“You’re not fighting for us,” I tell her. “Where is the fight?”
“The fight!” she cries out. “I’ve been fighting for us but there is a time when your hands are tied and you can’t fight anymore. There’s nowhere for this, for us, to go. It has to end. Doesn’t mean I want it to end, doesn’t mean it’s not destroying me from the inside out. I love you, Alejo.”
“Then don’t do this.”
“I have to. One of us has to.”
“Then this is a choice you’re making. Not me.”
“Fine,” she says, getting up and walking to the middle of the room, her hands in her hair, shaking her head. “Fine. Fine, make me the bad guy. Make me the villain in this if you need to. I don’t care. I’ll take on that role.”
I spring to my feet. “You’re breaking up with me!” I cry, voice shattering along with my heart. “You’re ending this. Not me. Just so we’re clear on where we stand!”
She stares at me, her lower lip trembling and I want to rush over to her and hold her and tell her I’m sorry. But I’m also so fucking hurt, so devastated, like she’s taken a rusty spoon and gutted me, until everything inside me that lives for her is exposed and laid bare.
“I think it would be best if you left,” she says quietly, looking at the floor.
Stunned. I am stunned. I stare at her, mouth agape, trying to understand.
“So it’s over, just like this?” I manage to say.
She closes her eyes and nods. “Yes,” she whispers. “Just like this.”
She’s actually telling me to leave? Not just that she’s breaking up with me, but that she wants me to leave.
“Please,” she adds. “Go.”
I don’t even say anything. I’m too angry and whatever I say will be hurtful beyond words. So I keep my mouth shut, go into her bedroom to grab my stuff and then I’m out of there, slamming the door behind me.
Halfway down the dark staircase to the front door, I pause, nearly falling to my knees.
The reality of what just happened hits me like a wrecking ball, plastering me against the wall, breaking me apart.
It takes everything I have left in me, my heart that still beats for her, to pull myself together and make it outside to my car.
I’ll fall apart later.
But there will be no one there to help me pick up the pieces.
Chapter 27
Thalia
Have you ever felt a loss so powerful, so overwhelming, that it literally brings you to your knees? A loss that filets you, hollows you out until there’s nothing but a gaping, black void inside, the kind of emptiness that has your hands pressed to your stomach, to your chest, trying to stop the hole from spreading?
But it doesn’t stop.
There’s nothing you can do to make it stop.
I’ve felt that loss twice before.
When I lost Grace.
When I realized my marriage to Stewart was over.
And now there’s a third time.
The third time might be the worst.
I’ve lost Alejo and the pain is so deep, so raw, so cold, I would give anything to stop feeling it.
But telling your heart not to feel is like spitting into the wind. It just comes back at you, tenfold.
I hadn’t realized, until now, just how hard I had fallen for Alejo, how much of my soul I handed over to him, hoping he would keep it safe. And the irony is, he did keep it safe. He loved me and protected my love for him. His devotion to me is pure and honest and raw. I know he would have given up his beloved team for me.
He would have given up everything.
I couldn’t let him do that.
What makes this pain that much worse is that I didn’t stop loving him and he didn’t stop loving me. I just had to make a choice because if it were up to him, the wrong choice would have been made. For better or for worse, I had to think about both of our careers.
Though now, now after I’ve been at work for a week, I realize that maybe I made the wrong choice.
Losing my job would have been devastating. Being fired would have been humiliating. Had word gotten out about us, the media would have hounded me like they did over Stewart, but a million times worse. A woman my age with a man like him? That’s one thing. But the fact that this will have been the second time I’ve let personal relationships with a co-worker screw me out of a job, is something else. I know how it would look to everyone.
And I know how it looks to myself.
Vera had said not to care about what people say, to give no fucks, but when you’ve been dragged through the mud before, you’ll do anything to prevent that from happening again.
But even though that’s something that would have happened if we had been found out, if Dr. Costa discovered us in a more compromising way and turned it into something more, something Mateo couldn’t cover up, I don’t think it would hurt me as much as this hurts me right now.
Alejo hates me.
He loves me and yet he hates me.
I know he’s beyond hurt that I had to be the bearer of bad news and break us apart, I know it makes me the bad person, the villain in the story. I know he doesn’t really understand how big of a sacrifice this is for me and that I lose either way.
I just didn’t realize how much my choice would ruin everything, not just my heart, but everything else I held dear in my life.
I…I just can’t work here anymore.
I’m going through the motions, concentrating on the players as much as I can, trying to pretend Alejo isn’t there, while also soaking him in at every opportunity. It’s like my soul is being split in two.
But he’s given me the deep freeze, and the few times our eyes have met each other, his gaze is empty. It holds nothing for me.
I’ve never seen him like that before. It’s like all the joy and the life has been sucked right out of him, and I’m the only one to blame. It’s only on the pitch that he comes alive again, going after the ball like a madman, channeling everything into the game.
