Keep Cool, Stay Tough

The drive back home from the hearing was like being trapped inside a bubble you couldn’t pop even though it was getting thicker and thicker from a sense of tension and it was getting to be difficult to even breathe.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, Senna?”

“Aren’t you going to say something?” I asked.

“What can he possibly say about any of this?” My barely over a year older sister demanded as she swiveled around from the front seat to lock eyes on me, “The judge said everything that needed to be said.”

“Please, refrain from spouting opinions while we’re in such close confines,” I snapped and turned my head towards the closed window.

“Joie’s right, the judge said everything that needed to be said. You do need a break from the bad influences in your life, and you do need to sort yourself out.”

I half-laughed, half-scoffed, “There are no bad influences in my life. One mistake, I’ve made one mistake in all these years, and it’s being blown up as if I’ve killed someone.”

“You could have, you very nearly could have, Senna, that’s the scary part, that’s my point, and I’ll be damned if I allow you to continue on like this.”

Dad really wasn’t the shouting out of anger type, and when he did on the very rare occasion you know you’ve messed up on a massive scale. The urge to throw a hissy fit and demand to be allowed out of the car flittered through my mind, but I held back.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked; my voice even and low.

“Joie and I have been talking-“

“Why? Why are you two discussing me like I’m a piece of old furniture that you need to get rid of?” I demanded.

“You do need to put some distance from all of this,” He continued on as if I hadn’t even spoken. I grind my teeth, my jaw beginning to feel sore.

“What, you’re banning me from Camp Nou?” I scoffed eventually.

He stopped the car, and pulled the key out of the ignition. I looked out the window, and it took me a moment to realize we were parked in front of our house. They both got out of the car, and I scrambled out after them, terrified that this really was the punishment he was going with.

“Do you remember Martha?” He asked me instead.

I nodded, “Your younger sister, the one that lives in Madrid with the daughter that’s near my age.”

“Mina,” He specified, “You’re going to be living with them while you go to school and help her out at work.”

My jaw dropped, “What?”

“Don’t make a scene, come inside, at least,” Joie hissed, waving us both inside as she looked up and down our empty street, assuming that our neighbors were all peeping through their drawn curtains at our family fracas.

I stood rooted to the spot. My father was rapping his knuckles against the car’s hood, his sunglasses pushed up to the top of his head.

“You didn’t even ask me what I want, how could you go behind my back like this? I understand I did something horrid, but really…banishment? That’s really what you’re going with?”

“You got drunk and destroyed a car, injuring yourself in the process, Senna; you don’t get to have an opinion on any of this anymore!” My dad raised his voice again, I noticed Joie flinch on the porch stairs.

“One mistake,” I had my index finger in the air between us, “One mistake in all these years, and you’re holding it over my head like I’m strapped into a guillotine.”

“What are you doing with your life, huh? What exactly do you see yourself doing in five years? Every chance, every single opportunity I’ve given you, you’ve just thrown it back in my face. I’m out of ideas and you’re out of chances, it’s Madrid for you, and nothing else, Senna.”

“So I have no say in my own life?”

“I saw what you had to say about life, and you obviously had no regard for your life that night you crashed that car, and I don’t like what you’re telling me through your actions.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, “I don’t want to go.”

He waved me off, ignoring me, “Go say your goodbyes to whoever you need to, the sooner you’re in Madrid the sooner I can focus on my job again. You should be grateful your aunt is even willing to allow you in her home after what you did.”

“I need to get out of here,” I muttered and hobbled down the street, pulling my phone out of my back pocket.

***

“Guess who’s getting transferred to Madrid?” I exclaimed between sips of beer and bites of pizza not even an hour later.

“Who?” Thiago, Cesc, and Geri all demanded in unison.

I pointed at myself.

“What do you mean?” Cesc asked, his brows immediately pulling together.

“Today was the hearing, and I got my license suspended for a year, and have to do community service, and on top of all of that, on the way home, my dad just dropped it on me that I’m going to live with my aunt in Madrid.”

“You have an aunt in Madrid?” Geri asked.

“For how long?” Thiago added.

“Yes, and I’ll be in Madrid soon too, and I don’t want to go,” I whined, “And I have no idea how long they’re going to drag this out.”

Geri frowned, “It’s fucked enough that these two are leaving, and now you too? This is turning out to be a shitty new year.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered, “Did I mention how much I don’t want to go?”

“What are you even going to be doing there?”

