The Younger Man: A Novel

by Halle, Karina

  “If you ever need someone to call, to talk to, if you ever need your job back, maybe after some time has passed and things smooth over, you can always come back here. I hope you know that.”

  “Thank you.” I’m really going to miss him. Definitely the best boss I ever had. “I guess, I have to think about what’s left to do. I’ll leave the car here?”

  “Take it home. There’s no rush for you to leave. I’ll have someone from the administration call you and work you through moving out and everything else.”

  Moving out.

  The thought hits me hard.

  I had just settled and now I’m going.

  Had I known all along that this was going to be temporary? Is that why I resisted making a home here?

  I give him a quick smile and turn around, needing to get out of his office before I lose it.

  What are you doing? I think to myself but none of my thoughts make any sense anymore. Nothing makes sense anymore.

  I go back to my apartment and immediately start crying the moment I see the cactus on the windowsill. I’m not sure how much bad luck it kept out.

  When I left for work this morning, quitting wasn’t on my mind, it wasn’t even an option and yet here I am, quitting my job and having to leave this apartment and this city behind.

  Where the fuck am I even going?

  What the hell am I going to do next?

  And I quit, it’s not like I get a severance package. All I have is what I saved in my bank account from my divorce settlement, and while it’s quite a bit, I’m not sure how long it will last me, how long it will take me to get another job. It took forever and a lot of luck to get this one and now I’m just…

  But as much as the idea of finding somewhere else seems too overwhelming to even handle, even though it makes me so damn sad to leave Madrid, I know it would be much worse to continue to go into work every day and see the man I can’t have, see the man I love, knowing we could never continue.

  And yet, as much as working beside Alejo while nursing a broken heart feels wrong, leaving Real Madrid doesn’t feel right either.

  I’m beside myself. I’m panicking, but it’s a slow, festering kind of panic, the type that mangles your brain and seizes your heart bit-by-bit. I’m not sure I even know what I’m doing, to be honest.

  I need someone to talk to, but I don’t have many to confide in.

  I would call my father, but he’s still asleep.

  I would call Vera, but it seems way too messy and complicated with her married to Mateo.

  I would call Kazzy or Liz but I haven’t stayed in touch with them like I should have.

  Old me would have called Helen, if not just to have someone to vent to, but new me doesn’t want anything to do with her anymore. That ship has sailed and for the better.

  You could call Alejo, the voice inside me speaks up.

  I could call Alejo.

  But I’ve seen the way he looks at me and I know how quickly even the deepest love turns to hate when you’re devastated. He thinks I chose my career over him and I don’t think that’s something he’s ever going to recover from. I certainly don’t know how I would deal with it, if things were reversed. I suppose, maybe I would understand.

  But Alejo is still so young and when it comes to dealing with his emotions in a mature way or compartmentalizing them, I still think he’s got work to do. It would take a lot, probably too much, to have him see it from my point of view, to understand without the emotions clouding his judgement. Love is such a volatile and potent emotion that it’s very easy for it to warp and bend to the heart’s desire. It can easily change if the person wills it hard enough, the energy morphing to the opposite side. Two sides of the same coin, and right now it’s not love.

  And the real truth is…I’m scared to go back to him.

  I’m so scared to put myself out there.

  I’m scared that he’ll crush my heart because it’s easier than opening up and forgiving me.

  I’m scared that my heart will end up bruised and battered beyond recognition from just a look.

  The look that says it’s too late.

  I’m too late.

  It doesn’t matter. I’m a coward.

  And I’m running again.

  Chapter 28

  Alejo

  Whether during a game or during practice, all I can see is the pitch.

  The ball.

  Luciano running toward me with it.

  I know how he moves, how he operates, I know he’s going to go to the left, and I also know that he knows that.

  So I wait until the last minute and then try to get the ball from between his legs.

  He uses his arm to brush me off, a penalty if a ref decides it so, but I’m quicker with my footwork and manage to get the ball back, twirling around, one foot, the other foot, and then it’s under my control and I’m off and running in the opposite direction, taking the ball and shooting directly into the goal.

  I run around, arms in the air, showing off at my goal to the rest of my team, while Mateo claps his hands.

  “Okay, good work, keep it up, Alejo,” Mateo says. He gives Luciano a sorry look. “You could have tried harder. Don’t think I didn’t see that arm.”

  We’re just about wrapping up our training for the day. It’s cold and the weather has been threatening rain all day, rain that never came. There’s a game tomorrow here in Madrid against Leganes but I feel as focused on the game as I ever will be.

  It’s all I have at the moment. When I step off the pitch, my reality will come slamming back, making my heart feel like a hollow drum, just empty space where Thalia used to be.

  And so I’ve been throwing myself into practice. I’ve been going the distance after training. I’m always on the pitch, I’m here even after it’s dark out, sometimes shooting balls with Rene, other times by myself. I just can’t let my mind focus on anything but this game.

  I can’t let it focus on her.

  To be honest, it’s the only way I’ve been able to get past the last ten days without feeling like I’m literally dying on the inside. I’ve learned to look past Thalia, never at her. I’ve learned to pretend she’s not there, forcing my mind to switch to the sport.

