Page 185 of Trading Paint
“It’s not that easy.”
“For a boy who was tenaciously forthright as a child, it’s hard to imagine youcan’ttell her.”
She had a point but with Sway, everything was different. “I don’t...what if she doesn’t you know...feel the same way?”
“She does. You know she feels the same way but you’re scared she’ll break your heart.”
No matter how many people told me that, I never believed them. Why didn’t I? That’s simple, Irefusedto believe it. I knew she loved me, I saw, clear as day.
But I couldn’t, for the fucking sake of my sanity, say it out loud.
Why this was so goddamn hard was what I wanted to know. When would the timing be right to tell her? Or would it ever?
Do you wonder how important timing is?
In racing, it’s everything as well as life. People think you’re lucky when you win or you were just in the right place at the right time. At least that’s what I’ve come to believe. You never know when your time is right or when lady luck will shine down on you.
I remember when my eyes first met Sway’s that summer night at Grays Harbor, that’s timing. You could call it fate or destiny but really, it was timing. That night we were meant to cross paths and we did. Now here we were, eleven years later, still hanging on so perilously to each other refusing to admit where all that timing had led us.
My mom sat there as I poured my heart out to her. I told her how I felt and that I was scared. But the thing was, even if she told me Sway felt the same way, it didn’t changed anything. Even if Sway told me, it didn’t change anything.
Knowing myself, I knew it would take more than words to prove this to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to believe it either, like I said, I knew she felt that way, but I was scared. Scared of hurting her and scared of her hurting me. For someone who has never been in love with anyone or anything besides racing, you can sense my hesitation here.
“Why do you love her?” she asked finally. I thought she knew but I don’t know if I’d told anyone. Up until that point, I had yet to say the words out-loud.
“I love her...” My voice failed for a moment. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I love her because when she looks at me she doesn’t see a famous race car driver or the son of Jimi Riley...she has always just seenme. She sees the stalwartly but jaded side that can only think of racing yet she is still there for me whenever I need her.”
Mom offered the only advice she had, which seemed easy but wasn’t.
“Follow your heart honey. Fate has a funny way of sorting itself out.”
When the door to my motor coach closed behind her, I fell back against the couch again, left alone with my thoughts.
If only I could escape them too.
I was beginning to hate myself for the simple fact that this moody over-analytical asshole wouldn’t shut the fuck up.
I didn’t pay a lot of attention in school because it didn’t hold my interest. No car, I paid no mind. I did however enjoy mythology and remember the story of Fortuna, the goddess of fortune and personification of luck in Roman religion and the goddess of fate. Presently life’s capriciousness, she would be represented as either veiled or blind as in the modern depictions of Justice. Representing good or evil, fortune or misfortune,basically, fucked, or not.
I tend to believe you make your own fortune and your own fate. It’s on you, not others. Too bad I couldn’t listen to my own advice.
Later that day before the drivers meeting and introductions, a few girls hunted me down when my team and I were having lunch at my motor coach.
Usually I never conversed while signing autographs other than simply greetings but these girls tried hard, so I chatted for a moment hoping they’d leave and I could finish eating before the race.
“How are you guys? Enjoying the pre-race activities?” I tried not to look at them, both dressed in barely anything, I didn’t want them thinking I was checking them out.
“Now that we met you,yes,” They both replied with enthusiasm.
Spencer and Aiden started laughing from behind me as the girls clung to each one of my arms, snapping photos.
I thought maybe that would be the end of it after a few pictures were taken but they didn’t leave. They hung around at my motor coach as if they were part of the team, mingling with my crew.
“Listen, I signed your autographs but this is my only place to escape.” I bit harshly when they sat next to me. If my tone didn’t set the mood for them, my glare did.
Let me tell you something. I’m an asshole. I know this for an absolute fact.Always have been.Believe me when I say it’s been a point brought up every day by all my family members. So given my permanent status on the asshole bench, I’m never sure when I am being one, but it seemed that way now.
“We just wanted to have a little fun with you.” The brunette told me meekly. “You don’t have to be mean about it.”
