that day, life was going on much as it had for the past twenty years that I had been in the sport — humming with race day excitement. Crews were scrambling to make sure everything was in order and drivers were getting their game faces on. A country band was playing in the infield and the music pulsed through the venue.
It reminded me of all the times I would walk up and down this same stretch over the years knowing on any given night here I could win.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Tate was swapping stories with his son Jacob. Bobby was spending time with his wife and daughter. Brody was in the hospitality tent with Simplex kissing ass, I assumed. When talk began to swirl that I may be hanging it up, he was so far up Simplex’s ass, that if they sneezed, he was coming out their nose.
At my hauler, Spencer was going over race day checklists while Sway cooked lunch for everyone.
Everything was normal with the exception of one thing. I was about to announce my retirement.
I decided after nineteen professional seasons in NASCAR that I was hanging up my helmet.
The thing was that the weight of the world could crush you. It was constantly judging and never letting up. The media, the sacrifices, all of it, and at some point you realized that there wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do to change it.
Just go with it.
I went with it for years. I had dealt with it my entire life and then some. I had a choice to make now. Was this really for me any longer?
I knew after Jimi died, I couldn’t give it everything I had any longer. I knew enough about myself to know that if I didn’t give it my all, I wasn’t doing it. I couldn’t go out there with half-myself. I was tired. I had lived this lifestyle for as long as I could remember and I needed time for myself and for my family.
Just as my mom said, racing is all our family has ever known as it always will be with Axel racing now. It just wasn’t my time any longer.
Telling my family and everyone who worked for me was going to be hard because I was changing their lives. The lifestyle we had been accustomed to for years would be drastically different.
Sway and I had discussed my retirement late at night but I had yet to make my final decision. Sometime during my mom’s speech that morning, I knew it was time. I never wanted to have my wife feel the pain of giving that very same speech.
I think Sway sensed this so when I walked up to her prior to the press conference I scheduled right before the drivers’ meeting, she smiled. “You’re going to, aren’t you?”
I gave her my only shot at a smile I could rally. “It’s time, honey.”
We both knew it was time.
Kyle, Alley, Sway and Spencer followed me to the media center after that. The kids stayed with my mom and kept her away from the media for good reason.
I was nervous during the press conference looking to the sponsors who had supported me throughout the years, the other drivers who had helped shape the career I now had, my friends and family who were there for me these last few months.
When I started to speak, I was shaking, sweating and damn near crying.
“I’d like to start by thanking each one of you who have been there for me, prayed for my safe recovery and wished us well dealing with our loss. I was honestly astounded by the amount of cards, letters and flowers that I received.”
Taking a deep breath, I continued. I was nervous, need I say that again?
“It meant a lot to us to know that we had your support.” My hand dropped from my hat to the microphone again. “It wasn’t easy but we came back from it. During that time, I realized a lot about myself and my family and what they need. What we need.”
I looked at Sway for encouragement before speaking and she smiled that breathtaking smile she had. In that instant, our whole lives flashed in front of me and reminded me of the bond we had and why she was such a vital part of this decision. She reminded me of why this was what I had to do.
I saw her standing there in those jean shorts and that black tank top the night I met her, her innocence so beautiful. I saw flashes of our childhood, our summers together, the night I asked her to stay and she did. I saw her vowing her commitment to me. The look on her face when she held each of our children for the first time, the day she left me and the look of forgiveness on her face when I begged her to take me back. I saw her standing over me in the hospital, tears streaming down her face and the utter heartbreak when she told me my dad was gone. For over thirty years, this woman owned me. Of course I would look to her for answers.
Our eyes held each other for a moment before she mouthed, “I love you,” and then winked.
I smiled and stared down at the microphone as I spoke, just as my mom had done earlier this morning. “This is probably the hardest decision I’ve had to make, but it’s time. Most of you know what the off-season brought with it for our family and the wreck I was in with my dad. As you know, he didn’t walk away like I did.”
Though this had already been said before, I said it again. I swallowed over the lump forming in my throat and clung to the only composure I had. My hand trembled holding the microphone.
“It took a lot for me to make this decision but I honestly believe it’s time. So...” I paused looking at Sway again. “I’m retiring at the end of the season. Easton Levi will take over my No. 9 Simplex Ford next year.”
I looked to Easton who then looked at me with a mixed reaction. His eyes were wide as they darted from me, to Kyle and then back to me. Even Kyle didn’t know I was retiring until now, but deep down, he knew by the look in my eyes when I saw him in Charlotte last week.
Easton gasped and then mouthed, “Really?” to me. I never told him prior to tonight but I knew he wanted the ride. What distracted me from him was the response from everyone else.