  It doesn’t always work. Sometimes it’s pure torture. Even when I’m not looking at her, I can feel her near, I hear her voice, a voice that should be whispering in my ear and telling me she loves me. I close my eyes and I see her smile, the way her eyes would take me in right after I kissed her, like my kiss had the power to change her whole world.

  She changed my world.

  I blink it away just as Luciano comes over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

  “Not bad,” he says. “When you make the Spanish national team and we have to play each other, I’m going to be in some serious shit.” He moves his shoulder back and winces.

  “Does it hurt?” I ask.

  “Not really, just stiff,” he says. Then he frowns at me, his expression uneasy.

  “What?”

  “Have you seen Thalia lately?”

  My veins turn to ice. I raise my chin, automatically defensive. “No.”

  “Yeah, I figured,” he says. “I know…I mean, I don’t mean to pry and I’ve been trying to give you space thinking you’d bring it up with me. I know something happened with you both. She told me. She’s been looking so sad lately.”

  There’s a vise around my heart, growing tighter. “When did you talk to her?” I ask stiffly.

  “Three days ago.”

  “What did she tell you?” I ask, lowering my voice as we start walking over to the rest of the team, to do one last agility drill before we head inside.

  “I don’t know the details, man. I just know that it’s over between the both of you. And well, when you want to talk about it, I’m here. I just…hope you didn’t run her off.”

  “Run her off?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I wanted her to look at my shoulder yesterday and I didn’t se
e her. I didn’t see her today either. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed?”

  The truth is, I had noticed. But what I noticed was not her absence, but that she wasn’t affecting me as badly. I thought perhaps I was just handling it better. But if she hasn’t been here, that could explain it.

  Luciano walks over to Mateo who is watching the assistants set up the poles we’re supposed to dart around.

  “Hey Mateo,” Luciano says. “Where is Thalia? I haven’t seen her these last few days. Has she been sick?”

  Mateo looks directly at me and his face grows remorseful. He gives me the kind of look that makes my stomach drop.

  I go over to him, wishing that this didn’t matter so much to me, but of course anything to do with her is still going to concern me.

  Mateo licks his lips, looking back at the team, some of whom are listening.

  “Okay,” he says slowly, eyeing everyone. “I didn’t want to bring this up until after the game tomorrow…”

  We’re all waiting for him to go on.

  My stomach feels like it’s about to be filled with cement.

  “Yeah and?” Luciano prompts. “Where is she?”

  Mateo avoids my stare and looks directly at Luciano. “She doesn’t work here anymore. She quit.”

  “What?” Luciano says, while everyone else on the team breaks out into chatter.

  I can’t even believe my ears.

  “What?” I repeat, feeling the disbelief rising in my chest, swirling with anger. “What are you talking about, she quit?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mateo says, still avoiding looking at me. “But she’s gone.”

  Avoiding my eyes for a reason, because he’s fucking guilty.

  “No, you’re not sorry!” I yell at him, the words coming out like an eruption. “You’re not sorry at all. She quit? Because you made her quit!”

  “I didn’t make her quit,” Mateo says through gritted teeth, his face going red and I should know better than to provoke him, but he should know better than to provoke me.

  “You made this happen! This is your fault, Mateo!”

  He shakes his head, eyes flashing. “Oh no. Don’t throw this in my face. This was your fault Alejo, your fucking fault that she’s gone!”

  The team lets out a collective gasp but I don’t have any time to reflect on how rare it is to have Mateo get personal with a player like this.

  I don’t even think at all.

  I just react.

  I come at him, winding up, punching him in an uppercut right to his jaw.

  The explosion rocks my knuckles but as Mateo stumbles back a few feet, holding his jaw, I don’t feel any pain at all. I just feel this raw, vengeful, vindictive anger that has no place to go.

  “Alejo!” Luciano is yelling and he’s coming for me, but I’m trying to move out of his way. I want Mateo to fight me back, I want to let this all out, everything I’ve been keeping inside, letting it fester away, rotting me.

  “You made her quit!” I yell at Mateo, coming for him again.

  He moves back away from me, still holding his jaw, his eyes burning dangerously, and before I can get another punch in, Luciano and Rene are holding me back, both their arms looped around mine, Luciano putting half his body in front of mine while an assistant coach gets in front of Mateo.

  “You did this!” I’m yelling over Luciano, and I sound delusional but I don’t fucking care. “I loved her! I loved her and you made her choose between me and her job! You made her choose her job!”

  Another gasp rolls amongst the team and even though they’re just a blur of heads to me, I know they’re staring at me with wide eyes. This would be the first they’ve heard of it.

  “I didn’t make her choose her job,” Mateo seethes, rubbing at his jaw, wiggling it. His eyes bore into me, cutting deep. “She chose her job. She could have chosen you Alejo but she didn’t. She made the choice that was right for her.”

  It’s like I was suckerpunched with a knife, right to the gut. If Luciano and Rene weren’t holding onto me, I’d be sinking to my knees. I cough, feeling like I’m bleeding dry in front of everyone.

