We watched qualifying for a little bit, and Annalise seemed somewhat anxious, even as we went to the market and did some shopping.
She’s gone back to her apartment after dinner with promises to return tomorrow for the race.
“Anything,” she says, tossing the dishtowel over her shoulder.
“Travis told me that during his first go-kart championship when he qualified poorly, he wanted to drop out. But it was you that stopped him. How come? Weren’t you terrified of him in this sport?”
I’ve wondered this ever since Travis told me the story.
While his mother is always supportive, it’s his father that has the obvious fervor for the sport in general. Mrs. Towsend watches all of his races, but it’s his dad that tracks the stats and talks strategy with Travis when they’re around one another.
“Surprising, huh?” She chuckles.
“I hope I didn’t offend you?—”
She holds up her hand. “It’s a logical question. I never wanted any of my kids to be a professional athlete.”
My brows spike.
She shakes her head, half-smiling. “Sports are great for mental and physical discipline, but it also takes a toll on the body over time.”
I nod in understanding.
“And yes, it can be dangerous. With speeds of over hundreds of miles an hour one has to think about potential consequences. But I wasn’t thinking about any of that when Travis came to me, wanting to quit.”
“What were you thinking?” I ask.
“Up until then, he’d never lost a race. He didn’t need to work super hard to win. His natural talent took him a long way. And I knew that if he walked away from that race just because he was starting from the back, it would set him up for a lifetime of quitting.”
She shrugs.
“Our family is extremely privileged. Growing up with the comforts he and his siblings had, it’s easy to never reach your full potential because you’re not pushed to perform—to outperform due to need.
“I wanted to foster that in my kids. So, when he came to us and said he was thinking of dropping out of the race, I knew that was a pivotal moment in his development. I knew he had the passion for the sport, but he needed to learn to be able to lose and still keep going. Even in the face of heartbreak.”
Unconsciously, my hand moves to my belly as I think over her words. It must’ve taken a lot for a mother to put her own fear aside to think about what’s best for her child.
Could I be that strong?
As the baby in my belly moves, the biggest urge to wrap my arms around my stomach and protect this child from anything that could ever happen to it, overcomes me.
Mrs. Townsend watches my movement. “The feeling never really goes away,” she tells me.
She squeezes my arm, and we finish the dishes together before she heads to her apartment for the night.
Once alone, I find myself in the nursery. I smile at the picture of Travis that I bought in Silverstone.
We’ve added golden stars and a moon around the baby’s crib to create a starry night theme.
From the other room my phone buzzes.
I race out to grab it from the charger.
“Hey.”
“Why are you out of breath?”
My eyelids fall closed in relief at the sound of his voice. It’s crazy how much I miss him when he’s away.
