Chapter 18 Gianna
Gianna
PRESENT
I’ve never understood why, when it comes to personality, I am the complete opposite of the woman who gave birth to me. But I’m glad for it.
‘You’re being ridiculous, anak,’ Ma says from across the kitchen counter of the house I grew up in.
She busies herself making tea, ever the hostess, like it will fix every fucked-up thing going on between us.
When she moves past me, I hold back a coughing fit as I nearly choke on her Chanel perfume.
Ten too many sprays. Her cooking hasn’t improved either.
I glance up at the smoke alarm, reassured by its flashing green light.
At least she managed to change the battery.
Not a single thing in this kitchen has changed. The fridge still has old drawings and pictures secured by mismatched magnets. A bowl of lemons picked from the garden sits on the corner bench and the same red-and-white chequered tea towels hang in front of the oven.
The place sparks a memory from what seems like a lifetime ago, a year before Pa passed.
‘Don’t make the hole too big. They’re bagels, not donuts,’ Pa says, stuffing his half with way too many jalapenos. My nose scrunches and I sprinkle mine with sesame seeds.
‘How’s your art going?’ he asks.
I wipe my hands on the tea towel before grabbing my sketchbook. I flip it open to show him the new charcoal drawing I’ve been working on. It’s in early stages of outlines, so I explain where the Mustang is, where he is and where I am.
‘That’s damn good, Gigi.’ He pauses before regarding me with a question simmering in his hazel eyes. ‘I’ve been thinking. Would you be up for painting some racing stripes on the ’stang? Think you could trade paper for metal?’
My insides light up like fireworks are being let off. ‘You’d let me paint the Mustang?’ I squeal.
‘On one condition.’ He leans in close. ‘Don’t ever give up on your passions. They’ll give you a full life, one you can’t wait to really live. Promise me?’
‘I promise, Pa.’
He gives a solemn nod. A deal’s been made. ‘Get on with it then. We’ll bake these up and then it’s hammer time.’
Hammer time. His go-to phrase whenever he believed in something.
I suck in a deep breath to calm the storm raging inside my chest as the memory of Pa disappears.
I turn my attention back to Ma. ‘When were you going to tell me about the speedway?’
‘I wasn’t going to tell you,’ she states with a poker face.
Her heels clack against the tiles as she gets milk from the fridge, the metronomic click merging with my heartbeat in my ears.
‘What?’ My voice quivers but hope burns in my chest that she’ll take it back. When she says nothing, I continue, ‘You watched me save to buy the speedway for years. I’d go without food just to put every single cent away so I could grow that account … and it was mine all along. And you knew.’
I’ve lost everything, and she couldn’t just give me the one thing that would make me feel connected to Pa. The place he left for me. I close my eyes, praying for an inch more patience.
‘Don’t blame me for your choices, Gianna.’
‘But you didn’t tell me it was mine, Ma,’ I say, my eyes meeting hers. ‘He left it to us. Pa left it for Jace and me!’
‘And he shouldn’t have, Gianna! I kept it from you for your own good.’ She bangs the bottle down, gripping the counter for support. ‘That speedway is a money pit and a dead end. You have so much potential, but you want to go risking your life on something so reckless …’
I’ll never understand this woman, just as I don’t think she’ll ever understand me.
I’m running on fumes as she raves on about how much she disapproves of my life choices.
The second hand of the analogue clock on the wall makes four revolutions as she shrills on, and it isn’t until she gives her signature sigh that I tune back in.
The sigh that always tells me how much of a disappointment I am and even though she expected as much, I still surprise her.
‘I just wish you’d stop wasting away your life like this,’ she tacks on with a shake of her head.
‘Wasting away my life like what, Ma?’
Her lips purse, and I ready myself for the next hit of heated emotions that she’ll throw at me. Then those lips tremble and the silence lingers.
‘Like how your brother and your father did.’ Ma’s earlier screaming has hollowed out to a whisper.
Her arms are limp at her sides but I see the tension ripple through the muscles of her fist. ‘Both of them,’ she cries softly, choking on the last word.
‘Both of them put me through hell, with their racing and their cars, and now you want to do the same. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.
’ She half turns, bringing a hand to cover her trembling lip and taking a moment to compose herself.
I barely hear her when she says, ‘How many of you do I have to lose to those damn cars?’
