It's A Game, But Who's Keeping Score?

I hastily packed my bags, the wedding was currently going on without me and Fernando would be married to Olalla. Which left me to be alone forever. I guess my life was just supposed to be one big mess.

The cab honked its horn signalling it was here, I quickly wrote a note down to Pepe and Yolanda explaining why I had left the wedding and their home so abruptly. I just needed to get away; Spain was suffocating me. If I left Spain I wouldn’t have to see any wedding or baby pictures from Fernando and Olalla. Maybe I would go back to England, rent out a hotel room. No, that wouldn’t do anything for me.

I needed to go home.

“Mama?” I cried into the phone, standing in the middle of the Pearson International Airport in Toronto.

“Rebecca, niño,” my grandmother cooed to me. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you or abuelo come pick me up from the airport?”

“Of course dear, just sit tight.”

I nodded my head although my grandmother couldn’t see me, I quickly said goodbye and relaxed into one of the airport couches. My grandparents on my mother’s side had always been there for me, especially since both my parents had passed away. I think my grandmother understood why I had basically run away after my father had died; my mother had died in a car accident just before I started high school and got into soccer.

I was surprised when my grandmother’s small frame wrapped me into a tight squeeze, I could feel the tears soaking my shoulder from where she cried. I had been away for almost 3 years. “You mustn’t do that ever again,” she attempted to scold me, but started to cry more.

“Family is here to stay, always child,” my grandfather said, his deep voice bringing me back to my childhood.

“Can we go home?” I whispered.

My grandmother nodded furiously, “Where you will tell us everything that has happened. I mean everything.”

For the next two weeks, I basically spilled my life story (or rather what had happened in the past 3 years) to my grandparents. It started off slowly, certain topics were touchy; like Kevin and the cutting incident in Vienna. By the end of the two weeks, my grandparents couldn’t believe that their own grand-daughter was a famous soccer player. To them, I was still the girl that came over for Friday night dinners and played dolls on their living room floor.

“Do you still have the medal?” my grandfather asked one day, his brown eyes penetrating mine.

“I-I think so,” I stuttered, before running off to my room. I rummaged through my suitcases before landing on the pocket where I had stored the medal. I pulled it out delicately and out fell a letter that I had forgotten had come with it. I unfolded it slowly and almost burst into tears.

Dear Rebecca,
This belongs to you.
Take good care.
Don't be a stranger.
- Sergio

I walked back to the living room where my grandparents sat in their respective chairs. “Here,” I said, handing my grandfather the medal. His eyes grew a little bigger and seemed to shine a little bit more. He ran his fingers over every inch and inspected it several times over.

“Your father would be proud,” was all he said.

“As would your mother,” my grandmother added. “I forgot to tell you, a friend called earlier today when you went out for your run.”

I looked at my abeula confused, who could possibly be calling me at my grandparent’s house? Nobody knew I was even here and no one even knew the number. I took the piece of paper from my grandmother and called the number.

“Rebecca!”

“Sergio?” I gasped, “How in the world did you manage to find me?”

“I have my ways,” he laughed. “But I have another reason for calling. I need you to get on a plane to South Africa right now.”

“What?!” I nearly screamed into the phone.

“The ticket is waiting for you at the front desk under your name. Hurry! Your plane leaves in four hours!”

And then all I heard was a dial tone, I hung up the phone and looked at my grandparents who wore matching smiles. “I have a feeling you two were in on this…”

“Go pack your bags dear, you have a plane to catch,” my grandmother said, ushering me up the stairs.

And that is why I currently sat on an airplane for a twenty hour flight to Johannesburg, South Africa. I trusted Sergio way too much. I wasn’t exactly sure why Sergio picked South Africa for me to fly to. For the two weeks I spent at my grandparent’s house; I hadn’t read any newspapers, watched absolutely no television and didn’t go on the computer once.

I needed an escape from reality.

A driver greeted me in the foyer of the airport and took me to a very fancy hotel where I received a key for one of the many suites. The bellhop tipped his hat at me and then quickly left the room. As I sat down on one of the many couches, I heard a crinkling noise. I shuffled over and saw a hand-written note along with a personalized soccer jersey.

