Running Wide Open

  “I’ll talk to her,” said Grandma, totally shocking me. “She doesn’t listen to most people, but she’ll listen to me. She has to if she wants to stay on the good side of my checkbook.”

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Kasey came back from sitting with Race and eased herself down beside me. I looked up from my book. After reading the same page about five hundred times, I still had no idea what it said.

  “He’s doing much better,” she told me. “They’re going to transfer him to a regular room.”

  “Is he awake yet?”

  A faint look of uneasiness flickered in Kasey’s eyes. “Cody, people with this type of injury rarely wake up all at once.”

  “I know. You keep telling me. But has he woke up at all?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Only for a few minutes at a time, though.”

  “Is he . . . ? Can he . . . ?” I couldn’t come right out and say what I wanted to, but Kasey must’ve been worried about the same thing, because she figured it out.

  “He’s still Race.”

  The words released something in me that had been tangled up in unworkable knots, but they also brought a fresh surge of anger.

  “He’s having some trouble speaking, and he’s not particularly lucid, but the doctor said that’s normal. It doesn’t mean he won’t get better.” Kasey’s eyes gently probed me. “Do you want to see him?”

  My heart pounded, and suddenly there wasn’t enough air in the room.

  “No,” I said quickly. I didn’t realize I was shaking until Kasey put her hand on my arm.

  “I know it’s frightening.”

  “I can’t,” I said. How could I explain? I didn’t want to see Race hooked up to a bunch of tubes and machines. I didn’t want to see him weak and helpless and maybe not knowing who I was.

  Kasey patted my arm. “There’s no hurry. Maybe tomorrow.”

  * * *

  On Tuesday things were a little better because Race had been moved to a regular room, but hanging around the hospital still creeped me out. Kasey went down to the cafeteria with me at lunchtime. At least my appetite had returned.

  “He’s retaining more of what the nurses and I are telling him, and that’s a good sign,” Kasey said. “The briefer the period of post traumatic amnesia, the greater the likelihood for a full recovery.”

  I stirred my pool of ketchup with a French fry, annoyance building in me like lava pulsing toward the mouth of a volcano. I was so sick of medical jargon.

  “I’m just thankful I don’t have to keep telling him what happened,” Kasey added. “You’d think it would get easier, but it’s more difficult each time.”

  The thought of her going through that really pissed me off. “Why should you have to tell him? Let the nurses do it.”

  “Would you want to hear something like that from a stranger?”

  A comforting flood of anger washed over me. “I wouldn’t have to, because I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to get in that car with a crappy helmet.”

  Kasey stared at me, her fork motionless in midair, but something kept her from telling me off. Feeling calmer as the anger flowed back and displaced my fear, I glared at her. Kasey could gawk at me all she wanted. It didn’t change the fact that this whole thing was Race’s fault.

  * * *

  On the way home that night, Kasey looked like she’d pulled a week of all-nighters, but a dash of her confidence had returned. Denny’d shown up after work—though there was still no sign of Jim—and he and Kasey had spent an hour with Race while I sat in the waiting room thinking I should be at karate practice. Even though Kasey would have taken me, I hadn’t mentioned it to her.

  The angled rays of evening sunlight glanced off the hood of the Charger as we cruised up Alder. I caught a whiff of roses from someone’s garden and marveled at the contrast between what was happening at the hospital and out in the real world.

  Beside me, Kasey rattled on about how well Race was doing. “He’s in remarkably good spirits, all things considered. Though I don’t think any of it has really sunk in yet.”

  I stared out the window on my side, watching trees and houses flash by. The stronger Race got, the madder I felt. What right did he have to put us through all this?

  “He said he’d finally broken something I couldn’t fix.” Kasey made a funny little noise, halfway between a laugh and a sob. “He’s such a smartass. I suppose I should be grateful he’s still got that.”

  My sore fingers clenched the armrest on the Charger’s door, sending pain surging through my hand in a way that felt ironically satisfying. How could Race joke about something like this? Didn’t he understand how much it had hurt us?

