Chapter Text
He had long ago stopped thinking about it, but his treacherous mind liked to bring it to the surface every so often, like tonight, where he could see his father again. He was a child again; they were talking and his father had that understanding look. The only thing he remembers well was them saying about being able to make it in another life before hugging each other as he ran off to where his dad and apa were along with all his siblings. With every step he took, he felt himself slowly grow into an adult and took his family's hand and then looked back and saw a blurry silhouette. At that moment he woke up with his heart in his mouth.
Yet another dream was being added to his list of the last few nights, on each side, until he calmed down and saw the photo on his bedside table, one showing the three of them on a trip they had taken to Austria when he was younger, and he couldn't help but let out a couple of tears. He liked to convince himself that it was all in the past, but right now he realized that it wasn't.
Gradually his death anniversary approached and the dreams increased. He didn't understand why he hadn't had a problem the last few years with it so that almost 10 years later they came back to haunt him. He talked to his parents; they always had a solution to the problem. Although he didn't like his dad's wistful face, he knew his father's issue was a sensitive one. They both advised him to try to face the issue, as they knew that it had really taken him, as a boy of about 12 years old, a bit of a toll on him, the whole process. He didn't want to; he understood what they meant, but going back to that place sent shivers down his spine. He had only done it once, after the accident and before his father died, so seeing the look of fear and anguish on his face, they both agreed to go with him.
On the day of the trip he met his parents at their large home in Monaco. They said goodbye to Jack and Alex leaving them in the care of his Uncle Jos before making their way to the plane that would take them to Germany. Almost 6 hours later they arrived at their destination, a beautiful home on the outskirts of a big city full of greenery and a large garden surrounding it. Despite the years had passed, this house had neither been sold nor changed since the last time someone lived here; the rightful owner of the property was him, as his father decided to leave it to him in the will, but honestly he would have preferred that he sold it, since now that it was in his hands he didn't have the strength to do so.
He got out of the car and stood in front of the door before looking back once more to where his parents were inside the car. With all his willpower, he turned the knob and entered the house, the place that had seen him and Gina grow up. The atmosphere felt heavy, suffocating, or maybe it was him feeling that his mind was collapsing with so many memories flooding it. He closed his eyes as he allowed himself to feel and hear his surroundings as if everything was happening at that very moment. As he opened them, he noticed: the foyer looked as if it was on pause, as if it was waiting for a family to walk out that door; coats were still hanging and his shoes were arranged.
Still overwhelmed, he continues his way inside until he reaches the large foyer that led to the stairs to the next floors. His father decorated the house to be soothing to the eye; he wanted tranquility as he arrived home with his family. Looking up, he could see the wall of pictures; he knew every little memory they contained, like when he first won a karting championship or the first time he went to a grand prix. This place had been stuck in time; being there brought to mind a little Mick running downstairs as his father came in after the races.
He decided to go upstairs to the bedrooms first. His house was very large, so he had enough of them to accommodate all his family and friends, but he remembered clearly where the four most used ones were. Her parents' was the first, but he preferred to start with Gina's. Her kind and sweet older sister, many years before the incident, had stopped living there thanks to the boarding school where she was sent. He always wanted to know what had gone through their father's mind to send her so far away from him. Her room looked like a combination of various stages of her; there were stuffed animals, toys, children's books representing that 11-year-old girl who was taken from her home, but there was also makeup, posters of celebrities, trophies representing the teenager who returned from time to time.
He moved on to George's; his room was still the unfinished canvas he had left behind. There were still a few boxes strewn about the room, though his simulator and decorations were already organized; he remembered that he didn't go into this room much because George himself had asked him to, so it was a little strange to see it. Looking around, the place perfectly represented the stage George was in when he moved back home: a teenager trying to find a balance in his life, a place to belong and own this one. With photos, trophies and posters, he was slowly achieving that purpose. He took out his phone and took a picture of the room to send to George, left everything as it was and continued the tour.
