Chapter 22 – David
I felt the jolt behind me, and saw the Armco barriers coming, but there was no time for me to react.
I know I’m quick, but I’m not that quick.
The impact wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, I just needed to get out of the car.
Unhooking my seatbelt, I push myself up, but my head hits something, so I can’t get out that way.
Moving to the left, my way is blocked there, too, that just leaves the right side, but, again, I’m blocked.
The car must have flipped, but I don’t remember that.
I’m just going to have to wait to be rescued.
Looking around, I don’t remember the sun setting this early, but the car is surrounded by an orange glow, and it’s warm.
Then, I see the tear-off strips on my helmet.
These are strips that we rip off during the race to protect the helmet from debris, or insects, as we race.
But it’s definitely melting. I’m surrounded by fire.
I wait for my fear to manifest, but it doesn’t.
I knew that this was a dangerous sport. I knew the risks when I signed up.
I just need to remain calm, and get myself out of the car.
I try again, and I find my way is still blocked.
There is no way out for me. Sitting back down in the cockpit, all my muscles relax. This is where I’m going to die.
They say in situations like this, your life flashes before your eyes, and I wait for my life movie to play, but it doesn’t come.
All I can think about is Richard. My husband.
The love of my life. Of the future we were going to have together.
That is gone now. No. I can’t allow this to be how I end.
I fought for my life with Richard, and I need to fight now.
Twisting my body, I managed to get my head and shoulders above the halo, but one of my feet isn’t moving, it’s stuck.
I don’t care if I break my foot at this point.
I pull my leg with all the strength that I have, and, by some miracle, my foot comes loose, minus one boot.
I can live with that. With my legs now free, I move around, and put my hands onto the closest solid surface.
It’s hot, and I want to pull my hands away in a knee jerk reaction.
The reaction you have, whenever you touch something hot.
But I can’t. My hands are in the fire. My gloves are disintegrating in front of my eyes, and I can feel the heat on my skin. Yet, I keep going.
Suddenly, I see, or maybe feel, a pair of hands on me, and I’m jumping over the Armco barriers. I survived. I feel the track volunteers spraying me with fire extinguishers, but I know that I’m not on fire. Just the car was.
“David,” the track doctor states. “Let’s get you to the medical centre.”
“I can walk,” I tell him.
“I’m sure you can, but I would prefer you to go by ambulance.”
At this point, I’m not going to argue. I’m helped over to the ambulance, placed on the bed and pushed into the back.
Only with the doors closed, do they take my helmet off and place it to the side.
I took a quick look at it and couldn’t believe it.
The paint work looks like it boiled. It’s all bumpy and there is charring in places.
The ride to the medical centre takes a matter of minutes, and the team of professionals are waiting for me. I also spot a face in the crowd. It’s not the face that I really want to see at the moment, but it’s still just as good.
“Jasper,” I mutter.
“Fuck, you scared us,” he says, and I don’t think I have ever heard his voice sound like that.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, because other than my hands hurting, I feel okay.
The medical team checks me over, and explains that they’re going to transfer me to the local hospital for treatment. On the initial look over, it looks like my hands took the brunt of the damage, which, in all fairness, I think I could have told them that.
“Can Jasper come with me?” I ask. If I can’t have my husband with me, then having my best friend is the next best thing.
“I think that can be arranged.”
I have no idea how long I’ve been waiting, but finally, Jasper and I are in the car, and on the way to the hospital.
The press is already outside the medical building, camera flashes going off as they try to capture my injuries.
I keep my head down, and get out of the car.
The medical team had said they would take me by ambulance, but there was no point.
No medical treatment was needed along the way.
“I have someone here for you,” Jasper says when we’re alone in the back of the car, and he holds the phone up to my ear.
“Hey, baby.” Richard’s voice sounds down the line, and I feel the tears start to stream down my face. There was a moment back there when I thought that I would never hear his voice again. And hearing it now is like music to my soul.
“Hey,” I manage to get out through my sobs.
Jasper takes the phone away, and I look over to him.
“He’s okay, Richard,” Jasper says down the line. “Not so sure on his hands, but we’re off to the hospital.” He pauses as he listens to Richard. “Okay, see you in a few hours.”
“What do you mean, see you in a few hours?” I ask, as Jasper hangs up the call.
“Richard said that he’s getting the next flight out to you.”
