Rise Up

Chapter 59: Wind of Change

Walking through the crowded paddock, today felt slightly different.

We were on the triple header in the States and South America, the 2022 season was coming to an end and so also my contract with the AlphaTauri team.

In these past weeks rumors and gossips articles basically walked by my side everywhere I've been. For example, an innocent photo of me in Woking, visiting one last time Lando's family before jumping on the other side of the world for a while, soon was turned into a possible talk with the McLaren team, maybe for a reserve seat, or even a seat in minor categories with some other British teams.

All this media pressure was getting under my skin- as well as Lando's and my whole equipe- pushing me to take a decision, do something and clear the air once for all.

We currently were in Brazil, for the GP in Interlagos, one of the most loved and waited race of all the calendar, and honestly also one of my favorite, for the warm atmosphere and welcome of the tons of fans there, the track itself and the shadow of Senna always there, in every corner of the country, reminding everyone how a big idol he is for every driver.

I was walking alone through the short street that would bring me to my hospitality, as Mike got stuck into the morning traffic of the city of São Paulo, Suz was already at work- still trying to help me in this helplessly job haunting- and Lando was busy with an early sponsor media activity somewhere at the circuit.

Although the loneliness, this was the perfect opportunity for me to collect my thoughts, clear my mind, listen to myself, as even dealing with my own life has became an imprese these past weeks.

The happiness from my recent graduation was still echoing in the air around me but it was as if it wasn't enough anymore to put on silent the main worries: next year I'll be jobless. Or at least I'll be if I do not make a choice in the next few days.

I was in auto-mode, strolling around the paddock, only stopping for the fans asking a photo or an autograph on their merchandise, while my mind was somewhere completely opposite from there.

Admitting to myself that Formula 1 wasn't anymore on my table must have been the most difficult thing I've ever done, even harder than asking, almost begging, Horner to give me another chance. On our last encounter, I have to admit, that I was met with a different Chris. At the little cosy cafe in Monte-Carlo, where I've met him alongside my agent, he opened up to me as he has never done before. He was truly sorry for me, above all when he explained how he had his hands stuck in this decision, as the bigger boss made the request to give a shot to new talents from their junior academy, in a clever attempt of preparing new good drivers like Max Verstappen, thinking of the future of the RedBull team.

Basically, if he couldn't do anything for me, I was completely hopeless then. The other teams had no vacant seat as they all confirmed they old line-ups, so my only chance could have been accepted to be again a reserve driver, waiting for my shot if it came.

After pondering days and days about this possibility, I came to the fact that I'd not wait a whole year, with my hands in hands, for a small chance. My biggest desire, aim and wish was racing, as a proper first driver, not being the plan B of somebody.

So other categories entered the game, starting from F2, still with RedBull, and other like Indycar, Hendurance and surprisingly also Rally- it was evident the hand of Carlos Sainz in the clothes of my boyfriend's best friend, who probably talked to his champion dad about giving me help. But was these options really suited for me?

Entering the blue and white hospitality, I didn't waste neither a minute looking for Susanne, who was finally back from a little break with her sweet half- how jealous I was! Luckily I found her immersed between her laptop and iPad in a random table at the cafeteria, sipping her usual green tea and chewing on her pencil, as a visible sign of the nervousness still there due the stress of the job haunting.