Now #2
“Well, I’ve been seeing it coming. But I’m glad I got to achieve this today, with this event specifically.” Pointing at my competitors, I add, “These two gave me a hard time for most of the race, pushing me harder than I have so far this season.”
“Right, it was quite the relentless battle out there tonight in Vegas. Did you at any point think you might not finish first?”
“At several points, actually. They overtook me many times, but thankfully, the Altron team has done an amazing job with this year’s build, and the car was up for the challenge.”
The interview goes on, pretty much the same questions we always get. Whenever the occasion allows for it, I let my opponents answer. I do this every other weekend at this point. They can have the spotlight.
After about ten minutes of this, the FIA conductor says, “Alright, let’s open this to the floor. First question, please.” He points at a journalist raising her hand.
The first one is for the driver on the right, about his near contact with his teammate early in the race. The second is for the one on my left. As he answers, I allow myself to drift into my thoughts.
There wasn’t enough time before or after the Austin Grand Prix to pay a visit to my parents. But there’s a gap until Qatar, so I told them I’d fly to Denver after this.
How will I handle being so close to Evie? Will I have a moment of madness and drive to her place, as I’ve done in the past? Being less than two hours away from her will definitely fuck me up.
The aftermath of watching her leave, again, has been a painful struggle.
On one hand, I want to believe she didn’t lie and she’ll come back when she’s decided what she wants.
And hopefully, she wants me, despite my messy life.
On the other hand, I’ve been doing my best to manage my expectations.
I’ve lived through this before, hanging on to the hope she’d return, only to be devastated when she never did.
It took everything I had to not go after her.
And this time, it’s not because I want to respect her wishes.
Or not only. This time, I’m keeping my distance, staying away, because she needs to come to terms with her decision on her own.
I can’t chase after her every time she has doubts.
Evie has to be with me because she wants to, not because I’m begging her to.
I can’t be the only one fighting to make our relationship work over, and over, and over.
I’ve tried, and it wasn’t enough. This needs to come from within her.
She needs to accept that she can’t live without me, no matter the circumstances. Much like I can’t live without her.
I’d quit racing if I knew it was enough.
I’ve thoroughly considered it, and if it comes down to Formula One or Evangeline, I choose the latter.
Always. But what if it’s not enough? What if we encounter more hardship, like we did with Ophelia, and she decides to leave again?
Then I’d have nothing. Absolutely nothing left.
Not Evie, and not the only thing that helps me cope with her absence.
“This one’s for Jackson Reyes,” an interviewer says, ripping me out of my thoughts.
“Jefferson, for Roadtate. We’ve all noticed a shift in your driving style over the last third of the season.
You seem more aggressive, more willing to take risks.
There’s been speculation that your brief reconnection with Evangeline Gillian may have influenced that change.
Would you care to confirm or deny whether there’s any truth to that? ”
The room falls so silent that I could probably hear a pin drop from the other end of it. I tighten my hold on the mic before me, trying to think of what I can answer to that. Personal questions aren’t my thing. I can’t recall the last time I answered one. It’s been at least five years, I’d say.
Early on, I had to because the rags-to-riches story was getting out of hand. Some aspects of my youth were being blown out of proportion, and I had to intervene and set the record straight whenever the opportunity arose.
But I’ve never spoken about my relationships, letting them build their headlines and speculate as much as they wanted. I didn’t give a shit. This time, though …
A moment passes, and the moderator, who knows my dislike for such questions, says, “Alright, we’ll move on to another—”
“Thank you for giving me an opportunity to speak on this,” I interrupt him, sitting up straight on the white couch.
I’m pretty sure some journalists gasp at my compliance.
I think about what I want to say for some seconds, aware that this can go extremely wrong extremely fast. Mostly, I have to remember not to curse, no matter how frustrated I get. The FIA doesn’t like that at all.
“I wish people realized how hard it is to have a romantic relationship with this job,” I start carefully.
“We’re traveling for nine months straight every year.
We train four hours a day, have sponsor obligations, need to do simulations …
Plus, this is still a dangerous job, no matter how hard the safety regulators are working on making this sport less deadly.
” After a brief pause, I continue with, “And if all that wasn’t enough, the moment we find someone who might be willing to put up with all that mess, the world pulls some kind of shi—garbage.
They get scrutinized, harassed, insulted, belittled …
I know von Ranzow will sympathize with this because you guys weren’t tender with his now-fiancée. ”
My colleague to the left nods firmly.
“You don’t know us. Not truly. That parasocial frenzy needs to end.
And you don’t know those people we might be dating.
Yet everyone shouts their theories and prejudices with their whole chest, without shame.
The assumptions that have been made about Evie are so incredibly wrong, it’s actually laughable.
Hell, I’m pretty sure I recall a few outlets here publishing headlines that implied her being a gold digger. ”
No one says a thing, and I decide to keep filling the silence. It feels fucking good to let it all out.
“I met Evie when I was sixteen. And from day one, she has supported my dream of making it into F1. I’m not just talking about the fierce moral support she offered me through the years.
Every cent she could spare, she gave it to me, so I could pay for race entries or buy parts for my car.
When I got into F4, we moved to Indianapolis together.
She was the one who paid for everything.
Everything. The rent, the bills, the groceries, the utilities …
Without her unwavering support, I wouldn’t be sitting on this couch today.
Especially since she was the one who put me on Altron’s radar.
And in spite of all that, of her giving me everything she could, I had to fight so she’d take some money in the divorce settlement.
So, I might not be the sharpest wordsmith, especially not in a room full of journalists, but I don’t think any of that fits the gold digger narrative, does it? ”
I pause for them to answer, but all I get are a few headshakes.
“I could talk for three hours straight about the millions of qualities she has, which would shed light on why I’ve been in love with that woman for so long.
Fifteen years. Almost half of my life. The only reason I didn’t speak on that matter earlier was because I consider my personal life private.
But to answer your question truthfully, yes, I’ve been driving differently because I’m angry.
I thought I lost the love of my life forever because I made some mistakes years ago, lost focus on what truly mattered, and drove her away.
But despite everything, she came back to give me a second chance.
And the moment I allowed myself to love her openly, the world punished her for it.
So yes, I’ve been mad as hell, and it shows in the way I race. ”
The room stays silent for three entire seconds after I finish speaking. Then all hell breaks loose.
Hands shoot up all across the press room as chairs scrape against the floor. Multiple journalists start talking over each other at once, throwing questions before the moderator can even point at anyone.
“Jackson, are you saying media pressure directly caused the separation?”
“Can you confirm whether you and Ms. Gillian are still together?”
“Do you regret going public with the relationship?”
The moderator raises both hands. “One at a time, please. One at a time.”
I already regret opening my mouth.
To my left, von Ranzow gives me a sideways glance that looks almost sympathetic. The other driver keeps staring ahead as if he wants no part in whatever disaster I’ve just unleashed.