Lonely Soul

Home : Stories by Catw00man/Stories by Zippit : Bittersweet Miracles : Lonely Soul

Summary: He’s alone in the night where the hurt runs like a river current.

AUTHOR: Catw00man & Zippit
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com & zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
SERIES: Bittersweet Miracles
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon, Dale Earnhardt Jr, Alternating POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #100 - Pick a Previous Prompt (Father’s Day) - Zippit
COMPLETED: June 23, 2008
WORD COUNT: 4,627
DISCLAIMER: We own NOTHING and are affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Cat: The blinders are off and it just breaks my heart.
AUTHOR'S NOTE - Zippit: This muse is a weird one, but damn is it worth the wait.
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Whisky River, Dirty Mo’ Acres - Mooresville, North Carolina - February 18th, 2008

I guess having a baby really does change you in a fundamental way.

I know it has Kevin.

Apparently it has Junior too.

There are a few people I’d expect to hear from this late, but I have to admit Bowyer wasn’t one of them.  I had a feeling when my cell rang, and I went rushing for it to make sure Ella didn’t wake up, that it wasn’t going to be good.  No one calls at this hour to just chat.  Not anymore.  But I didn’t expect the story he told me.  I knew there was concern over Johnny’s eyes but I had no idea they’d have to do what they did.  I figured Harvick would be the one having the meltdown but according to Clint, Dale’s the one who seems to be falling apart.

I’ve tried to talk to him a few times, tried to corner him at the shop, but he’s always been too busy to chat.  The only times I’ve really run across him have been the little get togethers he’s thrown to keep Kevin distracted, but I wonder with all his time spent looking after the Harvicks, who’s looking after him?  Well apparently Bowyer is and now so am I.  I’m just glad Ingrid and I are close enough now to help.

Head down the dark, unfamiliar private road and turn on my brights as I try to remember the directions Kelley gave me when I didn’t find Junior at the house.  She didn’t seem exactly thrilled when I called her either time tonight, first for the passkey for the gate and then for directions down to “Whisky River.”  But I think her irritation has more to do with her brother than with me.  It’s no secret she’s not been thrilled about June’s choices lately and I’m not really sure where I come down on that score.  I do know I won’t oppose him on something that obviously means so much to him.  But I’m also not an iron willed Earnhardt concerned about my baby brother either.  I just hope they find a way to work it out because everyone knows how much he needs her.

Lean forward when my lights flash off something and I squint to get a better look.  I’ve never been down to Junior’s western oasis before, but I swear I just passed a wagon wheel.  Slow to a crawl as I come over a hill and then down below me I finally see it and I have to hit the brakes.  Blink and shake my head as a slow smile spreads over my face when I see a whole damn town, just like we’ve all heard about.  See the “town sign” and pull up a little farther before cutting off my lights and pulling to the side.  I get the feeling cars aren’t exactly welcome here so I’ll walk the rest of the way in.  Somehow it just seems right.

Turn off the engine and then climb out my Tahoe, feet hitting a dirt and gravel path that leads into “town.”  Kelley said if he wasn’t at the house this is where he always used to go…before KHI and Kernersville.  Since Clint already assured me he wasn’t there I guess he must be here, or at least I hope he is.  I felt a little strange at first, invading his privacy and his home, but after hearing the worry in Clint’s voice I couldn’t say no.  He’s really concerned and was convinced Kelley wouldn’t trust him with the code to get in even if he did drive all the way back.  I just hope that I can help somehow.

My feet crunch on the gravel as I walk through the middle of the old western buildings and I really can’t believe my eyes.  Oh, I’ve been told about this place.  I did have some clue what to expect…but how can anyone really be prepared for all of this?  Everything Junior does he does all out and this is just one more example of it.  No one should really be too surprised at all he’s done for Kevin and his little ones, full bore is the way Junior does everything so of course he’s going to run himself ragged over them. 

Look over the building and now I have to decide where to search first.  Scan the row of old but new buildings and my eyes land on the hotel and the saloon.  I have a feeling he could be taking refuge in either one…but were it me, I think I’d be opting for the alcohol if he’s as unraveled as Clint seems to think.  Decision made I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and head for the swinging doors, the cool night air still with a trace of a chill in it.