It was his turn to take more strength to enter his own; it was just as he remembered it: there were toys, books, trophies, photos. He was obsessed with Toy Story at the time, so he even had Woody's hat. Opening the closet, he could see his old go-kart suit and, comparing it to his present self, it was so small, so fragile. He couldn't imagine himself suffering so much from the loss of his father, how they must have told this little creature that his hero wasn't coming back and was struggling to even live. That man who every morning woke him up in that same bed with kisses to take him to school, or to whom he told him bedtime stories; by this time he knew he was crying. He got out of there as quickly as he could before giving her one last look.
Finally, he entered his parents'; it was the biggest and most beautiful before his eyes. On the walls were more pictures of them as a family or couple, though he remembered the biggest bed, big enough to fit all 5 of them inside it, all with earthy colors. She saw that bookcase she couldn't reach or the wilted flowers, which her father loved so much. As he entered the closet, his father's scent was still just as strong, as if he had never left. He grabbed a jacket and glasses he loved to see him in and sat down on the bed.
Reflecting on all that had happened in those years, he realized why it was so hard to grieve. Although his father died about 10 years ago, he had lost him about three years earlier; he wasn't even able to enjoy his final retirement when he began fighting for his life until he lost the battle in 2015. The doctors never gave him much hope; imagine such an innocent child hearing that. He got the idea somehow. When he died, he made sure in making himself believe that he already saw it coming, but coming here he could see that really some small part of him wanted to come back to this place all together someday. Seeing how it didn't happen and everyone went on with their lives was so easy that he did the same thing, but it took its toll and now he was back here, but alone and with a ghost in his memories, even if they were only the memories of that person.
He left the room, went to the second floor again. Looking into the kitchen, he could only see his father cooking pancakes for them on weekends when he didn't have to go running or, glimpsing out into the yard, he could see his father playing with them in that unique way, spinning them in the air, which always earned him a scolding from his dad because they could get hurt. he lay down in the same corner where his father did it to see the whole house and watch them, he was in monaco when his father died, nobody told him but he felt the bond that united them finish breaking a process that had begun long before, he tried to look for his father to take him to mallorca and corroborate if it was true but he was nowhere to be found, He didn't show up until the next day he hugged him while they both cried for his loss but at the same time it was like a weight of uncertainty was removed from both of them, his father had been very brave the last moments facing the idea of death was not very easy even being a formula 1 driver where his life was in danger every time they got in the car was what he most admired about his father.
As a last whim he went to the small bar where he was forbidden to go, but to which he had gone so many times to look for his father while his uncles and uncles and family friends had come to celebrate together some race, party or championship. He reached for a bottle of the special wine he loved so much; with one movement he opened it and filled his glass halfway. It was his father and, although he carried him in his heart, it pained him that he was not here. The silence that really was in that place was overwhelming; before where there was laughter and shouting, now there was only the sound of the wind rushing. I raise my glass and say to the four winds:
-Cheers! To my father, who taught me and loved me so much in this life. Because of him I am the man I am now. I'm sorry to have to give up the ghost of your presence in this place again, but I'm sure you'd be proud of today's Mick being a Mercedes driver, the same team you last drove for, Dad's team. I miss you. I'm still trying to go on without being affected by the memory of you. Georgie, Gin and I will miss you all our lives. -He downed his wine quickly, grabbed the jacket and glasses he was going to wear, and hurried out of the house.
In front of the house, his parents were still waiting for him, but this time outside the car. They were chatting when they saw him arrive, hugged him and asked if he was feeling better. He could only nod before the tears returned as he clung to his dad. Sometimes he just had to allow himself to feel everything he didn't want and left buried. His dads were always right when it came to the heart and feelings; they were good and they of all people knew it. The three of them stared at that house that contained so many memories; although it hurt, they had still learned to live with it: one suffered for his father, the other for the one who was once the love of his life and the last one for his friend and brother of another blood. Each had lived a stage with that man and the memories evoked different feelings. The three of them got into the car to return to their home in Monaco with the rest of their family.