Keep Cool, Stay Tough

“It’s been all over the newspapers and news channels in Madrid all of last week how Cristiano skipped his training session on Wednesday to meet with the glamazon at a restaurant near the train station,” Zoe blurted.

“The article was pretty detailed,” Chloe added.

“I didn’t see the article.”

“Oh that’s right, you saw the news program, right?”

Zoe nodded, “It was short, like less than two minutes, but it was pretty detailed too.”

I frowned and somehow laughed in the same instant, “You know I had a funny feeling that if you two got drunk tonight I would get some bizarre gossip, but really this…exceeds expectations.”

“We didn’t want to tell you, but then we saw what you did to Martha and Mina when they lied to you so…” Zoe hung her head as Chloe finished the confession.

“You guys cannot be serious,” Mina interjected, coming off as more panicked than me, “We would have heard something, surely.”

“Do what you have to do, but never lie to me. It’s one thing I can’t no tolerance for,” I assured.

I hit the back of my head against the wall I was sitting against, and glanced up at the Bayern-Barca score line which read 3-2 at fulltime as the others continued to discuss how Barcelona and Valencia’s news outlets didn’t seem too bothered by Cristiano Ronaldo’s personal life.

We were at a sports bar, and I was gripping onto my third bottle of beer as I sat surrounded by Zoe, Chloe, and Mina. My lips pulled down into a deeper frown, forcing my lower lip to jut out. It was the weirdest and most unwelcome feeling of satisfaction to have your fears validated. Above all else, it was numbing. All it left you with was a soft tingling of emotion that you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was anger or sadness.

“Where’s the article?”

I knew one of them was bound to have it handy.

“Are you sure you want to see it?”

“Yes.”

“Come on, no, you don’t need to see it,” Mina pleaded.

“Please show me the article,” I forced my voice to stay calm as I ignored Mina’s urging. I fixed my lips so that they remained two perfectly parallel red lines going across my face, “I want to read the article that’s claiming my boyfriend is reuniting with his ex.”

Honestly I had no idea how I was keeping it together. There was a not-so-quiet voice at the back of my head demanding that I curl into a ball and cry, but another part of me, a much larger, much more indignant, part of me was demanding me to keep cool and stay tough. But still, how dare he prove me right!

Zoe pulled out the magazine from her bag and handed it to me. I noticed the dog-eared page and turned to it. I paused, glanced up, and all three girls were boring down on me with looks ranging from pity, to panic, to disappointment. My stomach clenched as bile filled my throat, and I smiled.
I stood up, a little too quickly and swayed for a moment, but I kept my grip on my beer tight. I nodded towards the patio of the bar, “If you guys don’t mind, I’ll read this in private – shouldn’t take more than a minute.”

All three vehemently nodded their heads.

“We’re here if you need us,” Mina promised.

“It’s all bullshit, people can Photoshop anything these days,” Chloe shouted after me.

I gave an awkward wave with the hand holding the magazine and went on my way outside with both beer and magazine in tow. There was one table vacant under the twinkling lights strung diagonally over the bar’s patio.

I took one final gander around me to make sure I was alone before I finally sat down and pulled open the stupid glossy tabloid magazine accusing Cristiano of potential infidelity. In bold, black letters the article title read: Superstar footballer and model Game Back On.

I recognized what Cristiano was wearing in the pictures because I had teased him about the need to match not only by colors, but by brand as well. He was dressed head-to-toe, including the sunglasses, in Gucci. As far as outfits go this one was particularly memorable. Also, this had been what he had been wearing last Wednesday when he dropped me off at the train station. So we can definitely rule out the theory that the magazine was using old pictures.

He was hugging her in the first picture I focused on, and she had her lips pressed against his cheek just barely millimeters away from his lips. In another they were sitting across from one another and she was petting his cheek with a pristinely manicured hand. I glanced through the actual article unable to comprehend anything beyond a few keywords that included the fact that they had an early dinner together.