Walk into the dimly lit saloon and it really is a saloon.  There’s a full length bar, tables, a pool table and…piano music?  Spin around, searching for the source and shake my head when I finally spot the player piano, keys moving of their own accord as some old ragtime music plays.  Only Junior would go this authentic.  It makes me wonder if the beer is kept in some box with a huge block of ice, but when I move around the bar I see the modern conveniences cleverly hidden among the dated surroundings.  Pull out two long necks, figuring he could do with another whenever I find him then start to search the bar. 

It’s immediately evident he’s nowhere in the main bar but with the piano going he can’t be far.  Search around until I find some stairs leading to a second floor and climb up the dark, squeaking boards which are the only sound I hear besides the muted melody of the piano.  Look over the small area above the bar and I know instantly there’s only one place I’d want to be.  Move around the top railing of the stairs and head over to the open door and out onto the balcony.

Wrap my coat a little tighter around me when I catch more of a breeze than before and once I get outside I finally see him.  Shoulders slump a little as I run my eyes over him and Clint was right to call someone; I just hope he was right to call me.  Junior has so many friends that would do anything for him, so many people in that inner circle of his I don’t know that I’m the right one for this.  Hell with as much time as he’s been spending with Clint he might be a better choice.  But they aren’t here.  I am, and I have to try and help.

Take a deep breath as I look him over, knees bent, arms wrapped loosely around them with his head resting against his knees and I wonder if he’s even awake.  He’s got a bucket of ice that I’m sure held the empty bottles to his right.  It’s a heartbreaking picture, even if I didn’t know him, but I do and I haven’t felt this kind of despair from him in a long time.  Maybe I am the right one for this because I just remembered what day it is.  There’s a lot more going on here than Bowyer even has a clue about.  Grit my teeth for a moment as I ponder my next move and for some reason the words just come.

“Junebug…are you ok?”

~*~*~*~

My head jerks up and I breathe, “Daddy?” What’s he doing here? He normally doesn’t have time for me outside of the track. Rub my eyes and blink as I duck my head while reaching for the beer bottles scattered beside me, and…it’s not Daddy. Of course not, there ain’t no burr in his voice, no low growl that sounds like home. No, glance up and it’s…Jeff? Where’s Daddy? Freeze with my hand around a bottle when I remember its seven years past the last time I saw Daddy and this ain’t my old pad just across the street from DEI. It’s Whisky River on Dirty Mo’ Acres. Swallow before I glance up at him again and he wordlessly offers me one of the two beers in his hands. Twist the cap off and take a sip as he sits down across from me, his back against the railing with his legs stretched out in front of him.

Why is he here? How is he here? Who the hell called him? How’d he get in? What the fuck? Who gave him the damn code? Roll the beer between my fingers and wait for him to say something cause I ain’t in the mood to deal with this now. Shift back until I feel the reassuring press of wood through my shirt and gaze over his shoulder into the darkness. Not even any lights on out here. No need to waste the energy for this place unless people are actually using it. Josh might’ve rigged something up in the church doorway and I turn my head to look that way. There might be a glimmer of something or it might be the drunk haze over my eyes. Sip from my beer and try not to pay attention to Jeff. There’s enough going through my head and I don’t need his silent scrutiny.

“Junior...?” He asks and I take him in, huddling into his jacket as he sits out here with me. For the first time I realize it’s cold when I look over again at him in his jacket while I’m out here in just my sweatshirt. Must be the alcohol warming my blood. Doesn’t he have a family he should be with now?

Rub my thumb over the neck of the beer bottle and murmur, “Ain’t you got some place better to be?” Some place that ain’t here reminding me of the friendship he had with my dad that I wish I’d had. It wasn’t like I didn’t know he cared, but it wasn’t the same side of him I saw that so many others did see.

“Could say the same about you.” Arch an eyebrow at him because what’s he talking about? Stretch out my legs because they’ve lost feeling, rubbing my hand over my thigh because I’d rather not have to limp down the stairs later.

“What’re you on about?” I didn’t miss any media appearances or anything. It’s Monday ain’t it? The only place I need to be is wherever I want to be.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone…not today.”

