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Meddling – Patrick 20
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There are so many memories here. I didn't expect it to hit so hard. I've raced here so many times, been a spectator almost as many. Being relatively close to New York my mother sometimes came here with us to see my race. Those were the family vacations we took – traveling around the country to car races. The Senator didn't necessarily approve, thought it was beneath the Drake family dignity, but sometimes he and my grandmother came too. It all stopped when my mother became ill. I still raced, my mother encouraged me to, but my father more often than not stayed home to take care of her. That's when racing began to lose some of its sparkle for me and the idea of being a surgeon started to take on more significance. When my mother died and my father's career flamed out I felt that I had to redeem it all for my parents. For my mother. For myself.

Truth is I haven't stepped foot in a track since my last race, which was a month after my mother died. I won the race and walked away. I still play with my kiddy racetrack from time to time, I still dream about speeding at 190+ in death defying maneuvers, but I haven't been on a real track or in a race car. The smell of oil, gasoline and burning rubber brought it all back the moment we arrived. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed it until I was here. The longing and regret was overwhelming. I had to let go of Robin's hand and be by myself for a while. My girlfriend, bless her heart, let me go with a kiss on the cheek. I found her not half an hour later sitting in the driver's seat of Kid Karuso's brand new machine being taught the intricacies of steering by the pit crew. That's my girl – charming, hot and a bit of a secret daredevil.

The rest of the day was a pure blast. Robin and I cheered on races, made some side bets and ate. A lot.

I sit here now. It's in between races and Robin is slumped down in the seat next to me looking decidedly green. She's feeling a bit ill from all the junk she's consumed throughout the day. I'm not surprised. I think she ate her weight in sugar and processed crap. I bear a bit of that responsibility. I sometimes forget she's so much smaller than I am and expect her to eat as much as I do. Usually she rejects it. Actually, come to think of it, we usually end up not eating at all. Well, today she didn't turn down a thing. I think she's gonna have to throw up or otherwise end up with some kind of toxicity poisoning, but for right now she's resisting.

"You know, there's this spot I know…" I tease.

"I'm going to puke."

"Why, Dr. Scorpio, I thought you wanted me." I lean in closer and whisper in her ear. If she would just puke she'd feel a lot better.

"Really. Gonna. Puke." She's gasping.

"Awww, poor baby." I let go of her hand and put my arm around her. She feels really chilled and I'm kind of feeling bad. "Maybe you'd feel better if you just did? It's all part of the experience, you know."

"Throwing up is part of the racing experience and this is what you loved so much?" She shivers.

"Nah, this is part of the viewing experience. I was a driver."

"I'm never eating another cotton candy."

She's definitely lying. She loves cotton candy, but I'm man enough not to call her on it.

"God." She gasps.

Okay, this is ridiculous. I can't sit here and watch her needlessly suffer. "Spoilsport." Pissing her off should work. She'll either get so mad she feel better or…well, I'd better be ready to boogie.

"Did you just call me a spoilsport?" She sits up and gapes at me. "You still have a totally crappy bedside manner." She crosses her arms and pout. She also eyes my lap evilly.

"Do you want to leave?"

"No. I just don't want to be so nauseous."

"I bet if you let me do you you'd feel a lot better." Okay, that just came out. I can't help it. Whenever she looks prim I like giving her sex talk. It's this thing we do. She covers her face. I put my hand on her head. "If you're really feeling that sick, we can go. We have been all day."

She leans her head against my chest and wraps her arms around my torso. I'm really worried about my lap now. "Crazy man, just hold me and watch the races. Just don't rub my back if you don't want a lap full of surprises."

"Got it, no rubbing." I put my arm around her.

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It's dark on the road and I'm alone with my thought. Robin is asleep in the passenger seat, poor girl was sick before we left the track and passed out before we left the parking lot. I didn't know if I was ever going to set foot on a track again. All these years I didn't think it was necessary – I walked away a winner for bigger and better things. Now, I know it was a lot more complex than that. I'm so glad that I had the urge to go again and that Robin was with me while I did. There's a lot going on right now with my Dad's recovery and us working together like we'd always planned. It's churned up a lot of stuff with me, although I think Robin is making it a bigger deal than it is. But after today I'm thinking of maybe inviting Dad to come back with me sometime. I think it would be good for us.

Maybe Robin will come along. I'll just hide the food from her.

I reach over and stroke her hand. She shifts in her sleep and sighs.

I'm a happy man.