Mateo has sent Manuel to get me, as well as David, the physical therapist. With Thalia gone, David has been doing a lot of her work. In fact, Mateo never actually hired another therapist, saying we could get by with the ones we had and that he’d look into in the summer when all the trades are going on anyway.
“You happy to get out of the hospital?” David asks me as I step in to the sunshine.
From the way I’m breathing in deep, face to the sun, I’d say he has his answer. You’d think I’d been inside that hospital for years, not for a few days.
“Fuck yeah.”
He and Manuel lead me to the car and I get in the back, relishing my freedom. I am a little dizzy, I have to admit, but the doctor said this would be normal for a while. The most important thing is just for me to rest, which I hate to do. Even though my energy reserves are low at the moment, I know myself and soon I’m going to have all this excess fuel and no place for it to go.
Thank god for the pitch in the backyard. I can take it easy, shooting some balls there to start and then over time I’m sure I’ll be allowed to start training at Valdebebas. At the very least I’ll watch practice, but I find it so frustrating when I can’t just run out there and join in. And most likely, do it right.
On the way to my house, I make David fill me in on what I’ve missed the last few days.
He doesn’t give me much. He’s always been quiet. I suppose the team has been doing okay without me. Even with my injury, we ended up winning the game against Man United, which is a nice consolation.
Then I ask if there was any fallout after the game. Meaning, between York and United and…well, of course, I’m digging for information on Thalia. I want to know what people have been saying about her. That run across the field, that would have had everyone talking. That’s never happened before, to have a member of one club basically crossing party lines during a game. If she had gone to York’s side, fine (and that bastard was fine, not even a dislocated shoulder), but she went to my side.
And with everyone knowing she worked for Real Madrid before, and has volleyed back and forth between them and us, I’m sure the press is going nuts.
I’d look if I could but the doctor wasn’t joking about staying off of phones and computers and the like for a few more days. I just hope that whatever is being thrown Thalia’s way, she’s weathering it.
You have her if you want her.
Mateo’s words ring through my head.
How do I have her?
Where is she?
And then two memories come flooding back, two memories I suppose were erased or maybe just buried.
After I had scored my first goal at the game and I was running around, doing my thing, I ran past their benches and I saw her.
I saw her sitting there, watching me.
She was smiling.
Smiling for me with tears in her eyes.
She held my gaze, her smile never wavering.
I thought I’d seen that ghost of mine, the sight of her was too unreal and too beautiful to be real. Her smile sent shockwaves through me, the kind that would have threatened my reality.
So I kept running, thinking it couldn’t have been her. I knew she was at the game, I knew she was back with Man U, I knew that this game was going to be all sorts of awful if I let myself think about her for even one second. But even so.
I pushed that vision, that dream, away, and I kept playing.
Then the other memory…
It’s not as clear.
It comes to me in fragments.
I remember looking at the grass, close up. The tiny blades, bright green, and then legs and feet beyond that.
I was looking at a pair of running shoes that were too small to be a man’s and there was something familiar about the way they looked, it was hard to explain but I knew them.
I looked up.
I saw her face.
I saw Thalia.
Everything else was blurred but she was clear as day, staring at me.
Like a fucking angel.
She was there with me.
And then it all went black again.
The next thing I would remember would be waking up in the hospital with a massive headache.
“We’re here,” David says as Manuel enters the code into the gate and it opens.
We pull into the driveway and he helps me out of the car. I can walk well enough on my own but I appreciate the gesture.
We go inside my home and I’m met with…silence.
Odd. I thought my mother would at least be home. She could be in her own unit, but I’d think if she knew I was coming, she’d be doting on my already. Armando should be at school but he’s often skipping class anyway, so I kind of expected him to be here too, as least as an excuse.
“Hello?” I call out and for a second I’m afraid there’s some sort of surprise party for me again—honestly not sure my brain could take that—but I peer behind the couch and there’s no hidden goalie.
“Everything okay?” David asks. He and Manuel are standing in the doorway, watching me.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I tell them. “No one is home.”
They exchange a look I can’t quite read and David says, “Okay, well, doctor’s orders is that you take it easy. I’m sure I’ll see you back at Valdebebas soon.”
I raise my hand to wave goodbye.
They look again at each other with some weird energy and then they leave.
The door shuts and I can’t say I like the feeling of the house without anyone in it.
It’s the kind of emptiness and silence that leaves you alone with your thoughts.
I wander into the kitchen, look around absently, not sure of what to do with myself, and then head into the living room, my eyes going to the glass doors that lead to the sunny backyard.
There’s someone out there.
I blink a few times, trying to focus and then start walking over to the doors.
I stare through the glass.
There, on the football pitch between the house and Armando’s abode, is Thalia.
Wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, her back to me, her hair cascading loose down her shoulders.
This can’t be real.
This can’t be her.
My concussion has brought her into my life.
I almost turn around and forget about it, wave her off as a hallucination.
