Dezanove Estrelas

Camilla got up off the floor and slowly made her way to the backyard of hers and Cristiano’s massive home. She walked pass the living area, pass the kitchen, pass many other rooms that just seemed so unimportant, before getting to the floor to ceiling glass doors. She opened them with a slight force from her frustration, and stepped out into the cool España breeze.

Their home was located in the most perfect spot; it sat atop a peak in Madrid. It overlooked the entire city. The view was amazing, both during the day and at night.

Usually, just standing out in the back would easily calm her nerves and stresses. But tonight was different. Way different. The light breeze felt like a blizzard. She was so cold. And the silence of the night was banging in her ears. She couldn’t think. And the fresh air was suffocating. She felt her chest tightening, and she just couldn’t breathe.

“¿Qué falló?” (“What went wrong?”) she cried softly to herself.

She honestly wanted to know where things went wrong. Camilla was a good, honest, Spanish woman. She loved and respected her mother. She cared for her family. She attended church regularly, followed the rules, avoided confrontation as best she could. She finished school, has a degree in Fashion: Business and Merchandising and now has her own booming clothing line.

Camilla was supposed to feel on top of the world…but that wasn’t the case.

She wiped her tears quickly before going back inside. Well, she wasn’t just going to let Cristiano go. She found her cell phone and quickly dialed his number. No answer. She expected that though. She sighed, listening to his voicemail:

“Ei. Isto é Cristiano. Não sou posso responder o telefone agora mesmo. Ligue de novo mais tarde. Agradece. Tchau.” (“Hey. This is Cristiano. I'm can't answer the phone right now. Call back later. Thanks. Bye.”)

Camilla smiled slightly from hearing his Portuguese. She loved the language when it came from his mouth. Though it was similar to Spanish - which was her first language - she had a trouble understanding Cristiano when they had first met. Of course though, he was pretty fluent in Spanish, so he understood her perfectly. When the beep sounded, she took a deep breath, before speaking.

“Oi mel. Por favor volte para casa. Isto é importante. Você não só pode sair em protesto como isto. Somente voltemos para casa, conversaremos coisas fora. Por favor Cristiano. Tchau. Amo-o.” (“Hi honey. Please come home. This is important. You can’t just walk out like this. Just come home, we’ll talk things out. Please Cristiano. Bye. I love you.”)

And she hit end. She left about another, five or six messages like that. Then she sent him six more texts. Frustrated and tired, she decided it was time for bed.

Walking up the stairs, she went to the master bedroom. Changing out of her high-waisted shorts, dress shirt and heels, she found herself too lazy to find actual pajamas. She walked into the walk in closet she shared with Cristiano. She found the row of jerseys he owned and slipped one on.

She walked back into their bedroom and lied down. Sighing, she reached for her phone and decided to try once more. But this time, she wasn’t calling his cell phone. She dialed the phone number, hoping that someone would pick up. After three rings, she sighed in relief.

“Oi?” (“Hello?”) the soft voice answered in Portuguese.

Camilla sniffled, “Oi Dolores. É Camilla.” (“Hi Dolores . It’s Camilla.”) Next to Camilla’s own mother Vanessa, Dolores , Cristiano’s mom, was her next best friend.

Dolores heard Camilla’s sniffle and immediately worry came to her voice. “Camilla, namorado, o que 's mal?” (“Camilla, sweetie, what‘s wrong?”)

“Ele 's ido. E não sei onde foi. Não respondeu qualquer de minhas chamadas. Eu 'm preocupou-se. Eu 'm perturba. Eu justo-eu não sei o que fazer.” (“He‘s gone. And I don’t know where he went. He hasn’t answered any of my calls. I‘m worried. I‘m upset. I just-I don’t know what to do.”)

“Tá bom, tá bom. Camilla lento para baixo. O que aconteceu?” (“Okay, okay. Camilla slow down. What happened?”) Dolores asked. Camilla breathed sharply before telling her of her night. By the time she was done, she could tell Dolores was fuming, because she began yelling in Portuguese. “Oh esse menino o receberá quando recebo as minhas mãos nele! Como ouse ele! Levantei-o melhor que isso! O bom para nada-depois que tudo eu fiz para ele, tudo que você fez para ele! Digo que nós achamo-lo e leva o seu futebol. Quebraremos as suas per-” (“Oh that boy is going to get it when I get my hands on him! How dare he! I raised him better than that! The good for nothing-after everything I’ve done for him, everything you’ve done for him! I say we find him and take his football away. We’ll break his le-”)

“Dolores !” Camilla laughed, “acalme.” (“calm down.”)

