«A hopeless, a violence. I named it: love.»
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England, 2012
Her phone buzzed. Cassandra puffed some air, removing the annoying strand of hair that sat in the middle of her face, and tried to balance the grocery bag with one arm. She pulled out the phone with her free hand and checked who was texting her. Not that she had a lot of options now. It was Sebastian.
Sebastian: I know you hate the weather in England so I'm pretty sure you might like the weather here in Brazil
Sebastian: Can't wait for you to get here!
Brazil. That was the last race of the season. Basically, the championship decider. Things leading to that race had been a bit moved. There was the article, then the making-up between them, then the fact that everybody at Red Bull Racing, or the ones who cared about it, were iffy about her after the article — Sebastian didn't mention anything but she was pretty sure his team principal put her name on a hit list, and Mark probably disliked her now. It had been a proper PR disaster. Cassandra did apologise to Britta, who seemed hesitant at first but apparently trusted Sebastian's judgement enough to accept her apology. Starting off on the wrong foot, as people said.
They spent a lot of time together — rekindling, or whatever — before he left for the States for the race there, he would be off to Brazil after that so technically they had to recover pace in the little time they had. The idea to invite her to the last race had come after the race in the United States when they were on a call with Cassandra congratulating him for making the podium. Lewis had won the race so she congratulated him as well when he interrupted in the middle of the call. Sebastian said: you should come to Brazil, it'd be great to have you there. I might win the title. And Cassandra, knowing she wouldn't be too welcome, just answered by saying it could be complicated to get there. The thing was, that was Sebastian, he was insane and she already had caused him enough pain in a couple of days so, in the end, she couldn't say no. So she was supposed to be there, for the final race. That was.
She typed a quick I'm always down for anything that's not English weather and sent the phone back to her pocket. Everything was fine.
And then she continued walking to her flat complex, and things stopped being fine when she approached the main entrance because in front of the building was her literal mother. The same woman she'd seen at the art gallery a little less than a month ago. Cassandra thought of turning around, and waiting somewhere until she was gone, but before she could react, Mila caught her eye and it was too late to flee. She was carrying a box, a shoebox-sized one, Cassandra noticed as she walked closer to where she was standing. The woman smiled awkwardly, but she kept a blank expression.
"What are you doing here?" She asked, holding the grocery bag closer to her chest.
"Hi, Cassandra." Mila had a little accent. It was a mix of a Greek accent with the British one. She assumed from all the years she'd spent in England.
Her brows furrowed. "What are you doing here and how do you know this is where I live?"
Her mother smiled. An actual smile. "It's actually not that hard to find the daughter of a known writer. Not if you have the right contacts, and my assistant does." Right, her father wrote under a pseudonym but he was still Robert Ritter for business. "I'm here because I want to talk to you. Properly." She slightly shook the box she was holding in her hands. Cassandra glanced at it and then back at her.
There was hesitation at first, but eventually, she accepted. "I don't have a lot of time so it has to be quick." Mila nodded.
Cassandra gestured at a little concrete bench outside the building and they made their way over there, sitting at a considerable distance from one another. She put the grocery bag down in between her legs and her mother put her box in the space between them. Silence lingered for the first minute or two until Mila sighed.
"I did love your dad, Cassandra. I don't want you to think otherwise." Her mother started. She turned to look at her. Her voice sounded sincere and she was smiling. "He was a really good man, to me, and I'm assuming he was just as good with you."
She nodded in agreement, but couldn't completely comprehend. "Why were you so opposed to the idea of forming a family with him? If he was that good and you loved him? I know the other day at the gallery you said you wanted to be alone and all that, but you also said you were in love with him."
Mila turned to her and tilted her head. "Do you have a boyfriend, Cassandra? Or a girlfriend, I don't know." The question took her by surprise. She didn't say anything. There was no answer, really. Her mother noticed the conflict. "Or have you ever been in love with someone?"
She looked down. "I don't—I don't know."