“No!” I state. “Call him back, now.”
Jasper stares at me for a moment, and when I don’t back down, he taps on his screen, and instead of holding the phone to his ear, he holds it to mine.
“Jasper.” Rich’s voice sounds worried.
“It’s me,” I start. “You can’t come.” Not mincing my words.
“You’re joking, right? My husband was just in one of the most horrific crashes in F1 history, and you’re telling me not to come?”
“There have been worse crashes. I survived. I’m okay. Other drivers haven’t been so lucky,” I tell him. “And, do you remember which country I’m in? Stay there, please. Jasper is with me.”
“Dave, no.”
“I’m telling you no. Do you understand me?” I say, adding as much of a commanding tone to my voice as I can.
Jasper pulls the phone away from my ear, and places it to his own. “Rich, looking at the state he is in, just from hearing that you are coming, it might be best if you stay put. I’m not going anywhere, and I will keep you updated.”
I’m not sure what Rich says down the line, but Jasper’s forehead creases. I don’t think he likes what he hears, and then I’m sure of it when he speaks next.
“Rich, no. Dave has said you are not to come. What good will you be if you end up in prison?” Jasper goes quiet again before finally saying, “I will keep you posted. Bye.”
Jasper hangs up the phone, and I go to say something, when he puts up a finger to silence me.He hits buttons on his screen again, and puts the phone back up to his ear.
“Vincent, Richard is not to come here. David doesn’t want it,” Jasper starts.
“I know, but for David’s mental health, at the moment, it’s important he doesn’t come.
” When Jasper goes silent again, I’m starting to wish that I had asked Jasper to put the call on speaker phone so I can hear him, especially when Jasper says bye, and hangs up the call.
“Jasper, why the fuck did you call Vincent?” I demand.
“Vincent knows about you and Rich,” Jasper says, calmly.
“How?” Confused. How can Vincent know?
“Rich was at Vincent’s place when the crash happened,” Jasper explains. “Rich was crushed. Imagine seeing your husband in flames. Those aren’t emotions you can hide. Lars called me and told me to get to the medical centre, and I was to get an update on you asap.”
I’m not sure what I can say to that. This isn’t how I wanted Vincent and Lars to find out about us.
“Do the press know?” The last thing I want is to have my crash, and sexuality, plastered all over the papers for the world to speculate over.
“No, and I think the press are going to be more interested in how you survived that, pretty much unmarked,” Jasper says to me.
It’s at this point that we arrive at the hospital. Jasper gets out of the car first, and comes around to my side, opening my door for me. I step out of the car, but then as I take a step, pain radiates out from my knee, and I let out a yelp.
“Dave, are you okay?” Jasper asks, as he supports me.
“Knee is hurting,” I tell him.
“Sit back down in the car, I’m going to get a wheelchair, it could be nothing, but I think that it’s best that you don’t move your knee.”
Nodding my head in agreement, I watch as Jasper rushes off into the hospital. I run my hand over my knee, and the material feels tight around my driving suit. That can’t be a good sign.
A few minutes later, Jasper is back with a wheelchair, and he pushes me inside. The doctors are waiting for me. They first assess my hands, and confirm the burns. They determine there isn’t any deep tissue damage, and bandage them up.
Stripping me out of my driving suit, they place me in a hospital gown, the swelling on my knee, at this point, is clear, and they immediately send me off for an x-ray. But I don’t understand, my legs felt fine as I was jumping out of the car.
“Jasper,” I call him, suddenly concerned.
“It’s probably your PCL that’s torn. It’s only as your adrenaline is wearing off that you can feel the pain.”
“A what?” I ask, smiling. I think Jasper forgot I drive cars for a living. I have no idea about body parts.
“PCL, or posterior cruciate ligament. It’s one of the ligaments in your knee that keeps your knee joint stable.”
“But I jumped over the Armco,” I say over to him.
“I have known people with a torn PCL who have carried on with their normal daily life, and only noticed a problem later on,” Jasper says, reassuringly.
“Will it need surgery?” I ask.
“Sometimes it can heal on its own, but…” Jasper stops talking, and I’m instantly concerned.
“But what, Jasper?” I demand.
“It can take anywhere from six to twelve months to heal,” he finishes. “But I could be wrong, it has happened before.” Jasper tries to joke, but I’m not really in a joking mood.