Heavy topics in this one, including mentions of suicide. Please read at your own risk, and reach out if you need any help. My inbox is a safe space for everyone 💗
15 September, 2021
📍various locations, Italy
"How many more can you give me, Cal?"
She couldn't be serious. Calina's arms were jelly at this point in the workout, and Lella still had more?
"Please," she sighed. Her trainer smirked, loading up another pair of fifteen-pound plates to the bar.
"Come on," Lella chuckled. "This is nothing for you."
"You wanna try?" Calina countered, lying back down on the bench, her hands grasping the bar. Lella shook her head in amusement.
"Ten reps, then you're free."
"What are your plans for the rest of the day?" Lella was packing up when Calina emerged in a fresh, not-sweaty outfit. Why she needed to take things home, Calina didn't know. Lella did own the gym.
"Just an appointment later," her trainer said, shrugging as she went back to her task. "Don't you have a date tonight?"
"Yeah, but I have to go meet Russo for lunch first." Calina had been meaning to see her psychiatrist, she really had, but with all the media and sim the team wanted her to do after the race weekend was ridiculous. Thankfully, other than her morning training, Calina had a free day today, and besides, she really missed Russo.
"I'll leave you to it, then," Lella said, picking her bag up off the floor, her phone going off with messages. "If you'll excuse me, I need to see what my husband is whining about."
Matteo picked up as soon as Calina called, her phone resting between her cheek and shoulder as she piled her bags into the passenger's seat of the Jeep.
"Ma, trovo molto offensivo che non posso vedere la mia ragazza nel mio giorno libero," he sighed. "Appena sono libero, arriva qualcosa di nuovo."
"I—you—Matteo, sono stato via per due ore."
"Ma, oggi hai quel appuntamento con Russo, no?"
"Si, e poi sono tua per il resto della giornata," Calina replied, setting her phone on the centre console beside her. "Va bene per te?"
"Sì. avremo abbastanza tempo per il nostro viaggio."
Calina paused, registering his words, as she pulled out onto the road. She knew Matteo had been planning something, because ever since she had first learned he was taking her out on a date, he hadn't given any more detail other than that, and she was under the impression he meant something like a dinner.
"What—a trip? Matteo, you have training tomorrow morning! What trip?"
"Do not worry about me," he chuckled. "Credo che dopo la gara, tu devi andare a rilassarti un po, Calina."
Calina sighed, but she felt a warmth spread through her at his thoughtfulness. The past weekend had been draining, and maybe whatever he had planned would be good for her.
"Non mi dirai dove stiamo andando, vero?"
"No, e potreste odiarmi per questo. Chi lo sa?"
"Matteo!"
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For probably the first time since Calina had begun working with Russo, the doctor had requested they not meet in her office. For as long as Calina knew, she had been comfortable with sharing what she had to in the privacy of the room, though now she supposed, that with the secrets of her mental health shared out to the world, it probably didn't matter as much.
She had left her car and her gym bag at Matteo's place, rolling her eyes fondly as her boyfriend had whined half-heartedly some more about her leaving. Russo had wanted to meet at this small, but very refined cafe in the centre of Milan, so Calina took the metro in, not wanting to have to worry about driving.
Her psychiatrist was already there waiting, and it made Calina feel bad about being late. Russo only chuckled fondly at her when she rambled about how sorry she was.
"Sono appena arrivata, Calina," the older woman said. "Siediti, per favore. Le ho ordinato un tè, se per lei va bene. Di solito lo prendete in ufficio."
"E perfetto, grazie." A barista brought over their drinks not long after, and as Calina poured the boiling water into her cup, Russo cleared her throat.
"Calina, stai bene?"
She looked up at the woman across from her.
"Si, perche?"
"Calina," Russo sighed, and Calina got the hint that maybe she didn't fully trust her answer. "Giovedì. Ti va bene quello che è successo?"
"Ma, ovviamente no." If there was one thing that Thursday had proved, it was that Calina couldn't truly trust who she thought she could. Aside from her family and close group, she had to be more careful with who knew the whole extent of the truth, and the list of people who did know was very limited. She couldn't imagine Elara or Fiorenzo or anyone else doing that to her, and Marco certainly wouldn't. It all made the whole ordeal even more distressing.
"Onestamente, all'inizio mi ha fatto star male, ma credo che io sto accettando il fatto che ormai non posso farci molto."
"Non sai chi è stato?"
"Non penso di volerlo scoprire."
She hated the way Russo's face fell slightly as she sighed, before taking a sip of her drink.
"Ero davvero preoccupato quando ho visto uscire quell'articolo," Russo said. "Pensavo che sarebbe stato troppo per te, Calina."