"That's fine." The woman softly smiled. She'd seen those smiles in her father's photos of her. "Sometimes when you're in love, or when someone loves you so much, you get so engulfed in that love and happiness, that you don't notice you're not doing that person any favour. That everything good between you and that person is because they make it good. You're just there to receive because it's where you feel better at the moment." Cassandra blinked. "I always knew I wasn't good enough for your dad, and deep down I think he knew it as well. Your grandmother, his mom, always told him that I was no good. She never liked me." Mila chuckled as if that was funny. Cassandra thought about it. Would Sebastian's parents like her? After everything? She really doubted that. "Knowing that I could never love the same way your father did made me want to be alone."
It was overwhelming as she had said back at the art gallery. Cassandra wanted to frown, she understood her, but she wanted to blame her for not trying harder. Except that was the thing. Mila should've never made an effort to try harder for something she didn't want, and her dad didn't deserve someone who would've been miserable by his side no matter how much love they shared.
"You could've sought for me. I would've understood." Cassandra said.
Her mom placed a hand on her shoulder. It was cold. "You would've wanted a mother, and I could've never been that for you." She pulled her hand away. "Cassandra I'm telling you this because I know I'm not a saint for your devotion, but I loved your dad and I don't want you to think you weren't loved and cherished during those months leading to your birth." That did clarify something. She always thought her mother must've been depressed during her pregnancy.
She furrowed her brows for a second. "Are you telling me this because you want me to feel compassion for you? Forgive you?" Her mom stared. "Because I don't. I won't forgive you."
"I don't expect you to do that, really." Mila sighed. "I guess I just wanted to keep explaining myself. Maybe you'd understand me." And she did. Cassandra truly did.
There was an unsettling feeling within herself. The idea of her dad being too good for her mother, and she knew that. Accepted it. It sounded far too familiar. And that was unsettling by itself. Especially with all the events that had transpired in the past weeks. She was trying to be better, but Cassandra still wondered if that was enough.
"If you hadn't gotten pregnant with me, would you have stayed with him?" She blurted out the question.
Her mother looked unprepared for the question but cleared her throat a few seconds after. She shook her head. "No, I told you, he wanted a life that I could not see myself having. Maybe one day you'll understand better, if you ever fall in love and see yourself in that position." Cassandra just stared at her. The words were somewhere else. Mila sighed. "I brought you this." Her palm fell on the box between them. "There are some pictures and letters from your dad, I thought you might like to have them." The woman must have taken her lack of answer as a cue to leave because, in a matter of seconds, she was standing up and looking down at her. "I'll leave you alone now. There's a card in the box with my contact information, just in case you ever want to talk again." Cassandra doubted that.
She had to ask something else before she left. "Do you miss him?" She was sure if her father were still alive and Mila decided to come back again, he would've given her another chance. That was how much he loved her.
Mila's lips curved into a smile. "Of course, I miss him. You always remember your first love. That was your dad for me." No answer from her, because she didn't know what to say. Her mother turned around to walk away but stopped for a moment. A finger lifted in the air. "I read your works. You're a very versatile writer, a good one. He would've been proud." Cassandra also doubted that. Especially after that piece about Sebastian. She wondered if Mila read that one. "Can't wait to read your name on a book cover."
And with that, Mila left, again. Leaving Cassandra with a box full of memories and feeling even more hollow inside. She shook herself out of it. She had to be in Brazil.
—
Brazil, 2012
A few feet away from them there was a driver, playing with a kid. She assumed it was his son. Cassandra couldn't stop staring, which obviously wasn't ideal but her eyes wouldn't stop looking. Sebastian's arms were wrapped around her, he was sitting on a weird gigantic box whilst Cassandra stood in between his legs with her back pressed against his chest. They were there because she had been avoiding anyone from Red Bull like the plague. She did see Mark and he glared at her, which wasn't very ideal and overall just plain awkward. Sebastian said Mark didn't matter. He always said that. It was still strange.
He took an earbud off and looked at her. She was standing so still he could feel the stiffness against himself. Sebastian reached to move some hair out of the way and leaned to talk to her.
