Chapter 5 #2
Tomorrow. I find I’m looking forward to it, which is unexpected after my truly shitty last few days.
I fall back to sleep and am woken by my alarm. It feels far too early and I’m annoyed that a day is all I get to grieve my relationship before I’m expected to be back on top form.
If yesterday was about allowing myself to feel absolutely everything, today I have to numb myself completely in order to get through a long day in front of the cameras.
It’s a day of stupid challenges, soundbites, and having to laugh constantly to produce great content with Nils for the social-media team and various other media outlets and interviewers.
It’s exhausting. I’m mentally, physically and emotionally drained as we get to what they tell me for the third time is going to be the last clip of the day.
Except I’m done. I’m so done.
Normally I love these days. They’re so much fun and when Nils and I first became teammates it really helped us develop a much closer relationship, but today it’s just too much. I’ve been running on fumes for too long and now there’s nothing left in the tank.
‘I need a break!’ I practically shout, as Krissie, one of the RBF social-media team, explains what she needs from us in this video.
My chair skids across the vinyl flooring and I accidentally nudge the table as I get up, spilling both glasses of water.
My feet carry me across the room without being directed – at least that’s the way it seems – as I desperately search for a dark corner to hide in while I try to get my shit together.
But I don’t get a moment of peace because Nils follows me.
‘Look, I don’t want to be all up in your business, but what the fuck’s going on, man? First Austria and now this.’ He gestures from the table, where several people are cleaning up the mess I made, to where I’m sitting on the cold, hard floor trying to compose myself. ‘Talk to me.’
‘I can’t,’ I say through gritted teeth. There’s nothing, because what can I say? My secret boyfriend that you didn’t know about for the last almost three years broke up with me and now my brain is so scrambled I can’t get my head in the game?
That won’t lead to more questions.
‘Is it … that guy?’ he asks and I forget how closely we live on top of each other and how annoyingly observant he is.
‘There is no guy,’ I grunt, and now it actually is true. Jackson isn’t anything to me anymore.
‘Wow, you’re such a bad liar.’
He crouches down in front of me, almost as if he’s trying to get a better look at my sadness and I can’t even bring myself to tell him to fuck off. This isn’t Nils’s fault.
‘I’m still sick. I need to go back to bed,’ I say.
‘If you say so,’ he says, but we both know he doesn’t believe me.
‘Let’s get this last one done and then you’re free to go back to the villa and be boring there. Can you do one more?’
I want to scream and cry and tell him no, but I’m supposed to be setting a good example for him.
‘Yeah, I can do that. Give me a minute?’ I say hopefully, and he leaves me to it.
If I’d been able to tell anyone about Jackson in the first place, I wouldn’t have to grieve the loss of my relationship alone. I’d have support and people would understand and give me space when I ask for it.
I count to sixty, and then I go and apologise to everyone for my outburst. I put a smile on my face and we get the final video.
On the drive back to the villa, Nils tries to convince me to go out to dinner with some of the team, but I can’t face it – the only thing I want is my head in a pillow. So when we get back, I head straight to bed and fall asleep to the sound of him getting ready for the evening.
I wake before my alarm, and even though I could sleep for an hour or two more, I can’t ignore the fact that I haven’t worked out since Silverstone. Time to get off my arse and go for a run.
Before it turns six, I’m forcing my body into a vest and a pair of sweat shorts and lacing my feet into my favourite pair of running trainers whilst I try to convince myself that I’m going to enjoy this run and I will feel better afterwards.
I want to rot in bed until Jackson is nothing but a distant memory, but the experts are right about the power of exercise to develop a healthy mindset.
I set a timer for an hour then I run and run and run until my legs ache and the timer goes off.
It’s freeing to get lost on unfamiliar trails and streets, and for the first time in days, my brain doesn’t feel like someone’s trying to squeeze the life out of it.
While my heart rate comes down and my breathing returns to normal, I stretch out my hamstrings and calves against a wall.
I notice there’s a coffee shop and decide it’s a reward from the universe for getting my lazy, pathetic arse out of bed.
I straighten up and crash directly into someone. I grab his arm and shoulder to stop him crashing into the gravel, exclaiming ‘Shit! Sorry!’
Once he’s stable, I let go of him, and when he turns around those green eyes are instantly on me.
‘Caleb! Fuck! Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.’
‘All good, man! You okay?’ he asks as he catches his breath.
‘Yeah. Just got a run in and I was about to get a coffee.’ I point stupidly to the coffee shop. What’s wrong with me?
But his face lights up and I’m drawn immediately back to those eyes. Have they always been that green? Are eyes supposed to change colour with excitement? Because I swear there’s a shimmer of tropical sea when he gestures to the door, as though to suggest we head in together.
I follow him in, still slightly dazed by the collision outside. I don’t remember the last time I got coffee with someone or did anything with anyone who wasn’t Nils, Elijah or Harper. I barely know Caleb – not the way I knew Gary – and now is as good a time as any to start.
‘I have to warn you, I’m a bit particular about my coffee. I like things a certain way, but also, I’m a sucker for getting something sweet and stupid at the same time. Don’t judge me.’
He holds his hands up. ‘Judgement-free zone,’ he replies as we step up to the counter.
‘Do you have a menu in English?’ I ask the barista, because it’s vast and I can’t take it all in. ‘And do you roast your beans instore?’
‘Yes. Every day,’ she says. I’m glad she has good English as I don’t have word of Hungarian.
‘Which would you recommend? I prefer a darker, richer roast,’ I say, and she reels off a couple of suggestions. ‘And what milk alternatives do you have?’
‘Oat, soy, almond, coconut.’
I order what I want and then, with a quick glance at Caleb, I say, ‘With a shot of salted caramel, too.’ My eyes wander over the cake stand, I could easily crush several of the dark-chocolate brownies they have, but I can’t cheat on my dietician’s pre-race meal plan in front of my race engineer, so I quickly avert my eyes. ‘And whatever my friend wants.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ Caleb tries to protest.
‘I almost knocked you over. It’s the least I can do,’ I reply, waving him off.
‘Okay, thanks.’ He orders a tea to go and a pain au chocolat, and I’m instantly envious when he takes a bite of the pastry.
‘Which way are you going?’ I ask, when we step out onto the street with our beverages.
‘That way.’ He gestures right. ‘I have a meeting to get to, so I’m going to walk to that. You heading back to the villa?’
I nod. I’m disappointed we aren’t going to walk back together. I mean, he’s a good distraction from my negative thoughts. That’s all I mean.
‘Well, maybe I’ll see you around?’ I say.
‘You’ll see me at work later.’ He laughs. ‘Sorry, I need to get a move on. Don’t wanna be late or Nathan will have my head.’
I consider asking if he wants to get lunch or go for coffee later – just so we can plan my comeback – but it’s too late. He’s already walking away before I can even say a proper goodbye.