At least, there’s that. I don’t think I could forgive myself if I fucked up his game as well as his heart.
Not sure when I’ll forgive myself for fucking up my own.
Cut yourself a slab, I tell myself, but I can’t even smile. You had no choice.
But I did have a choice.
“Thalia,” Luciano calls from the physio bed after everyone goes up for lunch, lunch that I’m once again eating in my office, like a motherfucking squirrel. “Can you do the needling on my shoulder?”
I blink at him in surprise. He hadn’t seemed in any pain lately and David was just working on his upper thighs.
“Sure,” I say, coming over to the wall and pulling down my kit. I go beside him and give him a small smile. “Take off your shirt.”
“It’s been a while since a woman has told me that,” he says with a grin before pulling it over his head. He lies down on his stomach while I start feeling around on the same area as last time, looking for the bumps and knots.
“So what seems to be the trouble?” I ask. “Is it playing up like last time?”
“A little,” he says. “I’m not getting any younger.”
“Neither am I.” I find the knot and then swab it down with solution. “Ever wonder when you might retire?”
He looks at me aghast. “We don’t say that word around here.”
“Right,” I say. I totally get it. To retire would be the end of everything Luciano holds dear. Something I know a little bit about. “You’ve got a lot of game left in you.”
“You’re fucking right,” he says, but there’s a hint of trepidation in his eyes, his smile faltering just a little. I know it must weigh on him. He is such an important player and such a great captain, but he’s thirty-seven and that’s almost unheard of in this game.
Nothing lasts forever.
I take in a deep breath, my heart pinching at that thought, and turn to slip on my gloves.
“Can I ask you something?” he says as I bring
out the needles.
“Claro,” I say.
“What happened?”
I swallow the thickness in my throat and try to compose myself before I look back at him, needles ready. “What do you mean?”
He gives me a sweet smile. “Something happened to you. To Alejo. What changed? Are you not…” he looks around the room and when he sees there’s no one lingering, he goes on, “together anymore? I haven’t asked him because I’ve been waiting for him to bring it up but…”
I keep my jaw clenched, trying to blink away the rush of sadness that wants to come up. I will not start crying here at work, while I’m working on the team captain.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” he says quickly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t ask these kinds of questions when you have those needles. I learned my lesson last time.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, clearing my throat and getting to work.
I tap all the needles in, letting them work their magic on his muscles.
When I’m done, and the needles are removed, he sits up on the table.
“Better?” I ask.
He moves his shoulder back and gives me a triumphant smile. “Right as rain.”
“Good.”
I make a move to put the kit away but he reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Thalia,” he says. “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
Oh no. Now the tears are threatening me again.
I swallow, nodding, unable to speak.
“I don’t know what happened but I can make some guesses. I know Alejo is head over heels in love with you and I know you’re in love with him and it just…well, it fucking sucks that you can’t make it work together. I don’t know the details of what happened, I’m only fumbling in the dark but this was a love story that was never meant to have a happy ending, was it? I tried to…I tried to warn Alejo that this is what could happen and I don’t blame him for not listening because I know what it’s like. I’ve been there. I’ve been run over by it. You can’t stop love.”
“Love is a force of nature,” I say quietly, shutting my eyes as I remember that moment on the beach in Tenerife. “It’s like…trying to push back a hurricane with your bare hands. You’ll be ripped apart no matter what you do.”
“We have a saying in Portuguese,” he says.
“I bet you do,” I mutter, opening my eyes. “Is it about fleas again?”
“E como tudo na vida, dê tempo ao tempo e ele encarregar-se hà de resolver os problemas,” he says, letting the words roll off his tongue. “It means, in life as in everything else, give time some time and it will solve your problems for you.”
I give him a sad look and the mention of time reminds me of the pocket watch, which I have kept under my pillow these days, clutching it as I fall asleep. “I don’t think it will solve this problem,” I tell him. “I don’t know what will. But I will say that…”
Being here with him is next to impossible.
I don’t think I’m strong enough.
“Yes?” Luciano prompts.
I shake my head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“I’m really sorry, Thalia,” he says again and looking into Luciano’s warm brown eyes, I know he is. I think he was really rooting for us.
“Thank you.”
He leans in and gives me a hug and I have to keep it short and sweet or I’m going to completely break down. I can feel it coming, like a rip tide that wants to yank you off your feet and drag you out to sea.
Luciano goes upstairs for lunch and I decide to forgo it all together. I can’t even think about food right now, I think I’ve lost five pounds this last week, which sucks because a lot of that was muscle. But honestly, it’s the least of my concerns. Funny how losing love makes all your other problems disappear.
Instead, I go to my office and stare numbly at the wall, up at my degrees, torn between what I have to do. Even though I don’t want to do it, and I wish it wasn’t coming to this, it’s for the best.
I wait until it’s siesta time and then I go over to Mateo’s office, knocking at the door.
“Pasa,” Mateo says.
I open the door and poke my head in. “Is this a good time?”
