Chapter Text
December 18th, 2000:
I often questioned where I would be if I never stepped into that go-kart at 3 years old. I wondered if I’d be a footballer, or if I would go to university. I could have been anyone, but I was happy with how my life had gone. At 17, I had completed the 1999 Euro Open by Nissan championship with the promise of a F1 testing session for Minardi. On the 13th of December of 1999, I had done my first test session for them, and had set a bench mark 1.7 seconds faster than the other drivers for the team. Including Gene Marc, the Spanish Prodigy, as he was called in the newspapers daily.
I had impressed Minardi so much that they had decided to sign me for the team, that everyone doubted would even be on the grid this next year. That was until the notice of a super license had become a problem. It’s why at 18 I had competed in F3000, backed by Telefonica.
I hadn’t known three months ago what my career would look like, even now I was unsure, but I had proven myself in F3000. With constant fights with the leaders and two consecutive podiums, including a maiden win at the series finale in Spa. With Minardi being shaky I had been introduced to a name famous in the sport Flavio Briatore, who was running Renault-owned Benetton. He had convinced me to leave Minardi and change my contract to be with him and Renault, until 2004.
Over November Briatore had told me he was going to be loaning me back to Minardi, if they were able to get onto the grid, If not I was probably going to have to do another season of F3000. Nonetheless, I had fought for my super license in hopes Minardi would figure out their problems. It was like I was a dog with a shock collar in a house on fire. I had been conditioned not to leave, but Flavio stood in the doorway throwing water over me.
I had spent the first half of December having been given a lot of time to run the Benetton B200, in order to prepare for hopefully a full season in F1. I had traveled home a week before Christmas, an event of which our entire family and all my parents' friends would be attending. I was nineteen now, and although I had grown up in this city, it still felt odd driving through it. My dad had come to pick me up at OVD, our local airport that had been undergoing upgrades the past couple years.
As we drove past all the buildings my dad spoke to me asking question after question about the testing I had done. My father wasn’t impressed with the situation I had signed on for, not knowing if I was in F1 or not. He hadn’t said it, but his small remarks had told me as such. I hoped I would be in F1 next year, of course I did, I wanted to be a part of the pinnacle of motorsports, to have my name sealed in history, to live the dream I had worked my entire life towards. I knew this would only be the start of the questioning. My parents still lived in my childhood home, with the same neighbours of the past twenty years, and the same friends.
Everyone saw me in a golden light, the driver, the anomaly. As if I wasn’t the same kid who had grown up on their block, that had gone to school with their kids, that had been a part of their lives longer than I had raced. My father had pulled into a refueling station making a joke that it won’t be as fast as a pitstop but it needs to be done. I laugh, telling him it’s not a problem and that I wanted to pop into the attached shop for a drink.
I had climbed out of the white Mk1 Renault Clio, my father had brought brand new for my mother almost a decade ago. I close the door greeting a couple walking out the shop. I walk towards the back of the shop to the drink aisle scanning for La Casera, my favourite Gaseosa from my childhood. I walk towards the pay counter and hear a girl with a slight British accent to her Spanish fighting with the guy at the counter.
“I swear I’m of age, I just need a pack of Fortuna. I have enough to pay.” She says and I study her. She has dark brown, almost black hair that ends at her waist, with eyes of the same color. She’s pale, like she hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Then again who had with the winter cold. She pulls cash out of her lightly oversized black jacket and the guy at the counter tells her without ID he’s not allowed to.
I put my stuff down beside hers on the counter and she whips her head to look at me. I had never been sure someone was so ready to kill me with just a look before. I hand the guy my ID, “I’ll pay for it, whatever the lady wants” I tell the cashier and he nods. “Alonso” He greets me with annoyance.
Her face softens and she thanks me, adjusting her thick jacket again. I smile and nod, taking her in, Diamond shaped face, with symmetrical features and peach pink lips. “You know those things are bad for you right” I ask as we walk to the exit of the shop after I pay.
“Wow, I didn’t know that,” she says with sarcasm.
I shake my head and open the door for her. I put out my hand, “I’m Fernando”.
She walks straight past me. And I chuckle trying to catch up to her. “I’ve never seen you around here before, not that I’m here often.” I say taking steps to catch up to her.
She stops, “I already said thanks for using your ID, What more do you want from me?” She turns with such dramatics.
“Nothing, I just thought-”
“You thought wrong. Just because you did something nice doesn’t mean I have to be kind to you” She tells me and I purse my lips together.
I hold the pack out for her to take. “Just thought you’d actually want them” I finished awkwardly.
