Everything Changes (28 page)

Parker definitely benefited from his factory
ride. Not only did women swarm around him, but the money was flowing.
 
He was a good rider because he could
 
practice whenever he wanted, and he drew
positive attention.

I could see just how much he’d improved. Not that
he needed improvement, but I saw it.

When the gate dropped, Parker got the hole shot
but then fell victim to a rider in front of him. He got tangled in the whoops
section. He was able gain a few positions back through the sand section.

When he came back on the leaders, Parker got a
good jump on Travis
Lahote
and Wesley Cameron, two
riders he frequently battled with this year. I watched him when he road by us.
Collin held up a sign that I couldn’t see, but I saw Parker glance at it before
he took the tight corner before the whoops section. After the whoops was a
straight stretch followed by two sets of doubles. Mid-air, Parker reached up
and pulled away a tear-off and then placed his hands back on the bars to land
the jump.

Most of the twenty lap main was spent with Parker
and Wesley, his Yamaha teammate, switching positions. One would lead for a lap,
then the other, but they raced each other fair and gave room where it was
needed. Not like Travis, who in all actuality, was an asshole and roosted him
whenever possible and stuffed him any chance he got.

Parker, well, he was a clean rider. He was
patient and didn’t push the issue, but if he had speed on them, he didn’t
hesitate to take the position and get aggressive when he needed. To gain ground
after he went down, he did a trick I saw him do a lot on television. When he’d
come up to a jump, he’d scrub the top of it
—
a maneuver where he would take the jump at full
speed only to pitch the bike to the side and become horizontal about six inches
above the top of the jump
—
and keep forward momentum, whereas Travis and Wesley would soar over
the jump before landing and getting back on the throttle. This allowed Parker
to gain the ground he needed but it wasn’t quite enough.

He ended up taking second to Wesley with Travis
right behind him in third.

When he took the checkered flag, I felt my nerves
calm, relieved it was over.

Parker came back around the track and rode over
to the stage. He looked over at me and revved his bike up for me and then
nodded. Smiling, I could see the wink even through his goggles.

Clapping, I could barely contain myself. I had
just witnesses my first race and he did so well with me here.

The top three guys were on the podium, each one
interviewed. Parker said little but it was different listening to him talk to
the media. “You went down once, second is not bad!” The reporter for ESPN
pushed a microphone in Parker’s face.

“Yeah, it feels good.” Parker smiled taking a
drink of Gatorade. “We were all right there, but I had that little extra push.
Not enough to get Cameron but Team Yamaha did good. The bike felt great.”

“Were you getting frustrated when you couldn’t
get around your teammate there at the end?”

Parker smiled again when Wesley nudged him in the
ribs, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “It was great...” he pushed
Wesley off him with a laugh “...as the track got rough, it was hard to find a
line, but once we found it, we had it. I’m good with second.”

It seemed strange to see this side of Parker, the
side that was in the spotlight because he often avoided it. Now there was no
way around it.

After a podium finish, I thought he’d be in good
spirits. Instead, he seemed uneasy back at the Yamaha tent and eventually had a
few words with Travis about what he thought of his stuffing tenancies.

There was no time to really talk to him after the
race with Collin needing feedback on the bike, Jack talking to him about an
appearance he was making tomorrow, and the other riders congratulating him.

I didn’t actually get to talk to him until we
were leaving the track.

“Nice finish,” I told him back at his apartment
the first time we were alone. I knew my flight was set to leave first thing in
the morning. I needed to let him know I was proud of him because I
was...am...whatever.

He smiled, kicking the front door shut with his
foot and dropping his bag in the entry way. “Thanks, Ro.” His gaze turned heated
when he looked down at my legs and leaned against the wall. “Kurt won’t be home
tonight, so I was hoping I could show you a proper goodbye.”

No more words were necessary.

Once back in his room, actions took over and we
both gave everything we had to one another.

His kisses told me he felt what we had. His
passion spoke of what would never be. His touches gave me what I needed. That
night, I felt as though I was the only one. I felt as though we were the only
ones.

February
2, 1998

I often worried what we had that summer would be
gone once we were together again. But in his arms, regardless of the time away,
every emotion and feeling I had back then returned. The morning I left, the
light brought with it the doubt we didn’t want to feel. It was in the air, the
breath in our chests, and the beat of our hearts consuming our actions and
words.

There were just some things we didn’t do or speak
of. We avoided it and lived for what it was in that moment, undefined.

I didn’t want to let him go. I wanted to hold on
desperately to those times as they were the best in my life. I think Parker was
doing the same.

I knew the nagging feeling was a hint of what was
to come, but I couldn’t stop. I wanted to guard myself, but instead I was an
open book waiting to be judged by the spotlight of his lifestyle. I knew I
would be judged by his lifestyle too. I knew Kayla was waiting to bring me
down. Every other girl at that stadium the other night that gave me the look
that said I wasn’t good enough for someone like Parker O’Neil.

The goodbye between us wasn’t what I thought it
would be. We didn’t say much but what was said kept me hanging on hope that he
was going to call again.

“Can I see you again?” he asked in the car on the
way to the airport.

I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks. I
wanted to flood my head and heart with the memories of our summer and then last
few days instead that moment but it didn’t work.

Parker pulled me closer, his hands wrapped around
my shoulders in the backseat of Jack’s BMW. Luckily, he had the music so loud
he couldn’t hear what Parker was whispering to me.

