Commitment Collection 2- Ignition; Turbo Charged; Pole Position, page 3
part #4 of Commitment Series
“To the rest of our lives.” I clink my glass against his before swirling its contents and watching as the viscosity twinkle against the flame of the candlelight. Inhaling its aroma, I lift my head and notice Kyle eyeing me with his own version of nerves.
There’s nothing new to say; we’ve been through everything already so instead of speaking, I hold out my hand. He meets me in the middle of the table, his wedding ring catching in the half-light. My heart swells. I didn’t think I could feel such devotion toward another person, but this man, well, he just does it for me.
“This wine is delicious.” I don’t want to get overly emotional tonight. We’re both ignoring the pain of my leaving tomorrow and this is supposed to be a night where we celebrate our collective achievements.
“Hmm, I wonder if we could buy a few bottles for home.”
I hadn’t expected the atmosphere to be quite so stilted between us. We’ve both agreed this is the best thing for us. Purchasing the team provides the necessary long-term security once my racing career is finally over.
Us living separate lives is only for the short term.
But something feels final.
It’s that sixth sense that you can never put your finger on, but both of you feel. When something is off balance and the more you work to put your lives back on track, the more your aim spirals out of your grasp.
“What do you want?” Kyle asks.
I survey the menu as though I’ve not looked, instead of making my usual quip about eating him. Much as I still want to, the thick air stops the light words in their tracks. I continue my perusal of food options, even though I already knew when I walked in what I was going to select. My friend, a regular here, and one of my new investors has already filled me in on her favorite.
“Daisy recommended the osso buco and bone marrow tortellini and that girl knows her food so I’m going to having that. You?”
He laughs, which lights up his face, and with it my soul. The tension which had been creasing his forehead lifts and with it so too does the heavy atmosphere was weighing down our mood for the entire day.
We set aside today to spend together. A day where we can enjoy some personal time before I take off and life gets even crazier than it has been already. But, instead of being the celebration we both intended, it’s turned into a mourning of our old life. I’ve never been more thankful to see the familiar twinkle in his eye.
“Don’t eat too much, I have plans for you,” he says.
“I had hoped you would have. I assume I should consume a light dinner and a little more wine?”
“That could work well.” His smile grows broader and I don’t care where we are; I lean over the damned table for two which separates us, and I kiss him.
Kyle
I wave as he drives off. I stand in the house we remodeled to suit our lives together as he speeds off down the gravel and out of our electric gates. This is a huge place at the best of times. Elliott bought it as an investment, so his thinking was the bigger the better, but now, well, here I am alone.
Its stone walls echo with his missing energy, a reminder of how life will be for the next year, minimum. Thank goodness I have to get to my job and don’t have hours to meander from room to room. I grab a hold of myself. ‘This is for the best, now come on get on with this and stop mooning like some love-struck teenager.’ I will not allow the lead which is residing in the pit of my stomach to take up residence.
I don't know what's wrong with me. I wanted us to make this investment, and still believe it's the right choice for our future. I do.
I want a new future with Elliott, one where we are in control of our own destinies and we’re not at the mercy of a moody boss. I also want to be able to provide that for other people. No couple should have to go through what we did when Elliott and I decided to marry. Our firm will be built on family values. It will be a place where people committed to each other will want to work. Let’s face it, with the amount of time we all tour around the world together, we’re more like families than co-workers. It’s inevitable that people will fall in love. And we will have our pick of the best employees.
It's only now that I realize that the future is at the expense of today.
For now, I don't have the choice to leave. I must show up and excel at the job I have now. I must perform to my absolute best so that the potential threat of Elliott buying a competitor doesn’t hinder their trust in me. Because that trust will allow me to learn to the max and develop my peripheral skill set.
The papers are not helping this morning. Elliott is always in social media and Jessie is a trooper, but today she has earned her keep.
Elliott is spread across the back pages, cutting a ribbon, and unveiling the signage of Judd Racing.
He’s also in the business pages, with projections for profit output based on the investment interest of having such a huge racing name now running his own team.
And he’s in the gossip columns talking about how tough it will be living apart from his husband.
There I am again, full loop. Slapped back down from my temporary celebration as Elliott’s unveiling impacts on how trustworthy I’m perceived to be at my job for one of Elliott’s main competitors. Crap!
There’s a collective cheer when I amble through the garage doors an hour later.
“We thought you wouldn’t be in today,” Greg the number two mechanic shouts above the racket.
“Ha-ha, nice try. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” I give him a friendly shove.
“Ah, we can but hope,” Ryan jibes.
“Listen, for the record, I’m still here and I’m still working as hard as I ever did. Harder probably because I’m not rushing home to Elliott now.”
“Ah, you’re missing him already.”
That’s about the size of it. “Oh, shut up would you. Let’s get on with some work.” I stomp off, and it’s more dramatic than I would have hoped, but at least they know better than to follow me.
