Page 42 of Send It
Colson
Lincoln
I think we need to take a break. Let’s just focus on training until Nationals.
Colson
Linc....
Lincoln
It’s the best thing. Until we can have a conversation with Reiss and get everything out in the open, I think it’s best if we keep things racing only.
Colson
He’s going to be pissed that I lied to him, I don’t think any of this is going to end well.
Lincoln
He’ll understand why you didn’t tell him but after the way he acted tonight I don’t know if he will be okay with it.
Colson
I don’t know what to do.
Lincoln
What do you want to do?
Colson
I want to come over and kiss you.
The three little dots appear and then disappear several times before vanishing permanently.
Part of me wants to call the whole thing off, tell everyone I’m having surgery in three weeks and say fuck racing all together.
The other, more fucked up part of me wants to do whatever it takes to keep this supercross dream alive.
For my future, for Lincoln, for my dad. I groan, flipping over to his messages.
Dad
I found the other parts you needed. I’m driving to South Carolina to pick one up and the other will be delivered tomorrow.
Colson
Thanks
His interest in my racing career has always been minimal but I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been nice having him show a sliver of interest in it this week. It may not be an interest in me personally but it’s a step.
I walk into the shop and chat with Ryan about the bike and when all the parts are on, I go out and test it out. It runs great and it’s fucking fast, but nothing that Lincoln can’t handle.
“How does it run?” Ryan asks. “Looks like it rips.”
I laugh, “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ gnarly. I can’t believe we got it together in time.”
“We?” he says, his voice going up an octave. “You did that all by yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I think you could’ve placed on one of these bikes without a rebuild but it didn’t hurt anything.”
He’s probably right but honestly, rebuilding the bike was fun. I genuinely liked doing it and the challenge of it was something new. I think it was a nice change from racing. Especially since working on the bike didn’t hurt my leg.
Which still fucking hurts, like all the time, and I can tell it’s getting worse.
The lurking surgery that’s scheduled right after Nationals makes me extremely nervous though.
I had anxiety the first time but nothing like I’m having now.
It seems like the stakes are higher and I am constantly kicking myself in the ass for not taking care of everything after the first go around.
I constantly worry that I won’t be able to walk after it is all said and done.
I had trouble walking after my first surgery but I pushed through the pain and fucked off at physical therapy so I could get right back on the bike. Wanting to do anything I could to contribute to Bane Racing.
I know that Lincoln wants to help me go pro but I’m starting to wonder if my place at Bane Racing might be behind a wrench instead of behind the handlebars. Even though the only future I’ve ever daydreamed about was supercross, and Lincoln and me having kids one day in the future.
For the next two weeks, Lincoln and I barely speak.
A stray text here and there, a few words at the track.
It’s not because we don’t want to but we both know if Reiss finds out before I have the chance to talk to him about the idea of us then it’s going to be a whole lot worse than the blow up in the shop a couple weeks ago.
“Are you almost ready to go?” Dad asks as he throws the last of my things into the trailer. “I grabbed that toolbox out of the shop you wanted.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Is everyone else all set?”
“They’re waiting on us,” he says. “Ryan is riding down with us.”
I limp to the passenger side of the truck and slide in, skipping the offer to drive.
“When can you take that boot off?” Dad asks. “Does it still hurt?”
Shrugging, I pull the seatbelt and buckle myself in. “Yeah. It’s a pretty constant throb at this point. Dr. Marlow says we need to check it again after Nationals are over.”
I don’t really want to lie to him since we are turning over a new leaf in our relationship but if I tell him the truth, I don’t think he’ll pull out of the lot. So a half truth it is.
“Ok,” he says. “Just don’t push yourself too hard. It’s not worth it.”
I stare over at him because he’s never said anything like that to me before.
“Do you miss racing?” I ask, truly wondering if he ever misses the thrill of riding. The fans screaming, the autographs, and the constant traveling, because I’ve never even heard him talk about it.
He shakes his head, “I thought I did for a while. I used to crave being back at the track, the way I felt during those days. But the more I think about it, I don’t think it was racing that I missed.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
His knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel.
“When I would travel with your mom I thought I missed racing. I would think back on those days and wish that I could be back, but never once did I picture myself on a dirtbike. I was picturing myself with you and your mom. Never once did I look back and miss the injuries because it comes with plenty of those, I always just missed the way we were. The family we used to be.”
I feel a sob threatening to escape but I push it down, my voice still cracking when I ask, “What happened to us?”
His shoulders slump, “I don’t know. When I got hurt, it seemed like your mom took it as her excuse to finally do what she wanted.
I felt like I dragged her around for so many years that the least I could do was follow her around for a change.
I just didn’t realize that it meant I was going to abandon my son.
And fuck, Colson, I didn’t see it like that for so long.
You were taken care of, you had everything you needed, but what you really needed was us to be here. And we haven’t been”
I stare out the window, wondering if my mother feels like he does. If she’s ever once thought about missing me.
I don’t ask about my mom. I don’t ask about the divorce or what happens next. I just stare out the window and promise myself that I’ll never make those mistakes with my family.