“You’re here now ain’t you? How’d you get in anyway? Didn’t think I left the gate open.”

“Kelley.” Wince at his words because that’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to having cause I’m sure I’m gonna hear loads about it. 

“There’s plenty of people that care about you Junior. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Head snaps up and what the hell is he talking about? There ain’t no one that can help me grieve and there sure as hell shouldn’t be anyone fucking thinkin’ they can either. Open my mouth to cut through his bullshit when his next words stop me cold.

 “…when did you remember?” He continues on softly and I don’t want to think about that. I don’t want to think about anything at all, but the memories I do have.  Not the memories he should’ve been a part. Look away into the darkness as he continues, “Seven years is a --.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s okay to forget.”

“No it ain’t! He deserves better than that especially from his own damn son!” Chuck the half empty beer over the railing right over Jeff’s head and watch him flinch in the moonlight. I hear the beer sloshing out as it tumbles through the air before crackling apart once it hits the ground. Curse when I realize I’m gonna need to pick up the pieces later to make sure some drunk idiot doesn’t stumble onto the glass and injure themselves. Drag a hand over my face then run it through my hair.

“Dale….”

“Don’t call me that!” I snap back and drag in a gulp of air. Shit, jagged edges and splintered insides, I wonder when I became just like that bottle down below. Mutter “sorry” and damnit, that was the last beer. Flick my gaze between the bucket now full of empty beer bottles and the railing. Don’t do it, Earnhardt. Don’t make it worse.

“Junior, talk to me.”

“Why Jeff?! WHY! You’re right, it’s been seven damn years. It shouldn’t sucker punch me out of nowhere when I’m watching Kev take care of his babies and know that he’s gonna be the kind of father I never had! I’m not supposed to think those thoughts, I’m not supposed to want more than what I had especially not on the damn day he died!” Shit, shit, this ain’t happening. I ain’t doing this with Jeff of all people. This just ain’t. Shove up and get to my feet saying, “You want another beer? Cause I need one.”  Press one hand against the wood and turn toward the door only to sag woozily against the doorframe.

“Take it easy. I can go get us some more. “ Feel Jeff’s hands on my arms as he lowers me back to the  ground and I don’t protest. I’m drunker than I thought and fuck it, if we’re gonna do this, I’m gonna do this as drunk as I can be. That way I won’t have to remember in the morning. Settle back into the spot I’d warmed up and stare out through the rails while the expected footsteps never fade away. Glance up and he’s just watching me, nudging my shoulder with the unopened beer in his hand. “Nice try. You’re almost as good at that as your dad was.”

I take the beer and take a sip quickly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and ask, “Good at what?” as he sits down beside me. He’s a solid presence beside me, almost like he’s holding me up. Watch his hands brush at the leg he’s pulled up, the other stretched out before him.

“At the subtle manipulation. Must be an Earnhardt trait.”

I can hear the smile in his voice and I think he might be right. Kelley’s got it in spades, she just wishes it’d work on me more. Fellow Earnhardts must be immune. I tilt my head back against the worn wood before murmuring, “Why’re you here? I ain’t need looking after.”

“Seven years, can you really believe it’s that long? Things still don’t feel completely right.”

Close my eyes and let out a slow breath. Does he really have to do this? “He was a damn horrible father, Jeff, but he was my father. You saw what it was like. How’s a man get like that? How do you abandon….” Trail off because I can’t say it. I don’t want to say it. He was my hero, still is. There ain’t no one else like him, but watching Kev today…. Clench my hand hard around the bottle and feel like I’m being strung tight as a sail in the wind off the lake.

Nudge against my shoulder from Jeff and look over at him. “You really are your father’s son.” He really does confuse me at times and it’s a moment before he continues, “So talk to me like he did.”

“What?” Me and Jeff, we don’t talk about things like this. It’s not…it’s not how our relationship goes. He’s a good friend, always has been, but this type of talk ain’t us. “Ain’t nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit. You were ready to take my head off a few moments ago. That doesn’t just disappear.”

He’s right it doesn’t. “Why the hell do you think you have the right to come bargin’ in here and figurin’ you can get me talking to you of all people?”

