Madrid English Version

Chapter 18

Turkey, a country to which the Spaniard had been very few times, only for motor sport. The few times he had been there, he had never bothered to visit, or pay attention to the buildings surrounding him. But this time was different; he'd made a promise. He'd made her a promise. He had to keep it. So he took photos of every detail that made Turkey, Turkey. He created an album in his film, named Turkey, to send or show to Aria. Charles and Lando gently laughed at the Spaniard, who captured every moment, whether at the airport, every new Turkish dish he tasted, or the traditional stores in the streets.

On Wednesday, the middle of the week, Carlos didn't have as many obligations as the rest of the week, so he took the opportunity to explore Istanbul, some forty kilometers from the circuit, with his British friend. They decided to leave after their morning meetings, and spend the rest of the day in the city.

Lando was the one to take the wheel, seeing that Carlos was busier taking photos. Whereupon he couldn't help asking:

- You've got to explain Carlos

- Explain what?

- Why since yesterday, when we arrived, you've been taking pictures of everything. You even took a picture of a toilet door.

- Uh... I made a promise to a friend before I left.

- Do I know her? Is this Aria?

- Yes...yes, co... how did you guess? Asked the pilot, feeling that he was beginning to stammer.

- I'm the one who told her to come and see you for dinner.

- Did you see each other?

- No, we called each other after her brother left. He says, turning his head furtively towards his friend to see him.

- Did she say why he was here?

- He needed help with a project for class, and it was better for him to ask Aria than her father, or so she told me.

- What do you mean? Carlos asked, curious.

- I'd have told you, but it's not my place. All I can tell you, without going into details, is that her father isn't the nicest human being on this planet, and Aria's been through a lot. And, also, he's desperate for her to find someone, so he sets her up on dates, I think with guys who work for him. On your birthday, when we met her, she was going on one of these dates.

As soon as the McLaren driver uttered this sentence, Carlos felt his heart break. He couldn't imagine that someone as extraordinary as Aria could have a father who wasn't worthy of her. This was her strength, he told himself, to have succeeded in becoming the woman she was today, her strength to have grown up with a father who was present, but absent, absent only for one of his children.

He instinctively lowered his head, as if to send his present strength to the engineer.

Arriving in the Turkish town, Carlos continued to take photos, some with Lando making funny faces or putting himself in strange positions to make his friend laugh. They strolled through the narrow streets, before stopping for lunch and a long chat about anything and everything, but mostly about paddock gossip.

After lunch, they went into a small store where the Spaniard saw a bracelet, thin and simple enough, but giving off something special. He couldn't explain it, but this bracelet was Aria, and if she were to be a bracelet, this would be it. And just thinking about it, he chose the prettiest, least damaged one, before heading for the cash register, like a child with a stuffed toy. The bracelet, in its little pouch, never left the pilot's hand, which he clutched tightly to make sure that he wouldn't lose the white pouch, flocked with the store's name, for anything in the world.