11-Lily
Bristol Motor Speedway
Julian once commented on my legs. Unfortunately, Bristol is freezing, and I need to hide them in a pair of jeans. They’re my tightest, skinniest pair, and they still don’t set them off as well as I hoped. My hair is styled, and my makeup is perfect.
Dad is still working, which saves me from a barrage of questions.
I take a last glance in the mirror and gratitude hits. Dad wrote a note in Sharpie, so big that it wouldn’t be missed. Take your medicine.
Julian’s trailer is open, and he waits inside. The spare key stays tucked in my back pocket, secure in case it’s ever needed. He gave it to me when the season started, back in Daytona, saying it could be used in an emergency or if I ever needed a place to escape. It was a kind offer, but the part I most appreciated was the level of trust he put in me. Julian closes himself off from people, choosing to be friendly rather than a true friend. For some reason that I don’t understand, he’s made me an exception.
“Bristol is a short track,” Julian says at my entrance. He sits on the sofa, legs spread wide. His hair is combed and styled, and his clothes give off their familiar tailored look. He shakes his phone toward me without looking up. “Between quals, practice, and the big meet and greet, there hasn’t been any time to check out motorsports news to see what they’re saying.” He looks up from his phone. Julian’s bold eyes move up my body. “Short tracks are a pain in my ass.”
“Sorry.” He may not enjoy them, but that statement is meaningless to me. Dad recently commented on Julian’s performance during dinner, stating he was off to an incredible start. Then he guessed Julian would screw it up. “If it helps, they’re my least favorite kind. Long ones are better.”
Julian licks his lips and leans back. “Come here,” he says, nodding towards the empty spot beside him. I manage one step before he blocks me with his leg. “You look amazing.”
“Yes, that was the plan.”
He frowns. “We could stay here if you change your mind.”
Is he afraid I’ll embarrass him? Notwithstanding my awkward performance in front of his friend, Matteo, I’ve been doing rather fantastic.
The invisible audience following me around has taken a break. My brain is silent.
“We were going to explore.” I remind him.
Bristol’s smaller size means everything is outside the track, opening up a world I want to explore.
Julian’s frown grows.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
∞∞∞
“Drink?” Julian asks.
I wrinkle my nose. Everyone leaving the drink stand carries a beer bottle, with only the brand changing. “I’d rather not.”
“Have you ever had alcohol before?”
The question annoys me. It’s a perfect reminder he still sees me as a little child, no matter our friendship. Innocent and in need of protecting. In this regard, he’s not much different from my father. “More than once. I’m not a child, Julian.”
He steps back. “I wasn’t implying that.”
The question implied precisely that, but I won’t argue. We’re closer than ever, and there are still times I feel so childish in his presence, and that question doesn’t help. No matter my age, the fact that I have to work so damn hard at everything makes me feel ancient at times.
People have habits, and I need to work on remembering every single time. It wears you down.
We wind up at an impromptu stage with a band playing live music. People dance on the beds of nearby trucks.
“This is what people do before races?”
“You aren’t impressed,” he says.
Fascinated and repulsed. “My curiosity is sated.”
An old feeling creeps between my shoulder blades, pecking at my skin so it can’t be ignored.
We stand in silence, listening to the music. Beside me, Julian watches the crowd, his eyes moving from one person to another.
He’s prowling, I realize, with me right next to him.
“Julian, there you are. I hoped you’d appear.”
She puts both arms around his neck and leans in. The gesture is too intimate to be mistaken for anything but what it is—an offer.
“Samantha. It’s been a while. I’m here with someone.”
“So am I.” She doesn’t even look at me. Blond and tall, Julian’s type.
“Lily, give me a minute, will you?”
At my nod, he takes the woman’s hand and leads her away, far enough not to be overheard.
They speak, and her smile grows bigger.
That feeling still pecks, and this time, it breaks through to burrow down in my stomach. It’s saved me from more than one frightening situation.
Escape.
I back up and disappear into the crowd.
That feeling has never been wrong, not once.
∞∞∞
The walk back to my trailer is short, even dawdling the way I am. Dad will want to play a board game or cribbage, saying it’s just like old times.
