12 September, 2021
📍Monza,Italy
The blaring of the alarm clock was jarring, and very unpleasant for such an early hour. Another five minutes of peace was all she needed, just five more.
Throw it against the fucking wall. Then you can get your five minutes.
Something moved against her, and she freaked out for a split-second, until she remembered the strong arm that had been lying against her waist. It reached over her, pressing on the snooze button displayed on the screen. Calina turned to face the person behind her, and God, what a sight it was.
Matteo: half his face still buried into one of her pillows, chocolate eyes still droopy with sleep and his soft, dark hair all a mess and fanning across his forehead. He looked soft and comfortable, in a way that made her never want to leave her bed. It was a sight she could get used to in the morning.
"Hi."
"Hello," she smiled. "We both slept in, eh?"
"No, you slept in. Ho molto tempo."
Calina rolled her eyes at his antics, muttering a soft whatever as she slid out from under the covers. Matteo groaned deeply as he stretched out his limbs, before slowly but surely making his way over to the guest room, where his things were still placed.
She saw a number of messages on her phone, including a few from Marco, mostly telling her not to worry too much about being on time to the track that morning, adding of course, "Don't be too late. This isn't a write-off."
Black cargo pants, a black crop top, and her Air Force one's: easy, simple, and with just the amount of effort that Calina was willing to put in that morning (which was well close to nothing). By the time her backpack was packed and she had started breakfast, Matteo had descended the stairs and entered her kitchen. Dressed in his national team polo and plain, black shorts, it was a simple outfit that he pulled off so well. He walked over to where she stood at the counter, slicing up an avocado to spread over the toast, his arms finding their way around her waist and his head resting on hers. She didn't have the heart to tell him that it still ached when his and brushed over her left side repeatedly, which was still bruised all over from her series of crashes.
"Vuoi che guidi io?"
Calina shrugged, handing him his plate.
"I gemelli vengono a prenderti, no?"
"Calì, non ti preoccupare."
"But, Matteo—"
"Calì." She sighed. He was so calm, and he looked amused too, and she knew then he wasn't going to give this up.
"Let me drive us there," Matteo muttered, close enough that she clearly heard his words. Calina huffed, taking a bite of her toast, but gave in nonetheless.
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Calina had really underestimated how many fans would be at the track when they arrived there. The roads out to the park were completely backed up, and while many who were attending the race chose to walk in, the police escort they got in only helped so much. Floods of Ferrari's signature scarlet, occasionally dotted with orange-clad Max fans or the black polos of Mercedes, could bee seen everywhere, but what really shocked her were the amount of Pagani fans she saw amongst the crowd, decked out in the team shirts and hats, some even carrying Italian flags and posters written all over with words of support.
"Wow," Matteo muttered from the driver's side.
The entrance to the lot reserved for the drivers and team personnel was blocked by security, and upon seeing the sleek Huayra roll in with the parking pass taped to the windshield, they let them by with a quick glance in to verify it was really Calina. Almost everyone was there already, judging by the scarcity of parking space, one of the few left open being her assigned spot in the back, facing a bunch of trees and away from the paddock entrance.
"Stai bene?" Matteo was looking at her tentatively.
"Yeah, I—." She took a deep breath. Quite suddenly, Calina was feeling pretty overwhelmed. She knew there really wasn't anything to worry about, except for the race. Marco had assured her that the team would be taking care of the situation from Thursday, and yet, she still couldn't shake away her uncertainty.
"Possiamo aspettare qui un po'." Calina shook her head in response.
"Dovremmo andare," she replied. "Sono abbastanza sicuro siamo in ritardo."
Once she stepped out of the car, Matteo handed her backpack over, taking her hand in his.
"Ready?"
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"Is this seat taken?"
Even with her sunglasses, the sun was blinding, but the silhouette of her teammate was recognizable enough. Nico didn't even wait for her to answer when he sat down next to her, moving her bottle and headphones case in front of her feet to make room for himself.
"Sure. Go ahead, mate," Calina muttered, going back to watching the chaos of the pre-race grid. She hadn't expected him to come up to her, or anyone, really, given what happened three days prior, and she would be lying if she said she wasn't a little stunned.
"You could easily win today, you know?"
