My Goal

by H J Perry

  Harry wondered what to say, not entirely sure himself.

  "Not exactly. He'd like us to be. But I've kept him at arm's length while thinking about it. Look at you and Jason. It seems too difficult, being in a relationship that people don't approve of and that you have to keep secret."

  "It isn't easy, Harry. But if you're into each other, you aren't going to let football stand in your way, are you? What do you want to do?"

  "I'd like to give it a chance. But what if it ends in disaster?"

  "And how will you feel if you don't take that gamble? You'll never know if it will work unless you try. It's not easy, but I'm glad Jason and I took the risk to get together, and so far it's worked out okay."

  "It's different for you, Scott. Everyone accepts that you're gay. My family would disown me."

  "You don't know that for sure. But if it happens, it happens. You've got friends, and you can't give up your future happiness just because of whether your family approves or not. I guess you didn't spend last night with him?"

  "You heard about what happened. I wasn't taking the risk again. We both stayed out, very visible among the rest of the players." And I've sort of avoided him being alone with him since then, I'm so fucking messed up.

  "Yeah, I guess it would look suspicious if you had your own private New Year's celebration. I got to go, Harry. Keep me updated about the romance."

  "See you Scott, and Happy New Year."

  The phone call with Scott encouraged Harry in his decision to make the coming year different. He couldn't put his private life on hold any longer. He tapped the screen on his phone to connect to Carlos.

  "Happy New Year."

  "Good morning, Harry. Happy New Year to you too."

  "After today's match, we've two days free. Would you like to spend them with me?"

  He heard Carlos laugh. "It will take a while to cancel all my other commitments, but I'd gladly do that to spend time with you. In fact, if you have two days, can you keep them entirely free and pack an overnight bag with your passport ready for first thing in the morning?"

  "What about the rule about not leaving the country without permission?"

  "If we ask permission, there's a chance someone might say no. So I think it's better not to ask," Carlos said.

  "Where are we going?"

  "I will make some calls in a moment, but we should be able to get a flight to Spain. I stayed with your mother, so now you should come and meet my parents. Their home is a little bigger than your mom's, so you'll get your own room."

  Harry was damn sure he didn't want separate rooms. The year of 2013 was going to be one of decisive change and better than all the years gone by. He didn't need to tell Carlos over the phone.

  In the bitter cold, early morning, a taxi drove them through the darkness directly to one of the small Midlands airports where they were two of only a handful of passengers who boarded a tiny plane destined for the vicinity of Madrid.

  Even in Spain, the mornings were surprisingly cold in winter, and Harry was pleased he'd dressed in warm layers. At the Spanish destination, Carlos had already arranged to hire a car; he'd taken care of planning the details for such a brief trip.

  It was still morning, but a more civilized hour, when they were eating a breakfast of sweet pastries washed down with coffee in a Spanish cafe somewhere near Carlos's parents' home.

  "What have you told them about me?"

  "Everything they need to know. The rest they'll probably work out for themselves."

  "What am I supposed to make of that answer? Should I be worried?"

  "I thought we'd spend the day just hanging out, doing some sightseeing and shopping. But Mom insisted we get there as soon as possible. She is so eager to meet you."

  "Eager to meet me? Why?"

  "Honestly, I've told them nothing personal."

  "She's probably eager to see you in person instead of just on TV. What do I call them?"

  "Bella and Ron. So you know Spain, everyone will disappear for a siesta, and let me warn you, dinner is about 10 o'clock at night here. That's if they are eating early."

  Harry shivered. "I never expected it to be so cold."

  "It surprises people. Come on. Let's go for a walk before you meet the family. I want to talk to you about something."

  Carlos pulled out some euros and paid for breakfast. They headed out of the cafe and walked uphill.

  "We haven't talked about what is going on between us. Those couple of nights we spent together are isolated moments. I didn't think you were too drunk, but I don't know how much you remember. "

  "I'm not likely to forget." Harry felt his cheeks glowing red, and not for the exercise of brisk walking in cold air.

