Race With a Heart
Chapter 64: The Oldest Brother’s Responsibility

Chapter 64: The Oldest Brother’s Responsibility

"You have a lot of knowledge and experience, even though you are so young. Allen has trained you well. "

"Yes, he was a great teacher."

At the mention of the Fergus Stables, Martin felt a twinge of longing. That place, though so loud with the roar of the engines and crowded with so many employees, was like family, just as Jack put it. Martin was the youngest brother there, and his older colleagues surrounded him with support and care. For this reason, despite various adventures with Steve, Martin felt confident and safe there. Here, Martin was the eldest brother, which placed a different kind of responsibility on his shoulders and a different range of emotions on his heart. There was much more responsibility here. He did not fully feel prepared for it, but life does not always bring us changes when we want it.

"I don’t think I know enough to be someone else’s mentor yet," Martin added modestly, "but I’ll try to teach Sid everything I know. He himself admitted that being a mechanic is his dream, so I will do everything in my power to help him, just like Allen helped me get into the GP2 stable. "

To Martin’s surprise, this newly set goal gave him a lot of satisfaction. It was another difficult challenge, but he found something really exciting in it.

Sid himself showed up at the garage in the early afternoon, so he probably missed his last few lessons. The boy was exceptionally quiet even for him, and this time he did not engage in any conversation with Martin, answering him only with half-words. He was clearly in a bad mood that was more due to sadness than anger. Martin wanted to help him, comfort him in some way, but at that moment he was completely helpless. How could he at least try to find a remedy for his worry if he did not know its cause?

Dave showed up later still, and although he was usually talkative and energetic, it only took one look at Sid to make him sullen. It seemed Dave might know the cause of his colleague’s bad mood.

This assumption strengthened in the heart of the young mechanic as the two boys hid in a corner and talked quietly about something. Martin felt a little sad to be excluded from this conversation, but after all, he had been here for a short time, and he couldn’t expect that a boy’s secret would be revealed to him overnight. After all, they had a right to privacy. But it’s good that Sid had Dave who was clearly his friend.

The situation in the workshop was improved by the sudden appearance of the car for repair. The old little delivery truck was so old and dilapidated that Martin was not surprised to find almost nothing working in it. The owner, however, was very attached to it, having had it for forty years, and he always used to deliver flowers to the florists he worked with. Now, the owner and the car were retired, but this did not mean the end of their beautiful friendship, so the owner did not care about the repair time, but about its efficiency.

"We old models need extra care," he explained. "Teddy understands what I mean, so I came to his workshop, but I see he has very young mechanics."

"They are young, but they respect old age," said the owner of the garage proudly, adding, "They also appreciate the beauty of old cars. You’ll see for yourself. "

"I trust you, Teddy, as I have trusted you for forty years."

Forty years is twice as long as Martin lived! Was this workshop that old? If so, it was already part of the history of this city and probably remembered a time when this neighborhood wasn’t that bad yet.

The arrival of a car where you could play, keep your hands and time busy made Martin feel better. He immediately called both boys to work with them on the car. Sid seemed to be enjoying the new job, too, and began to look closely at Martin’s hands and listen to what he said about repairing parts of the car.

They had been working for almost two hours when Martin saw something strange on Sid’s outstretched forearm. The boy, despite the rather high temperature, worked in long sleeves, but one of them now folded up showing a bruise on his hand.

Surprised, Martin looked at this place without speaking, trying to understand what he was seeing. He knew it was a bruise, but where did it get on the boy? Martin looked closely at Sid and saw that there was also a blue spot on the back of his neck under the open shirt.

"Sid, what is this?" he asked him.

The boy realized what Martin was looking at and quickly covered his body.

"Sid?"

Martin knew what he was seeing, but couldn’t comprehend it. How come there are bruises on the well-being, silent boy’s body? Someone beat him up? Why? Was it violence at school? If it were a regular fight between the boys, Sid wouldn’t cover the bruises as they would be a badge of honor, but if he hid them then the fight was uneven and he feels ashamed of the victim himself.

"It’s nothing," the boy replied. "I stared, I fell."

Martin remembered the hundreds, thousands of such excuses used by victims of violence in movies and series. As if they couldn’t think of anything original. Or maybe now ’I fell down the stairs’, ’I fell over’ have become synonyms of violence?

Dave, who had just returned from a nearby grocery store, noticed the atmosphere was tense.

"What’s going on here?" He asked.

"Nothing," announced Sid.

Martin began to hesitate. If Sid’s been beaten up and he’s ashamed of it, he won’t want to admit it to his friend.

"Sid, we’ll talk about this, either in front of Dave or face to face. Make up your mind. "

"Martin, what’s going on?" Dave worried.

"He saw," the youngest boy explained.

"Maybe it will be better. Sid, tell him. "

So Dave knew! Martin felt a bit of relief knowing that the boy was not entirely alone with his suffering, that he had someone to confide in, trust. But maybe it’s time to seek help from someone else?

"Okay," Sid agreed, "but Teddy can’t find out."

"Okay, we’ll talk without him hearing us," agreed Martin. "We’ll go outside the building and Dave will be on watch. Okay? "

Without a word, Sid, shoulders bowed, started toward the exit. His whole figure said that the boy felt tired, ashamed and resigned. Martin felt his throat tighten. He felt exactly how the older brother felt when he saw his younger brother’s misfortune. He wanted to encourage him somehow, cheer him up, make him feel better, but he couldn’t find the right words. To begin with, he just wanted to hear what misfortune and what difficulties Sid is facing.

The boy stood by the wall and started digging the ground with his foot. He stared at the toes of his shoes.

"It’s not like he always does it. Only sometimes, when he drinks harder. "

That was where Sid’s statement ended, as if the boy had contained everything there was to say.

Because it actually was. Martin knew who was beating the boy. But he had to hear it from him.

"Who?" he asked dryly.

"How’s that, ’who’? My father."

Martin was twelve when his father died. He might not be the most thoughtful man in the world, but Martin remembered walking around his car repair shop and, picking up heavy wrenches, pretending to repair engines. He remembered his father then smiling at him proudly, saying that he would become an excellent mechanic. Maybe he will even work at professional races in a real stable?

Marin did not go to football or any other sport with his father. However, they sat in front of the TV and watched the struggles of Formula 1 and other races of a much lower rank. His father was an avid fan, so he knew all the rules and sometimes, by the sound of the engine, he was even able to predict that something was wrong with one of them. In the eyes of little Martin, father was the wisest man in the world.

This is how Martin instilled in himself the dream of working on racing cars. At first, of course, he was more attracted to being a driver, but it was a child’s fairy-tale dream. His calling was to work as a mechanic.

Martin’s father played a really big role in shaping his son’s future and the time spent with him was a great memory for the young mechanic.

But some fathers should be not allowed to have children. How could a real father hit Sid? Not only that, how could he use almost regular violence against him? It wasn’t a man, it was a brute!

"Sid, did you tell an adult that your father beats you?"

"Nothing to talk about," said the boy. "I’m telling you, he only does it sometimes."

"But he shouldn’t be doing that at all!"

"You know, Martin, I like you, I really do, but sometimes I think you’re so naive. And that everything comes very easily to you. You know what? This is not the case in life. There is more shit in life than you think. I don’t live on a rainbow planet, but here on earth. And here is dirt, stench and poverty. This is the truth and positive thinking will not change it. Now sorry, I have to go home. See you!"

He left so quickly that Martin did not even have time to react, shocked by the boy’s statement.

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