“So, you knew I was rambling and asking silly questions to keep your head in the here and now?” I giggled like a schoolgirl and wanted to roll my eyes at myself. Most of the time, Callum hadn’t answered my questions as he kept his focus on the road; a few times he’d glanced over at me, probably thinking I was crazy, and only a couple of times did he answer me. The point wasn’t to learn his deepest, darkest secrets—or anything really, for that matter—but to keep his mind off the fact that he was driving, might have a panic attack, and crash I noticed what worked best and kept my line of questioning to that.
And it had worked.
“Does this mean I’m cured? I can race, and I’ll be fine?” His face lit up, and I hated to burst his bubble, but I had no other choice.
“I don’t think you’re quite ready yet. Tomorrow we’ll try the highway, and if that works, then we’ll go from there.”
I didn’t want to mention at one point he’d be driving—or attempting to drive—a Formula One car here first. His team had arranged it, and I was glad they had, since, so far, he’d blown my expectations out of the water.
His face fell just as I knew it would. “You’ve done a remarkable job, though. I didn’t think you’d be able to drive as long as you did today. Tomorrow we’ll start off with a little meditation and another exercise before you drive, and I think it will help a great deal. I want to build on the exercises you can do, so when you start to feel out of control, you can use them and calm yourself down.”
“Whatever you say, Doc. This is my hotel.” He lifted his chin in the direction of the Gran Hotel La Florida. It had to be one of the nicest hotels in all of Barcelona. “Do you want to take the car back to your place and then meet me here tomorrow?”
I was surprised by his gesture. It’s not that he didn’t seem like a gentleman, but they were rare in this day and age. Plus, if I drove it back to my apartment, I could breathe in his scent the whole way home without looking like a crazy person. I looked around at the spacious grounds that surrounded the hotel and thought of no better place to meditate in the morning.
Slipping the headphones on, I placed the microphone part in front of my mouth. “Can you hear me?” I asked Callum from the stands.
“Loud and clear,” his deep voice with that slight twang came over the airwaves, making me smile.
At every turn, Callum was surprising me. Two days in a row, we hit the highway, and yesterday, he drove for two hours without having to pull over. I had to coach him through a few panic attacks as they started, but he was incredibly in tune with his body and knew when they started. As long as I spoke to him, he was fine. Today was the true test to see if he could get in a car and speed around the track without having a panic attack. Since no one was here but a small crew, he didn’t have cars or spectators to worry about.
We decided he would first take off whenever he was ready, and if that was successful, we would then have a countdown that felt truer to race day, in case something about that was a trigger.
Through the headphones, I could hear him take a few deep breaths. Before we headed to the track, I ran him through several exercises to help clear his mind. Each day I worked with him, I was surprised at how well he took instruction. It showed his dedication and how much he loved his job.
I wished all my patients were as motivated.
“I’m ready,” he announced.
Before today, I had no idea the driver didn’t start the car himself. I watched as a man behind the car twisted or pulled something—it was hard to tell from where I sat—before the engine roared to life.
I kept quiet and listened to Callum breathe. I didn’t want to ask him how he was feeling on the off chance that it would make him question himself and cause anxiety to start to build.
“This feels good, Doc. Thanks for setting this up.” His voice was a little higher than normal, showing his excitement.
My own insides were also bubbling with excitement. Was it possible to treat someone in a week and have them cured of their phobia? Until Callum, I didn’t believe it to be true.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Show me what you can do,” I ordered but kept my tone light.
He let out a deep chuckle, and in a matter of seconds, he was going at speeds no man should ever travel. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how dangerous it would be if Callum started to panic out there.
After about ten minutes, he pulled into the pit and was out of the car in a few seconds. I started to walk down the steps toward him as he pulled off his helmet. His entire face beamed as he looked up at me.
“That felt fucking great!” he shouted up to me.
“Why’d you stop?”
He moved closer and angled his head to look up at me. “I want to do the countdown.” He kicked the toe of his shoe to the ground.
“I’m sensing a but…” I trailed off, waiting to hear what he had to say.
“I wish we could get another driver out there.”
Having another car on the track with him could have been helpful or detrimental, depending on how he responded. It was something we couldn’t risk.
“I’m sorry, Callum.”
He fidgeted in his spot. “There’s no reason for you to be sorry. I’m lucky to get this opportunity.” That same bright smile broke out onto his face again. He went from serious to happy about as fast as his driving. “I feel fucking fantastic. Wait until you see me out there this time.”
“You were holding back?” I asked, amused. Seeing Callum happy brought out a whole other side of him–a side that was dangerously attractive.
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he smirked.
I’d always heard athletes were cocky, but up until then, I hadn’t thought Callum had it in him. Surprisingly, instead of turning me off, it did the opposite. I had an inkling it didn’t matter what Callum did or didn’t do, I’d find it hot.
This time Callum started on what they were calling ‘the grid.’ Above the track, the lights turned red, and then someone started a countdown. Excitement coursed through me. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like with the stands full and nineteen other cars out on the track or the hum of life that would vibrate through the air. When the Grand Prix made its way to Spain again, I would make sure to be there with all the excitement.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
The lights turned green, and Callum was off.
I jumped to my feet and stood against the railing, watching every turn. Even with what little I knew of Formula One racing, I knew they didn’t repeatedly go around in circles. They also traveled through city streets, through the countryside, and sometimes—as I was informed—at night.
Callum had barely finished the first lap when I heard his breathing pick up. I waited to see if he could work through it without my help.
“Doc,” he panted out.
“I’m here, Callum. Remember what I taught you. Breathe. Focus on taking deep breaths.”
“I’m trying. Keep talking to me,” he pleaded.
“You’re safe, Callum. Feel the air move through your body. Let it calm your body and your mind. Focus only on my voice, what’s right in front of you, and the life force moving in your body.”