Why Can't You See

I never thought of myself as a rule breaker, but here I was breaking all the rules. Which rules, you might ask? I'm in love with my best friend. My best friend who has a girlfriend. My best friend who's world famous. My best friend who won the World Cup. My best friend is Iker Casillas. I maybe be sitting here on my couch with him watching TV like “normal” friends, but I don't want to be just friends. As he casually drapes his arm around my shoulders in that “friend way”, I try and look for someone to blame.

I suppose I should blame, or credit, Maria, Iker's mother, with introducing me to Iker. Maria did my mom's hair, which was how Iker and I first met. I was waiting in Maria's salon for my mom to have her hair done. Maria must have noticed my fidgeting and restlessness. Out of pity, I suppose, she called Iker, who was playing behind the salon. I remember how chubby he was then, a far cry from the tall, toned man he is today. I still thought he was the cutest boy I had ever seen then. I may have been just a child but I loved him the same. His mother insisted that I play with him and his brother, Unai, out back. That day would be the first of many play dates.

Maybe I should blame my parents for not having other children to keep me company or for moving to Madrid in the first place or for naming Emilia. Why should I blame them for naming me Emilia? Emilia means “rival” and I always felt I was in a rivalry with someone else for Iker's affection. Whether it be the girls from down the street or Eva (but I couldn't bring myself to hate Eva. She was just too nice) or Ariadne or Ana and now Sara.

As much as I want to blame Maria and my parents, I know that I can only blame myself. I never told him how I felt but how could I. What if he didn't love me back? Our entire friendship would be ruined. Nothing would be the same and it would be my fault.

Right now, I'm breaking the rules every online how-to and magazine is telling me. I should be avoiding contact with him at all costs. But here I was, I sitting next to him watching TV on my couch. We were in the middle of a very good, but very cheesy TV movie.

Riinngg! Riiinngg! The shrill tone of Iker's cell phone, drowning out the actress's pleadings to her lover.

“Hi, baby,” His voice as smooth as velvet as he gestured to me that he would take the call somewhere quieter.

Sara Carbonero. I tried, I tried desperately to like her for Iker's but she seemed to rebuff me at every attempt as if I wasn't good enough for her or for Iker. So I don't even bother anymore, there was no point in putting effort in a lost cause. I despised her. I despised how easily she came and took my spot in Iker's life. One day I was having lunch with Iker and the next day I was being stood up by him because of her. What was worse was how pretty she was. Whenever I would stand next to her I would feel so plain, so ugly and she never missed a chance to take advantage of that.

I was there for Iker for everything. I was there when he lost, when he won, when he drew. I was there when Sofia, his first girlfriend, broke up with him. I was there when he forgot to post his dad's coupons the weekend he guessed all 14 results right, losing his family a lot of money. I was there to celebrate with him and, more importantly, I was there for him to lean on me. I was there to support and encourage him when they lost. And Sara just came in and took all that away from me. Like the past 20 years didn't matter, or even happened.

I looked over at Iker, who was in the hallway. He was arguing with Sara over something. I couldn't make out the words but his facial expressions and gestures told the story. I saw how his brows knit together and his face scrunched in anger. I saw how he ran a hand through his spikey hair and pinched his nose bridge in frustration. I saw how his face fell and his shoulders slumped in sadness. Iker snapped the phone shut and returned to the couch.

I tried to make myself seem as if I hadn't been focused on him the whole time but rather I was watching TV.

“It's Sara,” Iker sighed, “Apparently, there's some sort of thing in the tabloid about how Cris hates her and some sort of feud. I have to go. Sara needs me.”

I need you. I need you to see. Why can't you see that you belong with me? “Yeah, totally. I understand,” I managed to say as my heart ached with each beat.

“You're still going to come with us later? To Kapital?” Iker asked, once we were at the door.

“Yeah, sure,” I said half-heartedly. Clubbing with a bunch of footballers was not what I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was blast sad, '80's power ballads and belt out the lyrics as I ate tubs of ice cream, crying my eyes out.

“Can't wait!” Iker's enthusiasm and excitement perking me up. “See you then,” He gave me a painfully platonic kiss on the forehead and hug before leaving.