When I saw tears in the eyes of some of the world’s best racers in NASCAR, that me, Jameson Riley, the kid who fought most of his career to be known as Jameson Riley, was hanging it up, I lost it.
I couldn’t look at Kyle and Tate and not cry. I couldn’t look at Bobby and the other members of my team who were gathered and not cry. Here were the men who fought just as hard as I had and kept me going when I didn’t think I could go on after Sway’s accident and my dad’s death but I did, because of them.
Aside from my family only another driver could understand my attachment to racing and how hard this decision was for me to make but it was time. It may seem meaningless that I came back just to announce my retirement but the fact of the matter was I needed to know that I could.
People gasped while others just stayed silent. Reporters hurled their questions at me but I only saw the woman who pulled me through everything and made me see the light.
My wife.
Back at the hauler, my family had gathered after the news broke.
“So you’re really retiring?” Axel asked when I pulled my racing suit on. It was just him, me and Casten in the hauler now.
“Yeah, I’m really doing it?”
“He’s full of shit,” Casten mumbled with a mouthful of hamburger.
Chuckling at Casten, I turned back to Axel who was standing with his arms crossed. “It’s just time, buddy.”
“Time for you?” Axel asked. “Or time for you and mom?”
Axel knew that I worried about her. For the past twenty years Sway had never once complained about our lifestyle and she deserved to live a normal life at some point. If the last few months had taught me anything, it was that we needed some normal. But I also wasn’t doing it just for her. This was just as much about me as it was about our entire family.
“It’s just time.” I patted his shoulder while he rolled his eyes and followed me outside. Of course hundreds of reporters followed me to my car that night, all wanting to get me to say that I was scared, or that maybe I couldn’t handle the pressure anymore. Then there were some who speculated that there were problems between me and my sponsor but it had nothing to do with that.
One particular reporter had practically tripped me with his enthusiasm so I answered him more or less to get him away from me. My patience was still not that great.
“Jameson, why would you announce your retirement now? Why not at the end of the season?”
“Because it was time and what I needed to do,” I told him.
He looked at me with a perplexed expression. “So you’re done with racing altogether?”
“Just because I’m retiring at the end of the season doesn’t mean I still won’t be a part of racing. Racing is all I’ve ever known. Retiring doesn’t mean that I’m not going to still be a part of it. I just won’t be racing with the NASCAR Cup Series. I’m forty-two.”
“So you’ll still race?”
I grinned. “Guess you’ll have to see.”
The race was uneventful. I had qualified sixth and ended up with another fourth place finish. I’d be lying if I said I was satisfied because anytime I was out on a track, I wanted to win.
My family and I went home after that, I avoided all the media after the race and went straight to my hauler. It may have been rude of me but I just needed some time to myself that night.
When we arrived home, I couldn’t sleep, wondering if I’d made the right decision for me and my family. Wandering downstairs after Sway was asleep I found something I’d never seen before laying in my office off the family room.
It was a book, a scrapbook actually. It wasn’t finished but it had an article in the front about the accident in Knoxville with a picture of the sprint cars on it. There were a few pictures of me in the hospital, doing physical therapy and one of Sway and me the day I was released. There were others of me and the boys eating barbeque and more of Rosa sitting on the couch next to me asleep eating popcorn from a bowl in my lap and drinking my beer while I slept.
It was filled with various pictures documenting my recovery.
I’d never seen them before and questioned where they all came from. Sitting down in the chair at my desk I read through the articles, got a little teary-eyed and then closed the book. That was when my eyes caught the dates on the cover: Jameson Riley 2022.
Hmmm. Again, I wondered where they came from. I never saw Sway working on them. She never had the patience for scrapbooks.
Turning around in the chair to look at the shelves behind me, I saw them. Each year of my racing life was documented in a scrapbook.
Reaching for the first one dated 1984, I noticed the inside cover that said:
Made with love by Emma Lynn
Emma, my little weirdo sister who called me an asshole on a daily basis, had made these.
When I looked back through the pages of my racing life, the memories were vivid ones. And after coming back from a brain injury, it was reassuring that I remember what I did.
Emma had made an album for every year and yet I’d never seen them until now; or maybe it was that I had never paid attention to how much hard work she put into my fan club and me as her brother.
The worst part was that I had seldom thanked her for it.
I laughed at some of the pictures. We were so young in most of them it was hard to believe that was me. But back then it wasn’t about the money or the fame. It was about racing because that was the only thing that made sense to me.
My career stats were in there and not just my cup career. It dated back to the first year I started racing in 1984. Everything was there. Photographs, news clippings, trading cards, even the bands we used to wear around our wrists in the pits.
