Eyes glow a furious shade of deep blue with the intention of boring accusingly through me, as if his anger can somehow stir anything resembling guilt or regret from within myself. Yet, I stand defiantly before him still with unwavering conviction as his torrent of frustrated helplessness fuelled by bitter betrayal rains down in front of me while I am safe in the knowledge that I did make the right choices when they needed to be made, of that I’m quite sure.

I talk to him as I always have done, as an adult would converse a young child, using the reasoning of my age to try to sedate his immature curses and rants. I know he’s no child though but still he has a lot to learn at his tender age. There will be times when he has to go through similar trials and tribulations, and they will hurt just as much, and he will realise that everything in this world has a price. Some higher than others. Some more painful and costly. And there are some things that are better stopped or prevented for the greater good of everybody involved. Bitterness can twist the facts, contort your feelings so that you cannot focus on what is right and what is plain irrational, and I know that is how he’s feeling now. So, maybe at this moment he feels betrayed, and yes I admit that he has some right to feel that. But I also think that perhaps a few months down the line he will realise that we were put in an impossible position. We had to make that choice, and we did, for the good of him, for them, and for us.

I try to console him with words of reason, how this could never have worked regardless. He only yells that I have no right to meddle, that I was wrong, we all were wrong. And yes, I suppose we were in a way. We never spoke to him about it, we never checked our facts at the source. But we based our judgement on what we saw, and what we saw was enough to realise the probable path ahead if we sat and did nothing.

We weren’t prepared to do that so we acted in the only way open to us.

I could confess to him that I believe what he’s saying to me, that there was no involvement between them before we told him of his immediate future. I had my suspicions as well as a pretty good idea as to when things … changed, and why. But what would such a confession do for him? Ease his hurt? I very much doubt it. Purely fan the flames of anger and give him the ammunition to accuse me of acting groundlessly and without justification.

Yes, we were acting on hearsay, and yes we weren’t completely correct as he is so eloquently pointing out to me in sporadic bursts of temper and wild gesticulation, but the signs were all there and even if nothing had come of it, we still would have had the fallout to deal with. Incrimination, awkwardness, the inevitable rise of tension as a result of spurned love. Or the danger that the garage could become a war zone for cold hostility if love turned sour, impacting upon the whole team like some infectious disease.

Or even if they defied the norm and were happy together, what then? How much would we have to hide and disguise from the press? Forcing everyone around them to keep their relationship a secret from the all-too prying eyes of the media hacks, putting others under an incredible strain. Is it selfish to ask why we should be put under that sort of pressure? I’ve seen it before, the damage such a relationship can have, even during its good days, and we are not prepared to sacrifice a hard-won unity for the sake of two individuals again. There was a time when we could have saved ourselves a great deal of turmoil if we had acted like we have done now. We never stopped it though then when we could have and all that awaited us were the ugly consequences of a messy break-up, leaving us forced to make the painful decision to part with a good driver and a decent chap for the sake of keeping what was left of our crumbling empire.

This time we weren’t about to make the same mistakes twice. What he can’t yet understand is that we acted in preservation of the team and of everything we hold dear. It’s not a malicious exercise to dictate their actions or even an expression of our disapproval, merely the realisation that it will cause more harm than good, and we don’t expect them to understand yet. At least we’re giving him the chance to return, not casting him aside into the unknown without a second thought. I didn’t want to do that to him, not because I feel guilty at my actions but because he has too much talent to let it slip away.

And the fact that I can’t help but be charmed by everything about him.

But guilt does play its role under the guise of responsibility. An unusual slip from careless lips and he was smart enough to figure out the real reasons behind his enforced departure after we had hidden it so well for weeks. And that’s when calm acceptance turned into the resigned recriminations I’m hearing from him now, and for that I don’t blame him.

Still, he is right, we were wrong. Justified but wrong. Acting on what could happen, on the possibilities, rather than what was there in front of us. We misjudged and mistook him, and for that I’m sorry if not repentant. I still believe we were justified whether this precocious child in front of me agrees or not. He will be fine. He will go off, settle in and make the best of it as we all must do, and will probably be happy. Just what he will leave behind though, even I’m not sure.

It makes me wonder if the right decisions are necessarily the best.

~The End.