Double Sided Tracks

From Scratch

"I don't remember where my life began but I could pinpoint where it started, it was you."

Oh Max, she wanted to stop him and wanted to give him a hug. Tell him he doesn't have to say anything anymore, let bygones be bygones. But Max shook his head, staring at the shelf like it's his enemy.

"I don't remember when I started getting into Karting, but I remember crying under my helmet because I don't want to get yelled at by Jos." He said, and Nora's chest hurt because Max recalling these memories like they're good memories– as if they're not nightmares.

He has a thin smile on his face, but he's frowning. "I don't know how to build anything from scratch, I was shoved into a ready kart to drive. I was pushed into a team that was made for me, that was ready for me– their golden boy," he said it like he was spitting venom. Anyone would be happy knowing a team works their ways around you.

"I just know how to fight," he said quietly, "I just know how to fight and how to survive, I don't know how to start."

She shook her head, because, no Max, that's not true.

"It's true," he insisted, sitting himself in front of the dishevelled looking shelf, she copied him. "I know how to stay to fight and survive in this shit hole, with my dad, with everything, with the people, with the media, but I don't know how to– start." He said, hands gesturing at every word like he's losing his footing.

"I bought this house for you,"

And– what.

"I bought it because I don't know where to start with you, you started my life and– and," he wiped his eyes quickly. "I'm sorry– I don't know where to start to apologise but I'm sorry and I want to start– with you."

She scrunched her eyebrows, tilting her head questioning.

"I want to start with you, and I don't just want to fight my way through or fight for a spot. I want to start." He said, punctuating every word.

"I know– Hamilton– I know Lewis wasn't the— I," he looked up for the first time, "can you stop me from talking please, just– just stop me." He begged and Nora could hear the plea behind his voice.

She walked towards him and grabbed the instruction paper that she had no doubt all crumpled because of his fist and frustration. "Where's the other bag?" She asked, tapping her finger on the picture of the bag labelled "B" and without waiting for Max she snatched the clear Ziploc bag that was stranded under the discarded box.

Max stayed quiet, just watching her. "I think you broke some of these corners," she started, examining the corner of the shelf. "Should be fine." She added.

Max stayed quiet, Nora fully sat down in front of the shelf now, Max beside her just watching her every move.

"You've apologised Max," she whispered, as she flicked through the instruction sheet. "That's enough. Brazil was enough."

Max stayed quiet so she continued, "you were right though, I always run. I never stay and fight. You on the other hand, know how to fight and to stay. Does that make me a bad person?"

Max shook his head quickly, stood up like the ground was on fire. But Nora just smiled at him, "then it doesn't make you a bad person for knowing how to stay and fight."

Max stared at her, "but that's all I know."

Nora shrugged, she wiped her dusty hands on her pants. Somehow she managed to build the shitty shelf that he got from IKEA without any screwdriver or tools, did the shelf just need a gentle touch then?

She tried to get the shelf to stand up though he could see she was struggling, so he quickly set it up for her. She smiled and thanked him.

Max lifted the shelf and set it against the wall, it looks ridiculous because of how empty it is— the shelf and the house.

She stared at the shelf like it's the most interesting thing on earth, as if Max didn't just spill his guts and everything in it.

But, judging by how she's chewing her fingers, she hasn't forgotten what Max said and probably just found the right words. He knows her like the back of his hands now, he wonders if Lewis knows this too.

"Are you not afraid?" She asked all of a sudden and,

And Max stared at her, "of what?" because, yes, of what?

"Of hurting you?" He asked again, because that's his only fear so far.

She made an intangible sound, still staring at the shelf.

"Honey, look at me." He asked softly, Nora did. Her big eyes are staring at him, straight through. "What am I supposed to be afraid of? The only thing I'm afraid is hurting you,"

She bit her lips, "of everything." She whispered, "what people think of, what your dad thinks of, everyone, I mean— of what we are."

Lewis was scared of what we could have been, I supposed.

He shook his head firmly, "no." Then he shrugged, "I told you all I know is to fight and stay, why should I be afraid?"

Nora stayed quiet, Max took her hands in his. Letting her think, letting her say whatever she wants to say, "are you afraid to get hurt?" he asked, when Nora just squeezing his hands lightly.

Isn't that a good question?

Everyone is afraid to get hurt, "you have to choose the right person to hurt you."

Max is intense. He speak his mind, in his words; he knows how to fight and he knows how to stay. He said it like it's a bad thing, but Nora never have to second guessed herself. She knows she's wanted, she knows Max wanted her.

Wanted to start with her, wanted everything with her. "Max Verstappen drives with surgical precision, like he's not afraid." A headline she read awhile back, but if only the media knows. Max does this with everything, he's blunt, he's sharp, a paradox—the duality of a man.

Two sides of the tracks. Everything with Max is racing, same with Lewis. But Max lets her into both sides of him, lets his guard down unapologetically. Whereas with Lewis, she constantly felt like they're on eggshells.

Felt like she had to wait for the right time to pray him open, to have him opened up to her just as much as she opened up to him.

Lewis was afraid to hurt her, was what he told her.

It's easier to go back to Lewis, pretend that he didn't broke her heart into pieces. Pretend that she didn't have nightmares over what he said, pretend he never made her felt miniscule—to continue where they left off. To go on with life as if Lewis never broke her, to continue loving him now that he loves her. To pretend that the very idea of loving him is not painful to her, to continue just so she never have to wonder "what could have been" but—

But she deserved to be wanted, loved and desired unapologetically, she deserved to be with someone who's not afraid of her. Not afraid of the possibilities.

And, and it's Max. Max fulfilled her chest to the point where it's overwhelming, never second guessing someone's love for you, isn't that what everyone deserves?

Is this a mistake? Everything can be a mistake. Asking that is useless.

Deep down she knows what she wants, she wouldn't be here if not. They both wouldn't be here if not, they wouldn't be standing in the middle of an empty room in Amsterdam—when neither of them lives here. Both wanting a fresh start, meeting in the middle.

She squeezed his hand, and surge forwards, letting her body fall towards Max. Letting him catch her, swipe her in a hug. She nodded in the crook of his neck and she pretend that she didn't hear Max let out the biggest sigh of relief.

They can do this. They're building everything from scratch this time, both eager and wanting to stay and fight.

___

hang in there, one more chapter and maybeeee. maybeeeee everyone got their happy ending ok.