53. START LIVING AGAIN

/Charles/

“I wasn't expecting the news; it hits me harder than I could have imagined.
Beyond the fact that I couldn't have predicted it, it's truly shocking.
- By mutual agreement? - I ask immediately as soon as he answers the phone.
I called him completely on impulse, prey to emotions that had taken over.
- Oh, why, do you believe that? – he replies immediately, frankly. As soon as he says it, I feel immediately relieved, I don't know why.
Maybe I would have felt more like shit knowing that Seb preferred to run away from me, that he hated and despised me so much that he left his beloved Ferrari.
- So you didn't know? – I ask incredulously as I regain some of my typical, logical mental faculties.
- I read it in the official Ferrari press release, like everyone else.
- Binotto certainly has an absurd nerve... - I know I shouldn't say it, seeing as he's doing this dirty trick to Seb because he wants to focus on me. I’m indeed responsible for this situation, but I certainly didn't want it and I don't like it at all.
- He’s a coward. - Seb corrects me with a certain harshness that I know isn't directed at me.
While I'm talking to him on the phone, I'm walking around my house, where I've returned after a long time at my mother's. The piano I bought is arriving today, they'll raise it from outside and I had to be here. Suddenly, I can't do without that instrument I've ignored for most of my life.
- What are you going to do? Are you going to let everyone think you agreed? 
His laughter responds and I give a spontaneous smile. I automatically turn to the mirror in the entryway, near my jacket hanging on the wall. I look at myself and notice no difference from my usual smiles.
Still nothing. But it doesn't matter, it's okay. I am who I am.
What did he tell me that time? To let go and be myself without following other people's rules, to make my own.
Accept myself.
- I don't think so. As soon as they hand me a microphone and broadcast me to the whole world, I'll speak properly. Imagine if I'd let them play the good guys. They're obsessed with it because public opinion and image are everything for Ferrari, but it's fine if you're authentic. If you're rotten, it's right for the world to know.
He's furious, but it's a cold fury, not the kind of fire and flames he gets during or at the end of the races; it's like the one he gave me from mid-last season until a few months ago.
I don't know what he saw in me that softened him and made change towards me, but I'm glad it happened, to be honest.
- I'm sorry. - I say lowering my tone and sitting on the arm of my white sofa. - I feel responsible...
I am, to be honest. There's no point in denying it.
- It's not what they did, it's how. I expected them not to keep me, but doing it like this... I feel like I've earned the right to a dignified and respectful exit, right?
Seb remains calm. Icy calm.
- You don't have to feel responsible or even guilty. - he adds more softly and almost paternally, like at the beginning, when I first arrived at Ferrari last year.
He's a truly incredible person. He was upset by my sort of about-face, from his point of view, and he became cold. But now he's gotten over it, he's forgiven me, so to speak, and he's sweet and affectionate again. It makes your head spin.
I understand how he managed to get closer to Lewis after that famous Baku GP just when they seemed to be at the point of no return.
It makes your head spin, he's unpredictable.
- You be careful, instead. - he says suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.
- For what? 
- Once they've squeezed you too, they won't hesitate to treat you this way. And they'll do it with whoever comes after me, too. They say Carlos.
Things are known quickly. I didn't know much about Carlos, I was shocked by Seb's reaction. I'm not surprised and I'm not upset. He's Lando's boyfriend. I half smile at the idea of ​​becoming his teammate. I'll literally steal him, he'll hate me, which in Lando's language means he'll shower me with insults and threats that will make me laugh.
- They want to appear good, but they're not consistent. They'll fleece you and then give you the boot as soon as the next future champion arrives at their court. It doesn't matter who's at the top, everyone will always do this.
What he says makes me think, I know he's right. His story affects me deeply and in the end I sigh bitterly. I certainly didn't want it to end like this. Not because I see myself in him in a few years, but because I recognize he doesn't deserve it, regardless of the fact that he won world championships and GPs. But Seb is actually a good guy; if he gets hurt, he reacts for better or worse, but he's not someone who deserves to be treated badly. In the end, that's how it is.
- I hope your next team treats you better. - I say sincerely.
