All He Wanted To Do Was Brood

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Summary: Dale Jr gets a glimpse of the future.

AUTHOR: Shadow
EMAIL: brendansshadow@aol.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Dale Earnhardt Jr., Kelley Elledge. Dale Jr. POV
CATEGORY: Slight Angst
DISCLAIMER: This is the product of an overactive imagination. I do not know any of the characters. I do not own any of the names. I do not have any inside knowledge. I am merely a fan with too much time on her hands.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I don't own R. Dale Earnhardt Jr., Martin Truex, Jr., Karsyn Elledge, or Kelley King Earnhardt Holm Elledge. The rest is just a product of an overactive imagination. I own the thoughts, ideas, and plot. This is 100% fiction. No inside knowledge is claimed or assumed.
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All he wanted to do was brood. He knew that eventually someone would intrude on his misery but he wanted to prolong his suffering for as long as possible. His housemate, Martin, had had the common sense to go to the shop without him. He’d merely left a note on the counter stating that he hoped he felt better later.

He grunted and rolled over on the couch, facing away from any light source. As if he could feel better. Those jerks had managed in a few minutes to take away a seasons worth of work. What if that one word cost him the championship? Could he really die from humiliation?

It all really wouldn’t mean shit then. The five wins at Talladega. The five wins this season. He’d struggled so hard. He’d fought back from so much. That fire in California had taken so much out of him. It was easy to blame everything on his team. But, it was his responsibility to be the leader. As much as he hated to admit it, his uncle and cousin now looked to him for guidance. At one time Tony Jr. and Sr. would have laughed him off and not paid attention to his moods, but since he’d become more mature, he was the team’s leader.

And Martin, the things he had done to him. He’d thrown him into a difficult situation. Driving the number 8 in a Cup race, Martin had performed admirably. He remembered how it had felt for him to step into his father’s car after his dad’s shoulder surgery. True. It had just been for practice laps but the feeling of driving the black number 3. He had felt so powerful. He let a long sigh go through his body. He wondered if it had been that same feeling for Martin.

“I’ll be thirty Sunday,” he pondered, staring at the back of the couch. “Does this mean I’ll be grown-up?” Tony and Jeff had gone through this same crisis in the time he’d known them both. Both, ironically enough, the same year his father had died. That had been a long year.

His phone rang. He made no effort to rise from the couch to answer it. “Dale? It’s Kelley. The phone’s ringing off the hook here. Everyone’s calling in messages of support. The drivers are officially speaking the company line but the consensus is that who ever wins had better win by more than 25 points. Dale, pick up. I’m worried. Martin says you’re not talking and you’re moping on the couch. I’m giving you until tonight to talk to me and then I’m bringing Karsyn. Fair warning. Love ya!!!” She hangs up and the house is silent again.

He can’t help but smile at the mention of his niece’s name. She could cheer him up. She didn’t care that her “Uncle Junior” was a major screwup. She loved him all the same. But for now, he still wanted to wallow in self-pity.

He shivered. The thin t-shirt he had on didn’t give him much comfort from the coolness of the house. He pulled a blanket off the back of the couch that someone and crocheted for him and snuggled into it. Where was he... Yes. Self-pity. He also wanted to know when he would be able to start his own family and stop chasing his father’s ghost. That fiasco with Kourtnie earlier this year just proved that he simply didn’t know women. She had been pretty, funny, and totally unsuited for his life. Perhaps she had just been too young. Perhaps she had just been too interested in what he could do for her. It just didn’t work out. As usual, he had found himself alone and he still didn’t understand how to make a relationship work. Jeff had just laughed at him and said, “Don’t ask me. When I figure out how to cut Brooke loose once-and-for-all, I’ll tell you how to make a relationship work.”

He sighed. Jeff had become a really good friend since his father’s death. He knew that Jeff had been profoundly affected by his father’s loss as well. He would never know what exactly his dad had meant to Jeff but his dad had obviously guided him through some career spots. “I guess it helped that Jeff is Kelley’s age,” he thought to himself. He couldn’t help but feel a little jealous about that relationship between his father and Jeff. Jeff had spent more time with him than he had.