“Eu não só posso acalmar. Meu filho é idiota.” (“I can’t just calm down. My son is an idiot.”) Camilla laughed. She had also lost track of time and yawned - she was so tired. “Vá dormir Camilla. Hugo, Elma, Liliana e eu tentarei nosso melhor para achá-lo. Mas se não fazemos amanhã manhã, sabe que ele tem prática de tarde.” (“Go to sleep Camilla. Hugo, Elma, Liliana and I will try our best to find him. But if we don’t by tomorrow morning, you know he has practice in the afternoon.”)

“Sim sei. Agradeça-o Dolores.” (“Yes I know. Thank you Dolores.”) Camilla said goodnight, and decided the best thing to do was just wait till tomorrow. There was no way Cristiano could afford skipping practice. He had to be there.

-X-

Camilla parked her car and stepped out. She began the walk into the Bernabue stadium. Upon finding the entranceway to the bleachers. She saw that the boys have not started yet. She decided on taking a seat up front. Where she can be easily noticed by the team.

Glancing around the stadium, Camilla was hit with flashbacks to the day Cristiano told her about his move from Manchester to Madrid…

-X-

She sat, snuggled in her sweat pants and hoodie, on the sofa, with her laptop in front of her. She was finishing a paper for one of her classes at school. In fact, it was her last. Once she turned this in, she would have her degree in Business and Merchandising. Then she could continue developing her clothing line.

She went back to page one and began some editing when the front door to her home opened. She knew of only two people that had the key to her house. Her mom and-

“Camilla! Camilla! Camilla onde estão você?” (“Camilla! Camilla! Camilla where are you?”) that deep Portuguese voice echoed throughout her townhouse.

“No sala de estar Cristiano!” (“In the living room Cristiano!”) she replied. Almost immediately the footsteps stopped, because her boyfriend had reached her location in record time. She had to laugh though, because Cristiano was out of breath from running. “Porque são agindo como uma pessoa louca!” (“Why are you acting like a crazy person!”) she smiled.

Cristiano stood tall, before flashing her that lovely grin of his. He ran to her, lifted her off the couch and kissed her deeply. He pulled away first and rested his forehead on hers, “Real Madrid quer me.” (“Real Madrid wants me.”)

She arched an eyebrow, somewhat confused.

He rolled his eyes, “Real Madrid as necessidades que me jogar para eles. Estão dispostos a oferecer me $120 milhões jogar para eles!” (“Real Madrid wants me to play for them. They’re willing to offer me $120 million to play for them!”) Camilla’s mouth dropped. Cristiano smiled at her, “isso é Camilla correcto. $120 milhões. Tem alguma ideia quanto nosso vive mudaria nisso?” (“that’s right Camilla. $120 million. Do you have any idea how much our lives would change at that?”)

Camilla smiled at the thought. They had been dating for a little over two and a half years. And the only thing Camilla could think of to do with that kind of money is to have her dream wedding. She knew that she and Cristiano were still young, but she knew from the moment they had met, that he would be the one. The one that her dad told her to find.

But then her mind got to thinking…

“Mas, mas mel, que tal Man. U.? Que tal esses caras? Que tal os ventiladores? Manchester é um dos melhores clubes em Futebol de euro. Acaba de partir tudo você trabalhou para e realizado aqua…” (“But, but honey, what about Man. U.? What about those guys? What about the fans? Manchester is one of the best clubs in Euro Football. You cant just leave everything you’ve worked for and accomplished here…”)

Cristiano smiled slightly and grabbed her chin, forcing Camilla to look at him and be quiet. He kissed her softly, “Sei. Sei. Mas fiz muito pensar. Amo Manchester, acredita que me eu faço. Mas Real é uma grande equipa também. E com os comércios seguindo com todas as equipas…eu sinceramente penso que isto é a melhor disposição para mim. Para nós…Camilla que eu quero que mova em comigo…em Madri.” (“I know. I know. But I’ve done a lot of thinking. I love Manchester, believe me I do. But Real is a great team as well. And with the trades going on with all the teams…I honestly think this is the best mood for me. For us…Camilla I want you to move in with me…in Madrid.”)

She didn’t think twice before jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing him, and saying yes. She should have thought twice…

-X-

She was broken from her thoughts at the sound of a whistle, the guys were already out on the field and stretching. She stood up and walked to the railing, leaning against it, scanning the field for that number 9. She spotted it, but his back was to her.

