Snap Happy (A Daniel Ricciardo story)

28. One Of Us

Once the car had accelerated out of the garage, the rest of the crew headed over to add their own greetings before they were called back to work. I embraced them all like old friends, glad to be noticed, glad to be missed, grateful that there were a few people in this manic environment who cared enough about an insignificant little (large) photographer to make sure that I was alright. Here at least for a little while  I could push aside my worries about the rest of the weekend, and the inevitable conversation that lay ahead.

DAN

 "How's it going?" Jenson clapped me on the shoulder as we waited for another round of media calls. 

"Good! Better if this weather holds"

 "Tell me about it! Good to see your girl back though."

"You've seen her?"  I couldn't hide my surprise. 

"She spent the session in my garage" he suddenly looked puzzled, embarrassed even. "You didn't know?"

I knew she'd be around, assumed she was busy trackside somewhere, not sitting in a garage a couple of doors down. I felt a new wave of disappointment and anger, rational or not, that she'd gone straight to them instead of me. 

"She probably said, I just forgot about it. Is she there  now?"

"She was when I left - it was a fairly open invitation I think."

I just nodded, refocusing my mind as I was directed here and there, the Japanese TV crews calling out our names. Actually they were calling out Jenson's name - the guy was infuriatingly popular around here.

I remained distracted throughout the interviews, answering most of the questions on autopilot. My mind was asking questions of it's own that I couldn't answer, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough to find out the truth for myself.

She was still in the garage, laughing and joking with one and then another as if nothing had happened. She wasn't the same fragile, vulnerable creature I had last seen swamped by hospital bedsheets, and I was relieved of course...in a way. Yet there was also a suddent twinge of hurt that she seemed so carefree when I'd bottled up my feelings over the last few weeks, dwelled on them to the point of madness. I couldn't even bring myself to tell my friends the truth in Singapore, and they were the only ones who'd known the whole story about Michelle. At least until recently.

I paused a few paces from the entrance, aware that I couldn't exactly march straight in to an opposing team's garage without a reason.  As if I was emitting some kind of ultrasonic signal she detected my presence almost instantly and something changed. I wasn't sure that she was pleased to see me - if anything she looked scared and apprehensive but she walked towards me nonetheless, conscious perhaps that she didn't want to be overheard.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" I demanded quietly, making a conscious effort to keep my face  neutral, while we were still in full view of the garage.

"I wasn't avoiding you - I was just giving you space"

I could see by the change in her expression that she knew how pathetic the words sounded the second they were out of her mouth. 

"I think I've had enough space" I hissed, drawing her away from prying eyes and prying lenses.

"I didn't know what you wanted. Your texts...I...I've got a lot I need to say to you and I didn't want to say it now when your mind should be on preparing for qualifying and the race."

Her voice was faltering but honest at least, and I relaxed a little when I realised that there were more emotions beneath the surface than I had initially thought.