Dezanove Estrelas

Cristiano stared intently at his reflection in the mirror. His all black suit was tailored to perfection. His hair done perfectly. And his posture, tall and confident. His hands, at the moment were busy tying his white tie. Though he may have looked composed in the mirror, inside, he was nothing but a nervous wreck.

His heart was pounding, his palms were sweating, and his breathing was out of control. Needless to say he was scared. Though he tried to forget, and though every one of his peers tried to convince him otherwise, he still could not forgive himself for all that has happened: Camilla’s endeavored childbirth, especially, and for the days, weeks and months prior.

He sighed, took a deep breath and tried to picture life ahead. After today everything will be different. Much, much different.

A knock was sounded at the door and a minister of the church snuck his head through the open door, “Quince minutos Sr. Ronaldo. Entonces el servicio empezará.” (“Fifteen minutes Mr. Ronaldo. Then the service will begin.”)

Cris nodded his head and thanked the man. It was only him in this small church office. He had spent the last hour greeting guests outside, all dressed for this formal occasion.

Once Cristiano’s tie had finished he took a seat on one of the leather chairs of the room.

One. Two. Three.

He counted silently to himself.

One. Two. Three.

There was another knock at the door, Cristiano called to whoever was on the other side, to just come on in. His back was to the door, so he did not know who had entered until he heard the soothing sound of his mother’s angelic voice, followed by a baby’s tiny whimper. Cris immediately smiled and stood from his seat to greet his mother and son.

“Cristiano,” his mother whispered, so as not to irritate the child more, “Ele tem estado alvoroçando-se todo o dia, e ele dobra o seu terno.” (“he has been fussing all day, and he is wrinkling his suit.”)

Cris only smiled and took his son from his mother’s arms, “Ele só quer ir para casa. Ele teve um muito longa e semana cansativa.” (“he only wants to go home. He’s had a very long and tiring week.”)

Cristiano sat down, and tried to settle down the little boy in his arms, while his mother sat beside him on the arm of the chair. “¿Entonces cómo hace usted?” (“So how are you doing?”) she asked Cristiano.

“Bueno.”

But Dolores wasn’t having it, she raised her brow in disbelief. “Realmente? O nada rolando por sua mente agora mesmo?” (“Really? Nothing rolling through your mind right now?”) Cris just shrugged as he tried to get his son to stop fidgeting. He honestly had nothing to voice. Even if he had, he probably wouldn’t voice it out loud. His mother rolled her eyes at her son and went to pick up her grandson, but Cris shook his head.

“A mamã, eu posso ter algumas palavras com meu filho, rápido, antes que o serviço começa?” (“Mom, can I have a few words with my son, quick, before the service begins?”)

Dolores kissed Cristiano on the forehead, “Você pode ter tantas palavras como você gostaria de com seu filho.” (“you may have as many words as you’d like with your son.”) she whispered softly, before exiting the room.

Cristiano sighed, and stared down at the baby in his arms. Big, brown eyes, identical to his own, bore back to Cris. “Você pronto para isto?” (“You ready for this?”) he asked his son. Still in his infancy, this child before him had a nearly full head of hair, and a continuously developing body and face. When he was first born, he looked so similar to Cristiano but now, and everyday, he began to look more and more like his mother - which is exactly what Cris wants.

He stood with his baby still in arms, “Eu sei que coisas não foram fáceis em você ultimamente, mas deste atacante de dia, eles estarão melhores. Depois de hoje, tudo será melhor filho. Eu prometo.” (“I know things have not been easy on you lately, but from this day forward, they will be better. After today, everything will be better son. I promise.”)

A knock sounded at the door. Dolores once again popped into the room, “Cristiano, é tempo.” (“Cristiano, it’s time.”) She walked over to take the baby. A single tear slipped from his mother’s eye. “Você pronto?” (“You ready?”)

Cris nodded, “Tão pronto quanto eu pode ser mamãe.” (“As ready as I can be.”)

-X-

The three bodies exited the tiny office and walked into the mass area of the church. Bodies filled the room. A minister stood at the front. He smiled at Cristiano as Cris approached him. The anxiety he had felt earlier, was now heightened to a tenfold.

The voices sifted away as the violins sounded. The room full of guests stood as the front doors of the church opened. One by one, selected persons walked down the aisle to where Cristiano and the pastor stood. Whispers could be heard. Oohs and ahhs. But all Cris could think about was his breathing.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Until finally, the one person he had been waiting for appeared in the doorway. The light from outside framed her body, creating a luminescent glow. Her white gown made her tan skin pop in the most wonderful way. And her smile, well, it lit the room. Never in his life, had Cristiano Ronaldo seen a more beautiful woman, than Camilla-Rey Verano. He figured, heaven had to be just like this.

