That’s why the memorial was my favorite part of the gardens, it always had butterflies surrounding it.
We turned right and passed the wall which was far behind us. The opening to the maze exit was now in sight. Walking through it, we make our way across the field leading up to the back part of the acreage where my home grid is placed.
Seeing the shine of the silver wire gates surrounding the track, I felt the rush filling me as if I was seeing it for the first time. I always got that feeling before going to practice.
My father had built this track for me on the hacienda acreage. He had said it was practical as I could wake up and train.
Even though it had its moments, this sport is my life, and I am forever indebted to my father for the dedication and money he has put into my passion.
We walked through the gates surrounding the whole track and then rushed towards the garage. As the smell of gas hit my nose, signaling the preparation of my kart, I couldn’t help but smile. I see my trainer already huddled over my vehicle supposedly fixing a comfort alteration I told him about the other day. Upon hearing us enter he turns around, giving us a beaming smile. As he rubbed his hands on a towel, trying to remove the grease, he greeted us a little too excitedly.
“Hi Maria Alejandra, are you ready for training today?” I let out a groan thinking about neck training. My dad giving me a playful whack in my side.
I replied with a quick yes, rapidly walking over to my locker where all my gear was, and started preparing for a few more hours of pain.
“Make sure everything is in order. I expect the best from you, she will only have the finest at her disposal. She has been complaining about her neck so make sure you push her, but not to the point where I will have to take her to the doctor for a neck strain, am I clear?” My dad’s eyes blazed at Tom.
“Yes, Don Castillo. I am positive she will get the best training possible. I will try my best to stretch her more and give her ice after every exercise we do,” my trainer said in a reassuring tone. I snorted, as if that was going to help.
My father glanced at me before he nodded at Tom. When he attempted to walk away, Tom said something to him that caught my full attention.
“I am so sorry for your loss.” My father stopped dead in his tracks.
Turning around he gave Tom a murderous look then uttered the words, “thank you.”
I remember thinking that it was incredibly odd.
My dad has never been a blunt man, he likes to be detailed and elaborate in his words. Making sure people receive his message clearly and precisely.
As soon as the presence of my father was gone my little voice echoed off the garage walls.
“What loss?” I questioned with curiosity.
Tom then turned around to face me. “You haven’t heard?” he asked in a shocked voice, almost like he couldn’t believe I didn’t know the information he was about to tell me.
Taking a few seconds to think carefully about what he wanted to say he finally said six little words that carried so much meaning.
“Your mother was killed this morning.” Everything stopped, it was as if the world was no longer spinning. My reality completely paused in shock.
Make no mistake, no tears fell.Not a single one.
My mother was dead. No one had the thought or the courtesy to tell me. Not that I had a relationship with her. My dad has taken multiple mistresses, my mom being his legal wife. They met when they were young and fell in love long before my dad had power and money. I know he loved her more than anyone else, but he did hurt her, and all that hurt turned into resentment towards me. Thus, resulting in our relationship being strained by both of my parents’ actions.
I was in shock. Even though I didn’t know her that well, she was still my mother. I would never have the chance to try to start a relationship with her once I got older. She won’t see me become an F1 legend or get married and have kids. None of that, because she’s dead.
“Who killed her?” I uttered out.
He turned around, regret plastered all over his face. The regret of telling me that my own mother had died. That’s when I knew he was a coward.
Understandably so.
He would have to face my father after all of this. Because my rage wasn’t directed towards him, it was directed towards my Papa.
“That is information that you’ll have to figure out on your own, Maria.”
The anger I was feeling at being pushed away bubbled inside my gut. They saw me as a little girl who knew nothing, but I knew more than they thought. I have experienced things that I know I will only realize the importance of once I get older.
I demanded him to answer my question, repeatedly.