Page 6 of All That Glitters
My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch the hood of what would be my car. It was in perfect, unblemished condition. It was ready for the hauler, for the track, for the race in a couple of weeks. On the outside.
But was it ready for me?
I curled my hand into a fist and shoved it down into my pocket.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t.”
He led the way to another door and handed over a set of keys. After giving me one last wary look, he walked away, leaving me to face this particular demon alone. Through the rain, I could just make out the small building, no bigger than a single car garage. All our wrecked cars ended up there after a race so the engineers and technicians and mechanics could do a deep dive into what held together and what didn’t.
I quickly crossed the distance, soaked to the skin within three steps. I said I would welcome it, and that was good because I was in the fucking thick of it.
I slid the key in the lock with a shaking hand, then punched in the security code. One lock clicked loose. I turned the key and the second lock let go.
Lights flickered on as soon as I stepped inside.
Immediately, my breath caught in my throat and my knees dropped me to the floor. For once, the pain was welcome.
In the center of the room were the remains of my wrecked car. There was nothing to salvage. There was nothing solid left of the frame. There was nothing solid left at all. The seat was bent and crumpled. The steering column was twisted and hanging.
Kneeling where I was, safe and sound, I could feel the heat from the flames as they erupted, then centralized. I could smell the oil. I could feel the initial pain, the shock, the out of body experience. I could feel how trapped I was.
Nausea filled my entire body and I crawled to the nearby trash can. I barely made it before my stomach forced everything up my throat and out my mouth. I wretched, over and over, heaving the meager contents into the can.
When I was sure I was finished, I leaned back against the wall and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
It was several long minutes more before I climbed to my feet and inched closer.
Slowly, so fucking slowly, I made my way around the car, studying every part of it, committing it to memory.
Axles were bent in ways they were never intended to bend.
The car was unrecognizable. There was no color to it save for black and gray. The once bright teal of the wrapping was gone.
Looking at the guts of my car, the anger, familiar and strangely comforting, took over. As I stared at the car, and as the realizations and memories flooded my mind, the anger became an animal all unto itself, stunning me in its ferocity. I didn’t know that I’d ever come back from it if I let it take me. Worse… I didn’t know that I’d want to come back from it.
When I stood next to what had been the cockpit, the driver’s seat, my seat, I pulled my phone from my pocket and took a picture of it.
Then, I dialed up the man responsible.
“Ashton?” Hale said by way of greeting. “Hey man.”
“We need to talk.”
And I would process later how it felt to hear his voice after all these months and why it hurt, why it turned some of the anger to sadness…
“Okay. When?”
“Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll come there.”
“Sure. Whenever. I wanted to —”
I didn’t let him finish. I hung up before he could.
I would do what my father needed me to do. I’d meet with Hale. I’d say whatever I needed to say to get back in a car. I’d play all the parts just right.
But I’d never forget.
