Page 110 of The Legend

I couldtell they wanted to stay but they also knew that Jameson needed a few minutes.He was just told his dad was gone. Hell, I even thought about leaving him alonebut I also knew him well enough that he didn’t need to be alone right now. Heneeded me. He needed me as a spindle supporting the weight of the control arms.

Once theystepped out, I made my way over to the bed again. My hand touched his bare armthat was freed from the thick blanket. His skin felt different to the touch butI couldn’t place why. Maybe it was from the methanol burns.

His eyesthat were once focused on the window, shifted toward mine.

“W...w...when?”His tough demeanor broke and his chin started to shake; his eyes blinkedquickly, like he was trying not to cry.

I took abreath, determined to be brave for him.

“It was anaccident, Jameson.” I told him hoping he’d hear me this time. “That’s all itwas.”

“No.” hetried to take a deep breath but failed, wincing in pain. I could see the angersurfacing that his body wouldn’t respond to basic movements. It was frustratinghim that it was so painful. His body had been through so much I was mad atmyself for even telling him so soon after he woke up.

“Jameson,I don’t know what to say to you. I wish it wasn’t real, I really do.”

He staredat me for a long moment before the tears spilled over the dark bruises on hischeeks, his stare returned to the window. “It was...n’t...supposed...” he swallowed trying to speak. “...hh...a...ppen.” His distant cold gaze met mine for a second then returned to thewindow. “...not...likethat.” He mumbled, his speech slurring.

“Thisisn’t your fault.”

He didn’tsay anything, didn’t even acknowledge that I was speaking.

There wasnothing that I could say to him at that point to make this any easier on him.To Jameson, he lost a legend. But I would be there for him. I would be his tirewithin a tire, his safety shield, his spindle; I would be anything he needed meto be. I would provide him the same support he provided me when Charlie died.

Lifechanges, people die. But it’s not every day a man with Jimi’s clout dies.

In thesprint car racing world, and that included Jameson, it was as though theirworld leader had died. The significance of that had yet to sink in for us.

Death isnever easy. Suddenly someone you spent every day seeing is now a memory. Youdidn’t ask for it but you’re forced to deal with all the shit that comes withit, whether you want to or not. Undeniably, there’s a side of death that no oneconsiders.Dealing with it.Making alife without them.

Over thelast three weeks, we were dealing with it, trying to keep his memory alive, butit wasn’t easy and it wasn’t supposed to be. Like I said, death is never easy.

“Jameson?”he wouldn’t look at me, just stared out the window.

I wascrying again by that point but I had him to think about. If I broke completely,that just made it worse for him. I needed to be strong. I kept repeating tomyself to be his spindle.

Wiping thetears away with the sleeve of my sweater, I gently climbed in bed next to him,careful of the wires and tubes still attached in various places.

His eyesclosed when I got close. He tried to clear his throat but winced when he didso, then grunted in pain. For a moment, it seemed that I had caused more painfor him.

I tried tomove again, afraid I was causing more damage by lying with him but his handtouched mine, his voice low and raspy. “No...s-s-s-stay. Don’t...please.”

I didn’tleave. I laid there with him until he dosed off again.

Casten wasright, if anyone felt this loss the greatest and would assume the weight of it,that was Jameson.

He fellasleep within a few minutes and I was grateful he was resting. I watched himsleeping carefully detailing everything I saw in the event it was the last timeI saw him. I wanted to remember every detail. I don’t know why, but I did.Maybe that was my way of dealing with death, holding on to what was in front ofme.

Castencame back in the room and the low lights and humming of the electronics put himto sleep in a chair beside Jameson.

My mind wentback to a memory of Casten and Jameson when Casten was a baby.

Casten wassmall just like the rest of our kids with plump cheeks and my nose. Jameson waskissing the top of his head, saying the words into his hair with his eyes onmine. “I can’t believe we have another son.”

Castendidn’t move, sleeping against his chest. Jameson adjusted him in his armstrying to turn him so I could see my little guy. “He looks like Axel but I seemy dad in him too.”

“Me too.”I toldhim. “He has your dad’s eyes, like the shape and everything.”

I gaspedat the memory, Casten still had Jimi’s eyes only they were grass green, not thepiercing blue Jimi had.

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