No One Knows

His eyes were vacant and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Truthfully, I didn’t want to know but curiosity got the best of me. Iker threw his head on the back of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. I felt ashamed for even thinking about the possibility of adoption, but it was for the best. Fernando was in no condition to become a father… and I couldn’t be a mother on my own.

I had gone through the emotional distress of divorce when I was younger. Although they had claimed I had nothing to do with the separation, I knew that somewhere behind the lies and fake smiles it was. My father had left my mother, claiming that she had changed after they had gotten married. I had always thought that change was good, I didn’t see anything wrong with her… but that was just an excuse for my father. My mother had suffered a mild depression, becoming recluse. The divorce had bitten her harder than my father, but I never resented him for leaving. Overtime, my mother became an alcoholic. Every chance she had she would toss toxic words my way, complaining how everything had been perfect before I was born. Of course, she would always apologize the next morning, coaxing me into believing she would seek help. She never did.

Even at the age of five I knew she was intentionally killing herself. Hesitant to leave my mom, the courts had ordered that I live with my father until she was showing signs of recovery. Through my struggle to get out of the grip of my father, she had promised me she would get better for me, for us. And I waited like an idiot. Three years and four nannies later, one of them had become my step-mother. This only added on to my fucked up family dynamic. It didn’t bother me as much as I had expected. I grew to love Anna as my own mother and I had gained a half-brother, who ran off to live in the States when he had participated in an exchange student program. My dad was ecstatic to gain a son to reign the family name, albeit I was still his first born. He was disappointed when Liam chose to live thousands of miles away, but he was living his dream in California.

After I graduated high school, I saw my mother for the first time in years. Her blonde hair was stringy, her skin pale as death. She was not the same woman that had given birth to me. Her voice was dry and raspy from the cigarettes and drugs that was digested inside of her body. I wanted to cry from the scene but bit back my tears, ignoring the woman that had promised me years ago that she would get better before my ballet recital. Though, that didn’t pan out correctly.

What hurt the most was the secret she had told me the day before I was taken away. Through her constant battle with staying sober, she had told me she was pregnant. She kept drinking and smoking anyways, as if intentionally trying to kill the growing baby inside of her. I didn’t have the heart to tell my dad, he didn’t need to know how ill my mother was becoming. I never knew what happened to the child growing inside her, my ties with her severed the day the moving vans pulled up in front of the old Victorian house I called home.

My dad never spoke of my mom. It wasn’t that he was ashamed; he just didn’t want to rehash wounds that weren’t fully healed. I had lead Fernando to believe that Anna was my biological mother, diverting him away as much as I could from the truth. I ultimately spilled everything, telling him my life story from the beginning. He sat there, letting the words sink into him. He didn’t know what to say or what to do but just hug and kiss me. I mean, what could you do if you’ve been presented by the sadistic realities of some marriages? I didn’t blame him if he wanted to leave but he stayed, holding onto me the entire night.

It had been a turning point for the both of us after I had opened up to him. He knew something was holding me back, pushing me into telling him or else he couldn’t see us going any further in our relationship. My initial reaction to Fernando’s pushing was that he was being insensitive and not respecting my personal issues. It took me awhile to realize what I would be losing if I didn’t put all my trust in him. I didn’t want to live a life like my mother’s, it hurt me to even think she was still out there numbing away her pain with whatever substance her hands could get a hold on.

When I had gotten pregnant, I knew things were going to be different. The fear inside of me overruled my senses of telling Fernando, and it didn’t help that he was so distant at the time. Finding out the reason why, I felt my heart being shattered and I know knew the pain my mother felt.

It was unbearable.

Fernando chased after me, stopping a few inches behind me when I told him I was pregnant. He looked down at my stomach, before shaking his head and walking away as fast as he could. The breakup wasn’t as painful as the fact he wanted nothing to do with his unborn child. I didn’t play him out to be a heartless bastard, but at the moment he was. I walked away, completely heartbroken and emotionally unstable.

I lied to everyone, even my best friends, about Fernando’s acknowledgment of our baby. I did it to keep him from looking like the bad person. Deep down, I still cared for him, even if he was taking my love for granted. There wasn’t a need to tarnish his reputation and his image with a love child. It made things simpler for the public to know he broke away from just me, not me and the baby.

With Fernando’s dismissal, I wasn’t sure of what to do anymore. There was hope my streak of bad luck would end with him and this baby, but it only escalated. Thoughts of how I was raised kept reeling in my head as I thought of my own future feats with this baby. The saying ‘like mother, like daughter’ replayed over and over like a broken record, my stomach clenched at the very thought of becoming my mother. I would not become her, I wouldn’t… but only time would tell.

