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“Kimi, could you set the table?” Mamma calls across the house on the Tuesday between Imola and Monaco. “Dinner will be ready soon!”
He’s just pulled open the cabinets to drag the plates when there’s a knock at the door.
“Kimi!” Papa yells. “Could you get that?”
“He’s setting the table!”
“He can set the table in a minute.”
Kimi glances helplessly between Mamma and the hallways. She gives him a little nod towards the front door and tells him “Go.”
Kimi isn’t sure who he was expecting to be at his door, but Max Verstappen in a Verstappen.com race suit with wind swept hair, and a satchel is certainly not it. He’s got his wings out, which he folds neatly behind him.
“Hi.”
“Hello. May I come in?”
And what else is Kimi supposed to do, other than invite Max in.
“Max is here! Verstappen,” he clarifies.
“Verstappen?” Mamma peaks her head out of the kitchen. “Verstappen. Hello! Welcome. We were just about to have dinner, did you want to join us?”
“Oh–”
“You are joining us.”
“Okay.”
“Kimi, get an extra table set for him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you say Verstappen is here?” Papa asks, coming down the stairs. “What brings you here?”
“Well. I was flying home from the factory, and I have to pass by Italy to get to Monaco, and I thought that maybe Kimi would want to fly again, and I thought he could fly with me. Back to Monaco,” Max stumbles.
Kimi flexes his wings under their bindings. He’s careful not to make a sound as he places plates, forks, knives, and cups on the table lest he miss something being said.
“With the jet?” Mamma asks.
“I could call the jet.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“With your wings you mean,” Mamma corrects.
“Why don’t you stay for dinner,” Papa offers. “We’ll have to think about this a little bit. Kimi has school.”
Kimi can skip school.
“Right.” A beat. “If I’m staying for dinner, do you think I could change?”
“Of course. Kimi!”
“Coming!”
“You took him flying out in Brazil last year, no?”
“Yes, I was with him.”
“He will need his luggage,” Mamma tells Max, already thinking about the logistics, since of course she knows that Kimi will beg to go.
“That is okay. I can carry a duffle bag the whole way.”
“I also have a backpack,” he chimes.
“Can you fly with a backpack?”
“I haven’t tried,”
“Right. Well. That is okay. I can carry that too.”
“Are you sure?” Papa asks. “That seems uncomfortable.”
“It is. But we will not be going my usual speed, and will take breaks. I can’t imagine you’ve let him fly his far before.”
“No.”
Max shrugs, and shovels a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “This is really good.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s your usual speed?” Kimi asks in between his own mouthfuls of food.
“I can get up to 300kph, like the car. But I normally coast at 230.”
Kimi blinks at him. Kimi’s whole family blinks at him.
“A plane is between 500 and 700,” Max sheepishly adds.
Papa exhales. “He’s going half as fast as a plane.”
“I won’t take Kimi that fast,” he assures. “I’m thinking 50 kph with breaks, but we would have to leave right now.”
“I can skip school,” Kimi butts in before his parents say anything. “There’s no tests tomorrow.”
His parents both grimace at him.
“Please? I haven’t flown in a while.”
“What if he gets tired?” Papa asks. “You both need to be there by Thursday.”
“Wednesday night, hopefully. So that we both get a chance to rest. If he gets tired we can rent a car to the nearest airport, and drive in from Nice.”
“Please?”
Mamma and Papa share a look, and then Mamma is pushing her chair back. “Let’s unbind your wings now, so that you can stretch them out before you go.”
“I can go?”
“If you do the dishes before you pack tonight, because I know you haven’t done that yet.”
“Do you have a race suit?” Max asks. “It gets very windy when you go that fast, and it’s good to have protection. And your helmet: the HANS is very nice to have.”
Kimi pouts. “Where’s your helmet?”
Max grins cheekily. “Monaco. But! It’s not my first international flight, so…”
“You are wearing your helmet,” Mamma declares.