Her face falls, and she takes the pack. “Thanks”
She turns then again immediately pulling one out the box and lighting it as she walks away. “Use the shop down the corner next time, the owner isn’t such a prick!” I call out playfully and she sends me a middle finger before she gets into the driver’s seat of an Opel Kadett.
I shake my head chuckling and walking back to my dad. I get in the passenger seat and he looks at me, “Everything okay?” He asks and I nod.
“All good, when's Lorena coming home?”
“She should be here on Wednesday”
“Any chance I can go pick her up from the Airport when she does?”
“I think your mother was going to ask you too. I’ll have to leave the car with you. She’s bringing her new boyfriend home”
“Ah, yes, Noah” I smile. “What does he do again?”
“Haven’t a clue. Ask your mom, she cares more about your sister and your love lives more than me” He laughs and I smile.
It’s not long until we’re turning into our road. I see the house on the corner with the white picket fence covered with green shrubs. “Mom told me Santi’s parents sold the house, Is that true?” I ask as we pull into the brown stone brick house I had grown up in.
“Yea, your mom told me to invite the new family for dinner tomorrow night. The dad works for me, a new guy. I think he has a daughter around your age”
“And that’s why mom wanted me home earlier?”
“Just you know, speak to her a bit. Your mom worries about you never having had girlfriends like the kids your age” My dad says using the car key to open the boot of the car.
“She doesn’t need to, racing is my main priority” I pull my backpack on while grabbing my suitcase.
“And that I am glad to hear, but your mom…” He sighs and I nod.
“I know, she wants to make sure I find a love like yours, almost thirty years together?”
“Ten years before you, yeah” He says, closing the boot again. I hear my name then, my mom walking though the front door.
“Oh, my love! Come here, let your mom see you? Are you eating enough? You look like you’ve lost weight since I last saw you” My mom fusses over me.
I laugh pulling her into a hug, “I’m okay mamma, just missed you” I say and I feel my suitcase fall from my grasp and start rolling down the driveway. I tear away from my mom running, with my backpack bouncing on my back, after the suitcase. I grab it and slow turning back to my parents who just laugh at me.
“Come inside, I made your favourite sandwich” My mom says as my dad closes the car boot and they start walking inside.
I follow, dumping my bags at the door, before going straight to the kitchen. I grab the Jamôn and Manchego sandwich that’s still on the counter, my mother obviously having just finished making it and take a bite. I groan as I hop to sit on the counter, one leg on the counter, arm slung over my knee, the other bracing itself against a cupboard draw.
I feel the olive oil and crushed tomato juices my mom always put on seeping onto my hands but my hunger doesn’t care. I hadn’t eaten anything good in the last twelve hours, breakfast only being a sad airport chicken mayo that had more stale bread than filling. I take another bite , the crunch loud from the fresh barras crispy crust,
“Fernando!” My mom scolds me walking into the kitchen. “Why aren’t you using a plate? The crumbs are going everywhere” She says handing me a plate.
“I couldn’t wait, you know how much I love your cooking” I smile while taking another bite. She gives me an unimpressed smile while grabbing a cloth.
“Off” She says, hitting me lightly with it. “Let me clean your mess, I hope you don’t do this in your hotel rooms” She says and I hop off the table.
“Fernando! Come clear your bags from the hallway please” My father calls and my mom looks at me.
“Not even home for five minutes and already causing havoc on my life” My mom sighs and I chuckle swallowing.
I kiss her cheek, “You know you’ve missed it” I say before walking back to the hallway where my father is standing going through the mail.
“I have to head back to work, but promise me you’ll be on your best behaviour, your mom does not need to be stressing all the time. You know the toll these big Christmases bring on her. She’s already not sleeping well.” My father says, looking at me.
I nod. “I’m going to unpack and go for a run. I shall be as clean as a bee”
“Are bees clean?” He tilts his head and I shrug. “I’ll see you later, son.” He says before going out the door again.
I pick up my bags and hike them up to my room, balancing my half eaten sandwich on the plate. I step back into the room I had spent my life in, the rectangular room smaller than I remember. My father had remodeled the room when I was about 12, making everything built in. A huge cupboard display case, with my helmets and every trophy I’ve ever won, on one side of the room with my bed built into it. On the other side was my wardrobe and desk where my small tv and video game set up was, the steering wheel for practice sticking ever so slightly out of the desk.
I turn my small stereo system on, flipping through the CDs beside it, settling on Avalancha. His Héroes del Silencio álbum. I pop it in and the intense slightly broody music starts playing and I start unpacking, singing along to the lyrics.
