Page 129 of Trading Paint
“I thought you were in Sydney.” I cleared my throat when I heard it crack.
“I had some things to take care of.” He walked around the sprint car. “Control arms?”
“Yeah, coupler too,” I sat back against the rear tires. I tried to sneak the bottle of Jack Daniels under the car so that he wouldn’t see it, but of course, there was no defeating his eagle eye.
“Drinking again?” He sat across from me on a set of tires.
“I always drink.” I shrugged.
“You know what I mean.” he picked up a screwdriver from the floor and began twirling it easily in his fingers.
“I was thirsty,” I replied lamely.
“That’s what water’s for.”
“I needed something...stronger.”
He sighed through his nose. “Your mom and I are worried about you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Is that the real reason why you’re here?”
“Jameson...you need to stop drinking so much.”
“You’re one to talk...you named me after whiskey.”
He didn’t say anything just sighed heavily and shook his head. “How can you drive the way you do and drink this much?”
“I don’t drink on race days. I never have.”
“You don’t even hear yourself, do you?” He shook his head. “I can barely understand you.”
“What are you talking about?” I scoffed.
“Your speech, Jameson; it’s slurred and it’s only 10am. What are you on?” He leaned forward.
“Nothing—I’m fine.” I stood. “Is there anything you needed?”
“What happened to you?” he was still seated, which in some ways was more of a threat to me.
“I saidI’m fine. Is there anything you needed?” I repeated and started working on the car again.
He sighed again and ran a hand through his black hair. “I need you to be focused. I have a lot riding on this new deal with Simplex and well, I can’t have you drinking all the time or poppingVicodinevery day.”
“All right,” I groaned, “I know.”
“Do you though? Do you even understand what this all means? I just came to see how you were doing. You look awful.” He gave me a disappointed look before standing and glancing down at me. “I know you miss her and that you love her...” I was just about to interrupt him when he shook his head. “Don’t lie to me Jameson...I can see what you clearly can’t. Just don’t fuck this up,” was his request.
I didn’t bother telling him or anyone for that matter what I felt for Sway because I didn’t know.
How could I tell them something I didn’t know?
I think they distinguished from my drinking and mood swings, but I didn’t feel like talking about it, so no one brought it up. They would only make me feel more horrible for the way I’d been acting and I don’t think my family wanted to face the fit I’d throw when they brought it up. If anyone mentioned her name, I’m sure they saw the pained expression flash across my face so eventually, they gave up.
I knew I needed to lay off the drinking. NASCAR requires a physical and prohibits drinking when you’re at the track and had strict guidelines on prescription drugs. I’m sure they knew most race car drivers took pain relievers with the way they are tossed around in the cars but they sure didn’t allow addictions.
I hated the feeling of being hung over. Welcomed the numbness I felt but the hangovers, I could go without those. So it surprised me that I’d been drinking so much lately.
I never made it back to Elma that winter. With my parents having the house in North Carolina now, we didn’t make it back there as much. I got tired of living with my family real fast, so that winter I purchased a few acres of land in Mooresville and started building my own home.