Camilla walked, ever so slowly up to the alter. Step by step, by step. It was almost agonizing for Cris to watch, but soon enough she stood by his side, where she mouthed an innocent “te amo” to him - which he returned.

The guests took their seats once Camilla reached the alter. Now, it began. Cristiano held her hands in his, as the priest began the ceremony. Cris tried to focus, he really did, but he just couldn’t. It was like his mind was on overload - just like it was ten minutes ago when he was talking to his son.

Just one month ago, Cristiano had almost lost Camilla during the birth of their boy. Now, she was healthier than ever. And now, the two stood at the head of this Spanish Church surrounded by both of their families, that are about to become one.

Before either even knew it, the priest had finished their vows, they had done the rings and it was time for the “I Do’s”.

“Cristiano Ronaldo Dos Santos Aveiro, le hace toma a esta mujer, Camilla-Rey Verano como su esposa. Para tener y tener. En la enfermedad y en la salud. ¿La muerte de la caja le hace parte?” (“Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro, do you take this woman, Camilla-Rey Verano as your wife. To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. Till death do you part?”)

Cris gave Camilla toothy grin and told her, more so than the priest, “Hago.”

Then the pastor turned to Camilla, “Y le hace, Camilla-Rey Verano toma a este hombre, Cristiano Ronaldo Dos Santos Aveiro, como su huband. Para tener y tener. En la enfermedad y en la salud. ¿La muerte de la caja le hace parte?” (“And do you, Camilla-Rey Verano take this man, Cristiano Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro, as your huband. To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. Till death do you part?”)

Without hesitation, Camilla told Cristiano, “Hago.”

The holy man before them closed his bible and spoke to the church, “Por el poder invertido en mí, a favor del señor Todopoderoso, las damas y caballeros, yo soy complacido para presentar a usted, el Sr. y Sra. Cristiano Ronaldo. Los gritos, puede besar a su novia.” (“By the power invested in me, on behalf of the lord almighty, ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Cristiano Ronaldo. Cris, you may kiss your bride.)

Cheers roared and claps thundered. Cristiano’s hand went to Camilla’s cheek as he pulled her in slowly. Camilla’s hand pressed lightly to his chest and the couple had kissed, for the first time, as Mister and Missus. They pulled away slowly and turned to their closest friends and family. Never had either been any more happy.

Cris and Camilla walked down the aisle, hand in hand, out to the limousine that would drive them to their destination. Rice was thrown over their heads. Balloons and confetti flew. It was like their own little parade.

Reaching the limo Cris opened the door for his wife, but before she stepped in, she turned to Dolores - who stood right behind her, holding a smiling baby. Camilla took the child, kissed his forehead, thanked Dolores and got into the limo. Their guests still cheered as Cristiano waved to them all. He gave his mom a quick hug before following Camilla into the vehicle.

Inside there was champagne, and glasses. But Camilla sat stretched over their son who looked ready to pass out from the excitement.

The separation window between the back and front rolled down, revealing their driver. “¿A dónde?” (“Where to?”)

Cris looked to his beautiful wife, “La recepción no comienza por otras tres horas.” (“The reception doesn’t start for another three hours.”)

Silence between them. In any other, normal, newlywed situation, the thing to do, would be go and make passionate love. But in true Cristiano and Camilla fashion, that was not their case. A tiny whimper from the child between them gave the answer. Camilla looked over at the driver, “En casa por favor.” (“home please.”)

-X-

Cris and Camilla now lie I their bed, son between the, sleeping soundly. “Había estado agitándose todo el día.” (“He had been fussing all day.”) Cris whispered.

“¿Como usted como un bebé, no?” (“Just like you as a baby, no?”) Camilla chuckled.

Cris gave her a playful girl and leaned over to place a soft, gentle kiss to Camilla’s temple. She smiled - then yawned. “Tired?” Cris asked. She nodded, shifting her position so she was now lying on her side completely. “Duerma Camilla. Puedo cuidar de él, y yo le despertaré cuando sea tiempo para la recepción.” (“Sleep Camilla. I can take care of him, and I will wake you when it’s time for the reception.”)

Camilla didn’t fight it. She’d had a very long month. And now, she could relax. She closed her eyes and let sleep take over.

The couple did not speak after that. All that they needed was right there. Their son. Their wedding bands. Their love. Their wishes and dreams had come true. After nearly a year full of tears and heartache…everything was finally in its place.