  Carlos looked at him and grinned. "I mean the things I said. Not what we did. I meant every word I said."

  "Oh. I wondered if you were drunk."

  "I may have had a little drink for courage. I remember every word. I wasn't sure if I'd offended you, especially when I asked you to stay the night."

  "I wasn't offended." Harry was surprised and unprepared, but not offended.

  "I was brought up a Catholic myself, but I'll be honest, I don't have the same convictions. You and your mom seem so religious, and so no sex before marriage."

  "Now I don't understand. Are you laughing at me?"

  Carlos stopped dead in the street and grasped Harry's arm, so they turned to face each other. "No. Absolutely not. On the contrary, I want you to know that I've listened to you, and I respect your values. We get on great together as friends, and then last week we spent the night together. But since then you've kept me at arm's length."

  "I know." Carlos deserved an explanation, and if Harry could find the words he would.

  "I want to make sure you're really listening to me, Harry. I want you to know that I like you as a friend, but I'm not looking for a friends-with-benefits arrangement. If that's what you expect, then tell me. I hope you want the same as me. Something permanent, exclusive and committed."

  Harry nodded, but Carlos hadn't finished.

  "I remember you saying something along the lines of the church condemning casual sex outside of committed relationships, meaning marriage. For the first time in my life, I've met somebody who I want to spend my life with, someone I like spending time with."

  People wandered past, but fortunately, no one stopped to listen to the men talking in English. They remained unrecognized—even the Spanish soccer hero—perhaps because of his hat, scarf, and London accent.

  "In the past, every time I've dated someone, if we managed to make it beyond the first date, I've usually gotten bored with them within a week. I've been looking for love and sex with entirely the wrong people. Since moving to Birmingham, I've met you. And you're perfect."

  Despite the cold air around them, Harry felt extremely warm, and his stomach was churning.

  "I'm Spanish. In this country, I can marry any man, even if you aren't Spanish."

  "Carlos, I know that you can't possibly be asking me to marry you. But I only know this because you're standing up in the street. You're not on one knee."

  Carlos's smile turned into a laugh, and he reached out and took Harry's hand. "I'm not asking you to marry me. When I do, I hope it will be a memorable, romantic event, but I wanted you to know that it's possible. I understand that these things are important to you and your family. Your mother might not understand it, but she could come to our wedding here in Spain, and she might accept that we're in a loving, committed relationship. That's what I'm asking you."

  "So you're not asking me to marry you. We're not getting engaged, but you want to get engaged to be engaged?" Harry couldn't help but be amused on the surface. Inside he was overjoyed that they wanted the same kind of relationship.

  Still holding hands and still stationary in the street, Carlos looked around, and then focused on Harry again. "Damn it, Harry. You know what I'm talking about. It couldn't be any clearer. I'd like to call you my boyfriend, to carry on with our friends
hip as it is, but with the addition of kissing, touching, and removing clothes on a frequent basis. It will all be with the intention that one day we get married here in Spain. Is that what you want?"

  "Yes." Harry swallowed. Since that night he'd wanted so many more like that. He'd been so scared of Carlos revealing their past, and now it was unimportant.

  "Even though I'm a guy?"

  "I'm gay, Carlos. It's kind of important that you are a guy." It was the first time Harry had ever used those words and told anyone, he hadn't even said as much to Scott.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  January

  CARLOS

  "Let's go get back in the car." Carlos didn't release Harry's hand, they turned together and retraced their steps along the street toward the cafe toward where they were parked.

  Carlos hadn't intended to practically ask Harry to marry him while standing on a suburban Spanish Street that morning. He somehow imagined their relationship would flourish on its own; perhaps it would if it weren't for the awkward fact of their work situation.

  "I'm really done with PDP." Carlos squeezed Harry's hand as they walked.

  "With what?"