There was a group with him, and they stood in a circle, as they all began stretching. Directly across the circle from Cristiano, stood that number 4, Sergio Ramos. She caught his eyes on hers as he looked back and forth between her and Cristiano. Then he looked back at her and raised his eyebrows as if to ask, “what’s up with you two? Or more importantly…what’s up with him?”

Camilla waved her hand, telling him, that she’d just tell him later. Sergio smiled and sent her a friendly wink. She chuckled at his goofiness. He may be big, and buffed out, and his long hair and strong facial and bone structure give him a very manly presence, he was the biggest goof she knew. She was proud to call him one of her best friends and a “brother”.

The stretch they were working on had finished, and it was time for some warm up laps around the field. Camilla, stood straight, knowing that now, Cristiano would have to be able to see her. She waited for him to turn, but he just took off. Sergio behind him, creeping up to his side. Camilla hoped he wouldn’t bring anything up to upset Cristiano even more.

Turns out the boys were running some suicides. As they reached the line, they turned around and began to run back towards her.

“Anda, sé que sabe que estoy aquí. Míreme justo,” (“Come on, I know you know I’m here. Just look at me,”) she said to herself in Spanish. But not once did he look her way. He avoided her at all costs. And it turns out, doing that, made for a pretty bad practice.

Cristiano fell. He lost the ball. He couldn’t get in a single goal. Needless to say he was having a bad day. The couches were getting frustrated, and one threw his whistle on the ground, breaking it because he was “tired of hearing”. At the end of practice, he stormed off of the field. Camilla sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Hola.” (“Hi.”) a voice said suddenly from beside her. She jumped. The voice began laughing and it was joined by two others. She turned around and saw Sergio, Kaka, and Benzema smiling, laughing at her scare.

“¡Qué! ” (“What!”) she put her hand over her chest.

Kaka settled down first, “¿Díganos bien, qué sucedió?” (“alright tell us, what happened?”)

Camilla sighed, “Pueda los digo alguna vez más tarde. Tengo cosas que debo trabajar fuera con Cristiano primero." (“can I tell you all sometime later. I have things I need to work out with Cristiano first.”)

Benzema nodded, “Bien trabajo lo que usted debe trabajar fuera. Pero trata de hacerlo pronto. Nosotros no lo podemos tener estando como esto toda la temporada.” (“well work whatever you need to work out. But try to do it soon. We can’t have him being like this all season.”)

She nodded and looked down. She couldn’t help but feel like this was her fault his game was off.

Sergio sensed her change in mood and wrapped an arm around her, “No preocupe a querido. Las cosas estarán bien. Usted me llama aunque bien. Si usted jamás necesita algo. Usted me llama. O cualquiera de nosotros.” (“don’t worry darling. Things will be okay. You call me though okay. If you ever need anything. You call me. Or any of us.”)

“Gracias tipos.” (“Thanks guys.”) They crept in to give her a giant group hug, but Camilla stopped them, “¡Usted tipos huelen! ¡Vaya tome duchas primero!” (“you guys smell! Go take showers first!”) They all laughed before saying their goodbyes and walking off. As they disappeared inside the stadium, Cristiano appeared from it. He stood on the other side and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He nodded his head, telling her to go to him.

She walked up to him and they sat down on the bleachers. She didn’t say anything. She waited for him. He didn’t look at her though, as he spoke, “Minha mãe chamou hoje de manhã. Disse que você conversou a ela ontem à noite.” (“My mother called this morning. Said you talked to her last night.”) Camilla nodded. “Camilla que eu preocupo-me com você profundamente, mas não vejo porque tem que receber minha família complicada com isto. Isto é nosso problema lidar com.” (“Camilla I care for you deeply, but I don’t see why you have to get my family involved with this. This is our problem to deal with.”)

“Oh realmente?” (“Oh really?”) she scoffed, “Então onde era ontem à noite quando quis elaborar coisas? Oh-que 'direito de s. Ido. Preocupar me, e mantendo-me, espantado a morte porque não soube onde era.” (“then where were you last night when I wanted to work things out? Oh-that‘s right. Gone. Worrying me, and keeping me up, scared to death because I didn’t know where you were.”)

He stood up sharply, “Não vire isto em volta em mim! Isto é sua culpa. Não faça. Somente vista 't.” (“don’t turn this around on me! This is your fault. Don’t. Just don‘t.”) He picked up his stuff and was ready to walk away, “Eu 'm feito com esta conversa.” (“I‘m done with this conversation.”)

She couldn’t help but let some tears fall, “O que você corre de Cristiano? você pode contar me.” (“what are you running from Cristiano? You can tell me.”) He didn’t answer as he walked away.