Fallacies of Fidelity

After I inspected my Camaro several times, I had finally gotten rid of all the wired bugs in my car. It was a few days later before Rex even let Alec and I back in his shop. Apparently, this wasn't the first time he was wired. Well it wasn't my first time either, but it was the first time it had taken place on American soil. My Camaro came home with me because I didn't trust it being anywhere else besides near me. This stupid incident made me wary of going to Rex's shop.

It's been a week since the last race and I knew that I should go to the race scheduled for tonight but I just couldn't. I was afraid someone would do something worse to the Camaro, so my baby and I would have a girls night alone. I had told Rex my plans; he didn't seem pleased, but he understood. Alec on the other hand, he had been ignoring my attempts to contact him. Just when we had made some progress last week, we land in the same predicament with the roles reversed.

I guess I can't blame him. Every time it seems like I've shared everything with him, a new secret emerges. If I were Alec, I would be frustrated too. I tried so hard to forget what happened while I was gone all those years but you can't out race your past. I hate that there's so many things I haven't shared, but some things were better off kept secret.

I sent Alec another text as I started heading out of my room. I was going to head down to the garage, but I noticed Mila's door cracked open with the light on. She was supposed to be meeting with Nick. I made my way to her bedroom. Alec had halfheartedly told me what had happened between his brother and my sister. I felt like I was supposed to be more upset that our siblings were dating, but I wasn't. Although, I was upset about what he said about Mila. I stopped outside her door at the sound of her crying.

“I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.” She continued apologizing quickly over and over again. With every breath she took, came another apology. That was a lot considering she sounded like she was hyperventilating. I pushed the door open a little until I could see her rocking back and forth on the floor holding something. “I should have been more--” With the one inch more I pressed the door, it creaked. Mila whipped her head toward me. Her eyes were bright red, which matched the splotches on her face; both complemented the tears stains down her cheeks. She quickly looked away, body jolting. Her movement allowed me to see the frame of a picture. I couldn't see what was in the photo. “Get out. Please, get out.” Mila's voice was low, gravelly. Her shoulders rose and fell quickly, breathing loudly.

“Mila, can we talk?” I asked.

“Not now.”

“We need to--”

“Julia,” she stood up, her back towards me. Now that one of her hands was by her side, I could see it was shaking. “Can you quit being a nosy little...bitch.”

My body jerked. “Excuse me?”

“I don't like you sticking your nose in my business.” Mila pointed to the box in front of her. I hadn't noticed it at first, but there it was. The same box I had found the last time Alec and I were in this room. “I keep the contents in a meticulous order.” She was so quiet I wasn't even sure I heard her correctly. “I don't appreciate you searching my shit.” She said louder. Her body contradicted the confidence in her voice.

“I'm your sister.”

“That does not give you direct permission to invade my privacy!” She shouted as she faced me, throwing the frame on the bed. Now that it was facing up, I could see it was a photo of Mila sitting on the hood of a car with a blinding smile. She looked so damn happy. “Get out of my room.”

“Mila...” I took a step forward. Looking more determined than I've ever seen her, she stalked towards me, grasped my arm, and dragged me outside of her room. Dropping my arm like it was burning her, she slammed her door.

I breathed out. I've never seen Mila like that. I've never seen her so out of control. She looked more in control when she was drunk. This Mila was unhinged. I knocked once but was met with a shattering shriek. “Leave!” I stumbled away.

I ran down the hall to the balcony like my life depended on it.. This was where Alec and I had first met. I had been here a few times since then. More recently was when I started up smoking again. I immediately walked to the large potted ficus in the corner and reached inside the soil. My fingers pulled out the pack of cigarettes and stumbled trying to grab the last one in the box. Just when I had put the cigarette in my mouth and had a lighter ready, I stopped. All I could see was Alec's face looking at me so tenderly. “Dammit!” I yelled. I could have really gone for a cigarette. I was craving it so badly, but Alec's stupid face wouldn't leave my mind. “Get out of my fucking head.” I muttered, coming close to pulling out my hair. With a huff, I threw the pack and cigarette as far as I could off the balcony.