Calina looked at Nico. He wasn't making eye contact, instead looking at where her crew was busy setting up her car in the first grid spot with the final minutes they had. Gianna, in her usual professional seriousness, was guiding her mechanics around, providing assistance on the final adjustments that needed to be made. Henry was occupying one cart, usually Melissa's, surrounded by the other engineers, reviewing the final proof of their strategies, with her usual race engineer next to him, clutching a cup of tea. It was reassuring to see Melissa there, occasionally and quietly aiding the younger engineer beside her. Around them, Fabiano walked with Marco and Horacio, the three of them carefully watching that everyone was doing exactly as they should be.
They all worked like a well-oiled machine, not a single person out of place. It was like they has been working together under this type of pressure, the pressure of a pole position. It was as though this was a regular thing for them, no one phased by the importance of this.
Calina had to agree with Nico's statement.
"But mate, you're not doing too bad, either." Her teammate chuckled. He had a good starting position too. Fifth wasn't the worse. "Makes me wonder why you're so eager to leave."
Nico still had some years left in him, she thought. Calina couldn't understand why he wasn't going to renew his contract with the team when he worked so well with everyone.
"Seriously, you never told me why you're leaving."
Nico shrugged after a moment.
"I'm nearly done, Cal," he sighed, though he didn't look as disappointed as his statement implied. Nico had a glint of optimism in his eyes. "You know Formula One—it's everything you want as a kid. You want to win it all here and I—I don't think that's going to happen for me."
Calina had to feel for him. Nico wasn't a terrible driver, his career filled with some good moments, and he was an even better person. Having him as a first teammate had been really nice, and she was going to miss having him around.
"So, you going back to Aston then?"
"Possibly." Nico smiled cheekily, turning to her. "Why, you going to miss me, Gaspé?"
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(I) Relax, Cal. You've got a good lead.
She had those two behind her.
Relax?
(C) Mate, come on!
(I) I know, but you're good. Head down, keep going.
Lewis and Max were a good ways behind; far, but not too far, and still, Calina couldn't help but feel nervous at the sight of their scrap. It was enough to make anyone nervous, really. Daniel in the McLaren (which was shocking, to say the least) served as a break between her and the two championship rivals, which was good enough of a relief, but how long would he be able to last against the two?
(I) Expect some chaos down the main straight. Looks like everyone's getting their stops in.
(C) Yeah, okay.
(I) You're sure about the tires?
(C) Henry, we come in, we lose our position. I'm going to the end.
Calina could hear his faint chuckle. It was a risky call by her, sure, but she was sure of it.
(I) Copy that.
As usual, it was a mess. Calina had to navigate through dirty air, the lapped Haas cars that wouldn't move out of the way (though she caught Mick's apologetic wave as she drove past), and of course, trying to find the ability to focus on the one thing she wanted most amongst the chaos, the win.
We have a championship here. Just because you're not fighting for it...
It didn't mean too much then, but the more Calina had thought about Max's words, the more it hurt. That, along with the response of Thursday's article, had really been her reason to want to back out of the race.
"But you see," Mathis had said late Saturday evening as they departed from the paddock, the heavy wreath slung over his shoulder. "If you had backed out, none of this would've happened. Would you really have let them win like that?"
(I) Oh shit!
In her mirrors, Calina could see the plumes of dust from the gravel off the first chicane, though only briefly as she went through Curva Grande.
(I) Hamilton and Verstappen are off, Cal. They're out.
(C) No fucking way! Everyone okay?
(I) Seems like it, but I'll let you know. Listen, you gotta just keep going.
(C) Mate, I—
"What the fuck," Calina muttered. "What the fuck, what the fuck."
(C) Okay, what's the order, Henry?
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(I) Daniel is 6.7 behind, Cal. 6.7.
(C) Shit. Three to go?
(I) Yeah, but you've got this. Can you use energy?
(C) I have nothing left, Henry!
(I) Alright, that's fine. You're fine. Just bring it home, Cal.
Henry was terrible at hiding his nervousness: his speech was rushed and she just knew his hands were shaking. Calina could hear it loud and clear over the radio. It wasn't often she saw him like this, as Henry was usually a very composed person. The only other time, she remembered it quite clearly, was two years prior, during a very crucial Formula Two race, and even then, it wasn't nearly as bad as now.
The papaya car was in clear view of her mirrors; close, but far enough that it gave her some ease, in addition to knowing McLaren would be getting nowhere near them.
As she exited Parabolica, Calina could see the bright lettering on her pit board all the way at the far end, amongst the bodies of the crew leaning over the fence, waving and cheering in celebration.
GSP, P1.
