Racing For Love

Chapter Nineteen

I arrive home after a long night of travel, but despite the tiredness, I cannot sleep. My mind is whirring as I replay the last week in my mind, trying to figure out why I feel so hollow. I felt happy with the solution Lorenzo and I had come up with - keeping things secret works for both of us - we've got big things to focus on this season. I know that what I feel towards Lorenzo is pure lust, and I should have just ignored it, rather than complicating matters, but it's too late now.

I also have to consider what I want long term - is Lorenzo the right guy for me? There's also the fact that he's an F1 Champion and if this comes out - what would it mean to be linked with him. I know how the media treats driver's girlfriends - is Lorenzo worth that? More importantly, and as much as I try not to, I can't stop thinking about Jono. I hate that I might have lost his friendship over something as stupid as whatever's going on with Lorenzo.

I give up trying to sleep - it's still early so I get up and walk down the hallway to sit in Uncle Joe's room for a bit - looking at the various trophies and pictures around his room, bringing back memories of the races I attended as a child with my parents. Racing was our whole identity, and I even did a bit of junior karting, right up until my parents passed away and I cut all racing out of my life. That was until my therapist made it clear that was not the best way to deal with it, so after plenty of introspection, I allowed racing back into my life, but only as a spectator and I don't think I'll ever sit in the racing seat again. Then again - I conquered my fear of Monaco this week, so who knows. Nestled amongst the impressive world championship trophies is a small plastic model of a racing car - the first karting trophy I won, which Joe insisted was kept here with his accolades, always my biggest supporter.

Joe's room still smells like him - that lightly musky aftershave he always wore mingling with the smell of car grease. I breathe deeply, feeling myself relax as I curl into the chair in the corner, memories of him flooding through my head. Suddenly, the sun streaming through the window hits my face and I wake with a start - I didn't even realise I'd fallen asleep, and now I'm going to be running late. I quickly shower and then dump my suitcase out across the floor trying to find my makeup bag before pulling on some clothes and heading downstairs. It is nice to be out of Bianchi workwear for a change, and I pick a soft blue t-shirt out which is almost the exact shade of Jono's eyes, I realise. I'll message him later and see if he's ready to talk, but for now - seeing Joe's my priority, so I grab the racing programme from yesterday and some other bits from Monaco and drive to the nursing home - I won't be there at the start of visiting, but hopefully he won't miss me for too long.

As I arrive at the nursing home, Joe's carer, Dave is in the entrance hall. He pulls me into a hug and we catch up - Dave tells me about the last week - he reveals that Joe's needed more support than normal, days of confusion leaving him weak and uncommunicative. We discuss whether he's moving into the next stage of his Alzheimer's diagnosis and I schedule a meeting with the manager for this week to go through a care plan. My heart aches as I know I'm loosing a little bit more of my favourite man.

"I'd better go and find him actually - do you know where he is?" I ask Dave, looking around to see if I can see him in the main room.

"Oh, he's in the sunroom I think? There's someone with him though - a racing buddy!" Since Joe's occupied for now, Dave and I chat about racing for a bit - he doesn't follow it religiously, but has learned a lot from Joe and tends to watch the races with him if I'm not around. I also go through some of the endless paperwork with the shift supervisor and then walk down the corridor to find my uncle.

I clear my throat ahead of announcing my arrival - since the Susan thing, I've taken to telling Joe it's me when I see him, just as a reminder if he's forgotten. "Hey Uncle Joe! It's me, Annie - I hope I'm not interrupting anyth- Jono?" I exclaim - immediately recognising the person sat down with Joe - their heads close as they look at a notepad on Joe's knee, a pen mid air to gesture at something which looks suspiciously like the Monaco track. "Hi. Sorry, I didn't know you were coming. Was your flight back ok yesterday? Sorry." I ramble, confused but happy to see him.