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I get back to the RV and take one of the migraine rescue meds the neurologist prescribed and decide to lay down. I’ll just tell them I was tired. No one needs to know...
***
Sunday - August 20
The national anthem blared through the speakers as I waited impatiently for the race to start. I wanted to get this race over and down with it. The headaches were back, and the added stress from Bud’s firing was enough to set anyone off.
Saint is standing to my right, Elle to my left. “You ready?” Saint asks, and I nod. “You can do this. I have faith that you’ll be fine.”
“I know,” I reply curtly.
“What is going on with you?” he asks. I shake my head. I’m not in the mood for any of this today.
“I’m fine,” I remark coldly.
“No, you’re not. You haven’t talked to anyone in two days,” Saint attempts to engage me.
I turn to look at him as the anthem finishes. “I told you, I am fine. Can we please just race?”
He holds his hands up. “I’m not going to do this with you today. Make sure your head is in the race.”
“Yes, Captain,” I snark back as Saint heads for the pit box, and Mac hands me my helmet.
“What’s up, Haisley?” Mac asks trying to be cheerful.
“Oh, you know. An overprotective guy I'm seeing, which I can’t admit to seeing, and my overprotective cousin, and I’m ready for a few drinks and to be headed home,” I answer jumping into the car and securing my harness.
“They just care about you, and the last two weeks have been pretty shitty,” he offers as I roll my eyes at him. “Have a good race.”
I’m thankful that at least he gets the signal that I don’t want to talk about anything. I fire up the car, and the radio checks start.
“Roger,” I radio back when asked if I can hear. I hear fine, just don’t want to be here.
“Okay, Haisley, you’ve got a great starting position in tenth. Keep your rhythm and hit your marks,” Saint instructs as I acknowledge him.
“10-4,” I respond as I blink my eyes a few times throughout the caution laps. I like the road courses more than ovals because they require a different strategy and are trickier, but I was thankful for the oval today. Thankful for the repetitive circling motion. I warm up the tires as we line up for the opening command.
The green flag waves, and the roar of the throttles opening up fill the air—fill my ears. I focus on the track, on hitting my marks. Eric is on the com telling me where the other drivers are, but all I hear is noise. The words aren’t registering today, and I’m unsure why.
“Haisley? Haisley, respond,” Saint’s voice breaks through the spacing out.
“I’m here,” I answer as I blink my eyes again. There’s a slight dull ache above my eyes.
“Pit the next lap, please,” he instructs.
“Roger that.” I focus on the track and realize I’m entering turn three. I bring the car to the bottom of the track in anticipation of pulling off on to pit road. I initiate the pit road button, and the car slows down. Braking into the pit stall, the crew jumps into action, tire changes and fuel. I reset my fuel gauge and pull out of the box as Saint gives the command.
“Haisley, I need you focused out there. We’re halfway through the race, green flag stops will start to come through leaving you top five,” Saint radios into my ear.
“Copy that.” I have a little more focus than before. The dull ache is subsiding for the time being.
I continue to hit my marks, pushing the car on the straightaways. Lap after lap, I maintain good position. We slip from fourth to fifth, but I gain the spot back during the caution restart.
“Haisley, there’s a car half back on your inside,” Eric relays as I look in my mirror. I see the car and push the throttle harder. We dive into the corner, and I hold him off gaining space as I accelerate.
“That’s a girl!” Saint yells into the radio. I smile, feeling better about the whole situation—well, at this moment that is.
We continue to hold of the cars pressing behind me as we enter the final five laps. I’m close on fuel and starting to lose grip in the rear tires. “I’m loose in the turns,” I announce.