But I feel a pull in my gut, a magnet searching for its counterpart, a heart searching for a home.
I slide open the door, letting the fresh air wake me up, and she slowly turns around.
“Hola,” Thalia says to me in a small voice.
The sun radiates behind her.
Her smile is soft and shy.
Her eyes are full of everything I’d seen in my dreams.
I swallow, leaning against the doorframe, trying to make sense of this, shaking my head.
“Are you really here?” I whisper.
And she nods, her chin starting to tremble. “I’m here.”
I’ve played this moment before in my head, maybe not quite like this but the moment when I might see her again. The things I would tell her. How hurt I was, how angry I was. I would push her away, I would try to punish her, I would shut her out and give her the cold shoulder, I’d turn away whatever she was trying to offer me.
In my head, if she ever came back, I wouldn’t let her in easily, if at all.
My pride was as fragile as the rest of me.
But now, here, with her in front of me, my eyes sinking into her eyes, none of that really matters anymore. It’s still all so complicated but what I feel for her isn’t complicated in the slightest.
You either love someone or you don’t.
And I love her.
I love her more than anything.
I don’t even think, I just move.
I cross the pitch in seconds flat.
My hands slide into her hair.
My mouth presses against hers.
She’s in my ar
ms, in my life, in my heart.
I taste her tears, my tears, her pain, my pain.
I feel everything that we are and everything that we ever were swirling around us like a hurricane, the force unstoppable, the feeling strong enough to bring us both to our knees.
There are no words between us, only our mouths and our lips as they beg for absolution, hands holding tight, hoping for forgiveness.
“You’re here,” I say, pulling back just enough to breathe. I grab her face, pressing my fingers over her cheekbone, her jaw, her lips, marveling at the fact that I’m touching her again.
She closes her eyes, tears streaming down. “I’m so sorry, Alejo. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, trying to calm her, kissing her lips, the corner of her mouth. “We don’t have to talk, I just need…I need this. To just have you with me.” I kiss her again, her lips opening against mine, pulling her in deep, like I can’t get enough, like I have to devour her right here in case she runs away again.
“Alejo,” she whimpers against my mouth. I bring my head back to stare at her, her eyes searching mine. How I’ve missed these eyes. “I love you. I still love you. I never stopped loving you. I made…I made a mistake. I made a choice that I shouldn’t have made. You were always my only choice and I was too blind, too afraid, to see it.”
I bring her right against me, my arms wrapping around her and holding on as tight as I can as she buries her head against my chest. “What’s done is done,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “We can’t change any of what happened. We can only change what we do going forward.” I swallow hard, taking in a deep breath. “And I don’t want to move forward without you.”
“Even after everything I’ve done?” she says, staring up at me. “You still want me?”
I can’t help but smile. It’s like watching the sun rise. “I never stopped wanting you, Thalia. Ever. And I never will. My heart is your heart. Your heart is my home. Even when I was…so hurt, I thought I’d never get up on my feet again, I still had hope somewhere that I would see you again. Even when I heard you went back to Stewart.”
“I never went back to Stewart,” she says quickly, eyes full of panic. “I know what it must have looked like but it wasn’t like that. I was so lost and afraid and he offered me my job back. I felt I didn’t have a choice.” She pauses. “Or maybe I did have a choice. And as much as I hate how it must have hurt you to see me do that, I don’t regret it either. It brought me closure. It made me realize how much I’ve moved on and I moved on to you. I had to leave you to realize you’re exactly where I belong. My path in life leads right into your arms. You’re the home I never had and the life that’s happening for me.”
She sniffs and shakes her head. “I just wish I hadn’t caused you so much pain.”
“Hey,” I say softly, wiping her tears away. “I’m still here aren’t I? I survived it. You survived it. Not saying I would ever want to do that over again, but as long as you’re back, it really doesn’t matter.” I hold her face. “Te amo, Thalia. I love you in all the languages.”
We kiss and I feel like the world is becoming bright again, becoming right.
It’s then I notice something hard pressing against my chest. I look down and realize she’s wearing the pocket watch necklace.
“You still have that?” I whisper.
She gives me a soft, beautiful smile that makes my stomach dip. She places her fingers around it, grasping tightly. “It gave me strength when I didn’t know how to be strong.”
“Thank you for keeping it safe.” I look her over, still marveling at the fact that’s she’s here. “So are you really here? Are you staying?”
“Of course I’m staying,” she says.
“Never say of course, I can never take you for granted,” I remind her.
“I’m staying,” she repeats. “I mean, fuck, I’ve still got all my things in a storage space somewhere, if I can just remember the code.” She laughs and the sound, the feeling, is so infectious that I kiss her forehead in joy. “I just need to find a place to live and figure out where the hell I’m going to work.”
“Real Madrid has to take you back,” I tell her.
