The Force of Gravity

Chapter Eighteen

The parade van makes its way around the stands. Romain and I still don't talk much. He is beside me, waving silently, and avoiding my glances. Even though I know most of the drivers, I feel like the obvious man—or in my case, woman—out. Someone brushes my right arm. Beside me, I see Lando shuffling closer to my side.

"Don't talk to me, someone might think we're friends." I joke knocking him lightly with my shoulder.

Lando's cheeks flush and he stops chewing on his straw to talk. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let you push me off, so they don't."

Leaning over the edge, I glance at the moving pavement below us. I lean back on my heels and bring my lips close to his ear so he can hear me. "But I wouldn't want to ruin that pretty face of yours." I whisper.

He irrupts in a loud coughing fit and I lean back to avoid any spray.

George appears behind him. The tall man towers over his friend. "Mate, what could you possibly be choking on?" He pats him aggressively on the back.

"His pride." I chirp.

Lando catches his breath and shakes his head.

"Clearly." George affirms.

The crowd roars, I turn back towards them and wave wildly back and forth. George and Lando whisper and giggle beside me. Ignoring them, I take in the moment. The stands are packed with people. The noise of the crowd is deafening. Every so often I can make out a lone chant or phrase, but for the most part it's all incomprehensible.

The noises carry me back to the garage. Inka and I move through our last stretches. She tosses in whatever she can. Her attempts to throw me from my rhythm or catch me off guard fail.

"I came prepared." I answer swatting the tennis ball back.

Her hand is soft on my bicep, "as I'd expect."

She follows me to the car. Inside I can find peace. All I want is my car to be as fast as my soul. I'm holding my breath. What am I waiting for? Step on the gas, change the gear, engage your muscles. The car flies. I am prepared.

It was a miracle I had qualified 6th. Partially thanks to a three-place grid penalty of Carlos Sainz. Haas on the third row, suck that.

I drive aggressively. My car doesn't have the same speed, so I must make up for it in tactics. As I move into turn 1, Charles slips up. He is late on the breaks, and I overtake him on the outside. Charles stays in my mirrors taunting me. I know he wants nothing more than for me to slip up. Carefully, I keep him behind me for 12 laps. At turn one, he tries to copy my own maneuver. But he can't pass me. In my mirrors I see his car spin. Deep breathe, he's still on track. I stay in my zone and drive clean for the next 6 laps.

The pit crew does me justice. As quick as a single breath, I'm back on the track. I prep for a long race ahead of me.

"Stop the car! Stop the car!" My engineer frantically screams in my headset.

Slowly, I pull the car to the side. "What the fuck?" I demand.

"We have to retire the car."

I don't have time to check if my mic is on. A scream tears from my throat. The radio crackles trying to reach me, but my scream muffles anything that can come through. I throw myself out of the car and stomp onto the asphalt. Ripping my helmet off, I pull the headphones out before my engineer can say more. The front right wheel is clearly tilted to the right, it's not attached properly. I cover my head with both of my hands and kick the loose wheel. With a wave, I brush off the marshals and walk away from the track. My helmet awkwardly bounces in my arms.

Back in the garage, I toss the helmet into the wall. It ricochets and bounces to the feet of an unsuspecting mechanic. Inka appears beside him, apologizes, and picks up the helmet.

"Room. Now." She barks. Her hand is on the small of my back. I'm led towards my private room.

The door closes behind her. Crouching down, I place my head in my hands once more. The beating of my heart echoes in my ears. Blood rushes to my fallen head. Dizzy and annoyed. What a great combination.

Inka's rubs large firm circles on my back. The small gesture breaks my resolve. A sob fills my palms. My chest heaves. It's all so raw. The feelings manifest into a blubbering chest aching cry.

"There's nothing you could have done."

I cackle and snap my head up. "I'm sick and tired of that excuse."

Using her thumb, Inka brushes a tear from my cheek. Her small smile begs me to cheer up.

"I'm tired." I lean my head back down.

"I know," Inka whispers, "why don't you change? I'll get you a coffee, fend of the vultures, and then we can chat."

I give a small nod. Inka stands, gives me a small wave, and exits the room. Alone, I lean back. My back travels down the cool wall. Next, my head taps against it. Groaning, I use one hand to rub the back of my head, the other clutches at my chest.

First race a DNF, how poetic?

I sit in silence. Unmoving, I can't muster the energy to stand and change. A weight deep within my chest pulls my body and roots it to the floor.

Inka returns and shakes her head when she sees me. She kneels beside me. A hot mug is pressed into my palm.

"Drink this," she commands slowly lifting it to my lips.

The coffee burns my tongue. The acidic liquid trails down my throat. Coughing, I fail to mask my discomfort. Lowering the mug, I stare blankly at the wall.

"I failed." I state.

Inka sighs, "you didn't screw on the tire."

I snort, "apparently no one did."

Inka gives me a small laugh, then she stands and walks to the cabinet. I watch her movements. She pulls out a polo shirt and jeans. Making her way back to me, she kneels once more, and drops the clothing in my lap. My fingers brush against the rough fabric of my jeans. It's the same pair Lando drenched in water right before my failed preseason testing.

"These jeans are cursed."

Another pair smacks against my face. They fall and I glare at Inka.

She shrugs nonchalantly, "then wear the others."

I recite the team message to each reporter. It's the same bullshit: we'll learn from our mistakes, it won't happen again, it shows the car can fight for points, blah blah blah. No point in ragging on the mechanics.

When Inka and I return to the hotel room, she disappears to the gym to fit in a workout. Luckily, driving is considered my workout, so I can relax in a hot bath. While the water is filling, I switch on my phone. Swishing my hand, I spread the bubbles around. I lay in the tub and allow the water to engulf my body. My muscles relax into the warmth.

Almost instantly, my phone starts buzzing on the edge of the bath. I grab it just before it falls in. Days' worth of notifications flash on the screen. I open WhatsApp and scroll through the notifications. Nothing from my family, not surprising. Mom refuses to watch the races, and I'm sure my sister is still reeling. I scroll past messages from people I consider acquaintances. Maybe I can pay Siobhan to text everyone back for me.

My eyes pause at a text from Lando.

Lando

Want another distraction?

Smirking, I type a quick reply.

Me

How strong of a distraction are we talking?

Before I can even lock my phone, Lando pings a response. I agree to go out drinking with him. What's the worst that can happen?

_________

author's note

I've had this written for weeks. I planned on making it longer, but then life got wild and I figured I should just upload. 

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