- o -

 

- o -

 

Finally.

 

He felt like the idiot he was.

 

It was so clear… so plain obvious. right then and there.

 

Laying back as he was, on the hot-burning asphalt, everything was making much more sense than ever before.

 

Like the grey, gathering clouds above him were an evident sign of the storm coming, her absence was the ultimate confirmation that his fuck-up life was worthless.

 

It was ironic, really, when you stopped and thought about it.

 

He was actually living the best moment of his life, right? The dream he’d been working so hard to attain was finally his. He was in total control, everything he ever wanted, every stupid tiny little whim, was within reach of his fingertips. He felt in absolute command of his present and future, and the world was at his feet acclaiming his greatness.

 

Or so he thought…

 

But it was clearer now.

 

As clear as the little water drops beginning to fall from the sky onto the shield of his helmet, giving the world around him an eerie blur quality that was even more unsettling.

 

He felt a clenching pain in the pit of his stomach. An uncomfortable feeling pierced his body, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth.

 

She had left that morning.

 

He had been wrong to give things for granted, ignoring all the pleas and warnings, thinking that his world was more important. Now he was paying for being –as she put it– an egoistical and hedonistic bastard. He certainly deserved all the crap that came his way now, as he placed his personal goals above everything else, pushing far beyond the boundaries of human patience and love.

 

He had attained the dream, all right… World Champion!

 

But he had lost his humanity in the process…. and her…

 

Now, he understood it.

 

Now, it was too late.

 

He felt the asphalt getting hotter.

 

The smell of running fuel was heavy in his nose.

 

The crowd was screaming with something akin to horror, but he couldn’t move.

 

He didn’t want to move.

 

He didn’t want to hear anymore.

 

So he decided to close his eyes, and finally welcomed the numbing darkness.

 

 

- o -

 

c–1

 

It was maddening, as usual. So many people around him, asking for attention, grabbing, pushing, demanding… that was what he hated the most. Everything was done with a smiling façade, despite the hypocrisy running amok behind the scenes.

 

Because it was a business for most, if not all of them.

 

Even for him, the commercial part was attractive, but sometimes he wished he could crawl back to Oviedo and hide under his bed for the rest of the season. And it was only the first race!… Ahhh, he was royally screwed!

 

A month ago he was looking forward to beginning racing again and now he was all for running away to tranquillity… cause like hell he was getting any of it here. Even in his own trailer! Flavio and a bunch of unnamed investment partners where there, pestering his life right before testing with stupid questions and request.

 

“I would like to take a photo of Mr. Alonso and my daughter!”

 

‘Oh my!  I never heard that one before!’

 

He left the trailer in a hurry. The faster he went away the better. But, as expected, many people where already blocking his way to the garage, pushing and shoving magazines and notebooks under his nose for an autograph. Great! He kept walking, doing his best to respond to as few requests as possible without stopping or being overly rude. People followed, though.

 

He ditched most of them easily, but some persisted… the most annoying, always ever-present. He liked to call them “Los Profesionales”- specialists in constant pursuit to get a piece of drivers, probably to sell on e-bay before the weekend was over. A used pair of shoes still sold faster though. ‘Insane.’

 

He was about to turn the corner to enter the relative safety of his team garage when he bumped into another one of them. He mumbled an apology and scribbled his autograph for –he hoped– the last fanatic he would ever encounter for the rest of his life.

 

Without so much of a glance back, he strolled rapidly in to the building, somewhat smiling. All right, having fans was great, a true ego-booster and all… but can’t they be kept behind a glass panel or something? He laughed at the thought of the customary ‘do not feed the animals’ sign…

 

 

- - -

 

 

Something between a squeak and a snort rumble in her throat as she turned to regard her friend Lily.

 

She got it! The autograph she wanted the most!

 

Fernando Alonso.

 

Albeit it was awkward, anticlimactic and not even in the slightest like the fantasies she had, where she would catch his eye out of the crowd of babbling women around him and then he would smile a rare smile only for her…

 

He hadn’t even seen her face!!

 

Only bumped into her, mumbled something dark –in Spanish, probably– and scribbled in her magazine instead of the autograph book she was offering.

 

She looked down at the fruit of her efforts.

 

What the fuck?? Her three-year-old nephew could write his name better than the so-called autograph…

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“I can’t believe it!” Gia was by now gaping at the hurried scribbled mess in her hands. She really did like Fernando since he first started on Minardi some years before, so she was looking forward to her first chance to see him up close, in the flesh, and do some live drooling. Getting his autograph was a dream come true, yes, but she couldn’t deny she was disappointed at the results.

 

Lily took the offending object out of her hands and laughed at her friend’s predicament. “See, I told you so, he’s a git! Even Kimi wrote a dedication in mine”.

 

“Ohhh sure!!! and I bet it was the very first time he ever wrote ‘with love Kimi’ just now!... lucky you!”

 

She couldn’t help the impulse of being sarcastic. Even if such was a part of the normal bickering between them –friends, but team and driver rivals where F1 was concerned– she felt particularly sore at the whole thing.

 

But then, what exactly had she expected? The beginning of a love story??

 

Please!!!

 

Lily just laughed some more before replying in a more serious tone “Your Spanish macho seems a bit more of a Spanish fiasco if you ask me. He’s got a bad attitude going, no matter what you say. He just proved it… again”.

 

Gia wanted to dismiss her friend’s remarks but couldn’t. Maybe she was right. Maybe the guy was an insufferable asshole, as are most young sports stars with too much media attention and very little personality to withstand it.

 

She sighed in defeat. Damn, she really did like him…

 

The friends started to walk back to the Toyota area to keep an eye for Jarno, but Gia was barely aware of the babbling coming from Lily.

 

The bittersweet disappointment had settled.

 

-

-

 

-o -