  "Public displays of platonic friendship. I want to treat you as my boyfriend. I know that's not possible at work, or anywhere we'll be recognized."

  They reached the car and when Harry opened the passenger door his phone rang. Carlos watched as Harry paused, then reached into the back pocket of his Versace jeans.

  "It's Chris Stutter, my agent," Harry announced when he saw the screen.

  "Okay." Carlos got in the car and turned on the radio to wait out the conversation.

  When he suggested a two-day trip to Spain on impulse, Carlos thought about whizzing Harry around a few of the sites. A visit to the impressive Royal Palace and to see Picasso's Guernica at the Queen Sofía Museum. Lunch in Madrid with his brother, if José was available, and stopping by a tapas bar or two before traveling to his parents for a typically Spanish late-night dinner.

  On the day, he felt physically and mentally exhausted by the December work schedule, which crammed in more matches, more traveling, and more hotel sleepovers than any other month. Also, there were many more public appearances and charity events to attend around the Christmas and New Year period. Many were a mandatory part of his contract with the club or some other deal he'd signed. Without asking, he suspected Harry was similarly as worn out.

  It wasn't just his tiring work schedule that made Carlos reluctant to act as a tour guide around the sites of Madrid. Especially now, after the conversation that he hoped to have but not quite in that way, time or place.

  He'd had enough of spending time in public. They hadn't discussed any itinerary so traveling directly to Carlos's parent's house instead of into Madrid wouldn't surprise Harry.

  After a short couple of minutes, Harry got in the car.

  "Okay," Carlos said out of habit, it wasn't a question he expected answered. More of a let's get this car rolling noise.

  "Not really. I've turned my phone off because the first thing Chris did was ask why I was abroad. He as good as knew I didn't have a good reason or permission. But the ringtone gave it away. You should turn your phone off too."

  Carlos wriggled in his seat to pull out his phone and do as Harry suggested.

  "But that's not the problem?" Carlos could tell from the look on Harry's face, the tone of his voice and the stiffness of his posture. Neither of them were in trouble yet. Football agents don't bring trouble; they bring money.

  "No the clue is in the words, ‘my agent called,’ and it's January; so it's transfer season."

  "How long is left on your contract with BSC?" asked Carlos. He dropped his good-for-nothing phone in the side pocket on the hire car's door.

  "Three years remain. So, of course, they want to sell me now while they can maximize their money."

  "You should make a handsome bonus on any transfer." That's the way to secure your future. You know some mediocre players make a fortune by just changing club often."

  Harry turned his head away from Carlos, looking out of the side window. Carlos turned the wheel and took off into the traffic. They drove for a while with just the sound of the radio, the latest Spanish pop music, with the volume turned fairly low.

  "Did the agent have anything concrete to say, or was it just a heads up?"

  "He had concrete. There's an offer from Barcelona."

  Carlos was impressed. One of the top international teams by anyone's standards. Who wouldn't want to play football for Barcelona?

  "Barcelona have put in an offer for you? That's great."

  "Isn't it just," Harry spoke with all the enthusiasm of an English vegetarian invited to a Spanish bullfight.

  "And you're not pleased?"

  Harry slumped in his seat and let out a humph. He still looked out of the side window so, when Carlos glanced over, he couldn't see his face.

  "What is it?"

  "Barcelona. Playing in Spain's La Liga."

  "Sí, Harry. I'm Spanish. I know where they play La Liga."

  "Less than an hour ago we were talking about a relationship. Now you think it's a great idea that I come and live here in Spain. You know how fast these things work, I could be living here within a week. And where does that leave us?"

  Carlos remained silent and thoughtful. What could he say that wouldn't sound wrong? A professional football career was short, so an offer from a top club wasn't something to be turned down. Of course, Carlos wanted Harry closer, but he couldn't expect the man to sacrifice his career prospects.

  "As you can see, it's only a small trip, England to Spain. In fact, Barcelona is slightly closer than Madrid. But you don't have to take it."