Since I couldn't do it later, I turned my iPod on and sang my voice hoarse to Heart's “Alone” and Air Supply's “All Out of Love.” I crawled under the covers of my bed and pulled the blanket over my head. I could feel my body shaking with tears that I refused to let fall. If there was one thing those self-help articles have told me, I've cried enough tears. My crying wasn't going to bring Iker into my arms. I've cried enough tears. I'm going to move on. I'm going to find someone who can see that I'm beautiful and worthwhile, that I'm not just the best friend. I bit my lip and squeezed my eyes shut and I fell into a deep sleep.

“Em, Em,” The deep, creamy voice called out to me. “Em, it's me.”

I opened my eyes to find the deep chocolate ones that I've been pining after staring into my amber ones. His face was inches away from mine, “What is it?”

“I need to tell you something,” His voice sounded so grave and serious.

“What happened? What's wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing at all,” He looked away for a second. “Actually, there's something wrong with me.”

“Are you sick? Injured?” My voice tightened at the thought of him hurt.

“No, I've been wrong. I never saw that you're the one I've been looking for. The one I've been looking for has been here the whole time,” His eyes sparkled with a love and adoration that was reserved for his lovers. The look that I had pined after for so long.

“Finally,” I laughed as our lips met. We kissed as if we never needed air. We kissed as if it was our first and last kiss. We kissed as if our lives depended on it.

He pulled away, “Em, Em,” He repeated. His voice getting louder.

I snapped my eyes open. My heart slammed against my ribs and I had to to take deep breaths, gulping in as much air as I could.

It was a dream. It was all a dream.

“Em! Em!” I heard a voice yell out again. Then in poked the head of Sergio Ramos. “Get up! You got to get dressed,” He added when saw that I was still in my sweats and T-shirt.

“Yeah, I guess, I should,” I read the time off the clock 12:21 AM. The club scene in Spain was ridiculous. While some clubs close at 1 or 2, here they opened at that time. I dragged myself to my walk-in closet with Sergio following closely behind.

“Wear this dress,” Sergio said immediately pulling one of my dresses off the hanger.

I rubbed the last bits of sleep out of my eye, still trying to forget the vivid dream. My eyes adjusted to the light and I saw the dress. “No, nooo! I'm not wearing that!”

It was short, lacey and well that's it. The neckline dipped low and the hemline would barely skim my thighs.

“Come on. If you're not wearing it, then why is it in your closet?” Sergio asked matter-of-factually.

“You bought it for me! I didn't buy it,” I explained. I rifled through my clothes, “This one, I can wear this one.” It was a brown wrap dress.

“Seriously, that,” He pointed at the plain dress with disgust. "What would compel you to buy that terracotta monstrosity?"

“It's nice,” I insisted.

“Not if you want Iker leaving with you and not Sara,” Sergio was the only one who knew about what I felt for Iker. I knew Sergio from when he played with the National team and we grew closer when he moved to Real Madrid. But both of us know that our relationship wasn't anywhere near what Iker and I had.

“This one,” It was a nude-colored shift dress that had a bow sash. I saw Sergio's face. “What? The color suits me, I think.”

“God, you really have no sense of fashion.”

“I do!”

“Honey, no,” Sergio placed his hand on my shoulder and shook his head. Then, he began rummaging through my other clothes, pulling some separates, “Here try these on, no questions.” He shoved the clothes in my hand and pushed me towards the bathroom.

I stared at the clothes he had given me. It was a long sleeve top made entirely of lace, so it was see through and a tight, black bandage skirt. Sergio was even considerate enough to provide me with a bright, peacock blue, shiny, satin bra. Where did these clothes come from? These clothes were made for girls like Sara. Girls with perfect curvy, pin-up bodies and confidence galore. Not girls like me.

“Just put 'em on already!” Sergio knocked impatiently on the door.

I put the clothes on. I stared at myself in the mirror with awe. I looked like me but at the same time it didn't. It was definitely me, it was my dark brown hair and my face. But I looked good, dare I say sexy. The lace top showed the blue bra and my breasts; the tight skirt fit my body well. I stepped out of the bathroom. “Good?”

“Very good, if Iker doesn't notice you tonight, I'm sure someone else will,” Sergio handed me my black, lace stilettos.