Alec's mother died of lung cancer for fucks sake. I wish I hadn't lied to him. I wish I'd told him the truth of my smoking habits. I had told him I used to smoke a pack a week. A pack a week was healthy for me. No, in my early days racing with Mack, I was smoking a pack a day, two if I was in a real bad mood. It went on like that for over two years before I realized how racing could make me feel if I let myself go. When I started thinking, that's when things would go to shit. But, when I would let my mind go numb, I could finally relax. I wish I could say I stopped cold turkey but I didn't have that sort of strength. It was a year before I had officially quit; And another three years later when I could walk past a person smoking and not feel jealous. I hated the cigarette between my fingers. I hated I had to rely on that for so long. What I hated more was that I was so weak as to start up again over my father.

My father didn't deserve my addiction.

“I'm sorry, Alec.” I said. He really did deserve better than me. I tried so hard to cut myself off from anybody, it made it nearly impossible for anyone to get near to me. How in the hell did he manage to get as close as he's gotten? What does he even see in me? Sometimes I have a sense of humor, as twisted as it can be. I seem to find myself in a constant fight with my family. I was so used to cutting the cord on my feeling because of the life I used to live. If I was being honest, I'm not even sure some of the emotions I convey are genuine. I'm car fanatic that gets horny when the speedometer gets past 150 mph.

Part of me was telling me the only reason I was having such a large “bash Julia session” was because of Mila. Maybe that's true, but even she was my fault. Mila deserved a sister that was there through thick and thin. That was not me. Had that ever really been me? When we were younger, we were attached at the hip. The only memories I ever really remembered were of Mila and I. Each time I tried to remember anything else from the past, it always came in photographs. Any more memories were fuzzy. I guess that could be blamed on my terrible memory, I guess. A few moments I could pick out. Mila and I on the steps in front of the mansion. Mila and I picking flowers in the garden. Mila and I eating cake at someone's birthday.

There was something I was missing. What am I missing here?

“Julia?” I jumped and hit my head. I felt like I came out of a trace. I was looking at the underside of my Camaro. My head whipped back and forth, then I was crawling from under the vehicle. My father was standing there glaring at my car. “What are you doing?”

“I don't know.” I answered honestly. I blinked hard and tried to remember when I made my way to the garage. I had left my Camaro in here with my father's other cars but I barely remember making my way to the garage. I really must be losing it. I looked back at my father. Instantly, I became more confused. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Two things I had not seen on him since I was little girl. My father was always in a suit. Then I noticed the wrench in his hand. This was so bizarre to see my dad not only up past nine o'clock, but also working with his hands. The most work I figured his hands got was when he signed papers.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Kind of having a mental breakdown, so no I didn't hear you. Also, did I jump into an alternate universe? I wanted to say.

“Sorry, no. What's up?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

“What is this car doing here? More importantly, what are you doing here?”

“I uh,” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my sweatpants. Praise God I was the queen of coming up with hypothetical situations. “The car is my friends. His sister just came in town and he said he didn't have the garage space for three cars. I told him I'd take it off his hands until the sibling left town.” I replied.

He stared at my Camaro and nodded slowly. “And why are you here? Under the car specifically. You don't know anything about cars. What did you think you were going to do?”

“I was just admiring the car. I may not know a lot, but I know it's a beauty.” I grinned. “What are you doing?” I asked, diverting the attention.

My father looked at me for a long time. I was about to ask if he heard me but then he answered. “Well I was just going to change the brake lines on the Rolls Royce. I could tell they needed to be changed. I think I'm just going to head to bed though. I'm pretty tired. I can afford to let them stay like that for another day.”

“Oh cool.” I said. A memory of a man working on a blue car flashed in my mind but it was so dim I wasn't sure if it was a real or wishful thinking. Shaking my head, I asked, “How do you know you need to change the brake line?” I just needed to keep him away from my baby or he might get really suspicious, especially if he took a look under the hood of my car.