"Quando sono diventato psichiatra, uno dei miei primi clienti era un atleta come te, e anche lui si trovava in una situazione simile alla tua."
Russo sighed heavily, her gaze diverting to the bustle of the city outside.
"La sua situazione era quasi identica. Non riusciva a sopportarlo e si è confidato con me, e poi quando un suo amico ha rivelato la sua vera storia."
Calina could see the tears pricking at her psychiatrist's eyes, and her own heart felt heavy for the woman.
"L'ho perso. I suoi genitori mi chiamarono il giorno dopo e mi ci volle troppo tempo per superarlo. Avrebbe avuto tanto successo, ma se n'è andato per colpa di due persone che hanno fatto qualcosa di incredibilmente disumano. Da quel momento ho deciso di lavorare con gli atleti, perché non volevo perdere un altro giovane con così tanto potenziale."
"Sono così fiera di quanto hai fatto." Russo smiled at Calina. "Il modo in cui avete gestito quello che è successo giovedì, non sarebbe stato possibile un anno fa."
"Solo grazie a voi,"
Russo chuckled at that.
"No, anche questo era tu," she said. "Sarai bravissima, Calina. Non potrei essere più onorato di aver lavorato con voi."
Calina had a hunch on where this conversation was going.
"C'è ragione per cui non siamo nel tuo ufficio in questo momento, giusto?"
Russo nodded, her expression a fond sadness.
"Ho pensato che sarebbe stato bene per un ultimo incontro."
"Dottoressa, I—."
"Daniella," Russo interjected. "In questi anni siamo diventati amici e non vorrei che ci lasciassimo senza darci del tu."
"Va bene, Daniella." Calina smiled. Russo nodded.
"Allora, raccontami di domenica, perché so che dopo la gara avete sicuramente fatto festa."
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"You— Tell me, why are you disappointed?"
Calina looked at her boyfriend, who's eyes never left the highway ahead. Of course, he had a smirk on his face, one that screamed mischief. She had become quite familiar with over the course of the years she had known him.
"I never said I was disappointed."
"You look disappointed."
"I am not!"
"You are." Matteo chuckled, shaking his head gently.
"Look, Russo is like a friend now! I've been seeing her for, like, three years, and now I'm supposed to just be okay with the fact that I'm done. It's weird—."
"Calina," Matteo said, interrupting her tangent. "Ho capito. Ma, Russo... ha detto perché?"
Calina knew she wouldn't be working with the doctor for forever, but after three hard years, it was hard to have to think about their almost weekly appointments. She was off her medications for good, and russo had been working on more permanent, personal solutions to dealing with the type of things Calina would normally see the doctor for.
"Crede che io sia...Pessi, I—."
Matteo smiled gently, his hand coming off the steering wheel to hold hers.
"Take your time," he said gently, switching to English, knowing it would be easier for her.
"She said she doesn't think I'm going to relapse." It had been shocking at first, to put it simply. Calina remembered the day Russo had diagnosed her, and the woman was optimistic even then that Calina would get through it, even when the girl herself was so overcome with guilt and shame that she couldn't speak about the topic. But to sit there that day, and hear Russo say those words, had been more than amazing. Calina was relaxed beyond imaginable. "I'm going to be okay."
Matteo smiled, one filled with so much pride and adoration it filled Calina with a sense of calmness.
"There's something else you want to say, no?"
"I want to fix things. I want to be better, to the twins, and my..."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah." Calina could feel Matteo squeeze her hand in reassurance. She sighed, looking out the window at the passing landscape. It was familiar, and Calina was under the impression Matteo would be taking her to that place he had told her about ages ago, but when she saw the exit sign, she knew almost immediately where they were going.
"L'ha pianificato tutto, eh?"
Matteo's small smile didn't fall, but she could see in his eyes he was either very calm or very nervous about this.
"Ho pensato che non volessi farlo da solo," he said.
Soon enough, the city of Iseo passed them, and each turn was more reminiscent than the last. Every late night returning from Milan, after a match at San Siro, or a weekend supervised by Bastien, or in a car packed with teenagers, returning to chilled drinks and plenty of food waiting for them after a long night of training. Hours spent training in that very yard, or locked away in her bedroom completing yet another assignment. It had been nearly three years since Calina had lived there, and it was still the same as ever.
The roads grew smaller and more winding as they descended up the mountain, and soon enough, the wrought iron gates came into view. They creaked loudly as they opened, and Calina was faced once more with the view of her childhood home.
It was such a simple yet elegant building. She could recall her earliest memories of it, back when her mother was alive, and the family was planning a move back to Italy that had been postponed yet again. The cream-coloured stucco, terracotta roof, dark wood windows; it was something out of a movie.
"Non ce l'hai con me, vero?"
Matteo had stopped the car, and he was looking at Calina as if with caution.