I read whatever I could muster, drained my bottle of beer, made sure I was not about to barf, and pulled out my phone before I really knew what I was doing. Cristiano answered on the second ring and I was already wavering. Was I really going to pick a fight with him the night before he was due to play in a Champions League semifinal?

“Hey,” He greeted through a yawn, “I was going to call you, but I fell asleep.”

No I wasn’t.

“How was training?” I asked instead.

“Exhausting, but it’s the anticipation more than the training and exercises that tires you out,” He explained, “How did your final go on Monday?”

“Good, I was actually about to dive into an extended study session, so I’d call and check on you beforehand.”

“You were watching Barcelona lose, weren’t you, instead of revising?”

“They’re still headed to Berlin,” I replied, cringing at how easy it was to play along and act like nothing was wrong.

Cristiano yawned again.

“Good night, Cristiano.”

“Good luck tomorrow,” He answered.

“You too,” I murmured and hung up.

I finally returned to the table where the girls were sitting. I handed over the magazine to Zoe with a mumbled thanks, and stayed standing.

“Mina, you want to get going? I have a final first thing in the morning that I have been neglecting,” I announced.

“What are you going to do?” Chloe asked.

I stared wide-eyed, insistent with keeping up my playing dumb act, “I am going to go home to study, and I say once we all wrap up with the semester we go out to celebrate.”

Zoe and Chloe gave slow nods of assent, visibly perplexed, Mina stared blank faced and I couldn’t read exactly what emotion was dominating her thoughts the most.

“You know that article is complete and utter bullshit, right?” Mina demanded as soon as we were in the privacy of her stupid green fiat.

I frowned, “I know, I do not care about what the article says; it’s all salacious crap meant to turn a profit. He lied to me, that’s my problem.”

“He didn’t lie; he just didn’t mention it because he knew you would get riled up about it,” She defended, “I’m sure it’s just an innocent dinner.”

“Same thing,” I assured with a sardonic laugh, “Same, exact thing.”

The ride back to Martha’s was quiet after that. Once we arrived, I immediately headed to the pool house, flipped open a book and studied. I was going to pass with a ridiculously high score and then I was going to get out of Madrid. Obviously I was not going to leave without a final celebratory night out of course.

***

Real Madrid tied the second leg, and lost the spot in Berlin. Mina was nearly in tears beside me as the ref blew the whistle and the players walked off the pitch with shoulders slumped. Mina and I sat side-by-side and watched the crowds clear the stands and the Juventus players celebrate their entry into the final in Berlin against Barcelona.

Mina turned towards me, her eyes watery, but cheeks dry, her voice husky, “So how about that drink?”

“I just have to do one thing,” I reminded; that feeling of numbness had yet to wear off, and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or not for it.

“Are you sure tonight is the right time to bring up the article?” Mina asked, giving me a doubtful look,

“I know it’s none of my business, but really…it’s a bit crass.”

“I don’t think I’m going to be here tomorrow,” I said, and it did feel weird to say it out loud, but it also felt right too.

“What do you mean?”

“School’s over, isn’t it? I did my stint in Madrid; I proved that I could pull myself together. Now it’s time for me to take the lessons I learned and go back home, no? I don’t know what the next step is yet, maybe I’ll come back, I don’t know. What I do know is I need to take a step back before I can move forward again.”

“No, what are you insane! You need to stay and fix things with him,” Mina exclaimed.

I scoffed, “No I don’t, I really don’t. He’s lying to me, he’s breaking promises, and he’s dropping me to hang out with his mates. All of that does not bode well for our future relationship.”

“Just please talk to him, he’ll make you see reason.”

“Yeah, the reasonable thing to do is to go back home,” I muttered.

Mina went down to the locker room to retrieve Cristiano. I waited on the pitch near the goal posts wondering about just how thin the line between right and wrong really was. Maybe I was getting worked up over nothing, maybe I should just suck it up and let it go, but I could not risk falling for him even more if this was what I was going to be dealing with. He made me a promise, and he couldn’t keep it, and I just did not have it in me to let it go so easily.

