Re-evaluating Strategies

🇲🇨MONACO

Abella
Monte-Carlo, Monaco

When the Monaco Grand Prix finally came around, I still hadn't spoken a single word to Charles, neither him to me. After uncharacteristically storming out of the event at the Amber Lounge, I beelined for Pierre's apartment, using his spare key to let myself in, packing all my things back into my small suitcase, before sliding the key under the front door and checking into the nearest hotel. I knew I was being selfish and petty, but I was hurt and too far past embarrassment to face Charles. So instead I resorted to moping around my room, occasionally crying a little to Maja over FaceTime and avoiding the track at all costs. Pierre has been texting me like a madman trying to make amends between me and Charles, but we all know from growing up together that me and Charles are far too stubborn to make the first move to a civil conversation. So nothings changed.

Now it's race day, and I'm sat in the hospitality area assessing the statistics from yesterday's qualifying, brainstorming strategies for later. Both Sebastian, Max and Pierre came out with really strong qualifying positions which will make for a great race. Unfortunately Charles was not so lucky and had to make do with p15, which he was visibly frustrated by as everyone could see on the numerous replays of his reaction. As soon as he entered the garage, he swiftly hid in his private room for the remainder of the day, ultimately making him easier to avoid. Whilst lost in my thoughts of the previous day's events, Lorenzo appears out of nowhere, ordering me to head down to the track. He gives me no time to pack away my things before beckoning me to follow and strutting away on his stumpy legs.

Walking through the garage, I hug Sebastian good luck but Charles isn't anywhere to be seen, which I put down to him probably still sulking after yesterday. I join Lorenzo at Ferrari's private viewing area, continuing with my work while the drivers execute their formation laps. When the race begins, I keenly leave Lorenzo, joining the strategists at the pit wall. The race is under way and everything is running smoothly. Sebastian is in a good position for a podium, whereas Charles is very unlikely to make up any positions, starting from 15th on a track notoriously hard to overtake on. Then suddenly we have no time to react as Charles' car halts to a stop, the mechanics ruling it a gearbox failure. As Charles strides through the pit-lane towards the red garage, and I can tell he's disappointed. I share his disappointment, knowing how important this race is to him in his home town. I refuse my body's itch to rush to comfort him, keeping my eyes trained on him. As he closes in, his helmeted head snap directly at me and I can feel his eyes bore into mine, forcing me to look away uncomfortably. Keeping my vision on the pit wall screens, I watch Charles on the live streaming hold his head in his hands as he gets out of the retired car and my heart sinks.

The race finishes and the team rejoices as Sebastian takes his place on the podium. Hugs go all around as the champagne flies and covers the team below, I stand back observing the scene from afar, unable to shake my mood. Silvia, the PR manager takes a place beside me, letting out a sigh, bringing me out of my thoughts. Turning to look at me, she lays a kind hand on my shoulder and says, 'Please go talk to Charles for me, he needs to leave his room eventually to answer the questions about the race from the press' then she looks into my eyes adding 'I know he will listen to you', before leaving me alone once again. I internally cringe at her request, but I don't have the heart to chase after and tell her that he definitely, one hundred percent, without a doubt, will not listen to me. Especially not at this particular point in time, but I can't let her down when she's relying on me.

Instead I make my way to Charles' private drivers room, behind the garage and stand by the door, hand raised and ready to knock. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, feeling a wave of anxiety hit me as I tap the white door rhythmically three times. I wait for an answer but it never comes. 'Charles?'. For all I know he's already left and I'm talking to myself.
'I understand that you are disappointed, I know how much this race meant to you. But you can't hide away forever. The team are so proud of how well you handled you handled the situation, we all are.' I let out a sigh shaking my head, people are looking at me funny and I'm starting to think I'm talking to a trailer but I carry on.
'Sylvia asked me to tell you that they need you down in the media pen, which I can guess you aren't too keen on doing. Prove them wrong, don't let the reporters think they've got the better of you. Go and handle the difficult situation like the champion they say you are.' I laugh to myself as I babble my motivational speech meant for Charles, to his trailer. I spot Arthur in the distance and sprint away from the empty trailer to catch up with him, unaware of the body leant back with his head against the inside of the door.