"No," she said quickly. "No, God. I—let's just go, yeah?"
As Matteo knocked on the door, Calina felt her hands shake slightly with nervousness. It had been nearly three years since she last came home, let alone spoke to her father, and now, she was here.
Her father really hadn't changed at all, being younger than most fathers of any of Calina's friends, and his years of playing football definitely contributed. His dark, flowing hair was natural, swept back with hints of grey popping out, thin wisps. His blue eyes bright and lively for a man in his early forties.
It was like a joke amongst their family: Calina was a spitting image of their mother, with eyes that she clearly inherited from her father, while the twins were all him with their mother's chocolate eyes.
Her father sighed happily, his smile one of great relief when he saw them, realising just who the two young adults at the door were.
"Hey," Calina said, feeling very stupid. It was all she could, feeling so overwhelmed all of a sudden.
"Hi," he smiled. His arms were outstretched, and Calina found herself falling into the familiar warm embrace before she could think twice about it.
"I'm sorry," she whispered frantically, tears pricking at her eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Her father shushed her gently.
"Je sais, ma chère. Je sais. Tu vas bien."
"E' bello vederti." Matteo greeted her dad next, chuckling as he too was pulled into a hug.
"Anche tu, Pess." Camillo Marelli's smile only grew, a glimmer of hope in his blue eyes. "Vieni. Ho fatto dei casoncelli. So quanto vi sono piaciuti."
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"I know you still blame yourself."
Calina found a moment alone with her father, Matteo having stepped away for a few moments to take a call. Their dinner had been amazing, but she was more grateful to just be there in the first place. Those hearty meals, where they sat around the table, laughing together, was really what she had missed most.
Camillo was watching her with this calm, yet careful expression, but with a tinge of gentleness. He leaned forward, taking Calina's hand in both of his, while she averted her gaze to the floor.
"Papà."
"I'm serious." Camillo sighed heavily. "Stellina, I'm not angry with you."
Calina felt tears begin to build at the use of the nickname. He always used to use it for her It was enough to bring back all those good old memories.
But she couldn't understand for the life of her why her father was so forgiving now. It was as though this was almost any other day; he greeted her like he would when coming back from away games, feeding her like he would when she returned from a long night of training. It didn't make sense.
"I don't get it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You should be mad."
"Calina, you— you were not well," her father said. "You— your judgement was poor, and you had been through something unimaginable. I mean, you wouldn't even see Charles, or Bastien, or anyone that had to do with racing after you woke up."
Camillo took a deep breath, pausing to pour them each a glass of water.
"I was hurt at first, I admit. I just wanted to help you get better, and I felt guilty for not having noticed anything was wrong." He paused again, and Calina could see he was tearing up. "But I figured that if it meant I reminded you too much of racing, then I had to accept you couldn't speak to me if it meant you could recover fully."
Calina wanted to cry; she only hated herself more for pushing Camillo away, after everything he had done for her. It had taken her nearly a year to come around to talking to Bastien again, and even longer for Charles, after that fateful Saturday in Spa in 2019.
"Papà, I miss you."
It was all Calina could really muster at that point. She was far too overcome with emotion, but she had a feeling her father knew that she really wanted to fix things.
"I'm here, Stellina." Camillo smiled fondly. "I'm right here."
Matteo stepped back into the room then, and seeing as it was getting later in the night, it was probably best they headed out. They had quite the drive, and with the whirlwind going on in her head, paired with the copious amount of wine they had consumed over the course of dinner, Calina was really starting to feel exhausted.
Camillo saw them out, only after making them promise to come by again whenever they had the chance.
"Papà, si tu veux, je peux vérifier avec l'équipe, on peut t'emmener en Turquie, ou peut-être en Amérique, pour la course," Calina offered while Matteo loaded their containers of leftovers into the Jeep.
Camillo hesitated, and Calina could understand why. Her father was a prominent athlete; he won a World Cup, for God's sake. She could recall many moments in her childhood where they would be out as a family, being interrupted many times by fans. Camillo had never been one for the attention or the fame. Now, her father finally had some free time, with no commitments, and he wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.
"Peut-être bientôt, l'année prochaine, mais je l'apprécie, Stellina." Camillo smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Je suis très incroyablement fier de ce que tu as accompli, et je sais que ta mère serait d'accord avec moi de tout cœur."
That got to her, and as Matteo pulled out of the long driveway, Camillo becoming a small speck in the fading distance, Calina felt incredibly at peace.
"Stai bene, amore?"
Calina nodded. She was so incredibly grateful for him having done this.
Things were going to be okay, and now, Calina could really believe it.
I know, I know. It has been far too long, but this chapter wasn't even supposed to exist, and the of course I decided last minute it would.