Born To Run: A Counterpoints Novella Read online

  My job was a constant reminder of what my destiny really was all about. I was condemned to live behind the scenes, fixing cars and never getting the chance to push them on track.

  Still, I couldn’t let it go. I wanted that connection with my past, with what I’d loved so deeply. I couldn’t give it up, not completely.

  Days went by, weeks, months. It was warm and sunny again before I knew it, summer was almost over and I was under a white, vintage Corvette when I heard someone knock on the front of the car.

  I put everything down and pushed myself out from under it, wiping my face with the back of my gloves.

  Noah, I gasped surprised, as my eyes settled on him.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked around, while pushing myself up from the ground, but none of the guys were around.

  Noah took his sunglasses off and cleared his throat.

  “I wanted to see how you were doing,” he mumbled never looking away from me.

  Omg, I look like shit, I thought trying not to think about my dirty face, ruffled hair and filthy hands.

  The gloves were off me immediately, I tossed them inside a bucket beside the car, and I threw my hair back, trying to give them a decent look.

  “Well, here I am,” I spread my arms wide and showed him all my mightiness. “Back where I belong. Where you told me I belonged in the first place.”

  Dirty, ‘feet back on the ground’, mechanic Vera.

  “I was wrong,” he said but I laughed and shook my head.

  “No, no you weren’t. You were absolutely right. I don’t know what was going on in my head, what I thought I could do. But here I am, back where I was.”

  I ran a hand through my hair again and let out a deep breath, while Noah kept staring at me in silence, examining my moves, looking down at me.

  “This is not your place. Your place is up in Glasgow, in Fire Racing Team,” he moved closer and I backed away.

  I was putting a distance between us, just as much I was putting the distance between me and Glasgow. No, not again, I wasn’t going back there again.

  “I am not moving from here,” I said. “If they want to sue me for backing out of the contract, they can go ahead. I am not going back there.”

  “Nobody is going to sue you, Vera. I paid them off, I gave them the money,” Noah told me, staring into my blue eyes.

  “What did you do?” I flinched and the words came out as soft as a whisper, I couldn’t believe my ears.

  He had paid the team, he had covered up for me.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I mumbled soon after. “I will give you the money back, just tell me how much…” I looked down, shaking my head but he spoke again, his voice, so low and deep just then.

  “Fuck the money, I don’t care about money. I don’t care about Fire Racing Team either. I care about you,” Noah moved closer again and his hand brushed against my shoulder. I studied it, as it held me in place while Noah ran a hand through his hair and spoke to me again. “Go back. Go fight. You can’t give up.”

  “I am tired of fighting, Noah” I said, through clenched teeth.

  I was disappointed and not just towards the sport. I was angry at Noah, too.

  Where had he been, when I’d needed him? When I’d tried calling him? Where?

  “You can’t give up.”

  “I am. I am giving up,” I took a step back and let his hand slide down, off my shoulder. “Take a good look at me, Noah. This is me, Vera Evans, giving up,” I paused, but I wasn’t done talking. Far from it, I had more, so much more to say.

  “Where were you when I needed you? If you care so much about me, why didn’t you ever pick up the phone? Why didn’t you call me back?” All the things I had kept inside that day in London, I spat them out, one by one, right to his face.

  My words hit him hard, I saw it, how he glanced away and couldn’t look at me again for a few moments.

  “I didn’t want to get in your way. You needed to stay focused,”

  “I needed YOU,” I said, a little louder than intended.

  I looked around the room, shaking my head a little.

  I hated how my pulse quickened, how my throat went dry just then. I hated how crazy Noah made me feel, for wanting to slap him and touch him at the same time.

  “You were in Glasgow,” Noah said, his voice low. “I didn’t want to be a distraction. I didn’t want you to think about me.”

  “But I was, thinking about YOU,” I screamed and looking away. “It doesn’t matter. I am not going up there. You can tell them, I am not going back as the test driver. I am not going to settle for that. I am giving it all up.”

  Noah moved closer, leaning to the side, searching my face and forcing me to look at him. He was so close, I could feel his breathing on me, my eyes closed for a moment, as I took a deep breath as he spoke again.

  “Vera, you need to listen to me. The goal is right in front of you. There is just something in the way, that’s making it hard for you to see. But you can get around it. You can. But if you walk out on them like that, you won’t have a second chance. You need to keep fighting, it is not over. You are not ready to give up racing. You decide when it’s the time, not because people are too short sighted to see how much potential you have.”

  “Is that what you did?” I squinted at him a little, my words dangerous like poison. “I don’t see you fighting. I don’t see you deciding when it’s your time to give it up.”

  “That was different,” Noah was quick to say, but I finished saying what I had to say.

  “You let others decide you were over, you stopped fighting for First Category Racing. You let them replace you.”

  Noah kept his face blank but I knew my words were reaching deep down inside of him, right where he’d hidden his feelings and emotions for years.

  “There was nothing I could do then, but you still have a chance,” he told me, but I shook my head.

  “You keep telling yourself that. I am done, finished. I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I turned my back to him and slipped my gloves on, my hands a little shaky.

