Home, Sweet Home?

103 2 0
                                    

     The sun shined through K.J.'s hospital room window. He looked out at the blue sky and sighed. He was ready to go home, and everyone in the hospital knew it. He was scheduled to be released as soon as his doctor came back in. His parents had gone down to grab themselves something to eat. To pass the time, K.J. turned his TV on.
     He flipped to the SPEED channel out of a force of habit. He stared at Krista Voda, who was just beginning a report. The headline caught K.J.'s attention. "KAHNE WILL NOT COMPETE THIS SUNDAY AT DOVER," it read.
     "It has been confirmed by Hendrick Motor Sports that Kasey Kahne will not be in his car this week at Dover. We have been told that Kahne called Rick Hendrick and informed him that he wouldn't be at the track at all," Krista said. K.J. stared at the TV, this news shocking him. His father had until Wednesday to get to the track!
     "This announcement comes after Kahne and his wife's son was hospitalized after a brutal crash at Rockingham in his Late-Model car. The wreck knocked the younger Kahne unconscious and killed twenty-year-old Eric Roop. Sources close to the family say that K.J. Kahne suffered from a minor concussion and a few cracked ribs after his car became airborne and hit the track and the inside wall, resting on it's roof.
     "At this time, Rick Hendrick has declined to comment about who will be in Kasey Kahne's number five this week. He said he trusts that his driver will return, but his personal life is important at this time. Kasey could not be reached for comment."
     K.J. turned the TV off and stared at the blank screen. He was in absolute shock! "Did I ruin Dad's career too?" he thought. K.J.'s doctor walked into the room, and K.J. shook his mindclear.
--------------------------------------
     "Why didn't you tell me that you weren't going to Dover this weekend?" asked K.J. from the back seat of the shiny Chevy Cobalt.
     "Huh?" asked Kasey, slightly caught off guard. Amira looked at K.J.
     "You've been in the hospital, K.J. Did you think he was going to race?" she asked.
     "He didn't kill anyone. I did."
     "If you say that one more time..." mumbled Kasey.
     "What the fuck do you call it?" asked K.J.
     "Watch your mouth, Kasey!" said Amira, slightly frustrated with the entire conversation. "It was a racing accident. They happen!"
     "RACING ACCIDENTS DON'T KILL PEOPLE!" yelled K.J. He crossed his arms and sat back in the seat. Amira stared at him, fighting tears.
     Kasey's patience ran thin. "K.J., apologize to your mother."
     "What for?"
     "BOY!" yelled Kasey. K.J. looked at his eyes in the rear view mirror. "Apologize. Now."
     "I'm sorry, Mom," he mumbled, looking down at his lap. 
    "K.J., baby, no one blames you for the accident. You have to do something differently to fix yourself. You can't keep blaming yourself," said Amira, looking at her baby in the back seat.
    "I should have done something differently then, Mom. I wasn't even supposed to be testing my passing and draft. Just tire wear and engine build. I wanted to race in the pack. It is my fault."
   Kasey pulled into the driveway of the two story home outside of Richmond, VA. "What are you going to do, K.J.? What is your plan now?" he asked, turning the engine off and looking at his son.
    K.J. looked into his father's blue eyes with his own. His mother stared at him. "I'm going to write my letter to KKR and Farmers Racing. I'm quitting NASCAR." K.J. climbed out of the car and walked into the house. Kasey and Amira stared after him, stunned.
    K.J. went up to his room and prepared his laptop. He looked at himself in the mirror. He saw his blue jeans, being held up by a belt. He had on a KKR shirt, his number on his chest. He looked at his blue eyes, seeing the NASCAR legend in his eyes. He looked at his brown fohawked hair. "You can never race again, K.J. You're a murderer," he said to himself, and he jerked his shirt off, throwing it in the corner. He sat in the middle of his floor, legs folded Indian style. He put his hands over his ears, and he quietly wished he was able to wake up from his nightmare.

The Racing BloodWhere stories live. Discover now