  “He wants to see you,” Kasey said. “I know you don’t think you’re ready, but it would help both of you.”

  “No.”

  “He’s worried about you,” she persisted. “You’re the first thing he asked about.”

  “What, not his car?”

  Kasey bristled, eyeing me across the front seat. “I know you’re hurting, Cody, but you could try being more compassionate.”

  “I could,” I said. “But I won’t.”

  Chapter 20

  “I have to go to the shop today,” Kasey said Wednesday morning. “There’s too much for Jake to deal with on his own. But I’m taking you to see Race, first. He’s worried about you, and he doesn’t have the strength for it. He needs to know that you’re all right.”

  Tired and irritable, I poked at the scrambled eggs she’d fixed me. My dreams the night before hadn’t been as bad as they were right after the wreck, but they’d still cut into my sleep. “Why should I care what he needs?” I mumbled. “He never asked me what I needed when he got in that damned car with a lousy helmet.”

  A brief war played over Kasey’s face. Understanding battled with annoyance, and finally a pained look of patience won out. “I know you’re angry, Cody. On some level I am, too. But neither of us is anywhere near as angry with Race as he is with himself.”

  “That’s his problem.”

  The look of patience evaporated. “I’m beginning to get tired of your attitude. The thing you have to realize is that you’re staying with me for Race’s benefit as much as your own. I love you like one of my brothers or sisters, but if you make me choose between you and Race, you’re going to lose.”

  “You think that’d be anything new? I’m used to people putting me last.”

  Kasey gave me a hard look. “I might have a little more sympathy for you if you were the one recovering from a critical injury. Now finish your breakfast and get in the car.”

  “Forget it. I’m not going back there.” My temper flared and the words spilled out before I could stop them. “Race should’ve known better. You should’ve known better! Why didn’t you buy him a damned helmet? You’ve got money.”

  Guilt and pain flashed across Kasey’s face. She sank heavily into the chair across from me. “Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that question a hundred times since Saturday night?”

  A tide of shame washed over me.

  “I understand why you want someone to blame,” Kasey said, her voice shaking. “You think if you can find somebody to hold responsible it will help. But it won’t. Can’t you see that? Even if you pin this on Race—or on me—it won’t go away.” Kasey pushed back from the table, drained and defeated. “Finish your eggs,” she said quietly. “We need to go.”

  “Kasey—” I looked at her desperately. “I don’t want to.” My fury had burned out, leaving me with nothing but fear.

  “I know. But what you want isn’t as important as what Race needs.”

  * * *

  As we drove to the hospital I slumped in my seat, ashamed of myself for yelling at Kasey and confused over how I felt about Race. It wasn’t like I wanted to be mad at him, the anger just kept growing in me like a mudslide, huge and thunderous and out of control.

  “I know you’re afraid,” Kasey said. “So I want to tell you what to exp
ect. It isn’t like when Race was in ICU. There aren’t any machines—he’s just got an IV. He’s having some trouble finding words, though. It’s called aphasia and it can be a little unsettling.”

  “Did they shave his head?” Somehow the idea of Race sporting the Mr. Clean look really bothered me.

  “Only in two places, for the surgery and the ICP monitor.” Kasey took her hand from the wheel, reaching across the seat to place it on top of mine. “It won’t be as bad as you think.”

  At the hospital I lagged behind, scared of what I would see in spite of Kasey’s reassurance. My heart thumped hard, doing that weird fluttery thing where it feels like it’s tripping over itself. I kept my eyes fixed on the floor as I walked into Race’s room.

  “Cody.” Race’s voice exerted a strange power over me, drawing my attention from the speckled tile. Kasey was right—it wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. But he still looked like hell. Just seeing him in a hospital bed would’ve spooked me, even if it hadn’t been for the shaved patches, and the stitches, and the remnants of that reddish-yellow stuff they slather on your skin before they slice you open. The worst part was the rigidity in his face, telling me how much pain he was in and how hard he was trying to hide it. It made my stomach twist. Pissed as I was at him, I didn’t want to see him hurting like that.

