Chapter 5
5
Robbie
As Eddie zooms across the finish line, I celebrate with the rest of the team, but part of me wants to see how Charly’s doing. She had a terrible qualifying session, blowing a tire and getting stuck in the back row of the field. After a fantastic B Main, she’d earned her way into the A Main race, but halfway through they’d lost another tire and she retired the car early.
It was the first time I’ve ever seen her not happy behind the wheel of a race car. She’d still been polite with waiting fans, but shortly after they’d dispersed she’d disappeared into the hauler and hasn’t come out since.
The guys and I head toward the winner’s circle while Eddie makes it through post race inspection. We get our pictures taken by the dozen photographers there, collect our giant check, and head back to the pit to pack everything up.
When we get there, I spot Charly outside, helping her guys pack up. I keep an eye on her, waiting for an opportunity to get her alone and check in with her.
Just before we’re ready to leave, I see her drifting out toward the track wall, phone held up to her ear while she talks to someone. I watch and make an excuse to the guys when I see her hang up.
I resist the urge to jog over to her since that’ll attract too much attention and instead pretend like I’m going to look out over the track too, leaning against the wall a few feet away from her. She turns, facing the pit area, and leans against it, arms crossing and phone still clutched in her fingers.
“You all right?”
She sighs, shoulders sagging. “Disappointed but yeah. Actually, not too bad, all things considered.” She glances toward me, a small smile lifting her lips.
I just want to take her in my arms and hold her. This week has been fantastic, seeing her and talking to her every day, but we haven’t gotten more than a handful of chances to be alone. There’s just too many people around all the time.
“Come back home with me?” I blurt out. “Just for a few days.”
When her eyebrows scrunch together and her body stiffens, I instantly brace for the rejection I know is coming. “I want to.” There’s a depth to her words that lets me know how true they are. “But that was the factory. They need me to come up for a few days this week. We’ve booked a testing session at Barber later this month.”
“That’s fantastic.” I turn so we’re both facing toward the pits, but still separated by a few feet. “They’ll have the car ready by then?”
“It’s almost done. All we have to do is go over a few last details. Plus, that guy that was here tonight is interested in sponsoring us if we move up to Indy Car in the next couple of years.”
My heart falls, knowing that a move like that would pull her farther away from me. I won’t let her see that though, so I plaster on a smile and pretend she’s not slipping through my fingers. “That’s amazing.”
She turns toward me, reaching out and taking my hand. “Come with me? To Barber. It’s during the July break and I really need you.”
Even if I have to watch her race away from me every day for the rest of the season, I’ll always pick her. “I’ll be there.”
Barber in late summer is oppressively humid, which works to Charly’s advantage since there’s no one else at the park today except for the crew from the factory and a handful of track employees.
For once, she’s not decked out in pink. Instead, she has a plain driver’s suit on with just a manufacturer’s logo across the back. Even the car is unpainted, still white and sleek, straight from the factory floor.
Cameras cover every straight and turn, ready to capture as many data points as possible. On board telemetry will track everything from the smallest change in temperature to each rotation of the tire as Charly does her practice laps.
She talked over the plan with me last night in the hotel room; take it easy for the first few rounds, just getting the feel of the machine on the track and then slowly, lap by lap, push it to see how far it can go.
I was hanging back, letting her work and being there if she needed me. Not that we could let on that we had anything more than friendship between us. Shake it off, man.
Charly pulls her helmet on, adjusting her HANS device and climbing into the cockpit. Crewmembers and engineers swarm around her, triple checking everything.
Even though resentment at our need to hide our relationship stews in my gut, I can’t help but be proud of her. She’s setting the groundwork for her future, racing in Indy cars and maybe even beyond if she wants to.
She fires up the engine and the engineers step back, giving her a clear path to get down the pit lane. I turn to watch on the monitors as she builds speed, testing out the handling through each of the turns on course.
Twenty minutes in and she’s getting ready to go for fast lap times. Excitement builds in me. Watching the engineers pour over data, listening to the excitement in Charly’s voice over the radio. It all reminds me of growing up at the track with my dad. Looking into the future, I can see Charly standing on podiums, fighting for championships.
God, I love this woman. Maybe we can figure out a way to do this together?
“Everything feels great. Going for time.” Charly sounds excited, confident and I can feel the buzz of energy around the pits.
The car screams by and the timers tick over to track new lap times. She makes it through the first three turns at about the same speed, but as she hits 4 and gears up for the straight, the miles per hour climbs and by the end of the lap she’s pushing race day qualifying times.
“Go for another.” An engineer calls over the radio.
“Copy.”
The times tick over, already faster than the lap before. Through turn one and two. A blip in three. Then approaching four. Then the gut wrenching sound of metal breaking.
I look up to see the car go airborne, cresting the small hill before it tilts and barrel rolls down the short straight, slamming into a retaining wall. The silence that follows is eerie. Quiet, but like you can still hear each piece of gravel falling to the ground.
An ambulance peels out of the pit area and speeds around the turn. Track workers and safety crew members run towards her.
I’m leaping the pit wall and sprinting across the track before I can stop myself.
Concussion. Bruising. Sprained wrist. No broken bones.
My brain latches on to sporadic things while the doctor speaks, too overwhelmed to process full sentences.
Rest. Lucky. No racing for at least two weeks.
The doctor files out and a nurse bustles around the room, finishing with whatever it is she needs to do before Charly can leave. She holds the hand now encased in a brace tucked against her chest, but I hold the other in mine.
From the second I stepped into the ambulance with her, I haven’t let her go unless a doctor forced me to. She’s been pretty out of it, likely because of the concussion, and I can’t leave her alone.
The plan is to spend the night in a hotel room and then I drive her up to my house in Indiana. The doctors aren’t fond of the idea of her flying back to California by herself, and I’m more than willing to help take care of her.
Finally, we finish dealing with all the paperwork and I help her out to my car. She leans heavily against me and during the short drive to the hotel; she closes her eyes and stays silent.
When we get there, a few of the engineers are waiting in the lobby, but they’re careful to only wish her well and let her get to rest as soon as she can.
The next morning a few more stop by and she has enough energy to talk a little shop. Brake failure is their initial analysis, but all the data and parts are being sent back to the factory for investigation.
It’s a good crew, and I can tell they care about her, but I can see her energy waning and we still have hours on the road ahead of us. I shoo them out of the room and Charly sighs in relief before laying back on the bed.
“You alright?” I come and sit beside her, idly brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead.
“My head’s pounding. I feel like I tried to punch a brick wall and I can’t race for two weeks. At least.” She peels one I open. “Can you take me home so I can mope in private?”
“Will do.”
As shitty as the situation is, my heart soars when she says home.