Elliott
My day flies. I have a million and one things to finish, and a million more appointments that I need to keep. Thankfully, one of the press interviews Jessie has set up will break up the monotony perfectly. Butterflies bounce around my rib cage as I constantly check the time, counting down the minutes.
I'm due out on track in our freshly branded mint green car in three hours. It’s the first time I’ve stepped foot in a car since my accident and I’m thankful that I’m able to do it minus competitors, although I'd never admit that. While racing is in my blood and I'll never escape its pull, my nerves were shattered along with my legs two years ago.
I stand at the side of the car and my knees shake. I’ve been in this position more times than I can count; it’s second nature to hop over into the cockpit. I know the process as well as if it has been etched into the inside of my head with the tip of a sharp blade.
But today...
Today, my heart wants to beat out of my chest and run for the hills. Three hours later, it's hammering away like my ribs will crack and my senses which usually don’t tune into red alert status until I’m seated and focussed kick in early. The colors of the knobs are more vivid. The smell of fumes more intense.
And where is Kyle?
He’s at his old job, making a safe car for another driver.
My brain fogs, reporters are asking me questions, but my thoughts go nowhere. I want to be with Kyle. I need him to have checked this car. The last time I left my safety for someone else, my legs exploded into fragments of tiny bones.
“Have you driven this car before?” I hear behind the cloud which obliterates her from my clear vision.
I reply, my voice sounding normal, “No this is my first time. I’ve not driven since my accident.” I’m smiling; I can feel it stretched across my face. It’s my practiced PR facade, the one that screams of cool composure under pressure.
My heart continues to thunder in my chest and I see my car as I’ve watched it on the video footage, mangled wheels strung out from the mutilated wreckage. And me, lying on the ground, my legs in smithereens.
Time moves on, and the interview continues. Throughout, my brain is whirring with thoughts which plead with me not to race. I struggle to focus on the questions I’m being asked to answer while insisting to myself internally that I won’t be beaten. In my heart I want this. I want to get back out on the track again. I just wish I’d thought it through first. Doing it alone, without Kyle, and in front of the world’s media sounded like a great hook to get maximum coverage. Hell, it is. But, I needed to do it in private first.
My legs are stiff as I pass into the cockpit. My arms are too wide for the space built for another, smaller, and now more agile driver. Everything catches where it should be seamless.
I start the car. The rumble shakes my heart, frees the adrenaline which had been weighing me down, and feeds life into it.
My feet shake, but the feeling under my ribs now is cautious anticipation.
And then I’m released and set off down the pit lane. My speed is restricted, and it gives me the time to adjust to driving again.
Until I hit the circuit.
My leg, not as strong as it once was, forces down on the stiff pedal, but I don’t feel the tension in my muscles as my head bobs, straining to the left as I pass around a tight right bend. As I exit on the opposite side of the track, the straight opens up in front of me, and it’s time to boot it. Put on the performance these reporters are looking for, show them that Elliott Judd is back, that he had everything thrown at him and that nothing will beat him down.
The air whistles through my visor as I thunder past them, the engine rattling as I open it full throttle. I relax, back in my comfort zone as I weave through the rest of the circuit and in too short a time I’m back, cruising down the pit lane, ready not to get out as I must, but to begin a fresh lap.
Today truly is the start of the rest of our lives.
Kyle
I watch Elliott on TV, watching the footage of him around the track. I could have taken today off. It would have looked bad at work, but I could have argued the case that Elliott needed me with this being his first time out on track after his accident.
But, I didn’t.
Jessie said that having me here would become more of a story than Elliott being out on track. The press would be absorbed by whether we were aligning the two companies, and that’s the last thing that I want when I'm trying to keep a distance and solidify my current position.
It’s also the last thing that Elliott needs when he’s trying to attract investors. He’s looking for people who will invest in him and his legacy. It would be off putting to shareholders if they thought that I was involved while still maintaining my old job.
So here I am, watching Elliott live out one of the most momentous days of his life. On TV.
Don’t get me wrong. He texted me.
Elliott: “I am back.” It said. And I’m happy. I’m delighted. He’s had his run-ins with depression while he’s been rehabilitating, and it’s not been easy so to hear him excited to enjoy the successes of all his hard work is fantastic. I just wish I’d been there, like I have every other step of the way with him. It would have been nice to see this through with him.
Kyle: “Fabulous. You weren’t nervous then?”
It takes him over an hour to reply. I know he’s busy today. He’s being pulled in a thousand different directions.
Elliott: “Sure I was. I couldn’t think straight. But as soon as I got in the car, it was like I’d never been away.”
Kyle: “Did it handle differently?”
Elliott: “Oh, yeah. We have our work cut out for us. And the engine sounds like a bag of nails.”
Then I get busy and I don’t reply again until we speak on the phone until tonight.
“So, tell me all,” I demand before he’s even had the chance to say hello.