  I didn’t need anyone to tell me what I could or couldn’t do. I had tried, I had. But I wasn’t going to be the sort of person not realize when it was time to let it go. Losing was just as important as winning. I had lost everything, everything I’d ever wanted from this life and I had been lucky enough to go back to something, after chasing that stupid dream of mine.

  “I won’t insist then,” I could hear him backing away in the garage, my eyes glanced to the side.

  Noah was next to the wall now, playing with his sunglasses, hesitating a little before wearing them again. Before leaving.

  “I just wanted to say I am proud of you, for trying,” hearing him say those words, made my legs shake. We locked eyes then and Noah pressed on. “But I know you could have done it. You could have, Vera.”

  I pursed my lips and couldn’t look at him when I mumbled: “Goodbye, Noah.”

  And he was out of the garage, out of my life again. For good.

  I watched him make his way to the parking lot. I recognized the sound of his Pagani Zonda. He'd driven all that way to come and see me and I had shut him out, told him to leave me alone.

  It’s for the best, I thought walking back to the white Corvette I was fixing.

  I laid back down on the floor, pushed myself under it and cried, where nobody could see me. Where I could stop pretending I was okay. Noah knew I wasn’t. And I knew I would never truly be.

  Noah

  The radio was getting on my nerves. I slammed my hand on it and switched it off. Killed it, more like it.

  My foot pressed hard on the gas and I made my way back to the Academy, feeling like I had lost the biggest battle of my life.

  It can’t end like this, the thought kept torturing me.

  I kept thinking there was something I could do, something I hadn’t thought about. But Vera wasn’t into it anymore, that was the deal breaker. She had stopped believing in herself, in w
hat she could do. In what could have happened.

  “Fuck!” I shouted to nobody, I was alone in the car.

  I was so damn angry and that feeling of impotence, I knew all too well, was back. I had experienced it years before, at the end of my career, when I could do nothing to save my ass from being kicked out.

  It seemed like I was in that same situation again, only this time it was Vera putting an end to her dreams.

  Because those people are complete idiots.

  That day I drove back to the Academy, went on with my tasks and spent days thinking, not giving up on the idea that something could still be done. Maybe there was something I hadn’t thought about, something that could help me get what was Vera’s by right. Her destiny.

  It came to me a few days before the race in London.

  I drove to the city, holding on to my pass for dear life and going over and over my plan a million times. It sounded crazy, but crazy was good. Crazy was the only thing that might have worked, when ordinary hadn’t.

  Flashing my VIP pass here and there, I walked through the boxes- more like stomped inside them- until I reached MB.

  Mechanics patted my shoulders, Christopher said hi and told me we had a few things to talk about after the race.

  Great, fantastic, certainly.

  I walked to the far back of the room and put down my things on a chair, in front of the screen. Then, as everyone started to concentrate on getting the cars ready for the race, I studied the situation carefully.

  Patience, patience. For once, I sat there patiently.

  I had one shot at this, one shot only. I couldn’t fuck up. This was my chance to show Vera she could do it. That anything was possible, that her fight wasn’t over. Because It really wasn’t over for me either.

  Here you are, I spotted him walking fast to the back of the box, nervous and a little pale, his headphones on.

  Shitting in your pants, little Fredrik? An evil smile spread across my face, as I followed the little prick through a door. I made sure it was nice and locked behind me.

  Can you drive with a grin on your face? Maybe, but can you drive the whole race with a grin on your face? I know I did. And it didn’t wear off, not even when they called me on the radio.

  “Fredrik, come back in next lap. We need to change tires,” my engineer- Fredrik’s engineer- said but I didn’t answer.

  I just kept smiling, as I drove through the box lane and stopped in front of my mechanics.

  Too busy screwing the tires back on, nobody looked me in the eye. Except for the man that cleaned my dirty vizor- Anthony. He looked at me alright, he looked at me real good.

  I winked.

  “Holy shit,” I watched him mouth the words but my foot went heavy on the accelerator again.

  I was almost back on track, when I heard my engineer call me again on the radio.

  “Fredrik?” he hesitated. He knew, Anthony had told him, had told the whole box probably.

  “I think he is taking a shit,” I said and laughed, more like crackled, under the helmet.

  “Noah, are you out of your fucking mind?” he asked.

  What? Of course, I was. Had they forgotten all about me already?

  “When was I ever legit?” I smirked and drove through a set of fast turns.

  In and out, I felt so alive.

  I heard a few voices mumble on the other side.

  “Who is listening to this?” I asked.

  “Everyone in the box,” my engineer said, almost laughing out the last word.

  I smirked again.

  “Is Mr. Johnson listening to this? What about race marshals?” I asked curious. Not just that. I had a message to deliver.

  “Yes, the race marshals are aware and listening.”

  “Oh good. Mr. Johnson has nothing to do with this, nobody knew I was going to do it but me. Then, can you please tell Christopher I am on to him and he can kiss this trophy goodbye. Also,” I went on a second later, after coming out of a big turn. “Also, can you tell the race marshals to stop doing that face, like they are constipated or something. Tell them I am out of my mind, tell them I am taking a walk down memory lane. Tell them I am having the time of my life and they can stick their concerned frowns up their…”

  “Okay, they are listening. They got your message,” my engineer said and laughed out loud.

