“So what did you do?”
It’s such a big question, and her voice is so small, and I know I should lie. I feel it, a firm weight on my sternum. But I don’t want to.
Already regretting this, I point two fingers at Christine. “You won’t tell anyone?”
She nods so solemnly, her hood slips off.
“It isn’t the same. At all. But—I lost someone once. She, she died. And this guy at the hospital was supposed to call me when she’d gotten out of surgery, the manager of the floor she was on, but he didn’t, so…” I overslept. Grandma died alone. I hadn’t even been awake during her final moments. “I told myself that he must’ve had a super shitty day, or his own family emergency. But when I asked him about it, when I was picking up her stuff, he exploded. He said it wasn’t his problem, and if being there for her had meant something to me, I would’ve been there.”
Christine’s seated. Hands clasped over her knees, eyes wide. “Oh my god. How do you even get over that?”
You don’t. You stop being able to sleep, you don’t trust doctors, and you leave your family home and never go back.“You focus on what you can do, one day at a time. Otherwise, the anger crushes you. And all of this”—I wave my hand around the dressing room—“is something you can do. You get to drive again tomorrow, but you have more ways to win than just on a track. Stepping into the paddock, holding your head high, is going to be a win. That’s whymen do this shit. They have to try and control you and steal your spotlight because you win just by being you, dude. You’re makinghistory. So you have to keep going. Make him a footnote in one chapter of your legacy.”
That’s what I want for all the women in my life—everyone I care about, really. I want them to be remembered.
Christine listens to me with the rapt attention of a student, mid-lecture. When I finally shut up, she shakes her head, leaning back against the sofa. “You literally sound like Faust.”
I’m not proud of how quickly my face warms from that particular sentiment. “I was thinking, head coach during the big game. Put me on the radio next time, let me start calling plays.”
She laughs. A curtain shifts as our sales associate returns with a stack of options draped over her arm, and I’m proud of how Christine goes straight for a pale pink bomber jacket. For her, it’s a goddamn statement piece.
She’s putting it on when she says, “Can I tell you a secret, too?”
And oh, right. I’m morally bankrupt, this isn’t female bonding, and I should grab her cute little face and yellno. “Nothing you wouldn’t tell a lawyer, please.”
“Okay. Don’t tell him that I told you, but—this is Faust’s last year.”
I sit up straighter. The heat from earlier is gone. “With Stark-Benzin?”
“In Formula 1.”
That isn’t all she says, though the rest is muted. I think she explains that what I’d said made her want to tell me, and that Faust was supposed to announce that it was his final season back in Australia, before the drama. And that she doesn’t know why he’s kept it such a secret, since it’s killing her not being able to talk about itwith so many cameras on her. Then her words go fuzzy, shapeless, almost too soft to understand. Almost. When my ears start ringing, it sounds like ABBA. The winner takes it all.
Faust, afraid I’d ruin his last year in Formula 1.
Faust, offering to help me through it anyway.
“Wow, his final year,” I hear myself say. I’ve been smiling through the haze. Nodding in the right places like I always do. “He’s leaving.”
I re-download the chess app on the drive back to Suzuka. I make it a whole day before I open it.
Of course there’s a friend request sitting there. There’s my confirmation, and it isn’t metaphorical in the slightest—what we’re doing is a game to him. He’s hot and talented and morally impeccable,andhe’s having fun with me.
F8_1950 has invited you to play chess online!
I click the invitation link. He’s online, a green dot glowing by his username. I swipe into the messaging function after starting a game for us.
Hi F8_1950
I thought about what you said
Unlike texting, there isn’t any “Faust is currently typing” indicators to let me see if he’s actually awake. But I don’t have to wait that long.
Hello cat_the_king_slayer. And?
This isn’t a love story. Cat burglar meets mark, cat burglar also meets mark’s rival, cat burglar and rival fall in love, ta-da. No. But maybe, if he’s having fun with me, I could have fun with him, too?
We could be on the same team.