  "Staying at BSC isn't an option. We both know that if the team wants to sell me, I have to go. You can't stick at a club that doesn't want you anymore never mind what the contract says." The car didn't need air con. Harry was emanating his own icy climate in the vehicle.

  "You could get your agent to find a counter offer. If you want to stay in England, there are plenty of clubs with the money."

  "Hmm, maybe. Yes, I suppose I could remain in England and move to a different team." Harry knew the football business. Had he really not thought of finding a different club?

  "If it were another local big Midlands team, you could stay in the same apartment, but if you end up moving further away, I'll move too, Harry, to be closer to you. If you went to London, Manchester or the North East, we could live halfway between the two clubs, yours and mine."

  "You would move for me?" Harry sounded surprised.

  "Harry. Have you been listening to me? Because if you feel the same way as I do there is no question. Yes, I'd move to be near you. And if you were in Spain, I'd take frequent unauthorized trips."

  He'd marry Harry too. Harry seemed so vulnerable and insecure, and marriage seemed a good idea. The sooner, the better. Carlos didn't want to lose Harry. Carlos wanted to prove how deeply committed he was to their relationship. And he wanted Harry to feel good about it too.

  Their union could be in private and remain discreet. A private wedding witnessed by just their closest family and friends. Harry's mom, his brother the missionary, Carlos's family, of course, and Harry's friend Scott and his mysterious boyfriend. They'd get away with keeping it on the down low in Spain; they had such common names. Harry Carter was not particularly distinctive; Carlos and Garcia must be two of the most common names in Spain put together.

  Carlos slowed the vehicle down to a crawl to take a sharp turn in his parent's street. "We're almost there. I want to introduce you to my parents as my boyfriend, is that okay?" Not fiancé, not yet.

  HARRY

  At Carlos's parent's Spanish home, Maria, their cleaning lady opened the front door. She was surprised to see Carlos; that was apparent. They had a conversation in Spanish, of which Harry didn't understand a word. He couldn't imagine living in Spain, though plenty of English people did.

  Maria left shortly aft
er their arrival and Carlos explained, although she knew he was visiting he'd told his parents to expect him in the evening for dinner. No one was home but for Maria, who had just finished her work for the morning.

  "Did you consider the possibility that there might be no one here to let us in?" Harry asked as Maria departed leaving them in a silent house.

  "Harry, I always think of my parents at home. But, fortunately, I do have a spare key tucked away with my passport. Let me show you around."

  Set in a couple of acres, the single-storey home was double fronted and deceptively spacious. Most of the rooms had unobstructed views of the well-stocked gardens. The trees and shrubs held a magical quality, even at this time of year.

  "This is my bedroom." Carlos opened the door and let it swing into the room without entering. "Not that I've lived here, but this is where I sleep when I stay."

  The guest bedrooms were at the opposite side of the house to where his parents slept. Carlos walked across to the opposite door and opened it.

  "Another guest bedroom." And Carlos led the way in.

  Harry followed. "Um. Do we have to have separate bedrooms here?"

  Carlos stepped as close as he possibly could. They were chest to chest and stomach to stomach. Their lips almost touching. "What are you suggesting? Are you asking to sleep with me?"

  Harry took a deep breath. "Yes. I don't know if that's allowed."

  It wouldn't be allowed in his mom's house. Not if she knew. But Carlos had brought them so much further than just twelve hundred miles. They were transitioning from friends to boyfriends. Carlos had said things Harry never believed he'd hear. He didn't want them to leave each other's side for any longer than necessary in case the romantic spell got broken.

  "It is both allowed and highly recommended. Let me show you my bedroom, right now." Carlos took hold of Harry's hand and led him back across the hall.

  Harry hoped they weren't coming out of it again too soon. At times in his life, he couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to touch a man. The thought practically drove him crazy because he believed it was wrong; he'd never do it. Yet, he wanted it so badly.