Page 54 of Retrograde
‘Slow down. There’s what, nine adults including partners? That’s already pushing it. But there’s also six kids between them. Bianca and I are the only ones who are kid-free. Can’t you just take us? We know we’re your favourites, anyway.’
‘I do not have favourites!’ Mateo scolded. ‘Besides, it would be nice to have everyone in one place for once. Perhaps the Andersons would like to come, too.’
‘Mateo, darling, you’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you attempt this.’
‘But we had so much fun when the kids were growing up,’ he frowned. ‘Remember when Lucie fell in the river and Bianca had to jump in and save her?’ Mateo roared with laughter.
‘Dad, that wasn’t funny! I could’ve drowned!’
‘Oh, we wouldn’t have let that happen. I was holding a stick out to you, remember?’ He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
‘I only fell in because Elena pushed me. You never punished her.’
‘You guys were just having fun! It’s what siblings do.’
‘When she left Isabella alone in the shower block, you were ready to murder her.’
‘She was only three and I didn’t know where she was. That was different. I had eyes on you the whole time you were in the water, I knew you were fine.’
‘I literally hit my head on a rock before Bianca got tome. And I’m pretty sure a fish nibbled my foot.’ Lucie scowled at him, looking ready to launch her bread at her dad.
‘At least it wasn’t a crocodile,’ Mateo chuckled.
Brett laughed along with him, but he couldn’t ignore the stabbing pain in his chest that resurfaced whenever he spent time with the Carolans. He adored Lucie’s dad, and Mateo had been one of his biggest supporters for the last ten years. He treated him like his own, and Brett appreciated him. But it just reminded him of the cold hard truth. His dad was gone.
Jack used to take him and Piper camping in Darwin. He would claim he was just giving the twins time to bond, surrounded by nature with no gaming devices or a young, screaming Cleo, but Brett always knew it was really because he liked the peace and quiet. Although Piper had always been the fieriest of the family, when it was just them and their dad in a tiny little tent next to the lake, she was calm. She thrived.
Those trips were where Brett and Piper had built a strong relationship, and eventually, they’d managed to make it hold up the rest of the year when they were back home in Sydney, and years since the camping trips stopped, it was stronger than ever as adults. When Jack had died, they’d leaned on each other. They had held on to those memories of summer with every fibre of their being, and although Piper had processed her grief and moved on, Brett hadn’t. He hadn’t been camping since.
One part of him wanted to help Mateo fulfil hisfantasy, but the other part of him couldn’t imagine pitching a tent, barbequing and playing badminton or football with anyone who wasn’t his dad. It felt like he was disrespecting his memory. He knew that was stupid, but it scared him. It would be too much like replacing him, and oftentimes he already felt that he had.
It was like when Mateo had come to support the team at a race a few years ago. Mateo had been so excited to be there with his hospitality pass and his official team uniform. Cap and sunglasses on, of course, so he wasn’t recognised as Mateo Clemente. He’d been proud, and he’d expressed that. To Lucieandto Brett. But when Brett had seen him standing in the garage, waving his Revolution Racing flag, that same fear struck.
It should behisdad standing there. Jack Anderson had taken Brett karting for thirteen years. Every weekend. It was because ofhisdad’s support and encouragement, his determination for his only son, that Brett had successfully got into his first racing championship at the age of sixteen, before he’d made it to the big leagues. They had spent those two years attending every race as father and son, travelling together and soaking up every moment.
But the IEC was their end goal. Winning Le Mans was a dream, to be compared to the likes of Tom Kristensen and Jacky Ickx, and while Jack had been there for the first phone call from Brett’s original team, the contract-signing and the first race, he hadn’t been there for the first championship win.
Brett had wanted to get out of the car and see him, and it crushed him to see Mateo instead. And thenMateo had clapped him on the back in congratulations, and Brett felt sick to his stomach for feeling that way.
‘Brett, would you like tiramisu for dessert? We have plenty left.’ Rosa began clearing plates, shoving him back down in his chair when he tried to help.
He had tuned out the rest of dinner, oblivious to the conversation. He liked that nobody had bothered him, forced him to interact. Lucie’s parents were just like her in that sense. They respected when people needed space, and they had an acute understanding of his emotions.
‘Just a small serving, please.’ He smiled at Lucie’s mum, her dark hair up in a bun, apron stained with flour and tomato. He tried to think about his kiss with Lucie again, but the only thing that ever stopped him from spiralling about her was spiralling about his dad instead. It was a double-edged sword.
‘You okay?’ Lucie mouthed across the table. Instead of responding verbally, Brett nodded and gave her a half-smile, silently thanking her for her concern.
He wished he was sitting next to her so he could hold her hand in a death grip. He did that a lot when he was lost in his thoughts or anxious; she was an anchor to keep him in reality. But lately, reality hadn’t been that much better. It had just gone downhill until he’d hit rock bottom.
Lucie awoke that night to the muffled sound of shouting. She lay amongst her terracotta cotton sheets, trying to get a sense of her surroundings. As she forced her eyes open, greeted by darkness, she realised where it was coming from. Brett.
Launching herself out of bed, not bothering to slip into a robe, she made a beeline for his room across the hall. The door opened to Brett, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide as he yelled out for help. Thank God her parents were way on the other side of the farmhouse. Even in the moonlight, she could see the fear across his face, the way his hair stuck up at odd angles as if he had been tossing and turning.
Lucie didn’t know if the rule of not waking someone up only applied to sleepwalking. Did it apply to night terrors? She could wake him, and he could be confused and disorientated, and he could hurt her. But seeing him like this was breaking her heart. She felt like screamingwithhim.
‘Anderson!’ Lucie yelled. She shook him, snapping him out of it.
It was as if she had flipped a switch and reality was coming into focus again, his eyes finding hers in the dim lighting. Lucie studied his expression, silently pleading with him to stay with her. Letting him know he was safe. He looked as broken as he had on the day he’d got the phone call about his dad. Was that where he’d been? Transported back to that moment? He had suffered night terrors and panic attacks for years when Jack had first passed.
