Chapter Seven #3
‘We’ll be going there on a private jet.’ She continued to speak, deciding to take a different tactic. ‘Not a normal plane, one of the fancy ones with big sofa seats. You’ll even have your own bedroom on it.’
Another solemn nod, but no further arguments, which was always a good sign. She took another look at her son and noticed just how much he had already grown this summer. His legs had become long and gangly and his cheekbones had lost some of their baby fat.
How long could she continue to call him her little boy? How much of this situation would he understand? From experience, she knew he understood and pieced together things much faster than other children his age. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.
‘Mummy is feeling sad,’ Luca said matter-of-factly, mimicking her sigh with one of his own, much to her amusement.
‘Mummy is feeling a little tired,’ Astrid corrected with a weak attempt at a smile. ‘Mummy also doesn’t like it when plans change, just like Luca.’
‘Will be fun,’ he said patting her softly on the knee. ‘Plans change, darling.’
She chuckled out loud and heard Jem’s equally amused burst of laughter from the opposite sofa.
They had waited so long, wondering if Luca would ever talk.
Some called his type of speech a form of mirroring or scripting, and he was selective about when he opted to use verbal communication.
But every small gesture or sound he used to make his voice heard would always be something she treasured.
When he stood up and began to chuck some of his toys into his rucksack, she knew he was over his disappointment for now.
Evidently, the promise of a bedroom on an aeroplane was bribery enough to ensure his cooperation.
As they finished getting ready and said goodbye to Jem, Astrid wondered if perhaps Luca might be taking this situation better than his mother was. There was only one way to find out.
Apollo couldn’t remember feeling more nervous in his life.
After taking a small trip to gather some items he deemed immediately necessary, he had returned to the jet even more uncertain as he surveyed the parcels he’d accumulated.
As he surveyed the small mountain of transport-themed toys and books piled up at the rear end of the jet, he wondered if perhaps he might have gone a little overboard.
There was no time for him to rethink his plan, however, as through the plane window he spied their arrival.
Usually, nerves like this could threaten to overcome him as he sat in a car on the grid, listening to his team in his earpiece and going through his strategy for the race ahead.
No matter what sport he had moved to over the past seven years or so, his strong internal focus had always centred him in the face of uncertainty.
But it seemed that there was no script he could use for this, because the breath immediately left his lungs when Astrid stepped out of the car and he got the first look at his son’s face.
The little boy took an uncertain step out into the midday sunshine, his dark springy curls hanging low on his forehead as he bounced on the balls of his feet.
Astrid held him by the hand but he made quick work of pulling away and racing directly towards the spot where Apollo had just reached the bottom step of the stairs.
‘You are Apollo Accardi,’ the small voice proclaimed, stopping a couple of steps away from him with a serious look on his small face.
Apollo froze in place, not quite knowing whether to say anything at all, after Astrid’s insistence that they needed to wait before telling him that Apollo was his father.
But he’d suspected that Luca would already recognise him to a certain degree.
The little boy knew all the Elite One drivers from watching the races.
‘I know your name too, Luca. I’ve been very excited to meet you.’
Luca blinked in his direction, his small fingers twisting by his sides as he looked past Apollo to take in the impressive jet behind him. Transport…right.
‘We will be flying to Grenada, where some of our…my family is from.’ Apollo swallowed hard at his near miss, feeling Astrid’s gaze heavy upon him.
Perhaps he should have stayed inside and allowed them to situate themselves at their own pace, he thought.
Perhaps he was already messing this up… But, just as he was poised to turn round and give them space, he felt a small tug at the bottom of his shirt and looked down to find his son had stepped even closer and was eagerly pointing to the aircraft.
Without missing a beat, Apollo kneeled down and began to name every single detail he could remember about the plane.
When that wasn’t enough, he called out the pilot, who offered even more detail.
By the time they finally got inside the jet, his throat was dry from talking and his heart hammered as if he’d run ten miles, and still the boy tugged on his shirt to move towards the cockpit, not yet satisfied.
Apollo couldn’t help but feel that this first meeting was fast slipping out of his control, but then he looked at Astrid and caught the small smile on her lips, and wondered if maybe he hadn’t done so badly after all.