  “Then why did she quit?” I cry out softly. “Why did she leave?”

  Mateo looks over the team. “Okay everyone, move along. Let’s call it quits and you go back inside.”

  The team stares at him, then at me, and you know they don’t want to miss this.

  “Now!” Mateo barks.

  They all flinch and end up walking away, looking over their shoulder at us in disbelief. Only Rene and Luciano stay.

  “Because,” Mateo says eventually, turning back to face me, “she couldn’t handle it. This wasn’t the job for her anymore. And I know how much it must hurt you Alejo, but she’s gone and there’s nothing we can do about. Certainly nothing worth punching your coach and getting a suspension over. You’re benched tomorrow night.”

  Fair enough, even if the team might suffer for it. Right now, all I can think about is my suffering.

  “How could she just leave?” I ask no one in particular. I stare straight ahead at the turf, my heart collapsing on itself. I thought that by ignoring her I could make my pain go away but with her gone, the pain is unbearable. “How could she leave me again?”

  “Shit, man, I’m sorry,” Luciano says, his grip on me loosening. He puts his arm around me. “Honestly.”

  “Yeah, Alejo,” Rene says, letting go. “I had no idea that you guys were even together.”

  “No one knew,” I say absently and my eyes go up to meet Mateo’s face.

  He’s staring at me, a little angry still. Maybe there’s some pity.

  He comes over to me and I stiffen, not sure what he’s going to do.

  He holds out his hand for me. “Come on,” he says.

  I put my hand in his and he raises it up like a high five, giving it a shake. “Now that it’s out of your system, how about we put the blame game aside?”

  I swallow uneasily, shame suddenly flooding my body. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” he says, wincing as he strokes his jaw. “You pack quite the punch though.”

  “And you can take quite the punch.”

  “I can,” he says. “And if you try that again, when I hit you back, you won’t be left standing.”

  I gulp. I believe him.

  “Well, well, well,” Luciano says. “Mateo turns out to be a lover and a fighter.”

  Mateo cracks a smile at that then holds his face. “Ow.” When he composes himself, he looks to me. “Are you going to be okay? Sorry about the suspension tomorrow but, that is what you get for punching your coach for absolutely no reason. And before you say anything in response to that, know that you had no reason. I did not tell Thalia to do anything. I didn’t want her to quit.”

  “But you wanted her to choose her career over me and she listened to you.”

  “She listened to herself. I hate to play this card, Alejo, but you’re young. And when you get older, you’ll realize that love isn’t just black or white. It’s not simple. The feeling itself is simple. You either love someone or you don’t, there is no in-between. But the choices that comes along with love can get so tangled and so complicated that you don’t even know how to unravel it. Thalia ended it between you, not because she wanted to, but because she had to. She would have never asked you to give up your career for her. So, in her mind, there was only one way for it to go and that was it. It didn’t mean she didn’t love you anymore. It just meant that there was only one option in her mind, one path. She did what she felt was right. Whether that means she should have quit, well, that’s up to her to decide. Not us.”

  I don’t say anything to that.

  “You’ll get through this, Alejo,” he adds. “I promise you that.”

  But he’s never been in my shoes. He never lost Vera. He’s never known what this feels like.

  “How could she leave without even saying goodbye?” I ask.

  Mateo and Luciano exc
hange a look above my head and Rene gives my shoulder a reassuring pat.

  “Come on,” Mateo says. “Let’s go in for the day. I think we’re ready for tomorrow.”

  But as everyone turns to go in, I don’t move.

  I don’t want to head back inside.

  I want to stay out here on the pitch, the only safe place I have left.

  I want to stay out here as the rains come and I’ll keep running and shooting and keeping my eye on the ball, my focus on my feet.

  In this tunnel vision, I don’t have think about what I’m feeling.

  “Alejo,” Luciano says as everyone disappears inside. “Come on. Let me take you out for a few beers tonight. You’re not playing tomorrow anyway, so I can get you good and properly drunk. You deserve to let loose, blow off a little steam, and not the punching your manager in the face variety.”

  I stare at him blankly. “Can I get so drunk that I don’t feel my legs?”

  He gives me a cautious smile. “Sure thing.”

  * * *

  Eight beers later and I think I’ve finally forgotten what my problem was.

  Or is.

  Is it still a problem?

  It’s hard to tell right now.

  I’m sitting in the VIP lounge at The Last Resort with Luciano.

  He’s had one beer and has been drinking nothing but water and limes all night long. Captain of the team with a game tomorrow and all that.

  I, on the other hand, do not have a game tomorrow since I’ve been suspended, so I’m just drinking my face off in hopes of obliterating whatever problem has been afflicting me.

  So far, it’s working.

  I know there’s something wrong, but it’s off in the distance, behind a wall, and if I don’t look over there, if I don’t open a door and let it out, I won’t think about it.

  I won’t think about her.

  Shit.

  Don’t think about her.

  Don’t think about Thalia.

  Don’t think about the fact that she’s gone.

  I blink and Luciano waves his hand in front of my face.