Crash

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Penelope and Charles walked through the cemetery in a comfortable silence, their fingers loosely intertwined. It was dark, but large overhead lamps cast a warm glow over the path, leading the way. Charles walked the route like he'd done it a thousand times, carrying a small bunch of flowers they'd gotten on the way. Penelope held a similar bunch, red roses fresh with life. 

"It's this way," Charles told her as they began to veer from the path. "Under the blossom tree."

They walked for a few more minutes before coming to a stop. The two of them stood before a marble stone, the base surrounded by various flowers and mementos. The stone itself was in French, but translated it read 'Our beloved Hervé, loved father and husband. May you race amongst the clouds until we are together again.'

Looking at the offerings brought a tear to Penelope's eye. There were laminated pictures and notes, toy cars that looked like they had seen better days. A miniature helmet, a bear, an engraved stone from a beach somewhere in the world. It reminded her of her abuelo's grave, where she'd sit and talk to him sometimes for hours, telling him about her life as though he could hear her. 

Slowly, Charles knelt in front of the stone, placing his hand against it. "Salut, Papa. It's been a long time. A lot has changed since we last spoke. I hope you'd be proud."

Charles's voice broke as he wiped his eyes, trying to keep it together. Penelope put her hand on his shoulder, letting him know she was there. He squeezed her fingers as her own tears rolled down her cheeks, the roses trembling in her hand.

"I won the first race of the season," Charles continued, taking big gulping breaths as he tried to recover. "And I won Melbourne. We're first in the Championship! Everything that we dreamed of, with Ferrari...it's all coming true now, Papa. Last time I was here, I told you I met someone. She makes me so happy, Papa, and I wanted you to know because I think you'd want this for me. You'd like her, so much."

Penelope squeezed her eyes shut, kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around his waist, her head resting on his shoulder. She stroked his hair, brushing his tears from his cheeks. She could feel how much pain he was in, and it was killing her. If she could, she would have taken it away, waved a magic wand and made everything feel better, but she couldn't. She knew how soul crushing it was to miss someone, to feel the never ending cycle of grief. Holding him as he cried was enough to break her.

Charles led his flowers against the front of the grave, kissing his shaking fingers and pressing them to the stone. "Tu me manques vraiment, papa."

Penelope pulled Charles into her, wrapping her arms around him. This was the most vulnerable he'd ever been with her, letting her see the most agonising part of his life. "It's okay," Penelope whispered, kissing his cheek. "You're okay. He's here with you, everyday."

"You really believe that?

"I do. There's not a minute that goes by where he wouldn't be proud of the man you've become."

Charles rubbed his eyes as he nodded. "I don't know why I still get so sad. It's been so long."

"It's okay to miss your dad, Charlie," she said softly, knowing exactly how he was feeling. She remembered having the same conversation with her own family, sitting around the dinner table and reminiscing about old times.  

"I think about him all the time. I feel this...this guilt, and nothing makes it go away."

Penelope's brow furrowed. "You weren't responsible for his death, Charles."

Charles shook his head, his eyes sad and red. "I lied to him, Nell. He got sick, we knew the end was coming for a while, and...and I wanted to make him proud. My whole life, we dreamed of driving for Ferrari and when the doctors told us it was the last time we'd get to talk...I told him I signed with a team. I told him I'd made it, but it wasn't true. That was the last real talk we had."