L52 1:20.052
(C) Holy shit.
(I) Yes, Cal! You've fucking done it!
(C) Oh my God!
Calina could feel tears of joy threatening to fall, her vision blurring, and she had to pull over to the side of the track, driving slow, so she could calm herself down.
The crowd was deafening, the Italian fans completely losing it. Here she was, and Italian driver, winning the Italian Grand Prix, at Monza. A group of marshals ran up to her at the second turn of Lesmo, and the pats on her helmet hurting, but she was too overwhelmed by joy to even care as one of them handed her a flag.
(P) Calina Gaspé, you're the first Italian driver to win here since 1966. You are a Grand Prix winner, at home!
(C) Marco, I— Grazie. Grazie mille a tutti—fucking hell!
(P) Kid, save it for later. Enjoy this. You've earned it!
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"It was only last year that she nearly left the sport altogether, before receiving the opportunity of a lifetime from the new team on the grid, an offer that's given a woman the opportunity to race here, in the pinnacle of Motorsport, for the first time since Lella Lombardi in 1976, and now, she has made history at the Temple Of Speed, seventy-five kilometres from the city she grew up in. It has been a roller coaster of emotions for this young lady here this weekend, and she has prevailed in the most amazing way, proving her critics wrong and proving she has what it takes to be in Formula One, and in 2022, she will be a Grand Prix winner! Calina Gaspé is the winner of the Italian Grand Prix! My oh my, what a performance—"
"He really said all that?"
Mathis was chuckling as he shut off the video, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans as Calina handed him back his drink.
"Fuck, Callie. Like, Crofty is good, but hearing that—it was insane," he said, still shaking his head in disbelief.
Bastien had insisted on throwing a party after the race. It was going to happen anyways, as Adrienne, one of Olivier's older sisters, who lived in Milan, had attended the Grand Prix with paddock passes thanks to her work, and seeing as Olivier was playing in the U.S. Open final that night, their uncle felt the need to organize a little watch party. It was supposed to be a very low-key gathering, but given the fact that Calina had also won, there was even more of a reason to celebrate.
Her and her brother were sitting out on the terrace, thankfully alone. Many of the people there: Mathis' teammates, some of the drivers, Charles and Arthur and Lorenzo, Mick and his mother, and even some members of Calina's crew, were all in various clusters around the garden, where a large screen had been set up, displaying the feed of the match before Olivier's.
The blue glass trophy was sitting on the coffee table in front of them, and Calina had to pinch herself a few times, because there was no way it was really there.
"Mattie, like, this doesn't feel real," she sighed. It felt incredible, finally winning, finally proving herself. It felt like a weight that had been slowly crunching her had been lifted as soon as she crossed that line, and just existing felt so much easier. Everything felt so at-ease, stress-free.
Mathis was smiling fondly, the trophy the centre of his attention.
"You—God, Callie. You drove in a way I've never seen you drive before. It was like you had this confidence in you."
"Now look who's being all sappy,' she joked, earning herself a loving punch to her arm, though by the sheer force of it, you couldn't really consider it loving. "Ow!"
"You're fine," Mathis smirked. Their uncle called to him, so he excused himself to go help out.
His seat was occupied not long after by Matteo, who almost immediately opened his arms and let Calina fall into his embrace.
"Are you okay," her boyfriend asked, his voice gentle and his smile one of absolute adoration.
Her boyfriend. He was hers, she was his.
Finally.
"Yeah," Calina replied. She redirected her attention to the trophy, knowing her blush would only get worse if she looked at him any longer. "It's so fucking pretty."
"It is very pretty."
"I won that. Like, I fucking won, and I showed them—"
She was cut off by Matteo tilting her head by her chin so his lips met hers in a kiss, one so full of passion and love but also so soft and caring. It was enough to make her melt in his arms, fill her with a feeling that everything was exactly as it should be.
Finally.
Race Results Formula One Heineken Gran Premio D'Italia 2021
1. 24 GSP
2. 3 RIC
3. 4 NOR
4. 27 HUL
5. 77 BOT
6. 16 LEC
7. 11 PER
8. 55 SAI
9. 18 STR
10. 14 ALO
11. 63 RUS
12. 31 OCO
13. 6 LAT
14. 5 VET
15. 99 GIO
16. 88 KUB
17. 47 MSC
DNF. 9 MAZ
DNF. 44 HAM
DNF. 33 VER
DNF. 10 GAS
DNF. 22 TSU