You’re probably going to hate me for this, but I couldn’t stand to see Fernando like this.
There is a table going to be waiting for you in the hotel restaurant, put on your best dress.
Also, there is a ticket waiting for you at the front desk to our game against South Africa tomorrow.
I’m doing this for you.
- Sergio

I didn’t understand what was happening; Sergio brought me all the way to South Africa to watch him play soccer. And what did he mean he couldn’t stand to see Fernando like this. Like what? He should be happily married with a new child. I realized that I had trusted Sergio enough to fly all the way here that by having dinner with him wouldn’t hurt.

I jumped in the shower quickly and slipped on one of the hotel bathrobes. I then proceeded to dump my suitcases in search of my tye-dye mini dress with a pair strappy heels, a simple black clutch and several red bracelets. I sweeped on several layers of mascara and dabbed on some lip gloss and smiled in the mirror.

The restaurant was fairly full and as soon as I told the Maître d' my name, I was whisked off to one of the best tables in the restaurant. Sergio wasn’t there yet, so I studied the menu several times over.

“Rebecca, you look amazing.”

I looked up to see Sergio, who looked equally as amazing in a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt with several of the buttons undone revealing his chiselled chest. I mumbled a thank you and quickly kissed his cheek.

“That was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled at the wedding,” he said, his eyes never leaving the menu.

My jaw fell along with the menu, “And what would you have done?”

“Proclaimed my love for Fernando and give him no choice but to choose me.”

“It wasn’t that simple,” I said, gnawing on my bottom lip. “Can we not talk about him? Let’s just talk about us.”

Sergio nodded, but the look in his eyes told me otherwise. The night pasted quickly and soon we were walking back to my room, our arms entwined.

“So are you staying in the same hotel?” I asked, searching my purse for my key.

“Of course, just on another floor. The whole team is actually here.”

“And by the whole team, do you mean –”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence as my hotel room door swung open to reveal a path of rose petals. Sergio didn’t say anything, but rather nudged me in the direction of the path. I stumbled forward, cursing myself for wearing heels. The lights were dimmed down, I could hardly see anything or rather anyone in the room. I followed the rose petal path through the common room to the bedroom where they ended just outside the balcony.

I reached for the handle and slowly pulled the door back to reveal Fernando, in all his Spanish glory. His attire was simple; a pair of black pants paired with a baby blue dress shirt that seemed to make his hair look even more blonde. He was currently looking down at his hands, playing with the ring that he always wore on his right ring finger.

“Fernando?” I choked out.

His head snapped up, his eyes meeting mine instantly. He reached out for my hand, but I stood my ground. Fernando shook his head and then turned to look out at the city. I walked beside him, leaning against the railing trying to put the maximum distance between us.

“I don’t know if anything I say tonight will change what has happened this past year,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the city before us.

“I still can’t believe that you walked out on me…” he trailed off, bringing a hand up to his face.

I opened my mouth to explain why I walked out on him, but he continued to speak.

“I guess that makes up for me walking out on Olalla soon after.”

My world came crashing down around me, Fernando’s words echoing in my head over and over again. Fernando turned to look at me and brought a hand up to wipe the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I pushed his hand away slightly.

“I don’t deserve your sympathy; I ruined your perfect life. I don’t understand why you would ever want to see me again,” I snapped.

Fernando chuckled and then smiled at me. “It’s what you said to me that day that made me walk away from Olalla. You told me that it was a good thing we weren’t getting married, because all we would do is fight.”

I looked at Fernando confused, “I don’t understand.”

“I’d rather fight with you than be madly in love with a million girls,” Fernando said barely above a whisper. His eyes gleamed when he said this; his hands fumbled with each other, something he did when he wanted to hold hands.

I slowly stepped forward, slipping my hands into his; never once taking my eyes off his. “The media is going to have a field day with this story,” I said jokingly.

“Too bad, because I’ve already won the game,” Fernando chuckled, before crashing his lips onto mine for a well-deserved kiss.