Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Caleb
I’m on my third energy drink as I sit down at pit wall for the US Grand Prix. The concerning thing is I’m not even close to the vibrating, bouncing-off-the-wall mess I should be in after this much caffeine. One too many long days at work and one too many sleepless nights will do that to you.
It surprises no one that I’ve somehow thrown myself into my job even more to help Johannes bring the championship home over the next three races.
Despite the fact that my brain and heart are at war, I was still working to the middle of the night last night with Alek, our lead strategy engineer, preparing for today.
Has it been easy coming to work the last couple days and having to see him, speak to him, be all up in his space, when we haven’t had the chance to talk about him and Jackson?
Absolutely not. But this is still my job, and I still care about him deeply.
Even if we do end up calling it quits, it still matters to me whether he wins or not. It matters very much indeed.
I don’t want to call it quits. I think now the shock’s worn off, my emotions are less acute.
And now I just miss him. So, he didn’t tell me a really big secret – he never actually lied to me.
He never betrayed me. Not my sweet, caring, country-music-loving Johannes.
Not the guy who cooks for me every time he has the chance and who looks at me like he wants to give me the world.
Not the Johannes who so clearly wants to be loved and made to feel worthwhile.
My blood boils thinking of all that Jackson must have done to make him feel that way.
And nothing will stop me getting him his race day coffee.
I have to courier it to the garage, but it’s there waiting for him when he arrives for the day.
It’s tradition now. Superstition, or whatever.
And the fact is I still want to do nice things for him, despite being mad at him, which says more about my stupidity than anything. Maybe I care too much.
I don’t doubt that he cares about me, but the depth and breadth of my love is so vast that I could drown in it. Being cradled in his arms made me believe he felt the same way, but I was wrong once before, and now I worry that my inexperience in healthy adult relationships is really showing.
I shake off the emotions and put my headset on for the day so I can drown out all the thoughts with radio chatter.
Nothing compares to a race day. There’s no thrill like it.
Sitting at the pit wall and seeing every decision Johannes makes on track is a privilege.
Being a part of his process, assisting in every way I can, is a joy.
Getting to be in the atmosphere that comes from ten teams battling to come out on top, the whizz of cars going by, the buzz of engineers working their asses off to change tyres in two seconds…
I’m already dreading the post-season blues when my life becomes solely writing my thesis again.
Everywhere is already busy as we get ready for race day, and there’s a sizzling tension up and down the paddock as the battle for the championship reaches its peak.
I’ve seen Nils this morning looking more excitable than ever.
He’s going to finish in the top ten overall this season for the first time in his career and it’ll probably be a mid-table spot, too, which is impressive.
Next year I can see that being even higher.
He must know what’s going on right now, because he offers me a small smile with a hint of pity as he says hello to Ian and bounds into the garage.
Johannes was pulled straight into press briefings this morning, but the second I start thinking about him it’s like the earth conjures him up for me and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he approaches the pit wall slowly.
‘Hey,’ he says, hands cradling the coffee cup I saw being delivered five minutes ago. ‘Thank you for this.’
‘Of course,’ I reply, because I can’t imagine having not gone out of my way to get it here for him. To keep that stupid superstitious luck going. When, really, I do it so he knows that he has someone who cares about him. Someone who’s rooting for him.
‘It’s really good. Nothing will top Belgium’s, but this is exactly what I need right now.
’ His eyes meet mine and he offers me a small smile and I’m instantly smiling back, hands itching to reach for him and pull him close, but I can’t.
We can’t. Not right now, not here, not before the facts are straight and ironed out, and even then it’s not appropriate to bring our relationship drama into the workplace.
‘I’m glad.’ Apparently, I’m unable to say more than two words to him now. This is not what I want at all, especially as he takes a small step back away from the pit wall.
He’s all suited up, waiting to be allowed to go do the formation lap and get situated on the grid.
He might be sitting on the right-hand side of the front two spots, but I know he has it in him to knock Harper out of the way by that first corner.
Johannes has won the last two US Grand Prix, and I see no reason for it not to be a third today.
‘You done? I can toss that for you.’ He hands me the empty cup and when our fingers brush, it’s like a stupid romcom of electricity sparking between us, and I hate it. Except I don’t. I love it.
He’s still standing next to my screens, waiting, hand twitching where he’s resting it on the table. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, just needed a second. Sorry.’
My heart physically hurts, like a pain twinges in my chest because this man seems to have experienced nothing but heartbreak and I can see it on every inch of his face. His eyes are a little glossy as he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth like he’s contemplating the world.
‘No, it’s okay. It’s going to be a busy day. Take all the time you need. I’m sure someone will be calling you soon.’ He nods and I almost want to reach out and squeeze his hand, reassure him that it’s all going to be fine.
I start my own race prep, and then in a blur the national anthem is finished and the race begins.
The first forty-two laps are calm, although in the thirty-ninth lap, Nils overtakes Elijah for the first time ever and sits in P3 behind Johannes.
It’s a joy to be able to tell Jo that at least, but I can tell he’s more focused on getting past Harper in front.
‘Focus, Johannes, focus,’ Nathan says from beside me and I wish I could rip his headphones off and toss them onto the track to be annihilated.
He must know how much Johannes hates hearing from him when he’s driving.
Part of me wishes Johannes would just tell him to fuck off – it’s not like it would be the first time a driver’s told someone in their ear to shut the hell up.
‘I am fucking focusing,’ Johannes grits out, and to prove it he closes the gap to just 0.5 seconds between him and Harper as they take turn ten together, heading straight into a DRS zone.
He’s right up Harper’s ass as they go into turn eleven and then on the last straight of sector two, he zips around him like a fucking ninja and steals the leading spot. I almost want to switch over to Harper’s onboard right now. I bet he’s swearing up an angry storm about his best friend.