- Thank you. - he says sweetly. - See you in Maranello, there's not much left now.
Actually no, there's not much left, he's right.
At the thought of getting back to work so I can get back in the car, electricity runs through me from head to toe and with unmistakable joy, I smile. I turn to the mirror, this time the light reaches my eyes. I cover the lower half of my face with my hand for confirmation and noticing that I'm truly happy and that it shows, my smile increases and my eyes are involved.
I'm about to return to my natural environment. Regardless, I can't wait.

My fingers run across the black and white keys of my new upright piano.
It's white and to inaugurate it, my mother gave me a writing with red roses that spells out the word 'LOVE.' It was very sweet. I'll keep it there.
She says it's always been her dream that we children would play the piano and she's happy that now, during this difficult experience like the pandemic, I've become passionate about it.
She says I'll understand how positive it is with time, but I already see it.
I'm becoming more practical than I was at the beginning, when it took me days to produce anything remotely decent.
It's strange, during those sessions online with those idiots I have as friends on Twitch, even though I knew people would see me, I was euphoric and relaxed. I didn't really care how I presented myself. Sometimes I'd even act like a clown and dress ridiculously, but I'd let myself be carried away by the other three and end up following their lead. I think it was a part of me trying to emerge, which has always been there.
Playing is like therapy. I'm not talking to any therapist, even though it might be good for me, but it's not the kind of thing that would help me.
I can't talk about it. I just can't.
So I find that expressing my inner self through music is the only thing I can do. The music is then interpreted, the words, on the other hand, are unavoidable.
If you say, 'I feel bad, I'm depressed, I feel stuck inside, I'm scared,' then there's no room for anything else and you have to talk about it to get to the bottom of it, and you'll completely expose yourself. Then people will know about your problem and look at you with pity and morbid curiosity, and you'll be labeled as the problematic depressive on duty. Whereas I just want to be left alone. I don't want anything from anyone. I don't want them to know, I don't want them to ask me questions, or give me advice. I don't want anything.
I just want to unblock myself.
The piano allows me a solitary journey, even if it's perhaps much slower than a nice chat with a therapist. But at least no one gives me annoying, superficial advice.
I just need to understand myself, after all. I just need that. To understand what's blocking me, what's stuck deep inside me.
Now I've developed a kind of anxiety at the thought of getting back on track.
Tomorrow we set off for the first actual round of the 2020 season. After canceling numerous GPs and rescheduling others, we're getting started.
The first is in Austria, where we'll have two in a row to make up for the canceled stages. It's going to be a strange season and that's not what's making me nervous; on the contrary, that's what I like and what excites me. It's throwing myself back into the circus, because that's what it is. A circus. And I'll be a clown.
I'll have to force myself to smile or accept the consequences of not being able to.
I'll always have my mask on and it will penalize me because I won't be able to show my mouth curled in a superficial smile, even if it's a good one.
And then the people. Lots of people. Fewer than usual, but now, after months of isolation where I've only been with people I feel comfortable with, it’ll be hard and traumatic to get back out there.
I've already seen people; I've gradually returned to the world. I did the preparation, or rather, I redid it. I met the whole team again, I used the simulator again, I met Seb again, who also showed me how to express your feelings even with a mask on.
We talked again; he's always kind and polite to everyone, including the bosses. He greeted Mattia as if nothing had happened; I don't know what strength he had. I don't know how he managed it. I think his behavior has remained with me, as if it entered me and somehow I made it mine. Is that the right thing to do?
Anyway, he told me that at the press conference scheduled for Thursday, he'll say everything straight away.
Mattia didn't say or do anything in front of him. The situation is tense and strange, it's like a bomb is about to explode, but you're not sure it will go off even though the possibility is high. It's just that Seb is the unpredictable one. The others are cowards, but Seb isn’t and you can't predict how he'll act.
So I've already started to re-enter the tangle out there. It was stressful, but it was still my team, people I get along with pretty well. And then it was about getting back in the car, the only thing besides the piano that makes me happy and feels good right now.
But now it'll be total, the return to life out there. I won't be surrounded only by people from my comfort zone. Now I'll get out of my comfort zone.