“Helping out my aunt at her office, she’s some kind of doctor, and going to school, apparently I got transferred to some university over there too.”

“Wow, all because of the car incident?” Thiago asked.

“I guess, but then he asked me what are you doing with your life, what are going to do in five years? So I don’t know, and he’s been talking to Joie about me too. There’s more to this than just the accident.”

Cesc looked uncomfortable as the topic of the car accident popped up, “Do you want me to talk to your dad about that night?”

I shook my head, “No, it’s alright, the less people know about what happened that night, the better, trust me, and anyway he’s going to think you’re just trying to cover up for me so I don’t go to Madrid. I can deal with this, I mean you and Thiago are leaving anyway.”

Geri raised his hands, pointing towards himself, “I’m still going to be around, what about me?”
I waved my hand at him, almost smiling, “You have children to take care of.”

“Yeah, who’s going to babysit them so I can have fun with Shaks.”

“You’ll find someone soon enough and then none of you will even remember my name.”

They laughed, “Senna is not a forgettable name; especially for a girl.”

“You’re just saying that, I’ll see you guys months from now, you’ll only have the vaguest memories of me, if that.”

“Pfft, you’re the one that’s going to be fraternizing with those blancos and rojiblancos in Madrid. Just wait until I tell Nando you’re going to be in town, he won’t leave you alone,” Cesc laughed.

I raised my eyebrow, “Are you seriously setting me up with a married man?”

“You need friends,” Cesc emphasized.

I rolled my eyes, but didn’t comment. Geri and Thiago quickly shifted gears to a safer topic that pertained around who they would like to get transferred if they didn’t have the stupid ban hanging over the club still.

Cesc and I kept glancing at each other as we pretended to be totally caught up in choosing between David Luiz and Mats Hummels. It was usually so weird to think that he was technically my first serious relationship; it was even weirder to realize that no one ever really caught on – expect Thiago and Geri who we told voluntarily. But, for once, sitting around, drinking beer, and eating pizza, I couldn’t help but be reminded that there were still things I loved about him.

One quick instagram post later, and Cesc’s house was flooded with visitors coming to bid us a fond farewell. And yet in the explosion of jubilant chaos, Cesc and I managed to find each other outside in the cold on his patio swing.

“I never thanked you for what you did that night, not properly anyway,” Cesc spoke as he looked straight ahead as yet another car pulled into the driveway.

“I did what had to be done, Cesc. There’s nothing to be thankful for,” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, and he was turned towards me. I couldn’t make out his expression in the darkness, nor could I figure out what he was trying to get at.

“Anyone else wouldn’t have…” He trailed off.

“You would have caught much more flak, and I didn’t want to see you go through that, Cesc. The news will forget me, but they wouldn’t have forgotten you, neither would have the brand sponsorships,” I reminded with a calm smile.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s done. Don’t waste time being sorry for something that’s set in stone. Learn what you will and just move on wiser,” I had rehearsed this answer, and it swam out in a neat little line flowing together just as well as I hoped it would.

“I know, I know, but I can’t let it go. It’s why your dad’s sending you away to Madrid, I know it is, and I’m sorry that he was able to pull that out of his sleeve.”

“You know, I don’t want to be in Barcelona without you and Thiago around to harass anyway. And apparently this was coming down the pipeline, because he’s not happy with the way I’ve been living my life,” I pushed my lips together and stared ahead hoping to hide the frown that was making my mouth muscles twitch.

“And how’s that?” Cesc’s eyebrows were furrowed; I could make out that much in the dim light.
“I’m not doing what Joie’s doing,” I explained before adding, “And I really would rather not get into any of it right now because that’s like opening up Pandora’s box, and I refuse to waste my final days in Barcelona talking about them.”

Cesc raised his arms, “Understood.”

For moment all we could hear was the porch swing creaking under our weight, and the festivities going on inside. It sounded like someone had rediscovered Cesc’s karaoke machine, and the beginning beats of ‘dare’ were thumping through the sound system. I couldn’t make out which of the Alcantara brothers were singing along.

I smiled, but made no inclination to move back inside even though my teeth were beginning to chatter from the frigid cold.

“Run away with me,” Cesc prompted.

“What?” I laughed.

I knew he was joking. Of course he was. We stopped being anything beyond friends for years now. I knew how to play friend, and I had begun to forget what it had been like to play girlfriend. I forced myself to stay in the moment and I played along anyway, even though every passing moment playing pretend was going to leave me with a sense of longing that I wouldn’t be able to shake off for quite a while.

