Snap Happy (A Daniel Ricciardo story)

27. Worlds Apart

"I suspected as much. How soon...?" He didn't finish the question - he didn't need to.

"I don't know" I confessed "I'm still knackered after coming back from Italy so I dread to think what I'm going to be like after a 7000 mile flight" I heard my voice crack as I spoke and cursed my own weakness yet again.  

"It's not worth the risk. All you need to do is focus on getting better for Suzuka, don't worry about anything else for now"

 "Uhh...sure...thanks"

The relief that I felt at not having to face a flight to Singapore could not extinguish the crushing disappointment of knowing that I would be missing a race.  This wasn't like the Summer break full of sunshine and optimism. This was knowing that the life I was just getting used to would be carrying on without me, and that I was once again relegated to armchair enthusiast. This was another three weeks of not being able to see Dan.

"...Emily?"

"Yeah? Sorry?"

"Get well, and keep me updated OK?"

"Sure...thanks Darren"

"See you in Suzuka then"

"I hope so" 

I hung up and slumped miserably onto the floor.Not only did I not know what to do with myself for the next three weeks, but with each passing day I was becoming less and less confident about being able to pick things back up again with Dan as if the last week had never happened. If I'd been able to say all that I wanted to say, if I could have seen him before he left Italy then maybe...but it wasn't something that could be solved from separate cities, let alone separate continents. I couldn't even accuse him of ignoring me - he'd replied to every message, even sent a few of his own, but it wasn't the secret code of two lovers, or even the easy banter of close friends. Instead there was an uneasy detachment as we tiptoed around each other like strangers terrified of saying the wrong thing. 

The enormous cardboard box in the corner provided a welcome distraction from my thoughts. When Mum said 'parcel' it was safe to say that this was not at all what I was expecting. I checked the label - it was definitely mine. Not wasting anymore time I ripped through the layers of parcel tape, nearly waxing both arms in the process as I wrestled with the sticky tentacles. Seriously, whoever invented this stuff...

An envelope dropped onto the carpet bearing a single, hastily scrawled line:

'YOUR MISSION (should you choose to accept it)' 

Thoroughly bewildered and more than a little intrigued I opened it to find another note in the same handwriting.

'You have the components to recreate a famous victory...but we're not telling you which one. Have fun!'

I returned my attentions to the cardboard box and dived inside, pulling out handfuls of plastic track sections, fences and flags followed by two scalextric controllers, a miniature McLaren, and a miniature Red Bull. Even before I attempted to fit the pieces together I knew it had to be Jenson's epic last lap win in Canada (minus the rain), and the only time I have ever heard a shriek of that volume ever leave my lips . 

But the box wasn't empty yet.

For the first time that week I let out a gurgle of spontaneous laughter. Stuck to the bottom was a blurry group selfie, but there was no mistaking the white and grey polo shirts.  On the back of the photo was a final note. 

 'Come and visit us when you're back. Get well soon. JG, JB, JM and the lads. xxx'

I was surprised and genuinely touched, especially considering we'd known each other such a relatively short time. There was just one problem though - with a Red Bull car in my hands there was only one man I could possibly race as, and it wasn't Sebastian. It was time to rewrite the history books...

DAN

She wasn't here. Even though I knew she wouldn't be, part of me still expected to see her where I'd got used to finding her -  in the garages, in the crowds...

In my bed. 

I was flooded with a swirling cocktail of emotions. On one hand the thrill of a podium under the Singapore lights, the incomparable adrenaline of a hard-fought race. On the other, the sense of something incomplete and unresolved, drifting in a frustrating kind of limbo.

My mind distracted I didn't hear the voices calling my name, or the footsteps thundering down the pitlane behind me.

"We didn't fly out here for you to turn your back on us y'bastard!" Strong hands gripped my shoulders and I turned, a grin stretching my features as I recognised the men in front of me.

"BIG HOMIES!"

I leapt straight into the middle of the group, and was immediately engulfed in a flurry of back-slapping and hearty embraces. 

 "So...where is she then mate?" This was Blake - friend, classmate, and  partner-in-crime on many a daredevil adventure.

"Where's who?" I feigned innocence, but could see that they were having none of it. 

"Your new lady" he insisted in a terrible British accent. 

"She's not here" I replied bluntly, hoping they'd take the hint. "she had a fall and wasn't well enough to fly"

His eyebrows posed the question that his mouth thankfully never got to ask. 

"Guys if we're not going to meet chicks can we at least meet beer?" Carlo interrupted, saving me from further awkward explanations.

 "Sure" I agreed wihout hesitation "just let me finish up here and I'll come and find you later"

I turned to walk back towards the garage but Blake caught my shoulder.

"So when do we get to meet this girl?" he asked quietly in my ear.

"I don't know" I shook my head sadly.

It was likely to be a few more weeks before I would be back in Australia, and at this rate I'd be returning alone. 

Note: sorry for the short, late, shitty chapter. I've been knackered all week and I've suddenly come down with a stinking cold which is probably why my brain has been all fuzzy anyway. Promise the next one will be better. Sorry :( ...achooo! Lemsip time and off to bed :( Night night x