Now I'll see both Pierre and Max in person again, after a long time of total detachment.
How will I react? How will I feel?
I tremble at the mere thought and as it happens, I feel the intensity of the melody I'm playing increase. I make mistakes, I go out of tune and I start over, reproducing the same piece until it works and clicks.
Start living again. Will I be ready?”

/Max/

“The excitement is sky-high, like I never thought it would be.
Starting over, little by little, always following the damned new rules that I would never know if I didn't have someone to give me a very useful, concise summary, is still great.
I went back to the office, got back in the car, used the simulator, we worked on the car again even though we didn't use it, I was happy to see the team and Alex again. It was better than I ever thought it would be.
You get so used to certain things that only when you have to do without them, do you realize you actually liked them and were happy with them. You understand their value, right? I've never been a sensitive or emotional person, but now, after this long mind-blowing period of isolation, I've discovered my true self.
It's like forcing yourself to look inside without ever having done so. It's not that I didn't think I had something, I just didn't know it. I lived fast and without thinking about anything, I always acted on impulse and often made mistakes. For this, I've always been criticized and I've never had many people around me, I didn't care and I still don't mind. But discovering, by some kind of force majeure, that there's actually something inside me is beautiful and surprising.
I haven't done anything special, no therapy or meditation or whatever the fuck, but just staying home doing very little, forced me to think and reflect and look at things differently.
Seb himself taught me something indirectly.
It doesn't matter who you are or how great you are at your job: you can be a legend and do extraordinary things, but as soon as you stop, and sooner or later everyone stops, no one will hesitate for a second to dump you like shit and disrespectful. So live in the present, taking everything you can while you can, and don't have a damn scruples.
Now seeing the same people I used to take for granted and that I was indifferent to, makes me happy and I understand that in reality everyone has their own importance and a specific role, but even beyond that is meeting another human being who doesn't make you feeling alone in the world, is already an extraordinary thing in itself.
Getting back on the plane and flying to the first real stage of the season is beautiful, and I feel more vital than I've ever been.
I've always experienced the journey and everything that came before the race as a burden and a nuisance. I always thought I'd gladly do without anything other than the race on Sunday, but now even just flying on the plane and waking up at dawn was nice, even though I usually hate it.
Immersing myself in the sultry heat of July, stressing myself out with swabs and masks and hand sanitizer and social distancing, is still fun, even if it's a nuisance in itself.
It's nice to be back in the hotel even if you can't crowd together or you get fines, you're checked like you're a plague victim, but once you're all set after all those endlessly repeated checks, you enter in the bubble and from there on you find yourself in another world.
A different and separate world where no one has ever lived, but it's still a world, and you see people, much more than in the past few months. You enjoy talking even with strangers, you're interested in how they've been through isolation, how those who contracted Covid experienced it, what their experiences were, what people are saying about it, when we'll return to normal and if we'll ever actually get back to normal.
There's a before and after Covid for everyone now; we're living through a stage in history that has changed the world and we're the protagonists. It's an exciting and powerful thought.
Even without making truly interesting conversations, it's nice to talk and be here.
Strange as it may be, I feel more at peace, more serene and the feeling remains until I glimpse Charles walking toward the elevators with his usual guardian angels.
I miss the conversation I was having with some colleagues I saw again after Australia, and I immediately feel like a heart patient.
Pathetic. Pathetic idiot.
Remember, you buried him. I don't hate him, I don't want to hate him. After all, I know how many problems he has; it's not right to crucify him. He acted badly, that time in Barcelona, and then in Australia he didn't correct the shot. I was right to hate him, but what's the point of holding a grudge?
After all, he's full of personal and internal problems and I know them, in part, because he talked about them to me in a heartbreaking scene that I can't forget.
It's just that after that night, I thought I was special; I thought that after that caress with which he left, it would be like this forever, between us. That bittersweet push and pull. Instead, it was just a bitter let-go and I wasn't ready, but it's just Charles's eternal rollercoaster. With him it will always be like this.
I wonder how he spent these months? We haven't written to each other, he must have isolated himself from everyone and he certainly, unlike me, was fine alone.
