one way or another - OSCAR PIASTRI

11- starting again

The next few weeks were.. painful. Trying to go back to the way things were, just wasn't working. At first we started off slow. I would show Oscar pictures and tell him the story of the pictures. I would show him our social media and tell him the story of the posts. I showed him our text messages and explained the context to all of them. Just to place a root for hopefully his memory to blossom. To regrow after it had been cut short. A few days later I would ask him about what I had should him the days before. If he was incorrect which at the start he was, I would explain it to him again. It was like teaching a child the alphabet, teaching, repeating, correcting. In that order.

Oscar had been cleared to fly. The doctor said apart from the memory loss he had no damage to his brain. He said the memory loss could be psychosomatic, like his brain has chosen to forget these things. Once Oscar was cleared to fly, we rejoined McLaren for the season. I protested but the man wants what the man wants, and as his wife, I followed.

It was weird to be back in the paddock after those long two months but it provided some routine. In the time Oscar was recovering we didn't get out much and it was taking a toll on the both of us. It was very tense in the apartment for a few days but it blew over. Zak scolded Oscar for coming back so soon and said he wouldn't allow him to race until at least the law few races of the season. Oscar was eager to get back onto the track. The compromise was the tire test. He enjoyed the tire test. I hated every second of it. I don't know if I could ever get used to Oscar driving again let alone racing, but it was his passion.

We were in the hotel in Italy when I finally asked what I had been pondering for some weeks now. "Oscar...", I start, getting his attention as he's watching the TV. "Will you go back? When Zak lets you? In Vegas?" I'm nervous. I can feel my palms start to sweat and I spin my ring around my finger. I most likely know the answer to what I asked but, curiosity killed the cat or whatever it is they say.

"Will you let me?" He turns to me. He knows, at the very least, he knows how against this I am. But to my downfall, as cliche as it is, I really can't say no to that face.

"You know I can't stop you."

"But you don't want me to?" He asks again

"Do I want you to get back into the car that almost took you from me and made you forget us entirely? Hmm let me think." I pretend to think and mockingly stroke my nonexistant beard.

"Message received." He salutes jokingly and turns back to watch the TV. I shuffled towards him trying to initiate some form of skinship between us. Even if it's just the touching of our thighs, it's progress. As I lean closer to him he puts his arm around me. We watch the TV for a while, nothing really worth watching so it ends up just us being channel surfing. I mean neither of us can speak italian so the selection we had to begin with other than rewatching drive to survive for the third time was pretty limited.

Oscar removes his arm from around me and checks his watch. My heart sinks a little at the sudden loss of contact. I'm not the most affectionate with my words but touch means everything to me. I need to be stuck to the one I love like glue. Any time. All the time.

"Honey?" My breath is taken away, since the accident, he has only called me by my name and when speaking to others, 'my wife' or 'my wife, charlotte.' Before the accident he rarely called me by my name since the wedding. It felt like finally we might actually be going back to that time. My face flushes and I hum in response to his calling. "What's the plan for dinner?" he asks. I scrunch my nose as I ponder the question.

"Room service? I can't exactly cook in here." I shrug and turn to the TV again.

"Did you pack a dress?" He asks nonchalantly and does some scrolling on his phone. I think for a second.