Eleonora’s pov
• Throwback to 2013 – 8 Years Ago – Age 16 •
“Nora, Nora, wake up!” my little sister Chiara whispered, shaking me gently. I opened my eyes instantly, a little startled. “What is it? Are you okay?” I asked, looking at her face in the dim light. She seemed anxious. “Can I sleep in your bed…?” she asked, her eyes wide and a pillow clutched in her hands. “Of course, come on in,” I replied, shifting over to make space for her. “I’ll be right back.” “Thank you, Nora. Goodnight,” she murmured, snuggling under the covers. “Goodnight Chiara, I love you,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “I love you too,” she replied, already drifting off to sleep.
I glanced at my phone to check the time – midnight. Deciding to get a glass of water, I quietly slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Just as I reached the doorway, I heard my stepdad’s voice, harsh and booming, “You get that money right now! I don’t care what you have to do, but I wanted it yesterday! Do you understand me?!” Then, a sickening thud – the sound of him hitting my mom. “Please… don’t hit me again,” my mom pleaded, her voice trembling. “I’ll get your money tomorrow, I promise.” She begged him to calm down, but it was always the same. “Are you stupid?! Get out of my house! Get the money, or I’ll throw you and your disgusting daughter out on the street, and I’ll take Chiara myself!” he roared, shoving her out the front door before slamming it shut with a deafening crash.
This was our normal. For twelve years, my mom had lived under his threats, the last seven being the worst. His aggression had escalated over time, turning into daily violence against her. When I turned thirteen, he started hitting me too, a secret I kept from my mom to spare her more pain.
I stood in the kitchen, the glass of water suddenly tasteless. “What are you doing up?” he sneered, pushing past me to get to the refrigerator. He yanked it open and grabbed a beer. “None of your business,” I retorted, setting my glass on the counter. “But maybe you should calm the fuck down. You’re scaring your own daughter with all that yelling.” “Chiara isn’t scared of me,” he scoffed, popping the cap off his beer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go back to bed. I don’t want to look at your face right now.” He took a long swig. “You’re not my father,” I spat back, though the last word was barely a whisper. “You have no right to tell me what to do, idiot.”
“Thank God I’m not your father,” he sneered, stepping closer. “But I do have every right to tell you what to do. You live under my roof, I pay the bills, I pay for everything because your mother is broke as fuck. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be living on the streets, young lady.” He grabbed my left wrist, his grip tightening painfully. “My mom is not broke,” I argued, trying to pull away. “She just doesn’t have money because you take every penny she earns! Let go of me right now!” He squeezed harder for a moment before releasing me abruptly. He glared at me, a cold, menacing look in his eyes. I rolled my eyes and stormed back to my room, anger simmering inside me. I hated him with every fiber of my being.
The next morning, Sunday, I woke up before Chiara. She lay peacefully asleep, a faint smile on her lips, as if lost in sweet dreams – something precious in a life that was anything but. I peeked out to see if anyone else was home. Mom was probably already at the hospital for work, and my stepdad, “Amadeo,” was, as usual, nowhere to be found. I decided to make breakfast for Chiara. As I cooked, I started singing and dancing around the kitchen, something I’d loved doing for years. My stepdad hated it, said it was too loud, but my mom always told me I had the voice of an angel.
About half an hour later, I had prepared her favorite breakfast. I woke her gently. “Good morning,” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in my bed. “Did I oversleep?” “No, you haven’t,” I smiled, handing her a tray laden with food. “But I made breakfast for you.” Then, I grabbed my laptop. “The race starts in five minutes, Nora!” she exclaimed, a hint of panic in her voice. “Yeah, I know, calm down,” I laughed, opening the laptop and navigating to the Formula One race live stream. They were racing in Australia, hence the early wake-up. “God, I hope Vettel wins today,” Chiara said excitedly, taking a sip of orange juice. “Me too,” I echoed, though honestly, I didn’t really care who won. Formula One held zero interest for me; I only watched it with Chiara because she was such a huge fan.
My biggest dream was to one day be rich enough to give Chiara the childhood she deserved and to give my mom a new life, far away from my stepdad and this constant fear. That was my ultimate life goal. And then, I wanted to take Chiara to a real Formula One race, because it was one of her biggest dreams.
•••
The jarring ringtone of my phone dragged me back to reality. It was my agent calling. I loved Athena, but not at this moment. I’d performed at an awards show the night before, and the after-party had been… eventful. Being woken up early the next morning was the last thing I wanted.
I answered the call, my voice still thick with sleep. “Hi Athena, what’s up?” “Good morning, rise and shine, Eleonora! Get dressed, I have something to tell you!” she chirped, sounding incredibly excited. “Are you serious? I’m exhausted and have a major hangover. Can’t we talk tomorrow? It’s Sunday,” I groaned.
“Eleonora, meet me at my office in an hour. Drink water, coffee, take some vitamins, do whatever you need to do to combat that hangover,” she said firmly. “Fine, see you soon,” I conceded, hanging up and tossing my phone onto the bed. All I craved was more sleep and a mountain of greasy junk food.
But my career never paused. Grumbling, I dragged myself out of bed, jumped in the shower, and started getting ready, a strong coffee brewing in the kitchen. Forty minutes later, I was heading out the door, driving to Athena’s office.
“I’m here!” I announced as I walked into the office. “Hi bellissima, you look beautiful,” Athena greeted me, walking over with a bright smile. “Thanks, you too,” I replied, hugging her.
