Complicated Relationship

Chapter Two - Red Bull Pit

Maya Nadal

I scroll through all the articles and videos of me dancing with this guy, people calling me a cheater, a whore... Ironic Charles's the one cheating on me.

I keep reading comments for the next few minutes when I receive an email from my teacher. I open it and read it thoroughly.

Hello Maya,

It is Mrs. Smith. I am aware this is your two-week break before starting again, but I'd like to inform you we have a small contract for you. It could be helpful for your future career. It's a baseball game in Boston on Wednesday. This sport may not be your area of expertise, so I am letting you know three days in advance. It may seem short, but you have to adapt since you're about to become a journalist. You can learn everything from the sport with the documents attached to the email I sent you. Let me know soon. If I don't have an answer by tomorrow morning, I'll have to give this opportunity to someone else,

Regards, 

Mrs. Smith

I jump from Carlos's sofa and scream in the house. Are you shitting me? A contract with the MLB? This is freaking awesome.

Carlos runs to the living room, throwing his arms in the air, soon followed by Isa. I jump in the air, a smile on my face.

"What are we cheering for?" Carlos dances with me, grabbing my hands and turning around.

"I got a small contract with the MLB! I am going to Boston to watch a game and interview the players of both teams." I explain to him and I stop hopping everywhere.

Isa separates us and hugs me tightly, happy for me.

"It's amazing, Maya. You should go back to Monaco and pack, Boston isn't close. Besides, you take an eternity to pack clothes."

That's kind of true. Now that I think about it, it took me almost the whole afternoon to pack for three days when it's just a race. Now, I have to be dressed for interviews, my makeup has to be as impeccable as my outfit.

I wish I could go right now, but I have to attend today's race. And if I know about this contract, then...

Mr. Fuckingpieceofshit: I heard you have some tickets for baseball game Wednesday. Bring Charles with you, you need to make public appearances.

I don't add anything, there's no need to. He isn't even happy I go this deal. He just wants me to bring Charles along. It's insufferable.

It's been like this my whole life. He's always been prouder of my brother's accomplishment than everything I did without his money, the knowledge I gained to the friends I made. I remember the day I came home with straight A's and my brother's got a diploma or something like that because he got perfect grades. The only difference was that his piece of paper was in a frame and mine wasn't. Yet, my father paid more attention to my brother than me, and said I should take example on him.

On the day he died, my father got drunk. I remember what he told me word for word: "I wished you died instead of your brother. I always asked you to follow his path, so do it now. Get in your car and run off a cliff."

The next day, he tried to apologize, but I was already gone. I left for Monaco and never came back, until he called me on the day of Sam's death to shove me his conditions on my studies down my throat. Today, I rarely talk to him, and I wish he would also stop texting me.

"Everything's alright?" Carlos squeezes my shoulder to get me out of my thoughts.

I smile shyly, "Yeah, of course. I'll just make a quick call, I'll be back."