I turned my flat-iron on. My hair was curlier than wavy but not curly enough to be curly. In the Spanish heat, it turned into a huge mess.

“Leave it, leave your hair curly. It looks sexier,” Sergio said running his fingers through my hair.

I nodded as I found my black clutch and filled with the necessities: cash, ID, cellphone and keys.

“Do you want me to drive or do you?” I asked as I curled eyelashes and coated them with mascara.

“I'll drive. I don't want to be stranded if you leave with Iker.”

“What makes you so sure that tonight'll be the night that I tell Iker,” I slicked on some lipgloss and powdered my cheeks with blush.

“Because if you don't tell him tonight, you never will,” I looked at Sergio's reflection in the mirror. His usual joking, smiling face wasn't there. He was dead serious.

I didn't reply. I just stuffed my lipgloss in my clutch and walked out of my room. “Let's just go.”

Sergio nodded and we both left the apartment.

The drive to Kapital was tense and quiet. I felt self-conscious in Sergio's outfit. All the self-confidence I had vanished and all that was left was nerves and the butterflies in my stomach. Sergio was right. I needed to tell Iker tonight. He at least needed to know how I felt about him. Sergio parked, “Keep your head down and don't look into the flashes,” Sergio whispered into my ear as we walked into the club together.

It was madness. The camera flashes were blinding and everyone was asking Sergio who I was and if we were dating. Sergio only flashes his signature smile and thumbs up combo. The minute we step foot in that club, you could feel the music. The pumping bass seemed to make the ground shake. It was packed with bodies all moving in rhythm to the music. Sergio lead me to the upstairs VIP area.

They were already there. She was sitting in his lap wearing a dress that looked more like a shirt than a dress. She whispering something in his ear and giggled as he kissed her on the cheek. That should be me, well except for the skanky clothes. But I should be there.

“Don't worry about her, you look way hotter than her. Tonight, you're the star. Sara who?” Sergio gave me that little pep talk a lot but it worked great all the same.

I nodded and smiled, the confidence coming back but I knew it wouldn't last forever. Sergio took my hand and we went to the table with the “available” people. Obviously, Iker wasn't sitting here. He was too busy sucking face with Sara.

“Nice,” Cristiano purred and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as his eyes roamed my outfit. “Very nice,” he said with approval.

“Cris, don't look at me like that. It gives me the creeps,” I admitted as Cristiano pushed a drink towards me. It was bright blue. “What is this?”

“Party in a glass, liquid confidence,” Sergio remarked, “Just drink it.”

I sipped the blue concoction. It was oddly sweet and it went down smooth. It lacked that alcohol taste and burn, I began to doubt it was even alcoholic. Once I finished the drink, I knew otherwise. I was never one who could hold their liquor and I could feel the alcohol coursing through my veins.

“Lightweight,” Cristiano joked.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I retorted tartly. My eyes narrowed as I saw Iker and Sara still cuddling. “I want another.”

“Em, that's not a good idea,” Sergio began. But before Sergio could finish, Cristiano was up ordering me another of whatever that blue drink was called. Cris came back in record time with two more blue drinks. I downed both. The alcohol had reached my head and I was pleasantly buzzed.

“You know, slurring words aren't sexy,” Sergio remarked at how fast I was drinking.

“They are if you do them right,” I said, the alcohol clouding my thoughts. The liquid courage was pumping. I knew I was close to being gone, alcohol was taking the stage. But the sight of Iker and Sara was incredibly sobering.

Cristiano must have noticed me constantly staring at Iker and Sara, he kept making a funny face whenever I looked in their direction. “Dance with me,” was all he said and he grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor.

I don't know if we actually had chemistry or if it was the alcohol but our bodies molded into each others as we danced to the pounding bass. My curls fell where they would and our faces were so close I could have kissed him.

I reached up to bring my lips against his, when someone grabbed my arm and dragged me off the floor, “You need some air,” I didn't even have to see who it was to know. I knew that voice anywhere. It was Iker.

I followed him out of the club where it was chillier. “Where's Sara? Doesn't she need you?” I said mockingly. The both of us walked down the now abandoned street.