My entire life was full of voids and deception. I had put my trust in people too much and too quickly. My mother was a different story, after all, she was my mom. She didn’t give me a reason not to trust her. Fernando had entered my life at a time I had finally forgiven my mother for the things she had done to me. The trust I had in him came from his understanding of who I was. He never judged me, only inspired me to move on and make a name for myself.

He wanted me to be someone. But my era was done.

▲▼

Iker and I were far from done with the conversation, I knew he would be persuading me later on tonight to keep the baby and raise it. Maral had finally finished making dinner by the time of my confession. I tried to stay as positive as I could; not letting Iker’s disapproving looks get to me. The conversation shifted from Spanish to English, for the sake of Megan. She was still getting lessons from a nearby school and Iker, but she still had some problems understanding.

“Are you all packed up for South Africa, Han?” Megan asked, forking a piece of potato into her mouth. Maral looked over at me, frowning as she realized I had nothing with me except for the clothes that were going through the wash.

“We’re going shopping tomorrow for the trip, you coming?” My head snapped up as Megan nodded her head frantically at a smiling Maral. I had no money to go shopping and I was in no position to take money from Sergio or Iker.

“Well. While you girls are shopping, Iker and I will go golfing one last time before we leave,” Maral rolled her eyes at a smirking Sergio. I laughed, knowing that if soccer wasn’t Sergio’s passion he would’ve became a professional golfer instead.

“Just don’t kill him before the World Cup, please,” Megan voiced, pecking a small kiss on Iker’s cheek. He smiled lovingly at her, laying his hand over her smaller ones.

“Golfing is the least contact sport ever, nena,” Iker and Sergio laughed as Megan pouted next to him.

The rest of dinner was hilarious with Sergio imitating Iker’s fairy like jump when he dove for the ball during practice. My gut was in pain from all the laughing I had done and it was the first time in months I have felt this content. The boys sat back as we picked up the plates and leftovers back into the kitchen. Iker looking at me like he wanted to finish the conversation now before he and Megan had to leave. I stalled as much as I could, asking to wash the dishes or putting away leftovers but Maral shooed me away to sit down and relax. I huffed, grabbing onto Iker’s arm and dragging him through the patio doors that connected with the kitchen.

I sat down in the wooden chair, looking over at the clear glistening water of the pool below. Iker put a hand on my shoulder, taking a seat next to me as he opened his mouth to speak but closed it back up again.

“Sabes lo que siento por adopción. Es asombroso, realmente lo es pero… ¿Por qué renunciar a algo tan precioso?” (You know how I feel about adoption. It’s amazing, it really is but… Why give up something so precious?) I bit my lip, understanding what he was saying. I knew there would be a chance that I would grow attached to this baby once it was born. Adoption had just been a thought and not an actual action.

“I’m scared," I muttered, playing with the thread hanging from the bottom of the shirt I had borrowed from Maral.

“How do you think I felt when I asked Megan to marry me? Shit, I was scared, but I asked anyways because I loved her and I know you love the baby," I smiled, hearing the sensitive side that Iker shared with only the best of us.

“How did you know that she was the one for you?" Iker looked over at me, a glint in his eye as I asked. He laughed, shaking his head as he turned her head to look at the gorgeous brunette in the kitchen. She was giggling at something Maral was saying, her smile almost reaching her eyes.

“Look at her, she is perfect. When she told me I had to learn English to go out with her thought she was crazy. But I did it," I laughed, knowing the hardship of how that relationship started.

“I wish all men were romantic as you," his laughter echoed through the air, splitting through the atoms so almost all of Madrid can hear him.

“Usted no necesita el hombre para hacerte feliz,” (You don’t need a man to make you happy) I half smiled at him, rolling my eyes at his attempt to cheer me up. I had only grown up to know that with the support of a man, your life would be happy. My mother was living proof.

“I don’t want to be like my mom,” my lips quivered from the thought, my eyes slightly watering from the painful memories of my childhood living with her.

“You will be better than her!" He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, letting the tears fall slowly down my flustered cheeks. “Estará mejor que ella.” He repeated again in Spanish, rocking us a little to calm me down.

“Espero que sí,” (I hope so) I muttered, wrapping my arms around myself, protecting myself from the slight chill of the wind.

“You’ll be fine, mi querido. Besides, I want to be an uncle so I can teach him the secrets to being the best goalkeeper," Iker smirked as I laughed at his reason for me having the baby. Iker would probably be the closest thing this baby would have to a father figure.

We both stopped laughing, letting the silence roam. It was nice to not say words but to be outside and enjoy the quiet. With the chaotic life of being a footballer, I’m sure these were the times that Iker had enjoyed the most. Rubbing my stomach, I knew I was going to be okay. I had to be strong.

It was crazy to believe that I was going to keep this baby. A baby that I was in no condition to be taking care of with my position of being both homeless and jobless. But I knew that with friends like Iker, came support.

And that’s what I needed the most right now.