“I highly doubt that. First of all, Jose must think I’m a total flake and probably a bit of a traitor for doing what I did. Second of all, I’m with you now. I’m not hiding it. And I know the rules.”
I study her carefully. “Are you sure you want to go public with this?”
She gives me a wry smile. “Alejo, I’ve had more shit thrown my way these last few days than I have had my whole career. Everyone already fucking knows, there’s no other explanation for what I did the other day, running across the pitch like that. I mean, there are fucking memes about me, Alejo. Memes!”
“That means you’ve made it.”
“Maybe for you, though all the memes I’ve seen of you have something to do with the size of your dick.”
I grin. “I appreciate the rumors.”
“And I appreciate how those rumors are true Anyway, I’m just going to own up to it, to whatever everyone is saying. People are calling me a cougar, saying that I’m old, that you’re too young, that it’s scandalous, that it’s a rebound, that I’ve lost my damn mind. I don’t care. I really don’t. The only thing that matters is you, the rest of the world can say whatever the fuck they want to.”
“Have I ever told you that your swearing turns me on?” I murmur, smiling from ear-to-ear.
“A few times,” she says, biting her lip.
“And what did I tell you about biting your lip?”
“That it drives you crazy.”
“You know, I think you should live with me,” I tell her bluntly.
She blinks at me. “Alejo…”
“I’m serious.” I gesture to the house. “Look at how much fucking space I have. If you want to get an apartment in Madrid, that’s fine, I won’t be insulted if you leave but until then, you should stay here. With me. Where you belong.”
“You don’t think…I mean, it’s not too soon?”
“Too soon for what? I lost you once, I’m not losing you again. I love you. You belong with me, in my bed, every morning and every night. I want you to live with me.” I pause, realizing I might be coming on too strong and too fast, even though it’s hard for me not to. “Again, if you end up still wanting to live on your own downtown, close to the action, I don’t mind at all. Maybe we could even get a second place together. I have the money, you know.”
She laughs, pressing her hands on my chest. “I’m very aware of that, Alejo. And thank you.”
“Thank you, you’ll live with me?”
“You’re still persistent, aren’t you?”
“Gotta run that animal down.”
Thalia sighs, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, I guess you’ve run that animal down.”
I laugh, so happy, so overjoyed, I can’t even believe that this is my life right now. “The squirrel is back.”
She smacks me across the chest playfully. “You said I was a rare bird.”
“You’re all the things, Thalia. You’re everything.”
And right now, we have everything.
Chapter 32
Alejo
Three months later
Istanbul, Turkey
I don’t even know how it happens, but it does.
One minute we were up by one goal, courtesy of Benzema, then were down by two, Juventus scoring two in a row and leaving us to play a frantic game of catch up.
It’s the final game for the UEFA Champions League and we’re facing a team we’ve won against before. Juventus has Ronaldo now, which makes this match tricky, and the fact that the last time they played us in the final (back when we had Ronaldo), they lost, so they are out for vengeance, and to prove themselves again. They aren’t a team to be trifled with and Ronaldo keeps scoring on us, probably because he knows how we play, and he’s a fucking genius.
But he’s not getting any younger, and at
the moment, I’ve got nothing but time on my side. I’m the younger man, here.
I ignore the massive crowd gathered around us at this stadium in Istanbul, the cheering, the chanting, and I dig deeper into my tunnel vision. I know Thalia is out there on the sidelines, watching my every move, and somewhere up in that dark sky above, my father is looking down on me.
I need to make them both proud.
I need to make the team proud.
I need to make myself proud.
I double down, drown out the world, and connect to the game.
It takes a bit, a lot of back and forth, a lot of pressure building on both goalies.
Then I get the ball, getting it past the defender just in time to pass it to Luka, who then kicks to Rene, who appears at the right place at the right time.
My heart is in my throat as he kicks it in.
GOOAAALLLL!
I leap up, fisting pumping before running across the pitch and jumping onto Rene’s back, hamming it up, playing up the crowd who is going wild.
Getting there.
We’re still getting there.
We keep going, buoyed by the goal and I’m buoyed by the idea of winning and what that exactly means for me tonight.
It means more than anyone can know.
Juventus get the ball but our goalie makes a great save, nearly soaring higher than the net itself, and then it’s back to us.
Luciano passes me the ball and I start running faster, whipping past the defenders, using my arm to brush them off and hoping the ref doesn’t make note of it.
I kick it to the goal.
It bounces off the post.
I don’t even have time to react because it bounces back toward Luciano who is running to it, just as a Juventus player runs right into him, pushing him down.
Luciano tumbles, rolling over and holding his shoulder, and everyone in the crowd gasps, half of the crowd whistling for the penalty.
Thankfully, Luciano gets to his knees and gets back up, shrugging his shoulder, while the ref starts reprimanding the player who pushed him.
We get a penalty kick.
In these cases, Luciano is the one who usually takes them.
The Younger Man: A Novel Page 40
