solo / carlos sainz

thirty-two

Living in Carlos's family home brought a sense of warmth and stability that I hadn't anticipated. His parents embraced Elsie and me as if we were their own, creating an environment that felt like a haven amidst the chaos of life.

I couldn't say when, or how, but along the way, the two of us became a part of his family in a way I'd never expected.

The days blended seamlessly into one another. Mornings were a chorus of laughter and clinking dishes as we prepared breakfast together.

Reyes would start every day with coffee, excitedly sharing stories of Carlos's childhood with her granddaughter, who was never very far from the woman. 

Carlos's father and I grew close as well, the two of us working together on business projects for his rallying while Carlos was away racing.

Time began to pass in a blur as races came and went. Carlos would be away for days, leaving an emptiness that was always filled with anticipation for his return. Elsie would wait by the window, her excitement palpable as we'd watch for his car to pull into the driveway.

Everytime he came home, the house would light up. Elsie would attach herself to him with a toothy grin, telling him everything he'd missed while he was gone. When he returned, the home would come alive with chatter and joy, his presence the missing puzzle piece we so dearly needed.

In between races, when Carlos was able to come home and spend time with us instead of the simulator, our days were paradigm of domesticity. 

We cooked meals together, often experimenting with new recipes and laughing when they'd eventually fail and Reyes would have to step in to save the meal.

The blank refrigerator turned into a colourful gallery of Elsie's artwork, a brightness she brought to every aspect of the home as she and Carlos's dogs became the main source of trouble.

As the racing season progressed, the rhythm of our lives adapted. Carlos would be home for a brief respite, his exhaustion evident in the lines on his face and the weariness in his eyes. 

Yet, even in those moments, he would gather Elsie and me close, his embrace a silent reassurance that he was home, if only for a fleeting moment.

The races became markers of time, signposts along a journey that was uniquely ours. Each victory was celebrated with champagne, even though we were miles apart and never there with him, the thrill of the season radiating through the house.

I couldn't stomach the idea of going to his races, not after the break-in. Even after the police had informed us they'd found the burglars, a group of rowdy Ferrari 'fans' apparently convinced I was the reason he'd someday lose his foothold in the sport, the anxiety of leaving was much too strong.

In the final weeks leading up to the end of the season, our home became a hub of preparation. Data was spread across the dining table, strategy sessions lasting long into the night between Carlos and his father. Elsie would sit with them, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the intensity of their discussions.

We'd started her on karting, shutting down the track Carlos owns to give her time to learn it all at her own pace...and she proved to be a natural, just as Max had said she would be.

Every day, we'd go to the track, and every day, she'd ask me to film for her Papa, excited to show him how she'd progressed. He'd ask me for a video on the days I'd forget to send one, expressing regret over not being able to be there to watch her himself.

"She's growing up too quick," Carlos had complained on the eve of her first day of kindergarten. Her return to school was much easier than I'd thought it would be, especially now that she's carrying a new name to account for Carlos's presence in her life.

"Lucía Christine Walsh-Sainz," the registrar had read back to me when I'd gone into her school to update her papers. "¿Se ha casado?"

"No, todavía no." I'd had to clarify, blushing head to toe at the registrar's smug look as she inputted the changes to Elsie's profile and updated her emergency contact information.

The change had been leaked to the press, as we'd expected it to, and security had to be upped at the school once more. Through it all, her headmistress had insisted it was alright. She'd done a complete one-eighty with me, treating me with the same respect she afforded to Carlos that day I'd run into him in the halls.

Despite the press and the pressure and the still lingering anxiety, our relationship continued to grow, developing into a sort of domestic bliss I hadn't thought I'd ever experience.

By the time the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix rolls around, I've spent every waking moment preparing to fly out, packing and repacking Elsie's things a hundred times over, debating if I should even bring her in the first place.

"She'll be perfectly safe, cariño, I promise," Carlos had reassured me over FaceTime, the phone propped up in front of me as I packed my own bag. "Amira will be there, Caco will be there, my parents will be there, everything will be okay, I promise."

"I'm not," I'd sighed in frustration, raking my hands through my hair, "I'm not worried about that, Carlos."

He'd laughed and shaked his head, refusing to believe my lie. "I'll see you in the morning, yes?" When I nodded, he did the same, reaching out to adjust the camera. "Te amo, Mara."

"Te amo mucho," I'd distractedly responded, not aware he'd ended the call until several minutes had elapsed in silence.

Tomorrow, we'll be in Abu Dhabi, and everything will be okay. We'd watch the race, we'd watch the season end, and after all was said and done, I'd get Carlos back for the winter and Elsie would get her father back...and everything would be okay.