I nodded and more tears flowed. Parker’s hand
reached to brush the tears away, his forehead pressing to the side of my face
as I felt his hair brush against my cheek. “I love you, Ro, I do.
Please
remember that.”

I wish I could say that I did remember that, but
it was hard. Being with him and then leaving broke my heart all over again.

I didn’t say anything; I just kissed him. It was
wet, mixed with my tears, but he let me kiss him. His mouth was hesitant at
first, trying to make sense of the meaning behind my kiss, but soon he didn’t
care that Jack was in the front seat. He pulled me closer, so close I felt like
he was trying to keep me with him, give me a little piece of himself, or maybe
take a piece of me with him.

I felt like no one knew this pain, not even
Parker. No one understood what I was feeling. That kiss gave me a little bit
more to go on. Parker needed me in a certain way, the same way I needed him.

His hand trembled against my cheek, his eyes
clouded over like the sky. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes…” My words shook with my body. He walked me
to the gate. Jack stayed in the car seeing what a wreck I was.

Parker looked like he was barely holding onto his
own composure. “Ro…” His chin quivered, his eyes glassy and ready to spill
their sadness down his flushed cheeks. His black hat provided a shadow over his
face, but it didn’t hide the pain etched into every feature. His brow furrowed
trying to find his words. Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out a piece of
paper that had an address and a few different phone numbers on it. “Here’s my
number…please call.”

I nodded, my face buried in his sweatshirt.
Parker pulled back with a light laugh and peeled the sweatshirt over his shoulders
and handed it to me. “It’s my last one…you keep it. I want a piece of me with
you always.”

“I wish it was me with you,” I admitted.

He nodded as though that was his way to keep from
crying. “I know, Ro…believe me…” He lifted his hand to touch the side of my
face, his thumb brushing over my trembling lips which were wet from my tears.
“I wish it was you with me too.”

“Now boarding for flight 2489 to Seattle
Washington,” the ticketing booth announced.

We both turned to look at the door opening,
knowing our time was up.

Parker turned back to me, crushed me to his
chest, and I felt the sharp intake of breath he took when my sobs picked up.
People around us stared, but I didn’t care. My heart was breaking or already
broken. I could feel his body tense. His arms wrapped around my body and
squeezed a little tighter as if to tell me he doesn’t want to let go.

“Call me when you get home, okay?” he said,
raising his brow slightly.

I nodded, conflicting emotions raging through my
body, my palms sweaty and the back of my neck prickly and cold. I leaned
forward to kiss him one more time. It was soft, reassuring, and full of love.
He loved me. I knew that. I loved him, he knew that…but everything changed.

Once on the plane, my body felt cold where he was
pressed against me, a reminder that without him, my life is colder. As I sat
there staring into the clouds, my mind replayed everything he said, his touch,
and the impact it had on me. I touched my lips and wanted to feel his kiss. I
touched my hands wanting to feel the rough edges of his fingers caressing my
own, knowing what I felt with him could only be felt when I was truly with him.
I felt my chest knowing my heart and soul could feel the loss of him. All of me
wanted to forget him. I wanted to forget his lips on mine, forget his hands and
the way he touched me. I wanted to forget everything in fear I wouldn’t be able
to function if I remembered.

The part that didn’t want to lose him won. I
wanted anything he was willing to give, even if it meant that I would be the
girl waiting around for him to call. I couldn’t lose him because just the
thought of it made me crazy, crazy in the sense I was willing to give up
everything to be with him and that scared me. One, I had nothing to give up,
and two, he had control over me. At that time, it didn’t matter if I had
friends as long as I had Parker I was willing and ready to forgo everything
else.

We were forced to be what we were, waiting for
our situation to change again.

CHAPTER
15

Rowan
Jensen

Decompress

Decompress is a technical style of ramp jumping
where the rider tries to stay as low as possible over the jump so that he can
get back to the ground as soon as possible.

February
4, 1998

It had been two days and I still couldn’t stop
thinking about Parker. I could hear his voice and feel his touch. At least I
thought I could. It had also been two days since I showered or took his
sweatshirt off.

Some would think to themselves that the situation
I found myself in was one that could have been changed. But really, did I want
to change anything?

I thought that what we had was better than
anything, and I was sure that if I didn’t give him what we had, I wouldn’t have
anything. To me it was easier having those little pieces he gave me, whether it
be phone calls and shout-outs on television, than to having nothing at all.
Parker didn’t offer much. He didn’t have a lot to give me at that point, but it
was something. All I had to do was hear that low, smooth voice and my walls
crumbled. The fact of the matter was, I loved it when he called; I lived for
when he called, but it wasn’t reality.

For a while I did anything I could to stay low
and get back to the ground. I guess that was the only way to explain why I was
doing what I was doing.

When I returned home, Parker headed to Tucson and
my mom tried her hand at some motherly advice.

“Sweet cheeks, your life is sometimes like a bag
of M&Ms.” She looked at me, crunching on her candy, as though I should
understand exactly what she was talking about. “Sometimes you eat the red ones,
sometimes you lose the green, and then you give away your yellow ones.”

I thought she would explain more, but she didn’t.
She just sat there, eating her yellow M&Ms.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

All I got was a blank stare.

I would love to say I figured out what she meant
by that but I didn’t.

“Mom, that doesn’t make any sense.” I moved my
head to her lap while she ran her fingers through my hair. We were on the couch
watching Dirty Dancing for the second time today, both with tissues surrounding
us.