‘You’re a P-One, man, P-One. This is exactly what you came to do.’
He whoops into the mic and then settles back into a focused silence, determined to bring this home.
The clean air between Johannes and the rest of the pack is beautiful. The distance he’s put between him and Harper is even more so. He’s cruising. There are still thirteen laps to go, but he has this sewn up. The tenths of a second begin to really rack up as he gets to the end of this lap.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Ian says from beside me and Nathan and me are both looking over his shoulder as we hear the loudest thump not too far from where we’re sitting. On his screen, Nils is in the wall and there’s another car in the side of him.
When I squint closer, I realise that not only is Nils in the wall, but his car’s upside down and he’s not moving. No! Christ. It looks bad on this screen. ‘Who hit him?’ I ask, pushing my mic up, even though I know it’s not on right now so Johannes can’t hear me, but I have to be sure.
The camera angle on my screen shows a Hendersohm car and Ian is quick to confirm.
‘It’s Harper. I don’t think it was either of their faults.
There’s something on the track. The next screen over he zooms out and yeah, there’s a fucking wing mirror on the track.
How had no one seen that coming off? It’s pure fucking negligence that it wasn’t spotted and cleared up, even if they had to introduce a virtual safety car to do it.
Now there’s two potentially injured drivers in the wall and the race is about to be slowed completely.
There’s already double-waved yellow flags out on the track, and now I have to tell Johannes what’s happened.
‘Hey, Johannes, please make sure your speed is significantly reduced. Don’t even overtake any cars that you might need to lap. Keep it slow for now, man.’ It’s inevitable that this race is now going to need a safety car, and seconds later, race control tells us one is about to be deployed.
‘Tell me what’s going on, Caleb.’ The words come out tense, almost as if he’s saying them through gritted teeth.
‘There’s been a crash. Both cars are in the wall. Safety car incoming, start to slow down, please.’
I’m watching as he grips the wheel, trying his absolute best to stay calm and focused.
This is the worst part of this sport, how much risk and danger it can bring.
The crash looked ugly, and my eyes keep flicking to Ian’s screen as he waits for the emergency team to get to Nils or for Nils to respond.
The yellow flags are waving around the grid, while the safety car is leaving the pit lane to join the track and keep everyone under control until the situation is cleared.
‘Any more information, man? Who is it?’ Johannes asks as he sits directly behind the safety car, zigzagging to keep some warmth in his tyres while obeying the speed limit.
I think about what to tell him.
‘Nils!’ Ian calls out into his mic next to me.
He’s done the gentle thing trying to get Nils to respond, and now he’s desperate.
We can see from the technology that Nils’s heart’s beating, but he looks knocked out and he’s still not saying anything.
‘Why is it taking so long to get to him, please?’ Ian asks, and it’s frustrating because he’s in a part of the wall where getting access seems difficult.
It feels like it’s been forever, but it’s only been a minute or two of waiting. ‘Nils!’ he shouts once more and finally I watch Nils stir on the screen.
‘The fuck happened?’ he asks groggily and the whole pit wall breathes out a sigh of relief.
Ian confirms that he’s crashed and to let the emergency-response team help him. When they get to him, they are quick to assess his safety to climb out of the car and even faster to confirm they think he’s concussed.
‘Jo, we’re just waiting on updates that both parties are okay, but the crash was between Harper and Nils.
Nils has been on the radio to Ian. He’s all right, but a little bit spacey so they’re thinking a concussion, but we’re still waiting on an update on the radio from Harper.
’ I’m beyond aware I’m reeling off his worst-case scenario, but he handles it like the true professional he is.
Probably aware that the TV cameras will be on him right now.
‘As soon as you know, please, Caleb,’ he begs, clearly not bothered that the whole world will hear him. This man. He has so much heart that not enough people get to see. How much he truly cares about the people around him.
‘You know I will. Just keep your eyes on the road, keep it slow. They’re definitely going to have to remove both cars from the track, so it’s going to be like this for a few laps. No pit stop for us, but some guys behind you have got one in.’
I couldn’t care less about what other teams are doing, I just need to keep Johannes focused and on track until the end of the race.
I’m more than glad that Nils is talking.
If he wasn’t I’d be very concerned, it being his favourite pastime.
A concussion isn’t ideal, but the med team will take care of him.
I’ve got one of the guys next to me listening to Ash and Harper’s radio stream so that I can update Johannes as soon as I know anything.
If I were to look at the crash as an outsider, Harper came off much worse.
He clipped the side of Nils’s car as they were spinning out, and it flipped him multiple times until the wall caught him.
It wasn’t at incredibly high speed, but it was at a nasty angle that left the car upside down.
They are literally taking his car apart to get him out and it’s not nice to watch, but when they free Harper gently and he walks to the medical car, the tempo of the world around me falls back into place.
‘Jo, Harper’s okay. Car’s fucked but he’s out and walking,’ I confirm.
His voice is shaking as he replies, ‘Thank you, Caleb. Tell Nils I’ll win this one for him.’
‘Yeah. He’s not happy. Can’t believe that he was in third and now he’s out.’
‘I bet he’s pissed. Who’s behind me now?’
‘Elijah, and with Harper out, the second this safety car disappears he’s going to be up your ass, so we’re going to need to get some speed to pull away from him.’
‘How many laps to go?’
‘Eleven,’ I reply. Eleven long laps for him to defend.
Plenty of time for him to find some pace again. Two more slow laps pass, and finally the green flag appears and the safety car slips back off the track and he’s off again, picking up speed as quickly as he possibly can.
I know he’ll do his absolute best to bring it home. No doubt every sports channel in the world aired his promise to Nils and Nils will one hundred per cent hold it against him if he doesn’t keep to his word.