“Because I know you. I’ve known you for a long time.” The fucking calm in his voice isn’t what I need right now. Right now I need him to go away and I need a couple more beers to pretend this day doesn’t exist.

“What’s there to fucking talk about, Jeff? So what if I resent him for not being the dad I know Kev will be with those babies of his? It ain’t matter. I’m not gonna repeat his mistakes. I’m gonna be just the same as Kev when I have babies of my own.” Close my eyes because babies of my own? That’s gonna be a fucking pipe dream.

“Babies are adorable, aren’t they?” And I know he’s gotta be thinking of Ella and Ingrid. It’s not fair, he lucked out finding a beautiful wife and now they have Ella. Suck in a breath when something twists in my stomach.

“It ain’t fair…. It fucking ain’t fair,” I whisper. “He didn’t know Karsyn long enough. He didn’t know Kennedy at all and he’s never gonna know my babies either. He knew Kerry’s. It ain’t fair, Jeff. It fucking ain’t fair.” Gulp down a few sips of beer and I can’t stop talking. “I’da been a good father you know? He would’ve been a cool grandpa.” Grow quiet and tap my foot against the wooden railing and listen to the faint strains of the player piano singing into the lonely night.

“It’s not, Junior, it’s really not.” He lets the silence crowd in on us. We sit there and open the box to shared pain on this one night a year when it’s okay to be selfish. It helps a little that it’s Jeff and not someone else, but then it’s Jeff. Shouldn’t I be married by now? Maybe even with a kid?

“I thought you already had babies.”

I shove at his leg and finally think he’s gone crazy. “I haven’t got any kids, Jeff. Do you see a wife around here anyplace? Cause that’s what I’d need first before I have any kids.”

“Lana and Johnny seem to be your babies.”

Blurt out, “You actually know their names?” Then I remember he’s the one who’s made it as easy as it is for Kev and the kits even if he hasn’t been around much. I’d assume it’s cause he doesn’t want to be reminded too much of what could’ve happened to him and Ingrid.

Soft chuckle from him and he leans his shoulder against mine. “Being drunk makes you forgetful and yeah, I know them. I’m not afraid of calling them by name either.”

“They’re not mine. You know that. I ain’t trying to take her place either.” Rub the back of my neck and gaze up at the stars shining up above. Is he up there watching us all? Does he miss us like we miss him? I just want to see him again when my time’s up. “I think you might know best why I’m doing what I’m doing,” I say softly. “Kelley, she doesn’t get it. She got to stay home, be with Momma and Memaw and everyone. She didn’t have to face the questions week in and week out, the tributes, the reporters going on and on about him. I swear watching Kev is like having a mirror held up. It ain’t the same, but it’s the same. It’s like watching me, Jeff.” Rub my palm along my thigh, feeling the heat of friction warm my leg and my hand, while I grasp for the right words. I haven’t explained myself to anyone because it’s personal. “It’s stupid and nowhere near the same really, but fuck, I’m not letting someone else go through what I did.”

Kev’s refuge is in those babies and I’m not gonna have him distracted by stupid things like sponsors and paperwork and whatever other shit he might have to deal with. I’ll do it. I’ll do it all until those babies are out of the woods. Bite my lip and drag my heel against the wood planking before the words start tumbling out of me. “I hate it. I hate it. He got to know him. Kev fucking got to know him however brief. I was his damn son and I never did. It took me till I was 25 and then Kev walks right in and he’s Daddy’s new favorite best friend.”

Close my eyes and ignore the tightness in my chest, the thick wedge of despair lodging in my throat. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this out of control, this on the brink. Suck in a breath and look to the left, away from Jeff, just away. Whisper soft, “I hate him for leaving and I envy the kits. They’ll never know their Momma, but they’ll know her from everything Kev will tell them. I barely even got that. Teresa and I, we ain’t…we ain’t never been family unless he was around. He’ll never know me…and that kills me the most. I can’t ask him. I can’t do so much. I never raced him. I never beat him. He never saw me win a Cup championship.”