▲▼

I woke up alarmed the next morning; the unfamiliar blue sheets were ripped away from my legs, suddenly realizing I was in Sergio and Maral’s home. I got up, walking over to the beautiful ornate balcony doors to see the sun barely rising over the horizon. The warm wind whipped at any exposed skin and the smell of fresh cut grass filled my senses. I could get used to living here, in my own home looking out my own window in my own bedroom.

The future seemed so far away and it was. I still had four months to settle myself in the Spanish country before the baby was born. Maral and Sergio had insisted I stay as long as I could, Iker and Megan and some of the guys on Real had offered me a room to live in. I refused, I wanted to stand on my own two feet, and I needed this to assure I would be okay. I wasn’t trying to push everyone out of my life; I just wanted to do the right thing.

I walked down the stairs, carefully taking each step as the smell of pancakes and bacon invaded my nose. Maral slaved over the stove, making sure that Sergio had something to eat before he went golfing with Iker today. I took a seat in the stool next to Sergio, grabbing a part of the paper he was reading and started skimming what was headlined today.

My mouth tingled from the delicious pancakes that Maral had made, the baby agreed as well, my mouth salivating over inviting the taste once more onto my tongue. I took another bite, turning the page and meticulously looked at the small printed words. Sergio ate most of my food, claiming that the baby would be obese if I ate the three pieces of bacon on my plate. I rolled my eyes, handing them over to him anyways as he pumped his fist in triumph.

Iker walked through the door a few minutes later, sporting a baseball cap, light yellow polo and khakis. Sergio had decided differently, sporting a pink polo and plaid pants that Maral had begged him not to wear. I couldn’t help but laugh every time he and Maral would fight over his choice in fashion. But in the end, he always won.

The boys left for their outing, meeting some of their other teammates at the golf course. I showered quickly, slipping on the dress I had worn to Spain. It was now clean and I didn’t feel as self-conscious wearing it.

“Sergio is giving you his card to use for the day, Iker too,” my eyes widened as I saw the large smiles of the girls. I shook my head, denying any kind of money that was coming from them.

“They want you to have it. Let us help you, please,” Megan pleaded, biting her lower lip as she poked her head in between the driver and passenger seat. I sighed, looking out the window.

“Why wouldn’t they tell me themselves? I feel like a moocher,” I muttered under my breath, opening the visor mirror to check out my reflection.

“You’re not. They love you and want you back to your normal self again,” Maral reasoned as her eyes stayed glued to the road. I wanted to be my normal self again, but that was going to take some time.

Maral stopped in front of a Gucci, claiming that Sergio wanted her to pick up his sunglasses before we started maxing out his card. I laughed, knowing I wasn’t going to take advantage of that card. She ran back out, a small bag in hand as she softly tossed it in the empty seat next to Megan.

The shops we had gone to were overpriced, typical WAG shops. I had grown up living in luxury, but I had that taken away within a second. I never took it for granted, I often yelled at Fernando for buying me things I didn’t need but insisted I should keep anyways. He had done this until it all suddenly stopped and I figured he had gotten the clue, only to realize he was doing it for the other girl.

I had nothing and I was starting anew. I grabbed some maternity dresses, skinny jeans, and tops. I didn’t go too overboard with spending like Megan and Maral had as tempting as it was. They had a reason to, those men were working to support their women, even though Maral was an assistant physician for Real.

It was a beautiful day and I was glad we had parked and decided to walk through the plaza of shops. My eyes landed on a store I had noticed when we first walked past it. I quietly snuck away from the girls that were fawning over diamond necklaces in a showcase box, crossing the street to reach my destination. My eyes trailed the beautiful dark cherry wood crib, and the little blankets that were draped over it. I walked into the shop, instantly greeted by a mother and daughter that looked alike. I smiled, my hands touching the plush teddy bears and blankets that were on display.

My breath caught in my throat as I caught sight of a Spanish ‘Torres’ jersey that was turned into a onesie. I blinked back the tears, my fingers threading through soft fabric.

“That has been quite popular, flying off the shelves as quickly as they were put in,” an older woman said from beside me. I turned noticing it was the mother in the front; she looked at my lower stomach, smiling as if she knew I was pregnant. My dress had done well to hide my protruding belly but then again no normal woman would stop by a baby shop, fawning over everything.

“How far along are you?” She asked sweetly, fixing the t-shirts on a table next to me.

“About five months,” I smiled, palming my stomach automatically. The woman cooed, going on about how great child birth was, even though it was a pain. I laughed at her stories, respecting the woman for being a single mother since she was seventeen. It gave me hope that things would turn for the better and I couldn’t wait for this baby to come.

Looking at the time, I cursed silently to my myself as my eyes peered through the clear windows of the shop to see Maral and Megan distressed and panicky. I turned back to the old woman, uttering a goodbye before walking outside into the humid air to find a flustered Megan. Maral came stomping over, her eyes glaring holes into my face as I gave her an innocent smile.

