Chapter 3-2
1396 Words
White billowy clouds moved across blue skies. Garrison tried to focus on what was happening outside the window and tried to ignore the doctor who pointed light into each of his pupils. The physician had tried to make small talk earlier by commenting how long he had had been an approved provider for NASCAR.
“Well, everything looks good. But I am concerned about the headaches you’re having. The neck CT scan showed nothing remarkable. As a precaution, you should see a neurologist.”
Garr didn’t say anything. He knew the doctor meant well. But he also knew that even though he was getting checked out at the hospital, this was the speedway’s doctor checking him out, and this doc had the power to recommend Garr’s return to racing or hold back medical clearance. Garrison eyed the bespectacled doctor suspiciously as the physician starting writing his notes on a chart and then fished out a small device to dictate. “If we were back in my office, I’d be using my iPad, but race officials want a paper trail.” The doc studied Garrison for a second. “You qualified for the 400, right?”
Garr nodded. “Yes, sir. I did.”
“Well, if the brain MRI shows nothing and the neurologist says everything is okay, I’m sure you’ll be able to race on July fourth.”
“Thanks.” Garr opened his mouth to speak before the doctor starting dictating, but a knock on the door interrupted them both.
Garr looked at the physician who then spoke. “Come in.”
A familiar head popped in. “Hi! Can we visit now?”
The doctor nodded as Joan and Garr’s dad, Earl, walked in to the edge of the table where Garr perched, only wearing a patient gown. They stepped around his fire suit bundled up in a bag on the floor, which also trapped the smell of smoke from the car fire.
“Everything okay, doc?” asked Earl.
“Yes. We need him to get a brain MRI, which I’m writing up now. And he needs to see a neurologist.”
Earl c****d his head. “Is that necessary?”
The doctor arched an eyebrow, raising his head slightly to peer over his readers. “We have to rule out any sign of possible concussion. It’s better to be safe than sorry. But don’t worry, if everything checks out, he’ll be able to drive the 400.”
Joan hugged Garr and released him. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks. Have you heard from Bob? Is the car drivable?”
Earl shook his head. “We’re going to have to use a different one.”
“Shit.”
“I’ll find out when the MRI can be done, and see if the scheduling nurse has an idea when the neuro can see you.”
Garr watched the physician leave the room. “f**k, that was the car I qualified in!”
Earl crossed his arms. “Can’t change that now. The rule’s the rule. You got to start at the back of the field now.”
They all heard knocking at the door, and before Garr could say anything, Caleb walked in carrying a large paper bag. “Hey, I came soon as I heard.”
Garrison smiled, “Caleb—’’
“How’d you find out?” asked Earl.
Joan held out her hand to stop Earl from saying anything else. “Relax, Dad. I called him.”
“I texted him, too,” said Garrison.
“So you’ll talk, Caleb, to everyone but me?” blurted Earl. Garrison couldn’t tell if the tone was hurt or angry. Maybe it was both.
“This isn’t the time to fight,” said Joan.
Earl crossed his arms. “I wasn’t planning to fight just like—’’
Joan raised her voice. “Dad! Stop!”
“It’s okay. I’ll step out,” whispered Caleb.
“No, I’ll step outside. You guys stay here,” offered Earl.
“I’ll leave the boys to talk and walk about with you. I could do for an afternoon coffee. Meet us in the cafeteria? Garrison’s being discharged so walk down with him, Caleb.”
Garrison didn’t say anything until Joan and Earl left the room. Caleb moved closer and hugged his brother. “Glad you’re okay, man.”
“Thanks. What’s in the paper bag?”
“Clothes. I figured you needed to borrow a fresh shirt and shorts. Joan suggested I stop by your place and get you some clean clothes, but I wanted to come over right away without stopping at New Smyrna, so I just grabbed you some of my clothes.”
Caleb handed the bag to Garrison who peered inside.
“What’s this?” He lifted a pink muscle tank top. “Holy s**t! I’m not wearing this!”
“What about the shorts I brought?”
Garrison took out the blue shorts and eyed them. “These are girl’s shorts.”
“No. They’re male shorts, just a really, really, really short pair, meant to highlight posterior assets.”
“I’m not wearing these: my balls would be hanging out of them!”
Caleb snorted while Garrison threw the clothes at him. “You’re never appreciative of the things I do for you.”
