Unexpected

Part 69

With the Japanese Grand Prix being a home race for both the Nissan team and for me, it's a huge deal. For more than a week before the race I'm participating on radio shows, talk shows, and variety shows. I have events that Nissan prepared for me and I hold a large fan meeting. Nissan announces that their second driver next year is Nico Hulkenberg. He is at Renault this year, so it's like he and Esteban switched spots. I'm pleased, because he and I get along.

During one of the TV shows a celebrity stops to talk to me backstage. "You and the guy on the marriage show are just faking, right?"

"No, I truly like him."

"No one's around. You can be truthful."

"I am being truthful."

"Because you are just my type. Wanna go out with me?"

"No. Sangil and I are dating in real life." Is he dense or full of himself or what?

He cocks his head. "No, you can't be. You're a first class athlete and he's just a—."

I get up in his face so fast that he cuts himself off. "He's just what?" I ask softly. "Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?"

He is quiet before replying, "Well, if you get tired of him, I'm always available."

Unbelievable. He must be both full of himself and obtuse.

The evening before the Formula One press conference I cut my hair. It had been bothering me for a while, and I finally make the decision to cut it. Of course a Japanese reporter asks me about it the next day.

"In Japan a woman often cuts her hair after breaking up with her boyfriend. Did you and Sangil break up?"

"No, we're still married." I hold up my left hand and wiggle my fingers. "It was just getting too long."

My whole family will be at the race, including Enzo. I take a selfie with him and make a social media post, including a lame joke about him and the founder of Ferrari (Enzo Ferrari). With that name, he should have been a race driver, too.

Sometimes things go terribly wrong at your home race (like Mercedes and Germany), but thank goodness that doesn't happen. It's not like Esteban or I get a podium, but we do score points.

On Monday I greet Sangil dressed in my high school uniform. My mom found it when she was cleaning out my room, and I remember how excited he was when he saw a photo of me in it. So even though I feel a bit self-conscience, I decide to surprise him.

We try to do a typical school date, such as going to the arcade and taking pictures in a photo booth, eating ramen and takoyaki, and finishing off with kyudo. The local archery club has given us permission to use their facilities. I was in the kyudo club in middle and high school, so I still have some muscle memory of how to shoot arrows. But without recent practice I realize how rusty I've become. The club lent me a traditional uniform, and Sangil is impressed. He takes an abundance of photos.

"There is something majestic about you in it," he says.

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