Page 35 of Send It
Lincoln
In all of my years racing motocross I’ve never heard of the claiming rule. I’ve never witnessed a bike get claimed during a sanctioned event and never once thought that would be something that could happen this close to Nationals.
Jackson’s money really fucked Bane Racing over and it is all my fault. The shop that builds the bikes is located in Colorado and can’t rebuild another one in time. So, unless I’m gonna ride a practice bike, there are no other bikes to race.
After the race at East Bend, Landon Tate loaded Colson’s bike into his trailer and there wasn’t a single thing any of us could do about it. We just watched as it drove away.
I have never seen my dad so pissed off. I think he was seriously considering assaulting a nineteen year old or two. He didn’t, of course, but I could tell he was thinking about it.
We got back from East Bend yesterday and I haven’t seen Colson since. No calls or texts, and he hasn’t been by the house like usual. It’s almost like Reiss questioning him about touching me in the trailer scared him. He didn’t touch me again that entire night.
I cut the ignition off in the parking lot at Willow Hills and stared at the entrance.
I've been seeing Colson’s Nana almost weekly now and we have developed somewhat of a bond.
She is absolutely hilarious. I even walked in on her one day with no pants on, her entire bottom half, butter ball, booty ass naked.
She proceeded to smack her ass and tell me, “If you don’t wanna see my tail then you better turn around, honey. ”
We’ve laughed about that every time I’ve seen her since.
Sometimes we talk about racing or my family.
Sometimes she tells me stories about Colson’s grandpa, who passed away when she was younger, but my favorite thing to do is talk about Colson.
In fact, I think she’s the only human on this planet that knows him as well as I do.
It’s nice knowing that even when his parents didn’t bat an eye at him, Nana did. She loves him more than anything and anyone, and isn’t afraid to tell everyone he’s her favorite.
She’s his too. I know she is.
“Baby Bane, is that you?” she says when I creak the door open and slip inside. She’s sitting in her recliner covered to her neck with a fuzzy blanket decorated with cats.
I chuckle, shutting the door behind me, “It’s me. Did Colson tell you to call me that?”
She shrugs in the chair, a wrinkled smirk taking over her features. “Is that something only he calls you?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And it’s annoying.”
She stares at me pointedly, “It’s better than your nickname for him.”
I sigh, ready to kick one of the chairs out of the way and crawl up underneath her bistro table.
“I don’t really think he’s a dipshit,” I defend. “It’s just something funny I said and it stuck.”
She chuckles, “Well honey, my William was a dipshit, too. It runs in the family.”
I can’t help but laugh at her as I take a seat on the edge of her bed, rubbing my hand over the purple floral quilt.
“Did you make this?” I ask, noticing every little detail and the intricate patchwork.
She shakes her head, “Yes. I’m working on some small quilts for the baby now.”
I stare at her confused, wondering who could possibly be pregnant that she knows. “What baby?”
She stares at me for a long moment and I start to worry that she might be confused or that her dementia is getting worse.
“The one you and Colson will have someday.”
My heart stops and I don’t know what to say.
“How do you know that’s gonna happen?”
She grins mischievously, “How do you know that’s not going happen?”
The way she enunciates the word ‘not’ makes me blush.
“Are you manifesting that, Nana?”
She takes her arms out of her blanket burrito, “Just calling it as I see it.”
“What do you see?”
She waves me off, “These blankets are the least of your worries. First we gotta get your stubborn ass brother on team Colcoln.”
Oh my goodness. She’s been watching too much TV.
“Team Colcoln?”
She shrugs, “Like Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck are Bennifer. You are Colcoln.”
“I think they broke up,” I wince. “So maybe a relationship name smash isn’t the best thing.”
We both move over to the puzzle we started last time I was here and work on it for a little while, and we’re both pretty silent. Enjoying each other’s company but still enjoying the quiet time. Until my phone buzzes on the bedside table and I see Colson’s contact card fill the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” he says. “I wanted to check on you. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” I confirm. “How are you?”
“Better since hearing your voice.”
Butterflies swarm my empty stomach and I swoon over how sweet he talks to me. It’s so out of character for him, but I also love that I’m the only person he talks to like that, other than his Nana.
“Where have you been?” I ask. “I figured you’d come by the house.”
His side of the line goes quiet before he whispers, “I was giving you some space.”
I instantly feel a little defensive, “Did I ask for space?”
“No,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I just?—”
I stop him before he has the chance to self sabotage .
“No,” I snap. “Quit doing that. Stop pushing me away.”
“I’m not,” he defends. “I just don’t know what to do here, Linc.”
I want to yell at him but no words come out.
“I’m just a giant mindfuck for you,” he continues. “I don’t mean to keep doing it, but there’s been a lot happening since the 4 th and I just want you to be okay.”
“Stop pushing me away,” I repeat. “I don’t like it when you ghost me for days.”
“He hasn’t tried to reach out to you or anything, has he?” Colson asks, but I can tell by the tone of his voice he didn’t want to bring it up.
“No,” I say. “What’s the plan for Nationals?”
“I think I’m gonna drop. Tell everyone the truth. It was nice seeing my dad show some interest in me for a change but I think it’s for the best. I really don’t want to see you get hurt.”
His words sting. I can’t allow him to drop, he’s worked too hard to get this far. Plus, we’re almost there.
“You can’t drop, dipshit. I’ll be okay to race. I think I did a pretty good job this weekend.”
“You slayed those guys,” he agrees. “But I don’t know how we are gonna get a race bike ready in time.”
I think, trying to figure out what to do, but then it dawns on me. “Take Reiss’ bike apart. See what kind of parts we need to rebuild one of the practice bikes.”
“That’s a good idea,” he adds. “But what if we can’t get the parts in time?”
“Then I’ll ride whatever I can and hope that it impresses enough for good sponsorships and a factory team spot.”
“I better get started,” he says. “Meet me at the shop in an hour?”
“Ok,” I say as the line goes dead with no goodbye.
“Was that my grandson?” Nana asks. I nod yes and she responds, “He’s always pushing people away. He’ll argue until he’s blue in the face that he’s not.”
“He’s a loner. He doesn’t trust easily and he thinks everyone will leave him. His mom and dad did that to him.”
“They’re getting a divorce,” she says and then her eyes widen like she’s let out a big secret. “Brian’s coming home.”
I sit in my own silence and wonder what this is going to do to Colson.
How it will affect him. He’s legally an adult but I don’t see this not affecting him in some capacity.
It’s bound to stir up everything he’s repressed over the last twenty years of belonging to them.
In true Colson fashion, I’m sure it won’t be graceful.