No, I know those tears. They are heartbreak tears. Break-up tears. I haven’t shed them since I was twenty-two years old and I refuse to ever let them ruin me again. No man is worth that much heartbreak.
The tears don’t stop as he stuffs his face into his pillow. I will say he’s mastered the art of crying quietly.
What should I do? I want to give him the biggest of hugs, but I can’t imagine that would be well received and I’m sure he wouldn’t want me to draw attention to him after all his efforts to keep his pain private.
I scan the plane, hoping that there’s a spare seat so I can give him some space, but without forcing my way into the senior-management meeting– I would rather die– there is only my original place opposite him.
Well, here goes…
‘Hey, sorry, um, sorry… I don’t want to interrupt your… invade your privacy but there’s just nowhere else to sit.’ That wasn’t too bad, I think, so I carry on. ‘Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?’ I reach into the mini fridge by our seats and hand him a bottle of water. Crying on a plane has to make you dehydrated.
He wipes furiously at his face with his sleeve, but even without the tears his bloodshot eyes paint a pretty clear picture. He takes the bottle and chugs down several swallows.
‘Ignore me. I’m just… having a bad time.’ A fresh tear starts to fall and the second he feels it, he swipes it away. ‘Things are shit right now and it’s hard because I can’t talk about it. It’s just a lot.’
‘Look, even if you can’t talk about whatever’s going on, I’m here if that changes, or if you just need someone to sit with you. Also, never apologise for crying. It’s the healthiest way to process things, trust me. You haven’t seen tears until you’ve seen me crying at 4 a.m. over a paper that’s threatening to beat me.’
A laugh gurgles in his throat and a snot bubble forms out of one nostril. It’s not a pretty sight, but it might be the most human I’ve ever seen him. This is weirdly the most connected I’ve ever felt to Johannes since becoming his race engineer– and I keep him alive on the track for a living!
I hand him one of the fancy private-jet napkins from on top of the mini fridge so he can blow his nose. He takes it and once he’s cleared himself up, it hits me that I just watched Johannes Müller cry.
I don’t know why I feel shaken at having seen him look so broken. He’s usually so happy, posing up a storm, flashing his good looks, his dazzling smile. When he wins, he celebrates like no driver I’ve ever seen before. It could not be more different from the crumpled shell of a man in front of me.
He takes a big breath and starts to sit up straighter.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says quietly, eyes flicking around the rest of the jet. I hope for the sake of his pride that no one’s noticed.
‘You never have to apologise to me, Johannes. We’re all human, we all go through bad times, and if you needed a big cry then that’s what you needed. End of. If you ever want to talk about what’s going on, I promise I’m a great listener.’ Ioffer him a smile and he smiles back tightly, before pressing the button on the side of the chair to raise the leg rest.
‘I’m going to try and nap for a bit,’ he says. ‘I have an interview right after we land and I’d prefer not to look a mess on camera.’
I almost go to tell him that I don’t think he could ever look a mess. Even in his current state, he still looks like absolute perfection. He’ll always be one of the most stunning men I’ve ever seen.
Except I don’t, because that would be inappropriate for our professional relationship.
‘Good idea. I’ll type quietly,’ I reply, gesturing back to the laptop I discarded earlier.
He nods appreciatively, before stretching out and wrapping himself in a blanket. I don’t know that he’d be happy to hear how adorable he looks, his six-foot frame encased in a snuggly blanket, his face tucked into a plush pillow.
I have to look away before I do or say something stupid. I force myself to focus on my screen, but an hour, and nowhere near enough words written, later, turbulence shakes the plane a little and he startles from his nap.
Groggily, he pushes himself up into a more seated position, blanket still wrapped around him as he rubs at his eyes. ‘We landing?’ he asks, his voice a little husky.
‘Still about three-quarters of an hour to go. We were just flying through some turbulence.’
‘Feel like I was asleep for hours. It was definitely needed. You get much done?’ He gestures to where my laptop is half closed on the table.
‘Nowhere near enough.’ I don’t add that I was distracted by the beautiful, sad man opposite me because that would be creepy.
‘That sucks– but you should also try and relax. These triple headers are exhausting.’
‘What is this relaxing thing? Not sure I know what that is.’
‘What do you do outside of work for fun?’
I gesture to my laptop.
‘What about time with friends or a… partner?’
