‘You love, anyway.’ I smile sadly. ‘Can’t live without it.’
She hugs me tight, her head finding that place under my chin again, pressed to my chest. Her embrace is fervent, desperate, as if she’s clinging to a life preserver, and in it, there’s a piece of … guilt. Of blame.
I don’t question the odd feeling, though. I give her the kind of affection that I was given by my family all my life, the only kind of affection I learned to give: the unconditional kind. I hug her back, and I don’t ask why she radiates the emotions she does. I accept them as they are.
That’s what you do when you love.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Shantal
Usually, when thoughts of my sister’s last moments overtake me, I feel beyond any comfort. I have never felt so held, felt so safe, as I did that morning. My burdens have never been lifted off my shoulders the way that Darien lifted them. I have to remember but, for once, I have been able to feel as well. With Darien, I don’t have to be the dutiful Mangal daughter. I can just be Shanni.
And ultimately, I think that’s the reason I finally decide to call Ma the next day.
The words are spelled out before I even hit the button to dial the phone.I’ve found someone. I think I want to give it a try. That I thought I’d never get to experience that came from a place of grief and hurt. And I think this may be coming from a place of something much more profound.
My mother beats me to it.
Her name flashes across the screen of my phone, along with the greenacceptand redreject. It almost scares me, like sheknows what I’m thinking, but it’s all the better for me. I don’t have to take the daunting first step of calling her myself when I pressaccept.
‘Shanni?’
Ma’s voice is so excited – more than I’ve heard it in years, maybe more than when I told her about the Rio job. There’s something else there, the likes of which I’ve only heard at two other points in my life.
‘Ma? Ma, what’s up?’
‘Shanni, I have some really, really good news.’ The smile on her face is practically audible over the speaker.
‘Good news?’ My own voice shakes. I don’t even need her to tell me to know what it is and, compounded with all the dread that has built up in my heart over the last few months, the feeling of guilt and anxiety deep in my gut weighs me down like never before.
‘News from Navin’s family.’ A happy laugh escapes her, bubbling over to me through the phone. ‘If you agree, Shanni. He likes you, they like you. This December, they’ve said.’
I’ve found someone.
The words die before they even make their way to my lips.
There is no complete way to describe the duty you feel as a daughter. The love you have for your parents battles with the love you have forlife. It’s a constant war between balance and responsibility, between mind and heart. When you hear your mother proud, jubilant, when you hear something you haven’t heard since the last drop of good news hit the household years ago, you become immobile. You are made helpless by the people you love most.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Darien
The season’s been absolutely hellish so far, track temps sweltering and rubber blistering, so it’s only natural we go out with a bang before we get a short three-week spacer. The Las Vegas Grand Prix heralds record-high temperatures that shouldn’t even be remotely possible. We’re using the hardest compounds we have. It’s a high-stress race; high stakes, too – the WDC board looks close, with just a few points between me and Miguel. Maybe it’s because of all the nerves surrounding this race, chaotic as all those set in America tend to be, and the pressure to perform with Heidelberg Hybridge Ring’s future still on the line, that I don’t notice something is off with Shantal right away.
She turns down my offer to join us on the track walk with a wan smile and words of reassurance, says she’s got data to look at for potential simulator plans with Redenção, when everyone knows she finished those ages ago. She’s distant in every sense of the word, seemingly in her own world.
Post-race, amid the throngs of people rejoicing in the garage, I’m still holding both my P1 trophy and my champagne bottle when I catch sight of her heading to the data rooms in the motorhome. I may have just stepped off the podium, but I’ve got to figure out what’s been bothering her.
Miguel notices me before she does, though. He leaves his trophy on a tool cabinet and rushes over. ‘Dar. Dar, that might not be such a good idea.’
‘What, you haven’t noticed she’s been off this weekend?’ My forehead furrows in confusion. ‘I don’t know, man, something isn’t right.’
‘Take your chances. It just … it doesn’t look good.’ Miguel’s face is clearly sad. ‘We’ve seen Shantal through a lot of things, but you and I both know we’ve never seen her this detached. You know how she is with her team, with her “players”. I’m afraid it’s something that she’s not going to crack about. Or that you’re not going to like.’
‘I gotta try,’ I reply with a heavy exhale. Miguel just shrugs resignedly, but I go after Shantal anyway. ‘Shantal! Hey!’ I call to her before she heads up the stairs.
It takes her a minute to turn, and when she does, her eyes almost look wide, cornered. I can’t make that worse by backing her into a quiet corner and pulling the truth from her. So I choose the one option I know never fails either of us.
