A Barcelona Love Story

The plane landed. Everyone stood up, grabbed their carry-on bags and went down. I stood up, straightened my shirt and grabbed my bag and went down. I hurriedly located my entire luggage and looked for the person that the agency sent to pick me up. I looked around and found a guy in a hoodie, a pair of shades, a smile and a sign that says “WELCOME, ALEXANDRIA.”

My name is Alexandria, sixteen years old. My mum had me when she was 18 in Barcelona. Her family threw her out and it was her cousin, the same one who is said to pick me up today, who helped her. A year after she gave birth to me, she decided to take me with her and move to Los Angeles so my dad could see me. My dad only took one look at me, sent a monthly check for my mum and me. Two weeks ago, there was a shootout in the bar where my mum worked and she was the one who died.

“Alexandria?” the guy spotted me, came over and hugged me.
“I am your Uncle Xavi. I personally came to pick you up. Wow. I used to change your diapers and feed you and now you’re a lady. Wow. Makes me feel old.” he said. I don’t usually hug strangers back but he is my uncle and his hug was warm, so I hugged back.
“Hey, hey, everything’s going to be OK. Don’t cry, nena. I’m here for you. Let’s go.” he said and I nodded as I wiped my tears away.
“Thank you for doing this.” I said.
“Anytime, anything for my niece.” he said and smiled and patted my long, blonde hair.

“I’m sorry, I parked a little further.” Uncle Xavi said as we walked.
“It’s OK. I’m used to walking.” I said and smiled for the first time.
“You do look like your mum, you know. Except for the hair.” he said.
“If my mum was thrown out when she had me, wouldn’t you be in trouble for helping me?” I asked
“Before you and your mum moved to Los Angeles, her parents died. And I guess you know she’s an only child. And as for me, well, I won’t be in trouble, don’t worry.” he said and I nodded as I helped him put my luggage in his car.

“Xavi! Xavi! Xavi!” a couple of photographers called out and snapped away.
“Get in the car, nena.” Uncle Xavi said and I did so.

He got into the car and drove out fast and stopped on a red light. He took off the hoodie and the pair of shades, revealing his face. He and my mum had identical eyebrows. He smiled at me.

“My mum said I have an uncle who plays for FC Barcelona and for the Spain NT. Was she referring to you?” I asked.
“Yes, nena. That’s why those photographers were there.” he said.
“And here, I thought my mum was kidding.” I said and he chuckled.
“What exactly did she say?” he asked.
“Alexandria, look! Look at that number 8 guy! That’s my cousin. He’s your uncle.” I said, “and I told her, yeah mum, she’s your cousin and I am Shakira’s best friend.” I added and Uncle Xavi laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe her at first, but that night, she took out all those old photos and told me about you.”
“You’re an original, did you know that? Totally a Hernandez. You’ve got humor!” he said and we laughed.

We stopped at a parking lot filled with black cars. I looked around and tried to look for his house, guessing where it could be. Unless, he is parking a little further again. I kept silent and waited for him to say anything.