“What were you thinking? Dancing with Ronaldo? God, were you about to kiss him?” The anger was evident in his voice. I looked at what he was wearing. I couldn't help but laugh how he wore his worn out jeans and a button up. Only Iker would dress so casual for a swanky club like Kapital.

“I was thinking that I wanted to have fun. You know have a good time.” Especially since you were too busy giving Sara a tonsillectomy to notice me. At least Cris sees me as something more than just a friend. I wanted to spit those words out venomously but I bit my tongue. We continued to walk until we found a bench to sit on.

“But with him? Really?”

“What's wrong with Cris, he seems perfectly nice,” I said sarcastically as if I hadn't seen all the stories surrounding him.

Iker laughed and smiled. It was one of those perfect smiles that were true and honest and real. It brought out his dimples and made his eyes crinkle up at the edges. He hadn't smiled in a while since Sara's brought him down. All the drama she brought, she was just too much stress. It didn't seem worth it to me.

“This is how it should be,” Before I could even think about it, I said the first words that came to my mind. I was mentally kicking myself for letting the alcohol take over.

“What?” Iker's face turned serious.

“This is how it should be,” I repeated. I had to tell him, now, or I never will. “This right now, us. It all feels so easy,”

“What?” His voice was choked as he understood where I was going.

“I love you, I love you more than in that friend way,” I admitted. I didn't know how else to say it. There didn't seem to be any point in adding flowery language and sugar coating it. I needed to be honest.

“Sara and I-” Iker started.

“Yeah, how are you guys?” I asked barely keeping the venom out of my voice.

“We're fine,” Iker responded.

“I know you better than that,” He was always so tense. The way he clenched his jaw and pinched his nose bridge, he was stressed and they were not fine. “I love you, what are you doing with a girl like that?”

“Like what? Like Sara? I love her and she's good to me. She supports me. I belong with her,” His words and anger stung me, more than he knew.

“I love you. I'm good to you. I support you. Don't you remember when I drove to your house in the middle of the night? I know how to make you laugh when you're about to cry. I know all your favorite songs. I know all of your dreams. I know where you belong. You belong with me,” I was practically yelling. The tears were falling and I didn't care about my vow or the mascara running down my cheeks. “Can't you see? I'm the one who understands you. I've been there all along, supporting you, loving you. Sara will never understand your story like I do. Why can't you see? You belong with me.”

Iker was silent. He didn't say anything.

“Have you ever thought that just maybe. You belong with me,” I stood up from the bench.

“I love you, Em. But I'm not in love with you,” He said the words deliberately and slowly like he wasn't sure what to say. “I just don't see you in that way.”

“Fuck you,” I muttered as I walked away. I felt foolish for dreaming that he would say yes. I felt stupid for baring my soul to him like that. I felt embarrassed for being rejected.I felt ridiculous because I was right. I would never be anything more than his best friend, maybe not even that anymore. When I got back onto the main street, I hailed a cab and went home.

“You all right, miss?” The cab driver asked as he took in my haggard appearance.

“Not exactly,” I sniffed.

“Well what's wrong?” His voice sweet and caring.

“I told my best friend that I loved him. And he rejected me.” I had simplified the story so much it sounded trite to, even, my ears.

“Well, if he can't see how great you are, then he isn't the one. Someone will see how special and beautiful you are. If it isn't that guy, so what?” He said. I hadn't even noticed that we were parked in front of my apartment building already.

“I guess you're right. Thank you, how much?” I needed someone to tell me that even if it was a stranger.

“It's on the house, just promise me you'll clean yourself up and find someone who can see that you're the one they're made for. It will all work out for the best.”

“Thank you, again. Thank you so much.” I got out of the cab and waved goodbye until I couldn't see the car anymore. When I got to my apartment, I washed my face and changed into my pajamas. I was too high strung to sleep so I looked through the mail.

Somewhere between my latest copy of Cosmo and my water bill, I realized I needed a changed. Cosmo had always advised against impulsively cutting or dying your hair which ruled out going blonde or getting that pixie I've always wanted. But I needed a physical change to match my new outlook on love. I continued to flip through the letters, throwing them in the trash. Until, the bright blue, red, and gold crest on one of the envelopes made me stop. I tore the envelope open and read the letter.

“We are happy to extend to you the invitation of joining our family here at FC Barcelona...”