Garrison mouthed the word, “asshole” and then laughed.
“Did you expect anything less?”
“I guess not, little brother. Where have you been, by the way? You’ve been MIA for like two to three weeks.”
“Dad and I, well, I don’t know how to explain it,” said Caleb.
“Joan told me. She said Dad wants Youngblood racing to focus on one driver for marketing and endorsements.”
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” said Caleb as he walked toward the window. “I asked him why, you know. He said he didn’t have to explain himself. That’s when I told him I didn’t want to ever talk to him again.”
“Dramatic much?” Garr laughed.
Caleb turned away from the window and sat next to Garr. “If he never wanted me to race the majors, why would he even let me drive period?”
“I don’t think we ever had a choice, did we? I mean, this is the family business. At least I didn’t have a choice—not like I’d want to do anything else. But you? You shouldn’t have dropped out of college. I know you came back because of Mom.” Garr patted Caleb’s thigh. “I’ll talk to Dad and see if I can talk some sense into him. I don’t know what’s going on lately. I know Joan and he like to keep the business side of things to themselves, but we all need to know why Dad is doing what Dad is doing.”
“You’re the better driver, Garr.” Caleb paused. “If he just came out and said, we’re going with Garrison because he’s the better, I’m fine with that. But to just say, I’m not racing anymore, especially the majors? I’m not ten years old. Dad should just give me the reasons why, not just say, I’m out. I’m done.”
They both sat in silence for a moment before Garrison spoke. “So, what have you been doing lately? Bob says you show up in the shop and check out the cars when Dad’s not there and then leave.”
“I’ve been trying to send out feelers here and there about Formula racing and maybe racing for another team.”
“Does Dad know this?”
Caleb shook his head. “Nope. And don’t tell him either.”
“Joan said you’re dating a new guy?”
“That’s old news. We’ve been dating for more than a little over six months.”
“And you’ve never introduced him to me?” Garrison raised his shoulders and shrugged, and gestured for more information with a wave of his hands. “And?”
“I like him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Sebastian.”
Garrison’s eyebrows arched. “Sebastian?”
“He doesn’t like to use his middle name, Harry.”
“Last name?”
“Rush.”
“Okay. Are we going to do very short answers, now? I’m your brother. You don’t have to be secretive around me.”
Caleb exhaled. “I know.”
“Did I say or do anything to drive this wedge between us?”
“No, it’s not you. It’s just—’’
“I think I know.” Garrison searched for words for a moment. “Remember when we were kids and we said one day we would change the name from Youngblood Racing to Youngblood Brothers?”
“Yeah.”
“I still want that. And I’m sorry if I ever acted like I wanted to be the one in the spotlight or whatever because I never intended that. I never wanted that. I know that is what Dad is doing, and Joan to some extent.” Garrison waited for Caleb to say something but when he didn’t hear anything he faced Caleb and saw Caleb wipe a tear just in time.
“Oh, don’t get weepy on me now.”
“Shut the f**k up,” whispered Caleb, who smiled and hugged his brother. Caleb then stood and removed his T-shirt. “Here, wear my shirt, and I’ll wear the tank top. But you’re wearing the shorts I brought.”
“I’m not wearing those shorts. I’ll walk out in this patient gown if I have to.”
“Fine,” said Caleb, taking off his shorts. He stood only in his boxers as he pulled the flimsy pink tank top over his head and slimmed it down his torso. Meanwhile, Garrison grabbed the shorts that Caleb took off and put it on, and put on the shirt that Caleb removed. “Alrighty. I’m ready.”
Garrison looked at his little brother, dressed in the tightest brief-like shorts he’d ever seen on a guy and the form-fitting, clingy tank top that showed off Caleb’s chest and biceps. “Holy s**t! You’re going to the cafeteria in that?”
“Why not? I work out a lot to get these quads, chest, and biceps.”
Garrison laughed. “You are going to cause a little scene, aren’t you? I tell you what, you should never change, Caleb Youngblood.”
“Who said I was?”
“Well, let me grab this patient gown just in case we have to cover any bits.” Garrison threw his arm over Caleb as they walked out of the room. “Don’t ever change,” he repeated in a whisper as they stepped out into the hallway.
Caleb chuckled. “I can’t wait to see what Dad says.”
- Writer
