Rivalry of the Century ~ Ayrton Senna Love Story

A Little More Than Nostalgic

French Grand Prix 1985...

Isabelle's POV

Things were strange when we got back to France, for both of us. This was the first time I had been back in the country since Aunty's funeral, my father had offered for me to stay with them instead, but I knew my mother wanted nothing to do with me. So now I stand in front of my old home, the home filled with wild daisies, classical music, and fresh strawberries. All things that would remind me of my Aunty, I hesitate in front of the door, I know that I am scared to open it. I'm afraid of what I will face when I do.

"This is where you've lived this whole time?"

I turn around to look at the person who spoke and am faced again with familia, there before me was my brother and my father.

"Alain, Father, what're you doing here?"

"I made the mistake of sending you here without even coming myself, so now I come with you. After all these years I didn't even go to see my own sister yet I sent you to her, to someone I haven't seen in over two decades. I am sorry, my dearest daughter, I didn't fight for you or even help you." A tear slid down his cheek and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I miss her too father, everyday." I say gently placing a hand on his cheek, catching a stray tear falling down.

I turn back to the door, my hands shaking as I go to unlock the door, my heart pounding as I turn the door handle, and I take a deep breath before stepping through the threshold. Everything was  as I had left it, white cloth covering every piece of furniture, and as we walk towards the living room nothing had changed. The glass still shattered across the floor, dried water spots along the wooden floorboards, and wilted dead daisies scattered around the room. I feel my brother and father stop next to me, staring at the room around us.

"This is how I found her, she had just brought my birthday flowers, but I guess she fell and the glass broke falling around her, water soaking everything. I used to love seeing those flowers in the windows, we used to plant all different foods and flowers in the garden, but now I hate it all. Flowers wilt and die so easily, they're frail and weak." I say to them in anger, tears cascading down my cheeks and my hand clenched into tight fists.

I feel a hand fall on my right fist and I turn to my brother, his other hand wiping my eyes, as he speaks to me softly.

"You're not weak, you're resilient, you're able to thrive everywhere, just like your daisies. Things are not beautiful because they last, they're beautiful because they don't dear sister. You don't hate them, you're just in pain."

I lean into my brother and start to cry, releasing all the tears I haven't allowed myself to fall since the funeral. I was tired, I was tired of putting on a happy face, tired of working day and night to distract me, tired of being so alone yet pushing anyone that cares away. He wraps his arms around me as he lets me cry into his shoulder, caressing my hair in calming strokes. 

"Come home, Isabelle. This is an empty house now, you belong with your family." My father says as I calm down in my brothers arms.

"I am home, I can't go back to a place where I was forgotten. I know that you are trying to make things right, but nothing will change the past. Aunty left this for me, I was her family and she was mine. You are always welcome here, but I have to be on my own now."

I could see the pain in my fathers eyes, but in my brothers I only saw understanding. For once he was on the same page as me and I could tell he supported my decision. Even though they were hurt they still helped me clean the house, set up the furniture, and even stayed to have dinner with me. By the end of the day we were all exhausted and soon it was time to say our farewells.