Page 86 of Well Played

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.

6

Charly

Three daysof peace is all I get before the rumors circulate. As small as the racing community is, when things catch on, they spread like wildfire. Unfortunately, in my case, it’s a raging inferno in no time.

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