Shame seeps in. Everything I lost, Ma lost too. But instead of confiding and finding solace in each other over it, we pushed each other away. Because all I wanted to do was talk about it, and all she wanted to do was forget it.
I didn’t tell her when I dropped out of Booker Bay University and started working at the garage.
When she found out, she ordered me to re-enrol, give up art and sell the Mustang.
It was her ultimatum: her house and her rules.
So I left. I couldn’t give any of it up, because it finally made sense.
I finally understood why Jace poured every free second he had into working on that car.
Standing up from the counter, I slowly make my way to Ma’s side. I almost hug her, but it feels unnatural, so I rub her arm instead.
‘Your father died on that track, Gianna.’
I suck in my bottom lip and nod. When she glances at me, she looks shocked, no doubt wondering why I’m taking the news so well.
Because it’s not news to me. I learnt three years ago, in my first year at The Tropics, that Pa’s accident wasn’t any ordinary crash.
He was a pedestrian, leaving the speedway parking lot one night when some street racers crashed through the gates and circled donuts in the car park.
It wasn’t well lit and they didn’t see him.
Pa didn’t come home that night, and the racers were never caught.
There was round-the-clock security and surveillance after that. For a few years, anyway.
I’m still resentful not to have been told this by my mother and finding out the way I did. Though, I guess, it doesn’t matter. Pa is gone, and wherever and however the accident happened doesn’t change that.
‘Pretending that their favourite places don’t exist isn’t how to honour them, Ma. Jace and Pa want us to visit these places and be happy, because that’s what brought them joy. Pa bought the speedway for a reason.’
Her head bobs, a sad smile creeping in. ‘He wanted to do it up.’ She sniffs. ‘Wanted to teach you how to drive there, and make it a playground for Jace. Your father knew about the street-racing community growing, and he wanted you kids to have a safe place to race.’
My nose stings and I choke back tears. ‘Then why would you keep it from me, Ma? We can even do it together. We can make that happen.’
She sniffles loudly, hastily wiping the moisture from her face. When the tears are cleared, I notice the genuine fear in her eyes. ‘I can’t lose you too.’
‘Oh, Ma.’ I pull her in for a hug. She wraps her arms around me so tightly, the air whooshes from my lungs.
Not only can I see her fear, but I can feel it.
‘I don’t want the speedway to be a place of uncalculated risk.
Pa was right. I think he saw it happening way before anyone else did.
I’m surrounded by people, passionate people, who want to learn about cars, what they can do and how they can push limits.
They go to illegal meets because there’s no legal space for them to do it.
It’s going to happen anyway, but if it’s in a space like the speedway, we have a circle of control.
I want what Pa did – for it to be safe.’
I crack. There’s no warning when I lose myself to my own emotions and let loose a waterfall’s worth of waterworks. Ma and I allow ourselves to be blubbering messes for a few moments longer before we collect ourselves.
‘You know,’ she laughs, lightening the mood, ‘I can’t count the number of times security out there called, or the cops rang while passing by, saying Ryker was buzzing around on the track.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Mm-hmm.’ She eyes me knowingly. ’I’m so glad Ryker is back and that you two are friends again. You need each other.’
I’m about to protest, because Ryker and I are not that, but there’s a softness in her eyes I don’t want to disturb. Besides, the less she knows about my monster and me, the better.
‘You’re right,’ Ma sighs. ‘Your dad wanted this, and you should have it. We’ll have to change the details and sign the official papers.
’ She wipes away the last of her smudged mascara with her thumb.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever understand it, anak, but it was wrong of me to keep it from you.
Come.’ She leads me to my old bedroom, then moves toward a dresser filled with toys from my childhood and trophies from Jace’s basketball competitions.
After rummaging through the top drawer, she turns and presses a cold key into my palms. ‘Whatever you decide to do, this belongs to you.’
I turn the key over and see the initials BBS on a trinket keychain.
She clears her throat. ‘You’ll have to re-register the business name. It was costing me too much to keep the trademark, so I let it go.’
‘I’m not going to call it Booker Bay Speedway.’
‘What are you going to call it?’
Nostalgia and melancholy mix, and I smile. I can only think of one name. ‘Hammer Time Circuit.’
* * *
‘You keep beating that metal, there’s gonna be nothing left.’