"Penny for your thoughts?" He asked somewhere to her left side.
Cassandra blinked, snapping out of her reverie. The driver and the kid were no longer looking a bit out of focus. "I was thinking," She started. Sebastian's gaze was on her side. "I need to find a new job." That was a lie. She wasn't thinking about that at all. What happened to honesty, Cassandra? "I mean, I can't work with Hans anymore, and I doubt he'll refer me to another publication."
After the whole mess with the article, she'd made sure to call him and tell him where exactly in hell they would meet in the future. Obviously, Cassandra was drunk when she did that and he also didn't answer her call, but the voice message she left was there and she was sure he listened to it. If anything, Gareth pretty much confirmed so when he told her Hans had bad-mouthed her. Even calling her ungrateful.
She didn't want to work with him ever again.
"You could start your own thing," Sebastian mentioned. She turned to look at him. "I don't know, there are a lot of things like blogs and stuff like that now. It'd be a good idea." He shrugged, and then something came to mind. "Or you could start writing your own book."
For that, she would need an idea, which she didn't have because she was still blocked. "I still need to make money though." Okay, she could live off her dad's profits for probably the rest of her life but that was one of the main issues at the beginning. "I mean, I don't need the money per se but it makes me feel less useless."
"You're not useless." He smiled. "I could ask someone if they—"
"No, no." She shook her head noting where he was going with that. "I'll figure something out."
Sebastian pursed his lips, accepting it. "Alright." He looked at her. "You know if you ever need inspiration, my doors in Switzerland are open for you." He gave her a lazy smile. "I was actually thinking, if you want, of course, you could stay there for a while. With the end of the season and whatnot, we'll have more time and I don't know about you but England isn't a favourite of mine." He joked.
Cassandra sucked in a deep breath. That made sense. Really, who liked England anyway? She did sometimes. You're being paranoid, she told herself. Since when was she such a fan of staying in England of all places? Biting the inside of her cheek, she just nodded, and Sebastian grinned.
"That sounds nice," Cassandra said. Switzerland was nice. "You like it there a lot, don't you?"
"It's quiet and calming, so I do like it. And the house is nice so I can't complain." Nice was really an understatement. It was insane. "You don't like it there? Or don't think it's nice?" His brows creased a little, not like he was upset, more in confusion.
Cassandra shook her head. "No, I mean, it is nice." She just never saw herself living there full-time, maybe. Cassandra always told Abigail that they had to move to Central London. Abigail never followed her on the matter because she thought the rent prices were too much and she did work in Milton Keynes. "It is!" Cassandra smiled.
Sebastian looked at her for a moment but eventually took it. "But you prefer England?"
"It's what I'm used to." She reasoned. He nodded. For someone who constantly complained about England, she was thinking too much in its favour at the moment. "But that's not important." He hesitated until she kissed his cheek. That seemed convincing enough.
Before he could say anything, Britta walked in their direction, raising a finger in the air and catching his attention. Sebastian leaned against Cassandra, placing his chin on her shoulder and looking at Britta coming to them. He sighed, and she felt him squeezing her closer to him. As if that could even be possible.
"Seb, a moment," Britta said when she was close enough. The woman looked at her, and Cassandra smiled politely. She was of course still unsure about her, with all the rights she had.
He nodded and Cassandra tried to move away to give him space, but Sebastian placed his hands on her shoulders to keep her still before placing a kiss on her cheek and manoeuvering himself to the ground from the box where was sitting, without bothering her. She stayed leaning against the box, whilst he touched her side as he took a couple of steps to talk with Britta. They stood a few feet away from her.
Cassandra was so caught up staring at Sebastian that she didn't notice when the little kid she'd been looking at before came running towards her, standing in front of her and looking up. It was until she felt sticky little hands on her pants that she realised. She looked down, and the kid looked back with big eyes and a smile. All she could do was stare at him like he was some sort of strange creature she'd never seen before. She couldn't even smile back because all her brain was thinking about was the little hands above her knees. It was like she was paralysed.
