Starting from the Pit lane - Lewis Hamilton

White flag

Melissa landed in Milan (Malpensa) and stopped that night at her father's house who, having not even gone to pick her up, had called a taxi for her.
"Too much work" and he hadn't seen her daughter in months, by now Melissa had lost count. She didn't complain, not to him at least. She didn't want to be seen as ungrateful, he had given her a paid internship around the world in close contact with Formula One.

She came home around two in the morning and threw himself on the sofa, the guest room was upstairs and she didn't want to wake anyone up by turning on the lights and she didn't want to bang around either. She took off her shoes, coat, scarf, hat and gloves on the floor and slept dressed while also keeping her socks on because it was cold.
The next morning Andrea woke her up
-There's the guest room upstairs, there was no need to improvise a Titanic scene down there-
Melissa, still half asleep, mumbled the right answer and then rolled off the couch onto the floor. It was the first step to get up.

-Good morning Meli- Andrea smiled at her –did you sleep well?-
"No," she replied dryly.
-I imagine, on the sofa...- he chuckled but she was referring to something else entirely –What do you want for breakfast? I don't have your snacks at home but I have tarts with jam -
-Homemade?-
-Obviously not-
-Is there juice?-
-The pineapple one-
-But I want the orange one-
-But it's not here- said his father, closing and opening the kitchen shelves.
Melissa meanwhile sat down, still on the floor and rested her back on the sofa -Do you have anything else?-
-If you want I can make you baked lobster au gratin-he replied sarcastically
-Go for the tart with coffee- and finally got up.
She sat down at the kitchen table and her father gave her a placemat from when she was a child, a cup he had taken from the Genoa aquarium on a trip in 3rd grade and a teaspoon with sugar. He caressed her back and then placed the cup with the espresso and the tart he bought in front of her. They had breakfast together and shared that moment together. Neither of them liked early morning conversation, nor did Melissa want to tell him about her internship experience. She knew that once the meal time was over he would ask her how the internship went but she would experience every question as an interrogation.

Andrea cleared the table and put the cutlery in the dishwasher -So-
Here we are.
-How did the internship go?-
Boom!
-Well-
-That's all?-
-Very good-
-Come on, tell me something or show me some photos-
The photos! Marvelous! She was going to show him those and screw it at least "I don't have to tell him anything else, if I play well when he finishes looking at them all he'll have to go get ready for work!"
He started scrolling through all the photos she had taken and, when she didn't have any, she made up very long anecdotes to waste time. In the fourth photo of a coffee she also told him about Chiara. Andrea listened and inspected the photo carefully, but judged it every time he came across the photos of the cigarette break and espresso from the paddock machine.

-So which team did you follow the most?-
-Ferrari and Alfa Romeo were my main ones but...- she decided not to lie –I also followed Mercedes a lot- she tried to put a smile on her face.
He continued to scroll through the images and tell only the true anecdotes, she no longer felt like making anything up.
In one photo, however, she was with Lewis, their cheeks were pressed together and they were smiling half-embraced.
-Wait, who is he?-
Cazzo.
-Lewis Hamilton, Mercedes driver. We spent months working together, I also made friends within the teams-
-Oh I see!-
He scrolled through a couple more photos and saw a selfie with George.
-And what about him?-
-George Russell, also a Mercedes driver-
-You seem much closer with the first one-

Melissa took a deep breath and then replied –Yes, in fact we bonded more. George is very sociable, we had no problems and we got along quickly. With Lewis on the other hand... I think that with the fact that we started off on the wrong foot we had to work harder and in the end we also bonded more- well done Melissa, forget about all the arguments, the fact that you called him "chocolate", regretted it like you put Christ on the cross with your bare hands and all that sex you had, even in public places and inside the changing room behind the Mercedes' box.
-It does not make sense-
Melissa couldn't help herself –why?-
-If you started off on the wrong foot, you spent the same amount of time with both of them, how come you ended up bonding more with him?-
-We worked harder to find a peaceful coexistence and in the end a friendship was born, with George however everything went smoothly from the start we were a little more superficial-
-I am not following you right now-
-What do you mean?-
-To "waste time" to make things work when you had 9 other pilots...-
-There are 20 of them in total, so 19-
-Precisely. Doesn't make sense-
Melissa stayed there. She hadn't been as subtle as she'd hoped. She showed him the latest images, discarding those taken in Holland for a very clear reason.

Andrea then got dressed, said goodbye to his daughter and went to work.
Melissa packed her things and took a train to Parma, to reach her mother's house. With a frecciarossa she arrived in just 47 minutes, 52 to be exact due to a slight delay. She called a taxi and reached her mother's house, who was at work.
She took a shower and cleaned up. She hadn't taken care of herself properly in months. She recovered her hair and skin, which were in desperate need of care and hydration. When she still had her bathrobe on and his turban on her head, she left a voice message to her cousin, asking if she was free for a coffee break. The answer came in less than a minute –Yes!-

After an hour they saw each other at the usual bar and Melissa had finally regained her appearance. She had traveled half the world in her usual clothes and now she finally had something different on. She looked better in formal work clothes but it was nice to see her again in a pair of jeans and a sweater.

-Okay. Your driver- she said, lighting a cigarette -I want to know everything. First the sex...-
-listen to me.-
-Yes?-
-No!-
-Ok fine, what happened?-
-We had a fight-
-But don't tell me, what's new. Why? What did he do?-
-Actually, this time is... my fault-
-What have you done?- she asked confused.
-At the airport, when I was about to return from Holland I touched a raw nerve-
-Aia- she said, taking a puff of smoke –Which one?-
-I asked him why he doesn't want to come and live in Italy. He has homes all over the world, he could settle here permanently and I could work peacefully. He offered to get me a job with an English publishing house and that I would never have any problems with him but...-
-But?-
-I pointed out to him that if things were to go wrong between us I would lose everything and I would even find myself living abroad-
-Why you care so much? Couldn't you come back here to Italy? You would have some great references-
-Yes but what if Lewis woke up in a bad mood and decided to screw everything up?-
-I did not think about it. I couldn't see it from how you described it to me-
-Me neither but... my parents did a lot for me, to enable me to live independently without depending on anyone. I don't want to ruin everything with a relationship. I would feel safer if I found a job here on my own in the field that interests me most -
-Okay, I understand. I don't blame you, then, in fact, it's not easy to go and live in another country leaving friends and family behind-
-Exactly!-
-And, honestly, I think asking him is different from asking you. You told me that he has many houses around the world and works a lot while travelling, who cares if when he has a break he spends most of his time in the house he has in Italy rather than somewhere else-
-Exactly what I thought!-
-Maybe there is another woman-
Those words froze Melissa's blood. She put out her cigarette and stared into space -I don't think so- she slurred -it wouldn't make sense-
Amelie realized she had stabbed her and took her hand to caress it -sorry, I don't want to make you live in an illusion-