“We could live together, and you’d go to training, and I’d go to school, and we’d get home around the same time every day,” I listed, feigning excitement.

A flash of uncertainly flickered in his eyes, I read the panic that was there, and forced my smile to broaden as I pointed at him with a short, stiff laugh.

“Too bad I’ve got plans in Madrid already,” I not-so-subtlety reminded him.
He wrinkled his nose, “I’ve never been fond of that city.”

“It’s more or less like London, with a couple less Tapas bars,” I joked.
Cesc laughed, “It’s the atmosphere; it’s too…”

“Supportive of Real Madrid?” I cracked into his thoughts a tad too facetiously.
He made a face, “Something like that I guess.”

“You should sneak away from London and visit me anyway.”

“I’ll try.”

He won’t. I know he won’t, he knows he won’t, but it’s nice that he tries to pretend he will anyway. That must mean something. I must mean something to him.

Cesc hugged me and kissed the top of my head. It was such an abrupt move that my words and breath got jammed in my throat, but it was like putting on your favorite old sweater to find that everything fits together just as snug as it always did.

“I needed that,” I muttered.

“Me too,” Cesc agreed, “If I tried that with Geri or Thiago…”

I laughed, but my heart wasn’t really in it. The pink tinge in the sky was growing louder in color as day broke, and it was literally and figuratively dawning on me that this was my last day in Barcelona for a while, and my last face-to-face talk with Cesc.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” Cesc asked past his yawn.

“It’s really over. I’m really leaving. We’re all leaving. Wow, it’s even more depressing saying it out loud.”

“Yeah, but honestly, what can you do at this point? We fucked up and we’re paying for it now.”

“Through the nose.”

“Totally.”

I made to get to my feet because I really needed a drink to ward off the hypothermia, but Cesc placed his hand over mine, keeping me stuck to my spot as if I had been frozen there. I kept quiet, waiting for him to explain, but he was silent as he moved closer, and I could smell his cologne mixing with the stale beer on his breath.

The door banged open the moment I had shut my eyes, and I could hear Gerard’s booming voice veering towards us. I opened my eyes, and Cesc had snapped out of whatever spell had been placed on him.

What would have happened if Gerard hadn’t stumbled on the patio when he had? Would Cesc had really kissed me? It didn’t matter now anyway because Geri was dragging Cesc inside for karaoke, and I was sitting here alone admiring the shining cars catching the sunlight on their hoods.
I forced myself up and wandered inside on the prowl for beer or coffee, whichever I happened across first. Gerard and Cesc were crooning some romantic ballad I wasn’t paying attention to as I had only one realization floating around my sleep-deprived mind.
2015 was going to be a crap year.

***
“You’re banishing me from Barcelona, like some sordid Shakespearean plot.”

We were sitting on a bench at the train station, cradling identical take-away cups of coffee, both refusing to look the other in the eye. I had my awkward goodbyes with Joie at home, and I was relieved she decided not to come along to the train station. She had instead bought clothes and a pair of leather boots that she thought I would need while I was in Madrid. I hugged her, and pretended I wasn’t crying.

“Okay listen, kid, you can call it whatever you like, dramatize it up as much as you’d like, but you’ve really painted me into a shitty corner over here.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he continued to talk over me.

“I just need you to figure out your worth on your own, and all you do is lose yourself in this city. Maybe I’m wrong, okay, maybe you’ll fall down ten more rungs on this elusive ladder of success when you’re in Madrid and we’ll be worse off, but I’m just asking for some effort on your end.”

It sounded like he had been up all night rehearsing this speech in his head instead of going to sleep.

“Gee, dad, thanks for the pep talk, you talk to all of your clients like this on their last days too, or am I getting the “I’m the screw-up daughter edit.”

“I’ve seen you put in a fraction of the effort your sister puts in her work and you shine. You’re a shiner, but you’ve lost it, and I need you to find it. I don’t want to be a decrepit, old man sitting in a retirement home still overly concerned with his daughter.”

He sighed and suddenly he seemed to have aged ten years right before my eyes.

What kills me the most about this whole mess is that he thinks that I’m not trying, and he can’t trust me. This one mistake of mine ripped apart that delicate thread of trust between a father and daughter. My only resolution was repairing the thread, wasn’t it? Well, actually, if I were to be completely honest with myself, there was that small part at the back of mind taunting me, telling me, to enjoy this liberation of broken trust; to just go on going on and not think about lost causes.

But oh woe is me, nothing is as ever as simple as the TV says it is.