I scanned over the stats she had listed for 1998, the year I set out for the Triple Crown, knowing that was the year I had raced the most.
Jameson Anthony Riley 1998 Season Stats
Northern Sprint Tour
15 races with 10 Feature wins & 2 track records for fast time
World of Outlaws
17 races with 9 Feature wins & 3 track records for fast time
Outlaw Dirt Late Models
36 races with 25 wins & 9 track records for fast time
Modifieds
19 races with 12 wins
USAC Midgets
28 races with 24 wins, 21 top five finishes
Won Championship
USAC Sprints
13 races with 11 wins, 12 top five finishes
Won Championship
USAC Silver Crown
16 races with 13 wins, 15 top five finishes
Won Championship
Specialty Events
Knoxville Nationals
Oil City Cup
Silver Cup
USAC Triple Crown Champion
Indiana Speed Week Champion
Hut Hundred
Wow. I knew I raced a lot that summer but seeing it on paper was an eye opener for just how much I raced. And, not only that, damn, I was good.
There were various shots from our summer at Lernerville, Eldora, Elma, Terra Haute... it was all there. There were even a few pictures of all of us, including Ryder, eating at a Denny’s after we were caught in a tornado in Kansas one spring. Tommy was still holding that damn cat.
There were some from Republic that also gave me a chuckle. I was amazed we made it out of that place alive.
My entire career was in books for me to remember.
Hell, there were even some dating back to that red go-kart that had started it all for me … and the gaping hole in the side of our house from when I adjusted the throttle too much.
My first Cup win was there and shots of me and dad celebrating together in victory lane. My first Chili Bowl win was there along with Turkey night, Cooper Classic, and Knoxville Nationals. There were news clippings and magazine articles with me mentioned.
Then there were the ones with Sway and me. Close up photographs from that night at the Howl at the Moon bar that had changed everything between us. We were dancing in the one she inserted, I was staring down at Sway and I looked as happy as she did.
There was a picture that stood out to me of me and Jimi. It was taken when I won my first championship and the way he looked down at me put his death into perspective for me. He loved me not only because I followed my dreams and became so determined to make my dreams come true but because I was his son. It never mattered that I raced, that only sweetened the deal for him. It was always because I was his son.
Emma took the time to do this... for me. Everyone in my family cared so much for this dream of mine that they did things like this. And what did I do for them... nothing.
“You found the books,” Sway whispered from behind me. I heard her pad toward me on the wood floor. Her arms slipped over my shoulders and wrapped around my neck.
I leaned into her arm, my ear pressed to her forearm. “I never knew she did this,” I choked out.
“She had fun doing it.”
I sighed closing my eyes and then turned the chair around to face her. Moving to sit on the desk in front of me, her legs rested in my lap. Wrapping my arms around her legs I pulled myself closer and leaned into her calf.
“I wish I would have seen these sooner. I feel bad I’ve never thanked her for them.”
“She knows you appreciate it.”
“All the same, I should say thank you.”
“Yes, you should ...” Sway slipped off the desk and into my lap pressing her forehead to mine. “Those of us who really know you though, the ones who keep you going, we don’t do these things because we’re looking for a thank you,” she told me pressing her lips to mine.
“Huh?”
“Jameson ...” she paused tipping her head to look down at me. “You get me coffee nearly every morning aside from the time you were in the hospital and when you couldn’t drive.”
“So?”
“I never ask you to and do you honestly need me to thank you every morning?”
“No. I know you appreciate it. It’s why I do it.”
“Exactly,” she sighed. “Emma, Spencer, Alley, me… the kids… our entire family, we all do this because we love you and we know you appreciate it. It’s never about getting a thank you.”
I laughed against her lips thinking of everything that was in those books. “Did you see the picture in there of Tommy and that damn cat?”
“That one always cracks me up.” Her eyes beamed as she reached for that particular book. “And did you see the one of Emma staring at the Burger King sign with a pouting look that the drive through wouldn’t be open?”
I nodded flipping through the pages of our lives together. “The one of Spencer carrying Alley was one of my favorites, too.”
She reached for another book behind her and flipped to a page. “Look at this one of you and Casten at Bristol.”
I laughed out loud at a photograph of me sitting next to my car on the pavement with Casten at about two on my shoulders. He had this huge grin with a corn dog in his hand and dipping it in the ketchup he’d poured in my hair. I looked less than amused.
Sway and I must have stayed up for hours going through those books, remembering, the uniformity each member of our family had brought to our lives over the years.
We were remembering all the moments that I promised her when I said forever. She didn’t need me to retire to live the life she wanted, she had that already.
But for me, I needed a break.
And I intended to thank Emma for this.