“Well, I told you I was scared as crap beforehand. I really could have done with you there to get me through it. Nothing is the same without you. You give me strength and I regretted our decision to have you carrying on as normal.”
As he speaks, my chest puffs with pride that this amazing man needs me to help him achieve his goals. “Well, I’m glad you’re regretting it too because it was hell on earth being at work today knowing you were getting up to all this important stuff. I kept checking my phone.” I stop short of saying, checking you were OK and didn’t have another accident. He can do without that.
“Yeah Kyle, it was awful. I don’t know what it is you do, but just having you around makes everything so much easier.”
I laugh. “Well, it’s good to know you don’t know what I do,” I tease.
“Ah, shut up, you know what I mean.”
I do. “So, are you finished for the day now?”
“Yeah, I have some reports to go over, info on how the figures stack up. I don’t know which parts we need yet, but that engine is not going to win us a championship. We need to sort something out there.”
“Shall I leave you to it?” I ask.
“Yeah, you can. I still have to grab something to eat. I don’t have anything here, so I’ll have to get some dreaded takeout today.”
“Well, thank goodness you’re not trying to drive as well. You’d starve.”
“That would have been too much.”
Fear floods me, running through my veins like ice water, consuming my thoughts once again, that this situation will go on longer than I hope. We say our goodbyes and I hang up, smiling despite my angst at having spoken to him. My Elliott fix now refreshed. It’s only when I’m halfway through putting a boring, tasteless, limp salad together that I realize he didn’t ask how my day went.
Elliott
The week passes in a haze and before I know it, it’s Friday. It’s been a whirlwind and there’s still so much I have to do before next week. I roll over in bed and pick up my phone, my eyes still fuzzy from sleep. It’s a habit I’ve gotten into now, as soon as I wake, instead of rolling over and placing my arm over my hunk of a husband and enjoying the warmth of his body next to mine, I reach for the cell.
“Morning gorgeous.” I type instead of calling in case he’s still sleeping.
Five minutes later my alarm goes off and I crawl out of bed. This office work is way more exhausting than training five days a week. Sitting behind a desk really kills the way your body works, and I’m left feeling sluggish. I need to work out a way to get some exercise back into my routine.
I don’t have time for that right now, so I plod to the shower to see if that won’t help wash away the grogginess.
When I’m out, I have a message from Kyle. “Morning darling. How are you today?”
I towel my hair as I reply: “Missing you. How about you come visit up here this weekend rather than me coming home? You can get a tour.” It will also be good to not have to spend a couple of hours traveling. I’ll be able to catch up on some of my outstanding job list.
I pad to the kitchenette in the place I’m renting to fill a bowl with some cereal and fruit. The phone rings half way down.
“I thought I’d call. It’s easier.”
It’s not actually as I have to get my backside out of the door, but it’s so lovely to hear his voice, I keep my frustration to myself. “What do you think about this weekend then?”
“I don’t mind. I was looking forward to you filling up our home with your energy, but it’s not an issue. I can come. It will be nice to see what you’ve been doing all week.”
I crunch my granola as I speak. “Sorry, I’m just getting some food. That’s sorted then.”
“You’re up early. I’m still in bed.”
“Yeah, I have a lot to do today.”
“OK... you don’t want to hear what I’m doing in bed then?”
My pants twitch because I know that husky voice. The deep baritone tells me exactly what he’s doing in bed. But I don’t have time. I have to leave in ten minutes to be at the factory in time for my first meeting. I’m already running late.
“I’m sorry, can we put a rain check on that, pick it up again tonight when you’re here? I have to run out of the door.”
There’s a pause before he answers, and I know I’ve unintentionally hurt his feelings. “Sure, that’s fine. I’ll pack some things now and bring the bike up straight from work. See you later, have a great day.” His words are correct, but his tone soft. Softer than it would be if he meant them.
Shit.
I need to do some serious making up tonight.
Elliott
He doesn’t make this easy for me. Kyle is by far the softer heart from the two of us and he turns up with a ruck sack packed to the brim.
“What have you brought with you? You can wear my clothes; you only need a toothbrush.”
“That’s what I figured.” He grins as he plants his bag on the dining table. It’s heavy and I’m surprised the flimsy legs of the rental furniture don’t give way.
“What have you got?” I hustle over to assist him with fiddling with the plastic clasps which open it.
“Wait!” He slaps my hand away.
I let it rest around his shoulders, enjoying his smell. It’s scary how quickly I’ve become accustomed to operating without it following me around.
“Here.” He lifts the lid with a flourish.
Inside his bag are all my favorite foods. He has my special muesli from the health food shop down the road from where we live, the organic wholemeal pasta I eat when I’m training, and even eggs.
“I didn’t want you to start getting fat on all that takeout. You have to stay trim for next season.” Although he’s teasing me, pulling at the non-existent tire around the top of my jeans, he has a point and I love him a little bit more for it. No one has ever done anything so thoughtful for me.