I sigh and return to the group I'm with, joined by a smiling and serene Seb.
As soon as he arrives, he's like the Pope. Everyone greets him and gets ready to shake his hand and ask him if it's all true and how he is, aware as I do that it's not as the Ferrari executives said. It wasn't a shared decision.
His long silence was strange and also admirable, a month of nothingness where the world thinks that's how it really happened, but those who know him a little better know that's not true.
Seb is very serene and calm, almost resigned, but not sad or dejected.
His blue eyes communicate a lot, unlike Charles who, as always, doesn't express much other than the usual sadness.
- So tomorrow is the big day? - I ask, aware of what he'll do even without knowing it from anyone. I mean, maybe he spoke to Charles, I don't know if they made up, but it seems to me that things between them were better in Barcelona. But I'm the one who didn't speak to Charles, but Seb even the walls know him; he's like that. He's crystal clear. Exactly as it appears. He doesn't hide, he doesn't mask. For him masks don't exist, they don't serve him either to hide external defects or the most obvious ones, nor to divert from an uncomfortable character.
Seb smiles at me with such a sly look that we all burst out laughing.
- You'll see, you'll see.
- So it's true, it wasn't consensual!
- I could have bet on it!
- But imagine, what could it be?
We all start talking freely, as if we're talking about a joke or a comical scene. This is because Seb is completely relaxed about the situation and doesn't make a fuss about it, but I think it was tough.
While we're talking like this about a situation that's certainly not as easy as it seems, Lewis arrives having been standing a bit aside, watching him hesitantly.
As soon as Seb sees him, his face lights up and he becomes happy, and from that you can see the difference between us and him. Seb likes everyone; it's rare for him to not like you and if that happens, it means you're unique. Just look at Charles last year. But in reality, he only loves one guy and only a blind man wouldn't notice when you're around him at the most disparate times. If you only see him through public scenes, perhaps with the media showing you a glimpse of a driver's daily life, that's one thing, but for us who see each other practically all the time and often see other colleagues more than their wives and girlfriends, it's another story.
Seb apologizes and says goodbye as he leaves with Lewis. The two exchange bright glances. Lewis is worried and circumspect, but you can tell they can't wait to see each other again.
I smile under my mask and shake my head as they leave and disappear in record time.
No one says anything, no one dares, but it's pointless. Just as there's no point in them saying anything, or declaring anything.
It's obvious, right?
It's so obvious, but only if you see them like this when their defenses are down because there are no annoying strangers, journalists, photographers, fans, then you can really see them.
And I envy them.
I wonder if one day I'll have what they have too.
I inevitably think back to Charles and wonder if I should contact him to tell him to stay calm, that I won't force him to consider me or have a relationship, so there's no point in running away and throwing childish tantrums.
Or maybe I could contact him just to tell him that I'm fine and that I don't want him to worry about me, that everything between us is still fine, even if in February I wanted to kill him and headbutt him, just as I wanted to headbutt him for all the months that followed.
Damn, just catching a glimpse of him after months of abstinence was enough to make me melt again.
I'm really pathetic, but it's not my fault anyway and I feel like that train has already left, on his part.
Too much time has passed; he's definitely focused on his journey, on getting better. Or maybe he's continued to evade himself as he always has, ignoring his problems so he doesn't have to face them.
I don't know, but I don't want him to run with the anxiety of us two, if he has any. But judging by the way he ran away on the day of the tests, I think he has that anxiety about us and I don't want him to run with it now. I want him to be clear-headed and focused and to be well. As well as possible.

I'm still wondering what I should do when I reach my room and a door in the same hallway opens.
I automatically turn around and let out an ironic smile that I hope I hide under my mask, which I adjust better instead of lowering it.
What a shit fate is.
Sometimes I wonder if we're in a giant Big Brother show and the director is having fun with us poor losers.
I've had these crazy, philosophical thoughts ever since I spent too much time alone at home. I think I'm a hybrid between a normal person and the psychopath I used to be, but I'm not fully formed yet. Whatever I'm becoming now, I'm not yet.
