A few minutes later, he proved me wrong. Darren came back into the garage, this time helping Greg manage his crutches. He said a few encouraging words to us and talked about how much he wished he could be out on the track that night as well. It was fantastic to see him, and it gave us another boost of excitement and motivation, just like his last visit. This gave me the thought that Greg was now our mascot. The idea made me laugh, but the words never made it out of my mouth. There was no one to share it with, and I had to just keep my head down and keep doing my job. The only acknowledgement I got from Darren all day was one nod in my direction, and I didn’t respond to it. It was easier if I just did what he told me and stayed out of his way.
We loaded everything up into the trucks and headed to the racetrack. Just like last race, there was a tailgate party ahead of time, and Merry had arranged for a special appearance by Greg. I was sure there were plenty of fans who were overloaded with excitement at the idea of being able to meet him and talk about his accident. That felt exploitive, but Greg didn’t mind and even looked forward to being able to reach out to people who enjoyed seeing him race. But that also meant Darren would need to be at the party for longer so he could meet people and sign autographs the way he had before. Rather than going to the party this time, I went straight down to the track and started unloading the trucks. That’s when he finally came to talk to me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darren coming toward me. His body language wasn’t welcoming. He wasn’t holding himself like a man excited to start exploring what it was to be a family. Or even excited just to talk to me. Not that I blamed him. I wasn’t exactly excited to talk to him, either. I hated to think it and wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but I missed him. Talking to him now, though, just seemed like a lead-in to an argument.
“Jane said the lab will have the results soon. She’s going to get in touch with me as soon as they are available, and we can go over them. We should set up a time to talk in a neutral space. Probably without the little one,” he said.
“A neutral space?” I asked. “What the hell does that mean?”
“I just think it would be better if we didn’t meet at your place or mine to discuss the results and what they’ll mean for us moving forward. It would be better for everyone involved, in many different ways, if we meet somewhere that isn’t home turf for either one of us where we can talk openly.”
I totally agreed. The idea of being in either one of our homes wasn’t appealing. Whichever home we ended up in, that person would feel like they had the power and it would feel off-balance and skewed. Choosing somewhere without a particular link to either one of us meant we could have a mature, purposeful, and productive conversation. I just really hoped Darren and I could keep up with our dedication to not get lawyers involved. For several reasons, not the least of which was I simply couldn’t afford one. I had no interest in splashing out a huge amount of money just to have somebody argue about why my daughter should be with me.
“Absolutely. You pick a place and let me know when you want to meet,” I told him.
I wasn’t the biggest fan of sounding like I was completely handing over control to him, but he knew the area better and would be able to find a place perfect for what we needed. He left and I let out a long breath that felt like I’d been holding it the entire time. Turning back to the tent, I joined Greg and Gus and tried to lose myself in work rather than think about what just happened.
As much as I tried not to let it be that way, watching this race was even harder than the last one after Greg crashed. The fear and anxiety were there just like they were before, the trauma of watching Greg hit the track making me worry about Darren. But it was more than that. As I stood there watching him, I could see him getting more aggressive. He pushed his bike to top speed and took tremendous risks moving around other racers. When the got to the front of the pack, he shot ahead of his competitors and took turns far too tightly.
It was all to maintain his position, which I understood was the intention of the race, but it made my heart leap into my throat and I felt sick the entire time. He took a particularly sharp slice across the track and narrowly escaped his bike tire getting clipped by the rider behind him.
“Holy shit,” I blurted out, whipping around so my back was briefly to the track.
It was an impulsive, unprofessional reaction I shouldn’t have let happen, but I couldn’t help it. Around me the rest of the crew was freaking out a little, too, and I hoped they were so wrapped up in the race they didn’t notice how strongly I reacted. But when I glanced back at Gus, he stared at me with knowing eyes. Guilt came over me again. I was thankful for the way Gus was treating me after everything went down, but that didn’t release