“So, what couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” I asked as we sat down. “You’ve just landed a huge opportunity. Formula One contacted me yesterday. They want you to perform the national anthem at the Grand Prix in just two weeks!” she exclaimed, beaming. “No way, are you joking? But that’s just three days before my world tour starts. Will I even have time for that?” I asked, a little overwhelmed. My calendar was completely booked until I left for my first-ever world tour. “I’ve checked, and it’ll all work out. This is going to be an incredible experience. They specifically chose someone special, someone with the most beautiful voice, and that’s you, Eleonora. They want you!” she said, and I still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Call them and say I would love to do it. I’m very honored,” I said, a genuine smile spreading across my face. There was no hesitation; I was completely ready. “I will,” Athena said, reaching for her phone.
“Athena, one thing,” I asked as she finished the call. “Can I bring my mom and sister?” “Of course! You get two extra tickets. I’m sure they’d love to come and see you,” she smiled. “They’ll be ecstatic, especially my sister. She’s the biggest fan of the sport,” I grinned, picturing Chiara’s reaction to the news of her first Formula One Grand Prix.
I spent a few more hours at the office with Athena, finalizing details for the tour. Then, I had a meeting with a designer who was creating my tour outfits – they were absolutely stunning. After that, there was only one thing left to do: drive home and tell my mom and sister the news. But first, a quick stop for a box of delicious cannolis. In our family, cannolis meant two things: either it was someone’s birthday, or someone had amazing news to share.
“Eleonora, wonderful to see you! Come in, darling!” my mom greeted me, pulling me into a warm hug. “You too, Mom. Is Chiara home?” I asked, and she nodded. “She’s in her room studying. Would you like some coffee?” “Yes, please. I’ll go grab Chiara,” I said.
I knocked on Chiara’s door and then opened it. My little sister was at her desk, headphones on, studying for her upcoming exams. I couldn’t believe she was graduating this year; time had flown by.
I tapped her shoulder, and she turned around, surprised. “Nora!” she exclaimed, taking off her headphones and rushing to hug me. “Hi Chichi, how are you doing? Is school okay?” I asked, and she nodded. “I’m good, school’s alright. But I’m so ready for it to be over,” she laughed. “I get that. Just a few more weeks and then you’re free,” I chuckled. “By the way, would you like to join Mom and me for coffee? And I brought cannolis,” I smiled. Her eyes lit up. “Well, yes! That must mean you have something to share, because if I remember correctly, it’s not anyone’s birthday today…” she said, smiling knowingly. “That’s right.”
We walked into the living room, where the coffee was ready. “I see you brought cannolis. Spill the beans, Nora,” my mom laughed, clearly sensing something was up. “Okay, you’re right, I do have something to share. And Chiara, it’s okay if you completely freak out,” I laughed, making her even more curious. “Huh?” she asked, taking a bite of a cannoli. “All three of us are going to the Italian Formula One Grand Prix, in just two weeks!” I announced, beaming. Mom smiled brightly, while Chiara looked utterly speechless. “We are what?!” she finally managed to ask, dropping her cannoli back onto her plate. “Yup, with paddock passes and everything,” I added. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this excited, this genuinely happy. “I’m going to faint! Maybe I’ll get to see my favorite drivers! Max, Charles, Seb, and Alex!” she exclaimed. “Yeah, maybe, if you’re lucky enough. But I think that can be arranged,” I winked. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” she squealed, her face lit up with pure joy.
“But guys, that’s not the only thing,” I continued, smiling. They looked even more confused. “What now?” my mom asked, still smiling. “We’re invited because I’m going to perform the national anthem before the race starts, in front of all twenty drivers and thousands of people,” I said excitedly. “No way, you must be joking!” Chiara gasped, staring at me. “I’m not. I’m going to sing the national anthem.” “Wow, this is huge, congratulations! I’m so proud of you. It’s going to be the craziest moment,” my mom said, hugging me tightly. “Thanks, Mom, I’m really excited,” I replied. “You’re the best, Nora! I’m also so proud of you. I will definitely be clapping the loudest afterward!” Chiara said, laughing. “Thanks, Chichi,” I chuckled.
We spent the next while talking about how excited we all were, especially Chiara, since it was a lifelong dream for her. Mom and I were thrilled too, but not with the same level of Formula One fanaticism.
Later, Mom had to leave for her evening shift at the hospital. It was around 3 PM, and soon it was just Chiara and me. She convinced me to stay the night.
We went to the store to buy ingredients to make homemade pizzas. When dinner time rolled around, we made everything from scratch – the dough, the sauce, everything. We were Italian, after all. Soon, the pizzas were ready, and the apartment filled with the amazing aroma of a true Italian kitchen. It was time to watch Formula One, which Chiara insisted we do while we ate.
They were racing in Bahrain that day, the first race of the 2021 season, and Chiara was buzzing with anticipation. As we watched, she filled me in on everything I needed to know about the new season and all the drivers. It reminded me of our Formula One Sundays when she was younger, watching races in my tiny room on my broken laptop, the roar of the cars a backdrop to the constant arguments between my stepdad and mom in the background – memories I never wanted to revisit. I hoped Chiara didn’t remember those times as vividly as I did; she was so young then.
Chiara was particularly excited about the new season and started telling me about all the drivers, especially Charles, Sebastian, Alex, and of course, her ultimate favorite, Max Verstappen. Perhaps one day, a song might even capture the thrill of the race, maybe even a “Max Verstappen Song” inspired by the passion and excitement of fans like Chiara, and the incredible atmosphere of Formula 1 itself.
