WALDO:Miss you too. How much longer in Germany?
JONATHAN:Two more weeks. Team wants me here for simulator work and fitness testing. Plus Dad insisted on some family time.
WALDO:And then?
JONATHAN:Then we figure out how to make this work for the rest of the season.
I screenshot the exchange and forwarded it to Thea with the subject line:Disclosure - August 3, text exchange with J. Hirsch.
Her response came back:Received. Keep documenting.
The guardrails were still in place, even during the summer break.
August 10th - Video Call
We settled into a routine of late-night video calls when both our schedules allowed. Jonathan appeared on my laptop screen at 11 PM British time, looking tired but more relaxed than he’d been at Spa.
“Are you in your childhood bedroom? Is that a Manchester United poster?” I asked, noticing the faded decoration behind him.
“Don’t judge me. I was twelve and impressionable.” His smile was warm despite the pixelated video quality. “My parents are in New York at the moment, so it made sense to stay here. I’m close to both the Hirsch offices and the Meridian training facility.”
“How’s the training going?”
“Brutal. My trainer says I need to be in better shape for the championship fight.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I recognized from when he was processing something difficult. “The simulator work is paying off, though. We think we’ve found some aerodynamic improvements. Won’t know for sure until Zandvoort.”
“And… how are you doing? Really?” I asked carefully. “After Spa?”
His expression shifted, became more serious. “You mean after I had a minor existential crisis and asked you an impossible question?”
“That would be the one.”
“I’m okay. Better than I was.” He shifted on camera. “Waldo, I’m sorry I put you in that position. Asking you to choose between being honest and being supportive, that wasn’t fair.”
“You were frustrated. The car let you down.”
“The car let me down, and I took it out on you.” He looked directly at the camera. “For what it’s worth, I’ve been thinking about what you said. About being one of the ten best drivers in the world. About championships being as much about engineering as driving.”
“Do you believe it now?”
“I’m trying to.” He smiled ruefully. “The time away has helped. Some perspective. And Dad had some surprisingly insightful things to say about performance and expectations.”
“Michael Hirsch, philosopher?”
“Shocking, I know.” Jonathan laughed. “He told me that the only difference between good and great is whether you let one bad result define you. Said that Spa was just one race, and I’ve got thirteen more to prove myself.”
“Wise advice.”
“Coming from a man who built an empire by refusing to accept limitations, yeah.” Jonathan’s expression softened. “He also asked when you’re visiting. Says he wants to have dinner with both of us.”
I sat up straighter. “Your father wants me to visit?”
“He’s decided you’re good for my racing. Says I’m more focused when you’re around, that my post-race interviews aremore thoughtful.” Jonathan grinned. “Plus I think he likes you. Which, given how protective he is, is saying something.”
The admission caught me off guard. Michael Hirsch’s approval had seemed grudging at best during our Silverstone dinner, but apparently Jonathan’s two wins and improved performance had convinced him that our relationship was beneficial rather than distracting.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think I’m tired of living on my own and having conversations through screens.” His voice grew quieter. “I think three weeks is too long to be apart.”