A faint wash of sympathy comes over his face. “Sí. Of course. Come in, Thalia”
I step on in and shut the door behind me.
“Sit down, please,” he says, gesturing to the seat.
I shake my head. “I need to speak with you.”
“I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, studying me. “Are you okay?”
I press my lips together until they go numb and shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “I’m not okay.”
He sighs and leans back in his chair. “I’m really sorry about everything. What you must be going through. I know what it’s like.”
“You have no idea what it’s like,” I tell him, finding my voice. It’s sharp.
He raises his brow in surprise but doesn’t say anything.
“You have no idea how fucking hard this is.” I can’t keep the anger from my voice and I know it’s not Mateo’s fault, and I know I’m being unprofessional, but I don’t really care at the moment. I’m finding it hard to care about anything now.
“Thalia,” he says and then pauses. “There’s nothing I can do for you. You both knew what you were getting into. In the end, I think you made the right decision.”
“How can you say that?” I cry out. “I thought you were a romantic!”
He laughs and gives me a sad smile. “I am a romantic and a realist. And selfishly, I need you here. You’re great for the team and had you and Alejo continued, you would have been caught. Believe me. I explained to Dr. Costa and Jose about the photo, and I supposed they believed my story a little less than I thought they would. You’re on thin ice. They’re watching you and Alejo, but mainly you, because you are expendable and Alejo isn’t. Alejo will be forgiven for pretty much everything he does and you, you won’t be.”
I nod. “Well, I think I made the wrong choice.”
“What?” he asks, brow furrowed.
“I said…I think I made the wrong choice. I chose wrong. I should have chosen Alejo. I should have quit. And that’s why I’m here.”
“No, Thalia,” Mateo says, shaking his head and staring up at me imploringly. “Don’t do this.”
“I can’t work here,” I say softly. “I can’t do it. My heart is too bruised, I’m…I’m not strong enough. Mateo, I love him. I love him and I can’t work alongside him and not be with him. It’s too fucking hard and I can’t do it anymore. It’s making me hate my job, it’s making me hate everything.”
Mateo covers his face with his hands, mumbling. “And this is why workplace relationships don’t work.” He looks up at me, weary. “I never imagined it would have happened here. When I hired you, I didn’t even think.”
“If it makes you feel any better, it never crossed my mind either. But you can’t help who you fall in love with.”
He looks shell-shocked. He stares into space. “No, you certainly can’t,” he says absently. “Oh, how I really wish you weren’t doing this, Thalia.”
“Well, what would you have done? If you have to choose between Vera or your career?”
He glances at me sharply. “I would pick my wife. Every time.”
“Yes, now. What if this had happened when you first fell in love. Then what?”
“It would make no difference. I love her more than anything. She’s my Estrella. My star. I would give up all of this,” he gestures to the room with a sweeping gesture, “over and over again just to be with her. It doesn’t matter at what point of our lives.”
It makes me wonder. Was there a reason that I chose my career over Alejo? I love him more than anything, he should have come first and the more I think about it, the more complicated it gets. All I know is that I made the wrong choice. The loss of him hurts more than the loss of all this. It hurts so much more than anything I could have imagined.
“But list
en,” he goes on, “I am a different person than you. We have lived different lives and gone through different things. You’re on your own path Thalia, and I certainly can’t tell you if you’re doing it wrong or right. Only you can do that. Only you know what you can live with.”
“And if I made the wrong choice?”
He nods. “Only you know that. I have no say.”
“Then…” I take in a deep breath. “I’m quitting. I quit.”
Mateo holds my gaze, trying to measure how serious I am but I don’t waver. “Please tell me you’ve thought long and hard about this…”
“I haven’t,” I admit. “Which is very unlike me. But I know what feels right and being here, without him, it feels wrong.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
I shake my head. “He hates me. I would hate me too, to think that I came second.”
Mateo nods but he doesn’t look happy at all. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m quitting today and I’m not coming back.”
“I see.” He exhales. “You’re putting me in a tough position, trying to find a replacement at the last minute.”
“You put me in a tough position.”
“You know I’m not making you do this.”
“I know.”
Mateo shakes his head in disbelief and then gets up.
He comes around the desk and brings me into a hug and it takes all of my power not to break down. I know I could now. I know it doesn’t matter anymore about looking professional. I’ve been crying everywhere, why not on Mateo?
But somehow I compose myself, even though everything inside me is twisting around itself.
“I’m sad to see you go,” he says to me, pulling back and holding me by the shoulders as he studies my face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I nod. “And I’m sorry about leaving you in a tough spot.”
“You won’t be easy to replace. I’m going to look for someone else with a very heavy heart.”
“Thank you, Mateo. For everything. For absolutely everything.” My chest burns. “You hiring me, it changed my whole life. Even with all this shit at the end, I wouldn’t have changed any of it. You helped make me someone I needed to be.”
The Younger Man: A Novel Page 34
