Why Can't You See

Today is the day. Today is the biggest match in the entire season. Today is the clash of the titans, the giants of sport. Today is the culmination of a rivalry dating back to 1900's. Today is the most followed club match in the world. Today is the El Clásico.

To everyone else it was all those things. But to me, it is something else. For the first time since leaving Madrid, I will be in the same building as the one and only Iker Casillas.

I don't regret leaving. I just regret leaving the way I did. The minute I got the letter, I immediately faxed my acceptance of the job. After sleeping, I loaded my car with as much of my things as I could cram into it and drove. I called the condo hotel, which FC Barcelona had recommended for me because of it's proximity to the club, and told them I was arriving. I didn't call anyone else. Not Iker. Not Cris. Not even Sergio. I just drove and left Madrid behind me. I was starting over in Barcelona. Beginning a new life with a clean slate.

I, also, regretted not taking any of their calls or responding to any of their texts. It was a clean break. A complete removal of Madrid from my life, which I should have known was impossible. I eventually relented and spoke sparingly with Sergio, who was none too pleased with my departure or my new employers.

Basically, I was a glorified errand boy but I didn't mind. I liked running odd jobs and I enjoyed the people at the club. Besides, it wasn't like I was going to be a gofer forever. While everyone was eagerly counting the days to today, I was silently dreading it. I went over different plans to avoid Iker but each of them more flawed than the last. I would have to talk to him eventually, I reasoned as I came to terms with Real Madrid visiting.

Clack, clack, clack, went my stiletto heels on the concrete floor as I reached the locker rooms. The one downside of my job is that I have to wear heels on game day, to maintain the professional image. If you don't know, let me tell you, when you walk in heels for hours a day, you feel it. My feet were sore and my calves ached but errands needed to be done and I was the one to do 'em. Right now, I needed to check on the players and make sure they were ready to be lined up for the walk out.

My ankles were wobbly in the 3-inch heels as I clacked my way to the Barcelona locker room. Before I knew it the loud music was thumping as I approached the door. But before I knew it, my left ankle slipped from beneath me. I squeezed my eyes shut as I mentally braced myself for a fall that never came. A firm grip on my arms had kept from falling flat on my back.

“You never did do well in heels,” I cringed as I heard the smooth, creamy voice that I had been trying to avoid.

I opened one eye sheepishly at my “savior.” I stood up trying to regain my balance and much to my chagrin, I needed to grab onto Iker's arms to steady myself. “Thank you,” I muttered.

“So,” Iker was dressed in his kit already, the only thing missing was his goalie gloves. He even had his cleats on and his yellow armband proudly displayed on his arm. I remembered when he told me that he had been promoted to captain. I was so proud of him. I am so proud of him.

“So,” The awkwardness set in as we stood in that awful silence. “Congratulations on your engagement and the pregnancy.” I had read in a tabloid that Iker had proposed to Sara and that she was pregnant. The ring was, of course, huge and they looked happy.

“Who told you?” He asked inquisitively.

“I read it in a tabloid,” I confessed guiltily. “I hope you guys are happy.”

“We are. Congratulations on your new job.”

“Thanks.” There it was again, that awkward silence that made me realize how distant we had become. It was like there was an ever growing void between us. “I'm sorry that I didn't call you.”

“What?” Disbelief was written all over his face.

“I'm sorry that I didn't keep in touch.”

“That's all you have to say? 'I'm sorry'! You left without a word to anyone. One day we're watching TV together and the next poof! You're gone! I called you, I texted you, I emailed you, I even tried to relay messages through your parents and Sergio!”

“I think you of all people would understand why I left like that.” He had no right to be the angry one. I was the one who was the fool. I was the one who was hurt. I was the one who lost.

“No I don't. So please tell me,” His voice thick with sarcasm.

“I bared my soul to you. I told you I loved you and you said no. Did you think I was just going to stay and be reminded of that rejection everyday?”

“I'm sorry but, I just don't lov-”

“Don't say I'm sorry.” I interrupted, “Don't because I don't need it. I've moved on. In fact, I think I should thank you. If you didn't tell me what you did, I'd still be in Madrid lovesick over you and probably crying over your engagement. Now I'm here, in Barcelona, I'm happy. I should thank you for breaking my heart because I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be in love with someone who loves me as much as I love him. So thank you for my broken heart,” That's all I said as I turned on my heel and walked towards the locker room.

Victor poked his head out of the open locker room door, “Is everything okay? I heard yelling,” The concern in his voice melted my heart as I quickened my pace towards him.

“Everything's perfect,” I couldn't but smile as I said those words because it was. Everything was truly perfect. I wrapped my arms around Victor's neck and kissed him. When we kissed, nothing mattered. It didn't matter that the boys should be lining up. It didn't matter that there was an immense pressure for everyone to perform. It didn't matter that Real Madrid was nipping at our heels. It didn't matter that Iker was standing there watching me with his mouth open. All that mattered was that I loved Victor and Victor loved me.

I belonged with him and he belonged with me.