The kid's dad came running to get him, of course, and when he was close enough, the kid finally pulled his hands away from her. She still felt a sticky sensation. Like those sticky and stretchy toys people threw at the wall. She blinked herself away from that and looked at the driver who was smiling apologetically at her for the child's interruption.
"My apologies. He is a bit friendly sometimes." The driver said, cradling the kid in his arms.
Why did people talk about kids and dogs the same way? She was pretty sure that was something she'd heard at the park when an excited dog jumped on her or something.
She just waved and tried to smile. Then looked at the kid. "It's alright. No worries."
There was another apology before they turned around to leave. A strange sensation was rising up her throat. The man and the kid stopped right before Sebastian and Britta to greet Sebastian she assumed. They stopped their conversation so Sebastian could greet the driver and fist-bump the little kid. He was smiling and even asked something to the kid. Ruffled the little kid's hair. Like he was used to that. Cassandra took a deep breath staring at the whole interaction.
And if that wasn't enough, Cassandra felt her stomach turning into knots the moment she spotted a man she could recognise approaching Sebastian and Britta. She'd seen him whilst looking Sebastian up for the article, in pictures at his house in Switzerland and his flat in Milton Keynes. Dressed all in a Red Bull shirt, that was Sebastian's dad. She felt like she could turn around, open the big box she was leaning against and dive into it to hide. For everything she did, she never thought about the people who were close to Sebastian.
He hugged his dad, and then momentarily looked over at her. The man, noticing that, glanced at her as well. She avoided the glances like they would burn her brain. Suddenly the spaces felt too tight, even though she was in open ground, and perhaps it was like a maze. Cassandra just breathed deeply. In her brain, it was always Sebastian and her, in a little idealised bubble that she had created for herself, she never thought about anything else. Now she was starting to think.
Cassandra wiped her sweaty hands in her jeans and Sebastian excused himself from the conversation before jogging in her direction. His dad watched him and her. She wondered if his mother was around as well. Oh, God.
He stopped in front of her. Cassandra looked at him. "That's your dad." She blurted out for no reason other than the way her brain was processing.
Sebastian tilted his head, looking at her funnily. "Oh, yeah. I forgot you know everything about me." He said with a joking tone. Obviously, he was clueless about the internal turmoil going on inside her. "You don't have to—I mean, I'll just tell him you're a friend. I won't, I don't know, say you're my girlfriend. If you're not comfortable of course." And he tried to show her his relaxed nonchalant tone, but she could hear a hint of disappointment as he said those words.
She wanted to tell him that no, that he could introduce her as whatever he wanted, that she wasn't a panicky little shit. But that would be a lie, and she actually didn't want to tell him that. She knew she had to tell him that it was alright, but she couldn't. Because that would mean another wall that wasn't in her idealised version of her relationship with Sebastian. It was a bit ironic, that he could confess he was in love with her but she felt like meeting his dad as something official was the end of the world. Cassandra wondered what was Sebastian's idealised version of her.
Shaking those thoughts away, she looked at him. "I just...one day." She said, and he seemed to catch what she meant by that. Though the glint in his eyes died a little bit. It felt like a pang in her chest.
His dad and Britta announced that they would go to the Red Bull garage. That they'd meet him there. Sebastian turned to them and raised his thumb in agreement, watching them go. His father looked at him, and then at Cassandra. She looked back and then he was gone with Britta. Her attention turned to Sebastian, who was still focused on the figures becoming smaller as they walked away. A sudden rush took over her, and Cassandra placed her hand on his face, turning him so he could look at her. Sebastian fixed his eyes on hers and then she kissed him, long and hard, her palms on each side of his face as if he would slip away from her grip.
Sebastian blinked and sighed breathlessly when she pulled away. He looked dazzled and he smiled.
"What was that for?" He asked. Her hands still were holding his face.
Cassandra looked at him and chewed on her lip. "Because." She simply said.
That was the way she wanted to always remember Sebastian, or how she wanted to remember herself in his eyes. With that glint, light-hearted. Happy. That was the way she wanted to remember him.