Reach for the Sky

The ride to Jeremy’s house from LAX seemed longer than the drive from Renner’s to LAX, which was inconceivable because where Ronnie lived in Fallbrook was past where almost all of the Mulisha boys lived in Temecula. On the way to LAX I had learned that Oakley’s flight would land maybe an hour after Jolene’s did - Travis and I decided to wait around for him, which may not have been our best decision as a couple to date. Waiting around in an airport with an enormous, black dog who was coming down off of tranquilizer meds was not an experience I would ever want to repeat; Achilles demanded a place to “toilet,” and I could not deliver in time, so my usually well-mannered and well-trained Newfoundland mix had decided the middle of LAX was a fantastic place to potty.

At least I hadn’t had to pick it up, that was what I had Travis for.

Thankfully, Jeremy and his wife Susan welcomed the four of us with open arms; and also thankfully, Jolene and Oakley didn’t mind sharing a room, even though their relationship had grown quite strange and awkward in Oakley’s week-long absence.

“Aww, who’s the cutie?” I asked, descending the staircase from the rooms Susan had stashed us in. She claimed that nobody used the upstairs portion of the house because the master bedroom was on the first floor, and their young daughter wasn’t to be left alone with an entire wing of the house. Apparently, the little blond angel coloring at the table with her feet dangling a foot above the white carpet was something of a hassle.

“Scottie, meet my daughter Katrina. Kat, say hi.” The little girl regarded me with a hard look, and retuned to her coloring without so much as a grunt. I lifted an eyebrow, but Achilles butted his head against my calf, begging for the run I had promised him.

“Hi Katrina… Jeremy, is there a place I can take Achi running? He needs to work out some energy.” And it wouldn’t hurt me to do the same.

Stenberg informed me of a dirt road, and after a brief stretch in the driveway, I hung my t-shirt on one of the mirrors of Renner’s dark blue F-350 and set off down the pavement. The dog stayed close to my heels until we reached the dirt path and I released him from the heel command. He wouldn’t stray very far ahead, he had learned from a very young age that leaving mommy’s sight for an extended period of time bore strict consequences - a confusing lesson when I began racing, because it was very difficult to stay in mommy’s line of sight when mommy was atop a screaming twisted heap of metal blazing through the woods in third or fourth gear while trying not to be hit by other people atop similar machines. I still felt bad for the loveable oaf.

After about half an hour of running, I awoke to Achilles’ slobbery tongue running over my face. I managed to push him away while I lay flat on my back, panting as heavily as my dog was.

“Two good runs in one day, not bad boy,” I spoke when I finally managed to get to my feet; Achilles followed as I turned around and began to limp back toward the house - some angry, pointy rock had gotten a good shot in at my hip somehow, and the point of impact hurt like a bitch.

In the distance, I saw the beginnings of a dust cloud, and called Achilles to my heel lest some crazed redneck think he was a deer and decide they could hit him with their vehicle and take him home for dinner. It took a little while, but I soon found that it was Travis’s head sticking out of the driver’s side window, not that of a crazed redneck (well, close). The borrowed truck came to a stop by me, and Travis rolled down the passenger’s side window.

“Scottie. Running again?” I sighed, and kept walking toward the house, not in the mood for a lecture. Achilles, however, was more than happy to accept a ride and hopped onto the open tailgate before Travis put the truck in reverse. He was determined.

“Hey! Did you pass out again?” Reluctantly, I nodded, walking with my hands on my sides in an attempt to reduce the pain in my ribs. “Scottie Ryan Finnegan, get in this truck!” I shot him a glare as he complained at me, informing me that I needed to take better care of myself before I ended up getting hurt. That made me angry, and I broke into a run.

Behind me, I heard the truck thunk into park and then shut off before the door slammed shut as Travis followed me. Normally, I was much faster than he was, but in my current condition he easily overtook me. His arms around my waist forced me to a stop.

“Travis, let me go!” It wasn’t a scream, but somewhere between a shout and a shrill squeal.

“I will not! You can’t take this out on yourself Scottie, it wasn’t your fault! You can’t hurt yourself for something that wasn’t your fault!” Forcibly, I spun my way from beneath his strong arms, facing him angrily.

“Nothing could hurt worse than this, Travis. Nothing. You can’t possibly understand.”

“But I do. God Scottie, do I ever. Please just sit down for a minute, then you can run all you want.”

I studied his face for a moment from where I stood, just out of the reach of his outstretched arms, and after that moment I plodded to sit on the edge of the tailgate. Getting up onto the jacked-up truck was difficult enough, but sitting for so long made me twitch. Tommy was dead, and I wasn’t with Sharon, I wasn’t even doing anything in remembrance of him. It wasn’t something I could explain, but somehow I felt that I should have stopped my entire life to mourn the loss; it struck me very suddenly that what I was trying to do wasn’t what Tommy would have wanted - but then again, I had always thought the whole “it was what the deceased would have wanted” was just a bastard excuse to do whatever one wanted.

Travis stood beside me, in his motocross pants, white boots and no shirt, tentatively placing a hand on my knee like I was a rattlesnake that could attack him at any moment.

“Trust me Scottie, I know how you feel.”

“How could you?” I instantly regretted snapping at him, but Travis simply dug his cell phone out of his pants - where he was keeping it, I daren’t have asked - and began to flip through his contacts. After a moment, he placed his phone against his ear, the hand that had been on my knee now clutching it with white knuckles. When the line picked up, Travis quickly put the phone on speaker so I could hear the person on the other line.

“Hey Matt, it’s Travis.”

“Oh, hey man. What’s up?”

“I was just calling to see how you were doing, haven’t heard from you in a while.” His grip tightened around my kneecap, which began to throb in pain. I managed to transfer his hand from my knee to my own hand.

“Oh, well, I’m actually in the car with my mom, we’re on the way to the doctors again - this time I get the catheter taken out!” The guy on the line sounded really excited, and Travis mirrored it.

“That’s great, man! You’ll be able to pee on your own then, right?”

“Yeah dude, I’m so excited! I’ve had to carry around this embarrassing bag for so long now,” The guy paused, as someone near him said something. “Mom says hello, and that I should tell you about my physical therapy. I actually took a few steps yesterday, and I meant to call you!” The conversation didn’t change much, but from what I gathered, Matt was a paraplegic, but his condition was rapidly improving and it didn’t look like he would have to carry the title for much longer.

“Well, it’s great to talk to you, Matt. Don’t forget to call me next time you do something groundbreaking!” Travis had taken the phone off speaker after a while, and had walked some ten feet away from me, but I could still hear most of his conversation. “Oh yeah? You think? Well, I’ll introduce her to you when we get back in town.” A pause, a chuckle. “Alright man, good luck with your doctor’s appointment. Yeah, definitely. Bye.” Travis closed the phone on his side, lips pursed and his eyes screwed up.

“So is there a reason you decided to call paralyzed Matt right now?” Too harsh, especially when Travis seemed to be on the edge of tears. Trying to redeem myself, I reached out for him, pulling his head into my chest.

“I’m sorry Travis, I -”

“About three years ago, some of my friends came over late one night. I asked if any of them wanted to go for a ride. Matt was the one who got in the car with me.”

“Oh, Trav -”

“I paralyzed him, Scottie. He might never walk again because of me.” After a moment with his head buried in my shoulder in order to compose himself, Travis moved his hands from my hips to wrap his arms around my waist. “Will you please come home with me?”

How could I have said no?