Formula 1 One Shots

(CL) - Please, don't speak French when I'm around.

I fall on the bed in my wedding dress, dead-ass tired of the whole night standing and smiling. I look up at Charles, he takes one of my feet in his hands and takes off my heels. After he gives them a soft massage. 

"We're married."

"Crazy day."

"Did your hips survive?"

"Yeah, just G-forces hurt." I laugh at him, he hovers over me and kisses my lips. He knows my hips stayed sore after the crash with my racing car, which broke my hips and hand. I'm lucky to be alive.

"How about my G-force?" He says, giving me a wink...

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Years later:

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"I'm thinking about taking them on a holiday, they deserved it..."

"Yes sure, I won't be able to get free, so just the three of you?"

"Yeah, just the three of us."

"I'll miss you, stay safe."

"You too, Charles."

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Many years later:

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"You're never here," I shout in the middle of our heated argument. Charles' always gone and when he's home we're fighting.

"I'm still driving in Formula 1, actually having a career." He says, he's hurting me and he knows it.

"They miss you, like a lot."

"I am busy." He states, crossing his arms. All of this to create space between us. I know what he's trying to do, our marriage has been failing for years, he came back home with divorce papers a year ago, I never signed them. I can't lose him, we can't lose him.

"No your not, you just don't want to face me so you avoid them too. You always made time for them."

"I said I am busy most of the time."

"No wait yes you are, with cheating."

"We've been over this. We're only really together because you wanted a 'whole' family."

"I know you've been sleeping with Charlotte again!"

"So what? You've been sleeping with people too." 

"No, I f-cking haven't! I'm not like that." I say as I can feel my tears building up in my eyes.

"If your so unhappy why don't you just sign the divorce papers? My autograph is already on it."

"Maybe I will." I say calmly, tears fall down my face. I walk out of the door but before I close it I turn around and say: "But don't you dare to think you'll get full custody."

I walk over to my daughter's room and open the door, I know it's late but I'm sure she's woken up from all the shouting. I wipe away my tears and turn a little light on, I can see her sitting on the bed.

"Mommy." Just with that word I know she's crying. "Mommy!"

"I'm here, baby, I'm here." I walk over her bed and take her into my arms. I hear my son walk in to and feel him sit down behind me.

"Is daddy going to take us away?" She askes in her high pitched voice, slightly looking up to me.

"No baby, he won't."

"Are you going to take us away?"

"No, never."

"Is daddy going to leave?"

"If he leaves I'll hunt him down and kidnap him to get him back. I promise you both, we'll stay one family forever, as long as you believe."

"I love you, mom." My son says to me and I almost lose it.

"I love you more. Now let's lay down and go to sleep." I put her down again and she closes her eyes.

"I'm so proud of you," I say to him and softly squeeze his thigh, looking into his eyes. A sixteen-year-old with tears in his eyes because of me, his parent. My sweet eight-year-old almost crying her self to sleep. How did I let it come so far?

"Will we really be okay?"

"Of course we will," I say, assuring him with tears in my own eyes.

"I hope so."

"You're becoming taller than your father."

"I know."

"Let's go. Sleep with me tonight?"

"Yes please mom."

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Next morning:

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"What are you doing?" I hear Charles say harshly

"Making our kids their lunch," I answer without looking at him at all.

"Thought you were such a bad mom to just give them-"

"Don't start in front of the kids!" I warn him and facing him after I let my knife fall, not wanting to make him feel endangered. 

"S'il te plaît, monte à l'étage, maman et moi devons parler."

"Please, don't speak French when I'm around." I try to sound calm.

"I speak any language I want with them." He keeps raising his voice, but I'm not giving in. I stay strong, for my children. I see them in the corner of my eye, unsure of what to do. To be honest, I have no clue either.

"I don't speak my native language when you're near either."

"Maybe you should start."

"No, because I don't want you to feel left out like me." Now I raise my voice too, this is where it really hurts. I've been trying to ignore this topic, maybe it's why we went wrong. I wanted to prevent fighting in front of the kids, I don't want to make them feel bad.

"Why the hell would you feel left out, you see the kids all the time."

"Ever since he started racing I felt left out!" I shout now, pointing to our son. I soften my voice and it cracks in my next sentence: "Because I can't race anymore."

I turn back around to continue making lunch, but I can't. I feel a panic-attack rising up, the first one since our marriage. Tears fall down and I let everything fall on the ground, hiding my face in my hands when I feel two arms around my waist. My breath stops, I look down to see the arms of Charles.

"I'm sorry. I want to make us work again." I turn around in his arms. "I'm really sorry, please I want to change."

"Yes, please let's try." I look to the kids and say: "Family hug?"