28. Sharing #2
I watch them play, laughing, and it takes me back to when I was the one in the bed playing video games with my dad, or watching Formula 1.
It’s weird. Most people don’t remember much from when they were really young, but I have so many vivid memories.
I left the hospital at age seven, yet most of my recollection from my time here is intact.
Probably because it was so emotionally shattering to be in here, not knowing if I was going to live another week.
Seeing my parents age with worry every time they opened the door.
The empathy on the nurses’ faces. Watching TV but hating it because the movies and TV shows always depicted some kid doing what kids are supposed to do—going to school, playing outside, riding a bike—while I was stuck in this place.
“Elio! Elio!” Clark squeals, and I snap back to the present. “I won.”
“You did!” I flash him a big smile, standing up. “Well done, Champ! Let’s see if I can beat you now. I only go up against the best.”
After one more race with Clark, we visit the rest of the kids and even meet two newcomers. Seeing them here brings a pang to my chest, but it’s worth it to witness their bright smiles as we leave their rooms.
“That was intense,” Lucy says as we’re exiting the hospital. It’s late now, the sunset already casting a fiery glow on the city. “I can’t even imagine what those kids are going through.”
I press my lips together, a familiar tightness building in my chest. My gaze drifts to the ground before I force myself to lock eyes with her. “I can.”
She slows her steps, her expression curious but gentle. I take her hand, the warmth of her touch grounding me as I guide her to a nearby bench.
“I was one of those kids. When I was young, I was very sick.”
Her eyes widen before she blinks a few times. “You were? It’s hard to believe. You look so healthy and fit.”
I draw in a long breath, the memories stirring in my mind like a distant echo. “I haven’t been sick for many years, but yes. That was me. But I’m one of the lucky ones. Got diagnosed when I was two, and I was cured by seven years old. Most kids don’t have that chance.”
Her eyes capture mine, her voice barely above a whisper. “Wow. I didn’t realize.”
“I know.” I rake a hand through my hair.
“It’s where my love of the sport started, actually.
Dad would watch the races in my room, and I always loved toys with wheels.
So, he’d bring me toy cars, and we’d play on circuits.
Then, we moved on to Mario Kart,” I say with a chuckle, the memory a rare bright spot in that dark time.
“I’m glad you have some good memories to carry with you. It must have been scary.”
My throat tightens, but I push through the discomfort. “It was. Especially seeing my parents so hopeless and sad, saying goodbye each time they left like it was the last time.”
She swallows hard, her fingers brushing mine. “So, you were able to heal? Was there a treatment?”
I nod gently. “My brother, Matteo. He’s the one who saved me. He donated his bone marrow when he was barely two years old.”
Her eyes stretch wide. “Wow. Th at’s—wow. And is there any risk of it coming back?”
“Very low,” I reassure her, offering a smile. “I live a normal life now, all thanks to my bro. In fact, I just had a checkup on Monday, and it’s all looking good. That’s why I wasn’t available. The hospital is in Milano, so I traveled there with my family.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, though a trace of worry lingers in her expression. “Will it affect your life expectancy or—”
“We can’t really know.” I exhale, feeling the familiar weight of uncertainty I’ve long since accepted. “It’s why I live life to the fullest. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, so it’s all bonus time.”
“Yes, I can understand a bit better now. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she says, placing her hand on mine, the warmth soothing me. “I’m glad you recovered. It’s almost like you got your own revenge on fate.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Exactly. I hated feeling so powerless when I was a kid, and I promised myself that if I ever left that hospital, I’d do anything not to feel that way ever again.
And I did. I rose to the top of the motorsport world.
And today, no one would even guess what happened back then. ”
Her brow furrows slightly. “So, no one else knows?”
“Nope. Only my family. We moved away from our hometown a few months after I got better. You can imagine why, I’m sure.”
Her frown deepens, and I can tell she’s trying to piece it together.
I continue, “People were nasty to my parents, throwing stuff in our yard or tagging our garage door. You know, the controversy of using a second baby to save the first one.”
Her eyes widen in understanding, and she nods slowly. “Oh right. That's definitely tough.”
“Yeah. My parents love Matteo just as much as they love me, and they would have even if he hadn’t been a match. Still, people talk.”
“I can imagine,” she says, her voice filled with empathy. “It’s great that you two have such a strong bond.”
“He’s my hero,” I say with all honesty. “Even if he didn’t have a say in the matter, he’ll always be my hero. I owe him everything.”
“I’m so glad he saved you,” she says, drawing me into a hug.
And as I’m caught in the halo of her amber perfume, I’m transported back to Matteo’s competition a few days ago.
My stomach sinks at the memory. My parents rarely attend his meets, and it’s always been like that.
I never really paid much attention to it.
The excuse that they don’t really vibe with the sport or that it’s too much travel made sense to me.
But on the other hand, they come to all my European races.
How does that make Matteo feel, I wonder?
I’ve always put him on a pedestal and shown my gratitude—at least I think I have—but we never really talked about his role in our family.
Does he feel that he’s treated differently by Mom and Dad? Is he?
“Thank you for telling me all t his, for showing me,” Lucy says as we break the embrace. “Obviously, I will keep this to myself. I won’t mention it in the feature.”
I nod. “Thank you. I just wanted you to know so you could understand me better.”
“I do. It’s like I now have this huge part of the puzzle that was missing.”
“Oh, so you get me now.” I smile, my thumb brushing over her knuckles.
“Yep.” Her smile breaks into a giggle. “I’ve got you all figured out, Elio Spinelli.”
“And do you still like what you see?” I ask, holding my breath.
She cups my face with her hands, and I close my eyes, enjoying the way shivers dance over my body. “Very, very much so.”
And then she kisses me. Her lips are warm and sweet, and the taste of her lingers, sending a rush of emotions to my chest that I can’t even begin to untangle.
All my childhood memories vanish in an instant.
All that’s left is Lucy. The softness of her lips, the way her fingers trace the line of my jaw, the quiet sigh that escapes her when I deepen the kiss.
My hands slide to her waist, pulling her closer to anchor me to this moment, to her.
When we finally part, she rests her forehead against mine, her eyes still closed as if she’s savoring the moment as much as I am. And as we stand there, my chest feels lighter, my heart full. For the first time in years, I’ve found something beyond the racetrack worth holding on to.