La Rosa Gialla

Chapter 8

January 2017

"That's great, Charlie. I'm so proud of you," I smiled into the phone as he informed me that he signed a contract with a new team a few days ago and will be racing in Formula 2. My best friend was one step closer to his dream, Formula 1. "The season starts on April 14th. I could try to arrange tickets for you," Charles suggested, warming my heart as he did. "It's very nice of you, but mom hasn't been very well lately and..."

"I know, sorry. How did the test results turn out actually?"

"We are still waiting."

Mom had been fighting cancer for several months already. So far, it seemed that the treatment was working, and mom could continue to visit only on an outpatient basis. But the doctors warned us that the disease could gain strength at any time.

"It will be alright, Adri. I can feel it in my bones," Charles encouraged me and I smiled again. "You will definitely have more than hundreds of races. I promise that as soon as she gets better, I'll be cheering for you from the front row," I encouraged him and he laughed softly.

Since that call, it was as if everything that existed between us before didn't even happen. Charles finished third and first in Bahrain in April, and to my extensive message full of congratulations and praise came only a blunt "Thanks." as an answer. I was confused and upset. I didn't understand what happened. What did I do to make him so withdrawn all of a sudden? I tried to contact him several more times, but the answer was always one-word or he ignored me completely. He didn't pick up my calls.

"Luca?" I called to my brother, who appeared in the corridor outside my room. His hazel eyes peered through the crack in the door and he raised an eyebrow to show that he was interested in what was going on. "Is Charles talking to you?" I asked. Luca frowned and walked into the room. He sat on the edge of my made bed and glared at me. "Sometimes. Why are you asking?"

"No reason."

"What happened, Adri?"

"He doesn't answer my phone. He's hardly even texted me lately," I admitted, trying to mask the deeply hurt tone in my voice.

"Maybe he just doesn't have time. New season, lots of responsibilities, and travelling. I'm sure it can be explained somehow," he smiled to encourage me a little and I nodded to him not convinced at all.

A few more weeks passed and then June 20, 2017 came and the news appeared on Facebook that Hervé Leclerc had died. "He didn't even tell me his dad was sick," I cried as my very skinny mom held me tight in her arms and comforted me. "Like we were never even friends." I angrily wiped my tears away and swallowed the huge lump in my throat. I was heartbroken and terribly angry at the same time. That's what friends are for, right? To support each other in good times and bad. And if Charles hadn't told me something so important, then what was I to him? A random acquaintance who pours out her heart to him, he quietly listens to her, and when something happens to him, he doesn't say anything? Doesn't he trust me enough? Am I not good enough for him?

"Adri, you should call him," Mom suggested, reaching behind her on the table for my phone. "He won't pick up," I shook my head. "But at least he'll know you care about him," Mom continued. "What if I don't care about him anymore?" I protested. "That's a lie and we both know it," my mother sneered sadly and pressed the cell phone into my hand. She was right, I did care about him. Much more than I was willing to admit to myself at the time. Maybe because of how much I cared about him, the sudden loss of contact hit me so hard. I clicked on the contact with his name and waited. And waited and waited. After endless seconds of no answer, I hung up and cried again.

Just 4 days after the tragic news, he finished first and second in the races in Baku. I watched both races through tears and this time I didn't call or text him. Instead, I found his name in my contacts and deleted his number. And then I cried for several more days.

In the guesthouse, it looked like the vale of tears because of me. For several weeks I couldn't help but cry when someone mentioned his name at home. But then life began to return to normal. Charles and anything related to him or any category of motorsport was a forbidden topic for us. We all focused on Mom and her battle with cancer and everything started to turn around for the better. The treatment was working, the family business was thriving and life seemed to be somehow okay again.