- Hey! - I greet him softening almost against my will. I was undecided whether to act tough and pissed off to make him feel the weight of his months of total disappearance, or to calm him down and bury it all, but here I am, smiling softly at him.
Charles looks at me bewildered and for a moment he stands there in his doorway, several meters away from me. He seems to be wondering what to do, but in the end he puts the red mask back on, which he had pulled down under his chin. I was about to lower mine, but I keep it on and turn towards him better, keeping my distance. I don't walk in front of him, I give him the choice of how to handle it.
In the end Charles remains with his gaze unchanged, a neutral look that doesn't let me know what he's doing. Is he smiling? 
We're far apart, we could lower the masks and look at each other carefully without getting close, but it's so comfortable now, having this safe barrier.
So I can show you the best part of me, the one you like so much, while you can feel better and more protected behind yours.
- How are you? - he asks closing the door behind him and slipping the key card into his pocket. He approaches me slowly, perhaps a little hesitant; we remain about two meters apart. A bit excessive, considering that the recommendation is one meter and that, technically, since we've tested negative, we can be quite comfortable in our F1 bubble.
I shrug and nod; I feel my eyes soften, my mouth curling even more into a smile that would be considered sweet. Sweet, yes. Tender. What this little bastard bitch makes me pull out.
Charles stares intently into my eyes, his gaze very clearly focused and I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that it's the only thing I show of myself. He's troubled by my eyes, even if outwardly he seems indifferent, almost. But from the fact that he doesn't take his eyes off mine, I think he's got something wrong, but I won't ask him.
I won't do anything to help you. You wanted to isolate yourself and you did. You'll decide when the isolation ends, but good luck with that moment, since I don't know if I'll still be there for you.
Now that I've returned to life after this forced suspension, I realize I'm different, that I need to... well, live. Live more than ever. And if you're not ready to do that yet, we're more incompatible than before, and we already were.
I have to move on, Charles. I'm sorry.
There's this brief exchange of glances between us, where I reflect on these things and finally I ask him softly and delicately: - How are you?
At this his eyes widen as if caught off guard, not because he didn't think I'd ask, but because he genuinely doesn't know what to say. But then he immediately returns to his composed expression, shrugs and raises his shoulders imitating me, then sighs and, as if he understands everything I haven't been able to say and wasn't sure I should, nods. I nod back.
- See you around. - he acts as if we're nothing special, just colleagues like any other. As if we don't have an intense and complicated past, as if we've never flirted with each other to the point of openly declaring we want to fuck.
I nod and open my door, while I walk in he goes on, taking different paths for the umpteenth time.
I don't know if we'll ever cross paths again, but that's how it is for now and I know it won't change in the near future. He has to make it on his own and I think he's at least trying. I don't know how and I don't know how long it will take, or if he will. I don't know how he’ll be in the end, but we'll see.
A strange melancholy assails me, but in reality I'm less devastated than I thought. Maybe precisely because I didn't do anything. I didn't touch him, I didn't try and I didn't put him in the position of having to reject me for the umpteenth time. If he doesn't reject me, I feel better, so for now it will be like this, at least on my part.
I'm sorry, Charles, but it's your turn now.”

NOTES: With Seb's situation, I wanted to show how what happens to him affects everyone, Max and Charles first and foremost. It's as if it suddenly made them grow professionally, opening their eyes and making them see that if they don't take it seriously and become ruthless themselves, they'll be eaten up without consideration. When you arrive in F1, you live a dream and don't think about the future, just enjoying the moment, but at a certain point you start to reflect on it and this creates anxiety and pressure that will affect you for better or worse. In their case, I think it was helpful in a certain sense.
I don't want to overemphasize the professional issues, but every now and then I like to add something about it. Especially when Seb is involved (I owed him this part; he's one of my idols).
On a personal level, however, I'm sure Covid has affected everyone to some extent. There's a before and an after, especially because of all the forced isolation. Solitude helps you discover yourself, but the outcome is different for everyone.
It's a bittersweet ending, this one, because even though they finally saw each other again, they've never been so far away. Any clues about the future? Not even a hint. Until next time. Kisses, Akane.