“Where did you go?” Megan asked, the only one calm between the two of them.

“That baby shop over there,” I said pointing behind me, her eyes softened as she saw the happiness in my face. Maral was still a little upset but got over it quickly as she huffed and dragged us into the next store. By the fifth dress that I tried on, I quit, taking a seat that sat in front of the dressing rooms. My ankles were swelling up, my back starting to ache, and everything I had tried on made me look like a whale.

The joys of pregnancy.

I was spent and done with shopping. Tomorrow the guys were leaving for South Africa and the wives and girlfriends would be leaving the day after tomorrow. I didn’t understand why, but it was the only time they were all able to fly down together. I felt so out of place coming to the realization that I was neither a wife nor girlfriend. I was just a friend.

I had passed out in the car on the way back to the house, the trees and buildings passing by increased my nausea as I laid back and tried to settle my stomach by relaxing. I didn’t realize we had stopped and groaned as Megan shook me, trying to wake me up. Maral laughed, calling for Sergio to help carry me inside the house.

It was a few minutes later I felt my body being cradled into a chiseled chest. My body was limp and I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn’t allow me to. Sergio wheezed his way up the stairs as Maral laughed, watching her football boyfriend have trouble walking up the stairs without falling back down.

The chattering had ceased when light tried peaking through my closed eyes. It was too quiet; I didn’t understand what was going on until Sergio stopped moving, laughing nervously. What was going on?

“What is he doing here?” Megan asked, her voice snippy, someone shushed her which I assumed to be Iker.

“Lo creas o no. Tengo amigos en España, chica,” (Believe it or not. I have friends in Spain, chica) If I my eyes were open, I would have rolled them.

“¿Ella está bien?” (Is she okay?) Fernando’s voice was filled with worry as I heard him step closer to Sergio and me.

“Sí,” Maral replied.

It was quiet again and even though I was faking sleep I could feel the tension in the air. It was so thick I’m sure a knife couldn’t cut through it. There wasn’t a reason for him to be here unless it was to rub in my face the girl that was following him like a lost puppy. He knew I would be here; there weren’t many places that I would be willing to stay. My father’s house was the last place I wanted to be. I loved him but I left to be on my own.

“Voy a traer al piso de arriba.” (I’ll bring her upstairs) I was silently screaming for him not to touch me but Sergio handed me off into Fernando’s arms. His body was warm and the hardness of his muscles could be felt through the thin cotton wall. I felt a comfort smelling the cologne I had grown to love, a small inhale and I was goo in his hands. I unconsciously nuzzled myself further into his body, my face rubbing against his shirt as he carried me up the stairs slowly, as if taking his time to let me go. Though, that was probably my imagination.

I felt my back hit the plush comforter of the guest bed, the other side sinking in beside me as I laid there. I heard him sigh as he pushed back the hair that covered my face, kissing my forehead before he leaned back on the headboard. I could feel his gaze on my body and it sent a jolt through my body.

“Lo siento, nena,” (I’m sorry, baby) he whispered quietly, his hand placed itself on my stomach. I turned away from his touch, turning my face away from him to save him from seeing the tears.

He got back up, heading towards the door muttering something under his breath before closing the door all the way. My eyes snapped open as I sat up, running a hand under my eyes to dry the tears that spilt. A loud thump came from the other side of the door, my heart pounded from the startling noise. I got up from my spot, heading towards the door hearing deep voices yelling quietly to each other.

“¿Por qué estás aquí?” (Why are you here?) Iker asked venomously, no doubt his hands in fist ready for the blow.

“Te lo dije...” (I told you) Fernando started, but was cut off from being shoved again, harder this time making the door clatter violently.

“No. La verdadera razón,” (No. The real reason) I was waiting for the answer as well. I was as curious as the next person as to why he was gallivanting around Madrid.

“Me importa para ella,” (I care for her) I had heard that more than once already and I have yet to believe him. He hasn’t given me a reason to prove him wrong.

“¿Es así? Si usted se preocupa por ella se le dejara en paz,” (Is that so? If you care for her you will leave her alone) I didn’t hear any sounds afterwards, except for the deep breaths from who I assumed to be Fernando. He sometimes had a short temper and I’m sure that Iker telling him what to do was not making the situation any better.

“No te puedo prometer eso.” (I can’t promise that) I kept my gasp in as I stepped away from the door as Fernando pulled himself from Iker’s grip and down the stairs, leaving Iker to stand in front of my bedroom. I walked backwards; not stopping until I felt the back of my legs hit the bed.

What had he meant by that? He had to be the most confusing man, ever. He left me and the baby to be with a leggy model that made the front pages of almost every fashion magazine.

What more did he want from me?