I pull the laundry basket, I had stolen from the bathroom, back when I’m done and my mom stops me. “I want to go for a nap, do you need me to teach you how to do your own laundry again?” She asks and I can see the tiredness behind her eyes. I shake my head.
“No, I think I remember. I’m going to go for a run after I put it on.” I tell her and she smiles.
“Would you mind popping past Santi’s house and dropping off the bread that’s on the counter. I made too much this morning and I want you to meet them before dinner.” My mom asks and I nod.
“Is it odd not having him there anymore? I mean Santi?” I ask and she nods.
“Him and Joe were always sweet, and came with Lucia every Wednesday for dinner. But with them moving, it makes sense for Lucia to sell.”
“I thought they were renting?”
“Could be, It’s not all too much our business. You should ask him, " she says with a smile.
“Yea, I’ll send a message. It’s just different now. He’s got a wife, a baby, and a new job. Just different lives right?” I say shrugging.
“Just because your lives are different, doesn’t mean your relationship should change, Fernando” She tells me and I nod.
“Yea, I’ll phone him later tonight” I tell her and she nods.
“Good, now go. You don’t want to put your washing out too late” She tells me and I nod, pulling the laundry basket with me downstairs.
I go to the small laundry room and throw everything in together, not caring to separate anything. I do the steps my mom had to teach me a million times before I run back upstairs and change into a long sleeve thermal and running tights. I pull on a windbreaker vest with the minardi logo on it before pulling on a pair of shorts and pulling on my running shoes. I grab a beanie and jog back downstairs to the kitchen. I fill a water bottle before I grab the bread my mom told me about and head for the door.
I run down the road to Santi’s house, humming a song under my breath. When I get to the house, I jump over the small gate like I had for years having known Santi. I see an Opel Kadett and I can’t help a nagging feeling that it’s familiar. I knock on the front door and hop from foot to foot. The door opens and I stop. “You” I say.
She stands there, with the same dark features but without the black jacket she wore this morning. She looks out the door around me and lifts an eyebrow. “What the fuck? Did you follow me home?” She asks and I see her ball her fist.
“No! No! I didn’t” I say stepping back and down a step. “Um, I live up the road. The stone bricked house, um, I’m Ana Maria’s son. She wanted me to give you this” I say holding the bread out to her.
She relaxes a bit. “Oh.”
I swallow. “Yea”
“I guess, I should apologize then.”
“No, please, It’s not necessary” I say. “I do still think you should use the corner shop”
“I wasn’t apologizing for this morning. I was apologizing for nearly ripping your head off when I opened the door”
“Oh, um, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed” I take in a breath.
She sighs and shakes her head. “Come in” she says, turning and walking inside, leaving the door open. I look around before darting into the house.
I follow her into the kitchen, noting how the house still looks exactly the same as when Santi lived here. Just without any of the millions of photographs aunt Lucia always had up. She takes the bread from me and puts it down.
“Your mom is kind. Probably tries too hard, but she’s kind.” She says leaning against the counter.
“She’s just trying to be welcoming” I defend her.
“I know, it’s just different. Where we’ve come from, neighbors aren’t so friendly. Everyone keeps to themselves, the only time you interact is when they complain” She opens her fridge. “Want something to drink?”
“It’s just how things are here. My mom wouldn’t have it any other way” I smile, shaking my head. She grabs a can of Fanta and looks back at me.
“I’m sure she wouldn’t, My parents were the same” She says playing with the can tab. “The Doctor and the Driver right?” She asks and I nod. “Which one are you, doctor or driver?”
“Driver” I smile.
She nods. “Of course, it’s all a boys club at the end of the day. My father watches the F1”
“Oh, I might be racing there next year” I admit and her eyes narrow.
“Oh, so you are a real racer?” She asks sarcastically.
“And it's not true. It’s not all a boys club” I try.
“Any sport that has women walking around barely dressed for their pure enjoyment I consider a boys club”
I purse my lips. “They are respected more than that” I whisper.
“Are you sure the other drivers would say the same?” She asks and I shake my head. “My dad will like you, obviously. I’m not as easily impressed” She crosses her arms.
“I’m not here for long, so I think we’ll be fine.” I give her a smile. “Speaking of, I should go. I was on my way for a run” I say, turning back to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening then. You are coming for dinner, I believe.”
“I’ll see you then, Racer” She tells me and I walk down the hallway again, letting myself out. I jump the fence again and start jogging. I look back and she’s watching me. When our eyes meet, she rolls hers and heads back inside.