  Race gave me a smile that was tired and pale in comparison to his usual smart-assed grin. “Hey,” he said. Then he noticed my bandaged hand. “What . . . what happened?”

  I glanced at Kasey. Not knowing what I should say, I shrugged.

  “He bruised his hand. It’s nothing serious.” Kasey’s fingertips prodded my back, giving me a gentle push toward the bed. I ducked to the side and took refuge in the chair over by the wall.

  Kasey shook her head almost imperceptibly, but she didn’t tell me off. Instead she stepped forward to fill the void at Race’s side.

  “I can’t stay, but Cody will keep you company this morning.”

  “You’re going to . . .” Race faltered, “to the . . .” A faint look of aggravation flickered in his eyes and he swore. At least he could remember the important words.

  “To the shop, yes.” Kasey’s slender fingers curled around his. If Race couldn’t tell how she felt about him from the intensity of her expression, then he really did have brain damage.

  “I’m sorry, Race,” she said. “But I have to.”

  “’S okay. . . . You should.”

  Even though I’d been warned, the halting pace of Race’s words shook me up. I think some part of me had believed that once he woke up everything would be okay.

  “Cody has money for the bus and he knows how to get to the shop,” Kasey said. “Send him to me when you get tired.” She squeezed Race’s hand. “I’ll be back this evening.”

  For a long moment their eyes locked and a current crackled between them. Then Race pulled his hand away, breaking the circuit.

  “You need to . . . go.”

  A flutter of panic lodged in my chest as Kasey left the room. Race was gonna want to talk, and I was still so furious I knew I couldn’t do it. How was it possible to be so worried about someone and still want to kick his ass?

  “C’mere . . . kid,” Race said, patting the blankets as if I was a stray dog that needed coaxing.

  “I’m good where I am.”

  Race lay quietly for a minute, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. . . . This isn’t what you . . . signed up for.”

  “Damned straight.”

  “I . . .” Race hesitated, searching for a word. “I . . . get it. You’re . . . pissed at me. Hell, I’m pissed at me. . . . I totally botched my chance at . . . at the championship.”

  My rage, barely suppressed, came tearing to the surface. “Who gives a rat’s ass about the stupid championship?”

  “Kid—”

  “There’s more important things than a damned stock car race!”

  “I know. . . . C’mere. . . . We’ll talk.”

  “I don’t wanna talk. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be resting? You look like shit.”

  “Cody—”

  But Grandma appeared in the doorway then, saving me from further conversation. For the first time in my life I was glad to see her, in spite of Grandpa hovering in her wake.

  While Grandma had come every day, it was the first time Grandpa had been back since Saturday night. He stood by the wall, back ramrod straight, scowling and glancing at his watch. Grandma shot him a warning look as she sat down on the edge of Race’s bed.

  “You’re looking better today. The doctor said you’re making remarkable progress.”

  Race clearly wasn’t hearing a word she said. His eyes, narrowed in suspicion, were fixed on Grandpa. Grandpa stared back with equally intense distaste.

  “William,” Grandma cautioned.

  “I don’t know what you were expecting from me,” he said. “I told you my coming here would be a mistake.”

  “For the love of God, he’s your son. I know the two of you have your differences, but you could make an effort.”

  Grandpa broke free of his staring match to focus on Grandma. “And why is that, Noreen? It isn’t as if this were unavoidable. I might be able to generate a little sympathy if he’d been hit by a bus.”

  “You’d probably . . . throw a . . . party . . . if I got hit by a bus,” Race said.

  “You see? Right there—nothing but insolence.” Grandpa blasted Race with a glare. “You’ve been defiant your whole life. Running around with white trash, wasting my hard-earned money on art classes when you should have been studying business. And now you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

  “I don’t . . . expect a . . . a damned thing.”

  I shoved up out of my chair and stepped in front of Grandpa. “Why don’t you get lost?”