All dressed up and nowhere to go.
“Lily?” Sarah asks.
Maddie is beside her, with both dressed in jeans and shirts, each displaying their husband’s number. I don’t have one of those.
I stop to greet them both since they’re blocking my path.
“You look bored,” she says.
“That’s because I am.”
The two of them share a look.
“Come out with us. It’s nothing special. Girly drinks without the guys. You want to go?”
I perk at the invitation. They make a regular effort to speak with me, but we aren’t close, unlike my friendship with Julian. “Are you sure I won’t get in the way?”
“Nonsense,” Sarah says.
“Completely ridiculous,” Maddie says. “Let’s go.”
They put an arm around me, dragging me towards a waiting Uber.
∞∞∞
The hotel bar is a little old-fashioned, with dark wood and velvet chairs. Its small alcoves and rooms keep it quiet, even with all the people there. Our corner has three comfortable chairs spread around a wooden table. It reminds me a little of the cocktail lounges found in old movies. It’s perfect.
“There are only two rules when we go out,” Sarah starts. She holds up a pair of fingers to enunciate the point. “The first rule is we only have girly drinks. That means no shots of vodka or beer so thick you can stick a fork in it.”
“That’s an easy rule to follow,” I say. After tonight, the memory of beer’s smell turns my stomach. “What’s the next one?”
Maddie chimes in this time. “We don’t talk about work or the guys. So, there’s no racing talk either, thank goodness.” I want to giggle because that topic never interests me. “We can talk hobbies or history or…”
“Herbs,” Sarah finishes for her. “The alliteration was right there; I had to run with it.” She holds up both arms as if to say, what are you going to do?
This means no uncomfortable questions about Julian, doesn’t it? I’m not ready to talk about him yet, especially after leaving him behind the way I did. He’ll be angry tomorrow if he notices I left.
“Those are easy.” It’s as if they were written for me.
“How is school going? I remember you switched majors last semester, right?” Sarah asks.
I’m halfway through my first Sea Breeze, and a cozy sensation is moving through my body. The two of them are best friends and technically sisters, so they’re used to an easy camaraderie. It’s kind of them to include me. I’ve been interning for almost an entire year, and it’s the first time, probably because they happened to find me. How pathetic did I seem? A rejection aura surrounds me.
“Education. I meet with my advisor soon to determine my specialty.” Sarah leans in, confused. “Early education or history or whatever. I can’t decide which. Not math.”
All three of us nod in agreement over that.
“My mom teaches first grade and tells me the funniest stories. Last week, one of her kids asked if she could go home during summer break,” Maddie says.
“Please tell me she said teachers may never leave,” Sarah adds. “Kids are adorable, but also kind of intimidating.”
“They’re less intimidating than grown-ups,” I say, and both laugh. I can see the humor in it, even if it wasn’t an intentional joke.
“Another round,” Sarah says, lifting her hand to signal the server.
“How will we get home?” I ask. If we keep up, I’ll be certifiably drunk for the first time in my life.
“One of the guys will take us home. It’s Boone’s turn this week,” Maddie says. “For safety.”
“For safety,” Sarah repeats.
“Oh, oh. Another rule. We drink until we get happy drunk, not completely smashed. Unless you had an awful week, then we encourage getting smashed,” Maddie says.
The week was decent enough, while the first part of this evening was miserable. My silent phone means he didn’t text. We were friends, and I knew what that meant, even when it wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts.
“Then I’m getting smashed,” I say, and they both laugh.
“Do you want to spend the race with us tomorrow?” Sarah asks in the middle of our third drink. “It’s nothing fancy. We keep the race in the background while doing something else. Right now, we’re tackling crochet.”
“Some of us are wrestling with it,” Maddie adds with a hint of frustration.
I’m warm and calm and happy. “I’ll show you how. It’s easy once you master a few stitches.”
“You know how?” Sarah asks.
“I made several grannie square blankets.” They’re easy until the sewing. That part of my efforts doesn’t look great, but who cares? “Then I grew bored and learned to knit.”
“Oh, absolutely no way. Awesome,” Maddie says. “We have a teacher. I’m offering extra credit for your schooling.”