  “Great. Now excuse me,” I said, setting my eyes on a black car ahead. “I have a race to win, out of my head, guys.”

  The last thing I heard was the whole box laughing in the background.

  Vera

  “You can watch it, dad. It’s okay,” I set the dishes in the sink and scrubbed them slowly, taking my time, not rushing it for once.

  I kept my back to him, to the TV, to the live race streaming. The last thing I wanted was to ruin my Sunday- reminding myself where I could have been and where I actually was- but I didn’t want to spoil it for my dad.

  The disappointment will wear off soon, I told myself, turning to smile a little, to reassure him. I was good, I really wanted him to believe that and maybe soon I could start believing it myself.

  We finished the last of our meal in silence, commenting on the race from time to time. We were having coffee and cake when the race ended.

  “That lad is really good,” my dad said and pointed to the screen.

  I agreed making a sound with my mouth, while footage of Christopher and Fredrik walking to the podium, slapping hands with their mechanics and fans, went on before our eyes.

  MB had placed both drivers in the top three, Christopher had won the race, his team mate third.

  Amazing, I thought, watching Christopher take off his helmet and ruffle his wild hair a bit. He was the eldest one in the line-up of drivers there and still he was winning races.

  “What’s the name of the other bloke, again?” my dad pointed to the other driver in MB uniform.

  “Fredrik,” I mumbled and got up to place the cups of coffee in the sink.

  “Holy shit,” my dad mumble and I giggled a little, running some water over the cups.

  “What’s the matter dad?”

  “It’s… it’s your…. instructor,” I heard him mumble again, so I turned shaking my head a little confused.

  My mouth dropped open.

  There he was, helmet under his arm, walking next to Christopher, loud house music playing in the background.

  Noah, I blinked a few times before I could actually believe what I was seeing.

  Christopher laughed but Noah kept his face straight and raised his hand up to wave to the crowd.

  He shook hands with everyone on the podium, he kept his back straight and proud during the British national anthem, not flinching one bit as fans murmured in surprise.

  Oh my god. What the hell is he doing up there? I smiled wide.

  I saw Christopher chuckle, glancing at Noah a couple of times. He kept shaking his head, incredulous. Even he couldn’t believe it and he knew Noah better than anyone else there. In return, Noah shot him a few side glances himself- his usual cold, steely glare.

  It was like back in the day, both of them up on the podium, teasing each other and doing their funny charade.

  You are up there again, I thought, glued to the TV screen.

  That face, it didn’t fool me. I knew Noah was enjoying every moment of it, every single thing about it. He was on the podium, in front of all those people.

  Fans were cheering him, shouting his name. And when a chorus rose up from the stands, I finally saw it- a cheeky smile spread on his lips.

  It was his moment, Noah couldn’t do much else but raise his hand again and wave at the fans. Happy, alive, back where he belonged.

  My dad was muttering something and chuckling, as a journalist made his way on the podium, to ask the three top drivers of the day questions.

  “Noah, what a surprise” the man laughed a little embarrassed

  Nobody was expecting him there and surely the journalist hadn’t prepared questions for the occasion.
But he seemed to recover quickly.

  “It feels like we just time-travelled into the past,” the man commented and laughed.

  “Aren’t you happy to see me? I remember snapping at you a couple of times,” Noah smiled to the side and everyone laughed.

  “Of course, we all are. What happened to Fredrik?”

  Noah’s shoulders went up.

  “What? Oh, I haven’t seen him,” he grinned and I laughed so hard, my dad looked my way.

  I hadn’t laughed like that since I’d been back.

  I covered my mouth and kept staring at the screen, waiting for Noah to say more.

  The interviewer asked him how it felt to be back in the car- his car- how it felt to race again.

  “Liberating, like breathing again,” he replied and someone shouted his name and then someone screamed ‘Bad boy of First Category” and Noah laughed, genuinely laughed.

  “Well, I am a little speechless. I don’t know what else to say. Is there anything you would like to say?” the man handed it over to him and Noah nodded, looking down at his microphone for a moment.

  He bit his lip and then looked back into the camera.

  “There are a lot of things I would like to say. I am just not sure I can,” he eyed the journalist and then mumbled. “Fuck it, I always say what the hell I want, anyway.”

  The people around him laughed and Noah kept talking.

  “Years ago, I was sent away, kicked out of the team, out of First Category. It wasn’t my choice to go away but it is my choice to be here now,” Noah looked around and then back to the camera. His eyes stayed on it as he spoke and a shiver ran across my back, as if I could feel that stare on me, like he was talking to me face to face.

  “I am here because nobody can tell me what to do or how far I can go. I am still here, on this podium. I am still fast.”

  Christopher cleared his throat and Noah turned his way.

  “I believe I won today,” Christopher said.

  They exchanged looks and chuckled.

  “Ok, sure you won, but I managed to sneak here and race without anyone noticing,” Noah spread his arms wide and everyone laughed, while Christopher raised his hands up in surrender.