  His smoldering scowl made me shiver. “What did you say to me?”

  That was one of my mother’s lines and now I knew where she’d got it.

  “I said you should get the hell out of here.”

  Grandpa’s eyes impaled me before darting away to settle on Race. “As if it weren’t bad enough that you’ve wasted your own life,” he said. “Now you’re exerting your negative influence over Saundra’s son as well.”

  That was wrong on so many levels I didn’t know where to start.

  “Give me a little credit, Grandpa. Don’t you think I could figure out how to be insolent and defiant all on my own?”

  “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re too big to be taken over my knee.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  Grandpa lurched toward me and seized my good wrist.

  “Get your . . . hands . . . off him,” Race ordered, struggling to get up. Grandma held him back.

  “William!” she said, her voice as commanding as Kasey’s.

  “I will not put up with that sort of disrespect.”

  “Then maybe we should leave.”

  Reluctantly, Grandpa’s fingers unclenched, releasing me. Without a word he turned and left the room.

  “I’m sorry, Race,” Grandma said, patting his hand as she stood up to go. “I shouldn’t have brought him.”

  Trembling with outrage and exhaustion, Race closed his eyes and sagged against the pillows.

  The room was so quiet after Grandma left that I could hear people talking at the nurses’ station down the hall.

  “Thanks, kid,” Race mumbled.

  Suddenly it was too much. Race’s gratitude, Grandpa’s hatefulness, and most of all the way my uncle had been so ready to jump to my defense. But conflicted as I felt, the anger still burned in my gut, hot as the inside of a combustion chamber.

  “I gotta go,” I said. Not daring to look at him, I ducked out of the room and took off.

  * * *

  The heat of the sun felt good on my skin after the chill of the hospital’s air conditioning. I knew Kasey would tweak if I showed up before noon, so I crossed the street to
7-Eleven and spent the next few hours playing video games one-handed while trying not to think about what happened that morning. Grandpa was such an asshole. Growing up with him would’ve been ten times worse than growing up with Mom. It was amazing Race hadn’t wound up a delinquent like me.

  When I got to the shop, Kasey put me to work.

  “Things are really backed up and I need all the help I can get. Do you think you could wash parts? I’ll pay you.”

  “You don’t have to pay me.”

  Kasey found some rubber gloves big enough to fit over my bandaged hand then showed me the parts tank. I spent the afternoon cleaning stuff I couldn’t identify.

  The shop was a madhouse. The phone kept ringing, and mostly it wasn’t business, but people wanting to know about Race. Kasey took pity on them. I would’ve hung up. Didn’t they know she had work to do?

  When I finished with the parts, hand throbbing from the activity, I went to see what else needed to be done. Kasey was lying under an old Ford while Jake hung over the fender, holding something for her. I decided it would be a bad idea to interrupt them, so I located a broom and got to work. It looked like the place hadn’t been swept in a month.

  Cleaning the floor made the counters and workbenches look worse, so I started picking stuff up. I was surprised at all the receipts I found, deposited on every available surface. I took them into the office where the desk was piled with cookies, homemade bread, and baskets of fruit. Casseroles and salads jammed the tiny refrigerator in the corner.

  “Hey, Kasey,” I called, leaning out through the doorway. “What is all this stuff?”

  “Gifts from friends at the track. They figured we’d have enough on our hands without having to cook, too.”

  “People really do that?” I’d seen it in movies, but I never thought it actually happened.

  “Of course,” Kasey said, as if it took place every day in her world.

  By six I’d scrubbed the bathroom, straightened the office, and started wiping down the tools I’d picked up. If the size of the pile was any indication, I figured the toolboxes must be empty.

  “Thanks for all the help,” Kasey said, giving me a one-armed hug. “Are you ready to go?”

  “I’ve just gotta clean this stuff up and figure out where to put it.”

  “It’s not that important. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

  “If he wants to help, let him,” Jake said. “You go see Race. I’ll stick around to give Cody a hand, then I’ll drop him by the hospital on my way home.”