“Mina said you were leaving the city?” Cristiano was fast approaching and there was a distinct tint of anger in his tone and on his expression. His hair was still wet and in disarray, and parts of his white-collared shirt stuck to his body as if he had just thrown on his clothes and rushed to meet me.

“There’s nothing left in Madrid for me except broken promises,” I cringed at the theatric tone and wording.

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I mean, do you forget who you are?”

“We just got knocked out of the champions league, so I’m asking, hopefully for the last time, what are you on about?” He repeated.

“It’s been over a week and you have yet to mention that you had dinner with your ex. You are the biggest star in Madrid; do you honestly believe you wouldn’t have been seen?”

“I’ve been skulking around with you for months and there’s no magazine spread overanalyzing the game of footsie going on under the table when we have dinner together.” He countered immediately.

He didn’t deny it, and I wasn’t sure to peg the easy admittance as good or bad.

I pointed at myself; wild-eyed because he had the audacity to be mad that I was mad about this,

“Because I am diligent about the places that we go, when we go, and who we mention what to at said places.”

He threw his hands up in the air, “What do you want from me, Senna? She was at the train station; we saw each other and shared a meal.”

“That’s all you had to tell me, Cris! I spoke to you every single day since Wednesday, I showed up in Valencia to surprise you, yet you did not mention having dinner with her. You should have mentioned it to me,” I hissed, surprised and slightly disappointed that the numbness was wearing off.

“I had a lot of other stuff on my mind, but okay, I should have, can we just drop this?”

“Ah, that’s where you misunderstood me, Cristiano. I am not having an argument with you where we kiss and make up. I am simply telling you I am done. I will not do this to myself again.”

Once the words registered, the shock was made immediate on his expression. I very nearly wavered, but I couldn’t. The fear of falling into that horridness that was post-Cesc was more than enough to have me running off. I refuse to put myself through that.

“I told you, we won’t…I won’t…,” He couldn’t find the words he was looking for. His mind was probably stretching out to all sides, and I didn’t like doing this to him, but I didn’t like what he was doing to me either.

“You said a lot of wonderful things that night to me. You had me believing in happy endings and charming princes even, but at the end of the day actions will always speak louder than words,” I clarified quietly.

“I’m going back to Barcelona,” I reaffirmed; I couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. The shock was giving away to hurt and panic.

“When?”

I could barely hear his one-word question.

“Tomorrow.”

“But the season’s not done, there’s still time, what about helping Martha?”

“I’ll talk to Martha. I’ll explain my situation.”

“What’s your situation then?”

“I broke my rule when I should not have,” I surmised without missing a beat.

He wanted to say something, I saw his expression soften and words begin to bubble up, but I lifted my hand to stop him; he obliged. I think it was the shock that paralyzed him. He wanted to fix this, and he most likely could have…if I was willing to hear him out, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t allow myself to be willing anymore.

“I’m done, and so are you, don’t keep fighting for something that you’re going to have to keep having to fight for to keep around. I won’t do it, and you shouldn’t have to either,” My voice was starting to shake, and I needed to get away from him. I needed to keep up my own pretense of impassiveness. I worked far too hard at it to let it slip away from me now. At this point it was all I had, and I was going to cling onto it tooth and nail.

He stepped towards me, and I stepped back, my head at a tilt, “Good night, Cristiano, and good luck. I honestly do wish you nothing but the best.”

A few intense breathing exercises, and possibly a moment or two of suffocating sobs later, and I found myself lingering around Mina’s car in the deserted car lot. My mind was frozen on Cristiano, and I knew he had the answers and assurances I needed to hear to make things alright, but I held him back. And I was still struggling to figure out if what I was doing was the right thing.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Mina’s voice bounced towards me as her running steps echoed, “Are you alright? Cristiano looked in a right state when I saw him.”

“I told him I’m done, I told him I’m leaving, and that’s all I’m willing to say on the matter tonight.”

Mina shrugged, “Fuck it, I want to let off some steam, so where it’ll be?”