“My mom is happy I’m able to do what I’ve always wanted to do,” Matt says, with a soft smile. “All of us in Form 1 knew the odds were against us. There’s only twenty drivers in the entire world, so there’s a sense of accomplishment that lives alongside the danger.”
“Do your parents attend the races?”
Robert picks his mic back up. “Mine try, but my father races in rally now, so his schedule’s a bit tight. I watch his races as well, if they fall on our breaks.”
Matt nods and adds, “My mother doesn’t like to, it stresses her out. My father didn’t, uh, he didn’t get to, before he, before?—”
It’s been so long, but sometimes it hits just as hard as it ever did.
His father never got to see him race in Formation 1. It’s just a fact. It’s okay to deal with facts, and it’s okay to still be sad about it.
Just say it. He died. It’s a fact and facts can’t hurt him.
Matt can be sad in private, but he needs to say something right now because everyone in the room is justlookingat him like he’s a pathetic, stupid little?—
The person still holding the microphone encourages him with a, “Before—?” but Robert cuts her off.
“—Our families have known each other for years, so my parents are also like, his extended family. Sometimes it feels like they cheer more for him than they do for me. I swear, they own more of his merch than mine.”
That can’t be true. The Millers have never worn anything ofMatt’s. Still, the audience laughs, so some of the pressure is taken off him.
Robert pats Matt’s knee—like physical comfort is a thing they still do—and asks for another question.
Matt is still a little lost when the event wraps up.
The last time the Millers talked to Matt, Robert threatened him. And punched him. Matt’s nose still aches, even though it’s been over a month. So why…?
“Sorry, I overstepped in there.” Robert sucks down his water bottle and emerges with a soft gasp. “You looked upset, so I just reacted.”
“Don’t apologize, I—thank you.” Matt picks at the skin around his thumb for something to do. “No, it’s stupid. I don’t know why I even—I should’ve just said yes. Or no. Nobody in there knows me, I could’ve just… The problem is I always talk too much. I didn’t mean to even mention him, to draw attention to—Mama doesn’t like races. That’s enough.”
“How is your mother, by the way?”
“Um, good?”
Robert’s never asked before, despite how close he used to be to her.
Matt clears his throat. “Yeah, good. Thanks for asking.”
Robert nods politely. “Is she… still working?”
“God, no.” Matt needs to stop picking at his skin so he drops his hand and rubs the feeling out against his pants. “She has arthritis pretty bad, so she takes it easier now.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“It’s fine.” Talking about anything else helps, so Matt barrels on. “She has a gardening club she’s really excited about, with some women from the old neighborhood. They grow, like, vegetables? I guess. And tomatoes, though that’s not a vegetable. It grows similar though, I think.”
He’s oversharing, he can feel it, but once he gets going it’s hard to stop.
Robert doesn’t seem to mind. “They grow on vines, like grapes.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Matt laughs but it’s just his frustration bubbling to the surface. “I’m so sorry about—about back there. You’d think I’d be over it now, right? That I could just show up somewhere and say ‘hey, my dad is dead’ like everyone else. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to just—to be like everyone else.”
Jesus, can’t he just shut up?
“How long has it been?” Robert asks, treading lightly as if Matt hasn’t just vomited up his entire life story.
“Nine years in July.”
