Chapter 7
7
Fall
Robbie
Charly walked out of my house a little over a month ago, and my life hasn’t been the same since. I haven’t lost hope that one day I’ll figure out a way to get her back, but for right now I’m just going through the motions of living.
The temptation to watch her on social media is irresistible. Those brief videos and pictures keep me sane enough so I don’t wander into her pit at races like a lost puppy.
Or call her when I know she doesn’t want me to.
I’ll give her space, but she’s an addiction I can’t let go of.
She seems okay from what she posts, but I know that’s only surface level. Plus, there’s been a shift in what she’s been posting lately. She’s slowly shifting her content away from everything that’s pretty and perfect and posting more of her real thoughts and feelings.
There are fewer puff pieces and more videos with her talking about women in racing. These last few weeks she’s been posting about engineering every Wednesday. I love hearing her talk to her fans about mechanics and how the manufacturing and development processes work.
With every fiber in my being, I want to tell her how proud I am of her, but I can’t. Not yet.
For now, I focus on Eddie, the car, and the team. We’re doing everything we can to win this championship.
Right now we’re in the lead. Although that’s because of the three weeks Charly missed after the accident. Even with the break, she’s catching up fast.
The Texas sun beats down at me, and I can feel beads of sweat trickling down my back. The guys don’t look like they’re in much better shape, so I make a point of handing out bottles of water while we’re working.
We’re at RPM Speedway, just outside of Dallas. It’s the furthest south we travel during the year. Eddie’s got a couple of races lined up during the week and I’m grateful they’re not for points, so Charly won’t be there.
I have a hunch Eddie planned that on purpose because the ‘opportunities’ only appeared last month. They weren’t on our original schedule. Dad even got on board with the ruse, arguing that they’ll be good outreach for fans.
While the guys finish prep work, I head toward the track office, wanting to check in and see if there have been any updates for the schedule tonight.
When I open the door, Charly is getting ready to step out.
Our eyes meet and my mouth opens to say something, but I can’t force any words out. She looks tired, and just as surprised to see me as I am to see her.
“Hi.” she says, eyes flitting away. It feels like a reversal of how we first met, only this time we’re both incredibly awkward instead of just me.
“Hey.”
“I was just leaving.” She motions past me and on instinct I step aside, giving her a clear path out of the door.
Charly moves out but stops, half turning so she’s looking over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine, unspoken want filling her gaze, but she shakes her head and walks away before either of us can give in to temptation and say anything more.
I’m left feeling gutted and desperate for any modicum of attention that she’s willing to give me. It takes the track officials three tries to get my attention and even then I struggle to remember what I came over her for.
Arkansas is as hot as Texas, and I’m just as painfully awkward when I run into Charly again. This time picking up food for the guys from the concession stand. It gives me an excellent excuse to make small talk with her while we wait for our food, but I’ve reverted into my pre Charly, awkward, self conscious state.
She chatters away to a handful of fans, giving me an even better excuse to stand back and listen. It makes me feel like a voyeur, but I’ll take what I can get.
When our food is ready, we walk back toward the pits together without speaking. We’re parked on opposite ends of the field and we part ways with a stiff nod from me and a tight smile from her.
Eddie helps me hand out food and we all take a quick break to eat before things get underway.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of sweat and dirt and ends with a checkered flag for Eddie and a DNF for Charly. After we finish the winner’s circle celebrations and packing up the hauler for the night, I desperately want to go check on her, but her team’s already left.
I resist the urge to send her a message, but I know she’s not hurt. At least not physically. She’ll be beating herself up about these mistakes that have been plaguing her since Barber.
From watching dad, I know there’s always some sort of question that lingers in your mind after something big and it can really eat at your confidence. Especially late at night when there’s no one there to distract you.
But I hold myself back because she needs space, and I swore I would give it to her.
I’m looking forward to a quiet night in the hotel. We’re racing here again tomorrow, so we don’t have to take off and drive through the night to get to our next track.
All of us pile into the truck and make the short drive over. When we get there, we haul luggage out and go to the check-in desk. While I get the bill settled and collect keys to hand out, the guys mingle with some of the other teams who are in the lobby.
It’s getting toward the end of the season and everyone is tired, but not tired enough to not take advantage of an early night. Bit by bit, the group migrates toward the hotel’s bar. Several of my guys sit with members of Charly’s team, and I give them a longing look.
Breaking up with Charly was bad enough, but in some ways, our teams had to break up too, and I miss them just as much. Over this spring and summer, we’d gotten to be good friends.
I motion Eddie over and slip him my card. “Drinks are on me tonight. Don’t let them stay up too late.”
He gives me an assessing look before nodding and leaving me with my duffle bag and room key in my hand. The elevator door opens and I head upstairs alone to pretend to sleep.