Page 56 of All That Glitters
“Yeah.”
“I don’t have to prove myself to anyone. I’m a platinum rated driver, I —”
“The hell you don’t. You can’t control your temper. You’re out to hurt everyone, including yourself. You won’t be honest with anyone, either. You’re not ready. I don’t know how many times or how many of us have to tell you that. I’m not putting you in the car at Daytona. Not Sebring, either, Maybe Long Beach, maybe later in the season. Detroit? Nothing longer. Not until you get yourself together.”
“That’s not your call.”
“You don’t think so? Go ask your father. I’ll wait.”
“So you’re going to give my seat away?”
“I’m trying to save your life and the life of every other driver in the series. I don’t give a shit about your seat. I give a shit about you.” He huffed and rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, mirroring Brax’s move earlier. I could bring out the best in everyone. “The boys and I are going to lunch. If you want to hang around, fine, but I want you out of here before we get back.”
Karl walked away, then turned back. “You’re like a son to me, Ashton. Until I knew you were okay in that car that day, my heart liked to have stopped beating. I’ve watched you drive everything from karts to the cars lining this shop. I’ve watched you win and I’ve watched you lose. I’ve never seen you like this. I’ve never seen you this far gone and this close to the edge of not coming back.”
He turned away again and this time, walked out of the building, with others following behind.
I stared at the empty spaces around me, took in the quiet.
Everything was fucked up. Everything was going in the wrong direction. Everything was upside down and inside out.
What if I couldn’t make it out of this?
What if I was never ready?
I tried to get angry about not racing in Daytona, not racing in Sebring. I tried to get angry about his terms of letting me back in a car, but all I felt was relief.
I knew I couldn’t get in a car right now no matter how much I wanted to, but the bigger question was… Did I really want to? Now or ever? I didn’t know the answer to that, and I was terrified to find out.
That should’ve been my first clue.
I wasn’t sure when I’d know, but with the season about to start, I knew I’d have to at least come up with something, even if it was a lie. There’d already been speculation in the papers and the sports rags and online, on social media. There’d already been calls that the office was fielding about me, about my readiness, about my intent to race again, to race in the upcoming season. I hadn’t seen what the responses were. I cared, but I wasn’t sure I could handle the truth of seeing it in black and white.
Getting back in a car scared the ever-loving shit out of me.
Memories had been coming back bit by bit. The part I’d remembered about regret was the first thing that came back. I’d chalked that up to Helen coming to the hospital, but maybe it was more. I didn’t know. Sometimes I didn’t know what was and what wasn’t illusion, or a dream, or a real memory.
I’d seen the footage of the car bursting into flame, but the waking memory of it hadn’t come back. When I looked at my hands, saw the scars…
I had nightmares of the crash, but they weren’t in line with any of the film footage that I’d watched. They didn’t keep me from waking in a cold sweat, though. They didn’t keep my heart from threatening to beat out of my chest, or keep the migraine headaches from forming, forcing me to take something for the pain, to take enough of something to put myself back to sleep.
I kind of missed the sedation regimen from the hospital. I didn’t remember there being nightmares then.
I drank in the early days, but I’d given that up two months in, but even without substances, I knew the path I was sliding down.
I was allowing everything to destroy me because I couldn’t get a handle on it all.
Helen was the lifeline.
She was the one I reached out to for help. She was the one I trusted. She was the one I wanted.
Fuck all, if that didn’t piss me off, too.
I’d gone over to her place last night to call it all off, to tell her I wasn’t going to go through with it, that she was off the hook, but seeing her standing in her bedroom, the light behind her, the thin pajamas she wore not hiding a damn thing…
And she let me in.
She didn’t tell me no. Not in any way that she meant, anyway.