Blink rapidly to stop the wetness from going anywhere and rub my hand roughly over my eyes. It ain’t fair. This day and several others they hurt the most. Father’s day, Daddy’s birthday, and Christmas all drive home the fact he’s no longer here when he should be. He was tough, we all expected him to walk away from it, but you can’t walk away from a broken neck. You can’t walk away from the pain either. Only shove it away and take it out when you can stand it. Don’t mean it can’t be triggered but it’s manageable.

~*~*~*~

The silence stretches out between us and I let it because right now there really is nothing else to say.  He’s right, I do understand everything he’s saying but more than that I know it just needed to be said.  He doesn’t need me to sit here and pick it apart and analyze him.  He needed to let it go, to vent if only for a night, but it doesn’t change anything.  No amount of words or alcohol can do that.  But if it can help him get through tomorrow and the next day and the next…that’s all that really matters.

Lean back against the wall, my shoulder still pressed against Dale’s and stare at the platinum band on my finger reflecting in the moonlight.  Drum my fingers a few times on my knee then let them dangle, my wrist resting on my bent knee.  I wasn’t ready to lose Dale anymore than Junior was, but more than that I wasn’t ready to be thrust forward as some kind of NASCAR heir due to a bunch of statistics on some piece of paper.  The world turned on its head that day and I don’t think either Junior or I have ever really caught up.

It’s no mistake that neither of us really speak out a lot.  I think part of it is both of us still don’t feel like we’ve really earned that right because…neither of us are him.  And we never will be.  That’s the catch 22.  It doesn’t matter that I have more wins or that Junior’s moved on from his daddy’s company and into his own future.  We’re still not him and I think both of us will always be looking for that over shadowing guidance that will never come again.  That eats at you, and I just hope he’s finally starting to realize…I do understand, even if we never talk about it.

Glance over at him and easily read the hard line of his tight jaw and hawk like eyes as he stares off into the distance to some destination unknown.  Some people might misunderstand that hard, unyielding look.  But not me.  I know that’s anguish in its purest form and I wish not for the first time that I could do something to alleviate it just a little bit.  But that’s not happening in this lifetime, at least not by me.  Reach up with my hand nearest him and give his shoulder a tight squeeze that finally gets him to look at me and I lock his shining blue gaze with my own.

And I don’t even have to say a word.

He sees it.  He knows.  I can’t make his pain go away but I can tell him without words that he’s not alone.  Not about this pain that he carries so tight against his heart.  And not about the road to come.  He may not be saying the words but everyone in the garage knows about the papers they signed in Daytona.  Everyone’s heard about the bears he’s collecting and we’ve seen the journal he updates tirelessly.  They may be Kevin’s words but, at least in my eyes, there’s no doubt they were lovingly typed each and every day by him.

I don’t presume to know or understand what’s going on between them.  I really don’t care.  But on some level I know he loves them, that he loves those two tiny babies as if they were his own.  You can see it in his eyes when he shows them off on his phone.  You can hear it in the pride in his voice when he talks about their latest accomplishment or milestone.  Heck, you can even see it in the bracelet he wears on the rare occasion he doesn’t have it hidden away.  I never asked about it but during a poker game one time I got a good enough look at the pendant to try and figure out what it was. 

I thought I’d have to spend a few hours on the internet to figure out what the charm meant.  But all I had to do was describe it to Ingrid and she knew.  I still remember the way her eyes misted when she told me it was for Saint Nick, the patron saint of children.  That’s when I really understood the depth of his devotion.  That’s when I started seeing something very, very familiar in his eyes.  He can say whatever he wants about not having kids but I’d swear on a stack of bibles he already has two.  At least in his heart he does.  I just wonder if Kevin has any idea how much he really has.  He may have lost DeLana, but I don’t think he’s ever going to be alone.

Slouch down a little more against the wall as I release his shoulder with another squeeze and I feel him lean ever so slightly against me.  Good.  He’s not fighting anymore.  I know part of it has got to be from exhaustion, but I’m hoping it’s more than that.  No, I know it is.  And I’ll spend the rest of the night sitting here with him to make sure he knows it.  He’s not alone.  Not as long as I’m around.

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Catw00man & Zippit - catw00man@cryptoffic.com & zippit@cryptoffic.com