“Hmm?” He seemed lost in thought. His gaze remained on the Camaro so I reiterated my question. With a deep breath, my father finally looked at me. “Right! Yes, well sometimes brake lines need to be readjusted or just replaced. You just have to look for the signs.” He said.

“Signs?” I tilted my head for more of an effect.

“Yes, let's take for example the Rolls Royce. The brakes are grinding.” I scrunched my eyebrows out of pure confusion.

“Grinding? Um, what does that mean?” I asked.

“It means I need to adjust them.”

“Oh?” I forced myself not to cringe. “So you're going to fix them tomorrow then?” I asked with a strained smile.

“Yes. I'm off to bed. It's late, you should head to bed too. Goodnight.” With that, he left me alone in the garage. The silence I was left with was deafening. A breath I didn't realize I was holding in, was let out. I didn't even think. The next thing I knew I was hopping in the Rolls Royce, keys in hand. I pulled out of the garage and headed down the driveway. Sure enough, on my way to Rex's shop, I could hear the grinding. It took me ten minutes to get to the shop. I was expecting him to be at the race by now but he must have been running late.

“I thought you weren't racing tonight.” Rex said as he assessed the vehicle I drove with a raised eyebrow.

“You thought correctly. I need to change my father's brake pads.”

“Now?”

“I need to be doing something with my hands. Also, I bumped into him and he told me that grinding brakes meant that he needed to adjust the brake line. For a guy that is a CEO for a bunch of car companies, he doesn't know shit about cars. The idiot.” I muttered as I tried to walk past him to open the garage door.

“Are you going to tell me about what's up with him?” Rex grabbed my arm to stop me. It was the same place Mila had grabbed me not even an hour ago. “Or what's been going on with you?”

“No. Can you let me in now?” I glared at his hand until he let go.

Rex sighed. “Fine. But Julia,” I looked over my shoulder at him. “I know you better than anyone,” he said. It was true, if there was anyone who knew me well enough, it was Rex. But even I didn't understand myself right now. How could he? “I'm always here for you. You know that. If there was something happening with me, you would be the first person I would go to. I just want you to know that.” he said.

“I know that, Rex.” He told me to get in the car and that he would let me in. Without another word, I did as I was told.

“Julia...” he started again.

“You're going to be late to your race.” I said as I rolled up my sleeves. It was a few minutes later before I heard Rex leaving.

How had my life turned this chaotic?

I attempted to calm myself down. While I checked Rex's inventory, I tried to remember my original reason for heading to Africa and my ultimate reason for staying there. Helping them had brought a warmth to my heart that had been so hard to come by when I was sixteen. No matter how hard things were here, they were worse there. I had to be thankful for what I had. After finally finding sets of brake pads, I headed back to the Rolls Royce. I kept trying to keep that mindset, that things could be worse. Still, I felt like I was going crazy. I was essentially trapped with this 'Mad Dog' shit.

Why didn't Wally mention his childhood when we talked? He made it sound like the only time he ever saw me was at the funeral. It was odd to say the least. Rex and I had been constants in Wally's life of variables.

We both had taken regular trips to Miami to visit Jason. Rex had been talking about starting up his own races and I had been asking for tips on racing before I even had my license. Jason was always there to give advice. When he wasn't helping us out, Jason was helping Wally with his homework; and when he couldn't, I would help out. Jason would let his son tag along at races only if his school work was done. I would go as far to think Wally would listen in on our conversations. He picked up tips straight from his father. I didn't know Wally had seen me at his dad's funeral. I was too preoccupied watching them lower Jason's casket into the ground. Jason had become a good friend of Rex and I. I thought Wally had became a good friend of mine as well.

A few years after Jason's death, word of a race gone bad in Miami hit us. Two racers hospitalized, one left in a coma, and a whole lot of damage was left over. I never found out what happened after that but the thought of Wally being involved sent a shiver down my spine. Could that be what turned Wally into this impenetrable wall? I mean the kid was sixteen but he seemed to have wisdom beyond his years.

Not wanting to think anymore, I turned up the nearby radio until my ears were ringing. Then, I let my mind take the back seat as I worked on my father's car.