He snuggles deeper into the blanket. Boy, he was getting good at this self-pity thing. Just one day of self-pity and then he would have to face the world again. Put on his best, I-am-what-I-am attitude and joke that the whole thing didn’t mean “shoot” to him. And, die inside as the reporters got a good laugh at his expense. But, and he had to smile at this, he did have five wins. He was half-way to his dad’s total. One ghost almost chased down.

How many ghosts would he have to chase down before he was ready to move on with his life? It was easier when his dad was still around. He could at least actively see him and reach out for his approval. However, now he was gone. He could still swear someone had lifted him out of that car in California. Probably, it was his dad. He didn’t believe in that shit but his dad wouldn’t let him die like that. They both had too much to say to one another in this life. They’d never been close the way he’d needed his dad to be. He just hoped when he had a son it would be different. He drifted off into sleep.

Victory lane 20+ years in the future:

The young red-head sits in the car. He can’t believe what has just happened. His first start in a stock car at Talladega has become his first win. His mom had been there on the starting grid as always. She’d handed him his helmet through the window. “You be good and play nice with your father and uncle.” He couldn’t help but grin at that memory. She had kissed him on the cheek.

His mom had insisted that her son was not going to be sponsored by an alcoholic beverage, so she had heavily lobbied Coca-Cola and had won. He had a tough mom. She had put up with his father for over twenty years. She’d given birth to his children. She’d run off groupies in the early years and had given their family a sense of normalcy in the later years. And, somehow, she always kept his dad balanced.

“Hey, Trey!!!” his mom’s voice.

“Mommy!!” he replies. She hands him a baseball cap and ruffles his wild unruly hair.

“Your dad’s going to be here in a moment. Top five interviews and such. I doubt he’ll say much though,” she laughs, light dancing in her eyes. She laughs harder as she gets moved out of the way by the man in question.

Trey looks up with absolute adoration. “Dad?”

“I’m so proud of you, Trey,” he says reaching into the car to grab his son’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Come on out. Celebrate.”

Trey gets out and balances on the window ledge and does the obligatory body surf into his crew, old-school, just like his dad used to do. Trey is congratulated by all the drivers and by his dad’s friends.
Dale Jarrett, who came down from the booth to do this Victory Lane interview, steps up to the celebrating youth. “So, Trey, how does it feel to become the third generation of Earnhardt’s to make your mark on Talladega?”

“It feels great!!! I’m glad my mom and dad are here to celebrate it with me.”

“See, he gives you top billing,” Dale elbows his wife gently.

“Of course, he does. I gave birth to him. All you did was stick him in a dangerous car.”

“Ah, you love me.”

“That’s my problem. I do love you,” she kisses him.

They get tugged into the interview by their eldest son. “That’s so gross, guys.”

“We love you too, Trey,” fires back his mother.

“I love you Trey,” says Dale, as he pulls him into a bear hug. He can swear that he feels the familiar, yet distant, grasp of his father’s arms wrapping them both into a bear hug. And he feels that after all the championships and wins; he’s finally caught the final ghost.

“Uncle Junior? Uncle Junior?” Karsyn’s small voice intrudes on his consciousness. Dale rolls over and focuses on his niece’s face. He smiles at her. “There you are,” she giggles.

“Hey, Dale, you ready to stop moping?” Kelley asks, sitting on an adjacent recliner.

“Nope,” he grins. “I’m getting really good at self-pity.”

“Not even for pizza?”

“Well, maybe for pizza.”

“We get pizza for dinner,” Karsyn adds.

Dale sits up, stiff from laying on the couch all day. “I guess I could be motivated to get moving for pizza.” His stomach growls. “I think my stomach agrees.” Karsyn collapses into giggles. He reaches over and tickles her.

Kelley can’t help but to think how great he’ll be with children when he finds the right woman. “Well, you ready?”

“Sure, I’ll grab a jacket on the way out the door. On the way, I’ve got to tell you about this dream I had. I saw my wife and my eldest son in it.”

“Really?”

“Yep. And, he’d won his first race at Talladega.”

“I’m starting to become really glad you only go there twice a year.”

They both laugh as they head out to the car with Karsyn leading the way.

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Shadow - brendansshadow@aol.com