Status: COMPLETED!

Keep Cool, Stay Tough

To Makeup or Breakup, That’s The Question

I cannot believe that I had been stupid enough to forget that Real Madrid was due in Barcelona to play against Espanyol the same time and day Barcelona was due in Madrid to play against Athletico. I had no clue how the match had ended, but one look at Cristiano’s face and I couldn’t help assuming that Real Madrid had one and he had probably score at least one goal if not a hat-trick.

“I should have gone to Madrid!” I exclaimed in agitation as I hit the palm of my hand against my forehead.

Cristiano had a finger in my face, a scowl on his lips, and a crude arch to his brow. I waited with bated breath wondering what he possibly had to say to me. I was also vaguely curious to know how the hell he had managed to find my home address. Mina would have been a logical lead, but surely she knew I would maim her if she sent him after me.

“So why is Ronaldo standing on our front porch?” My dad asked from behind me.

I noticed Cristiano immediately stand a little straighter and square his shoulders, rearranging his features and dropping his hands to his sides at the sound of my dad’s voice, “Good evening, sir.”

Cristiano gave another quick, pointed glance towards my direction before adding, “I’m sorry to be interrupting dinner.”

It took me a minute to realize that there was a small piece of chicken stuck to my chin. I furrowed my brows and wiped it off with my index finger.

“Good evening, it’s not a problem, is everything alright?” He answered and questioned in the same breath, visibly perplexed as I kept my back to him and my eyes fixed on Cristiano’s calmed expression.

“As a matter of fact, I’m actually here to have a word with you sir,” Cristiano cordially asked, his stance still stiff as a board, “If I may.”

“What?” I demanded, wheeling around at my dad to register his reaction.

“I would like that, I think,” My dad’s voice was slow and choked by confusion as he completely ignored me, but he kept cool.

“My family has no manners whatsoever, please come in,” Joie intervened impatiently and ushered Cristiano inside and past me as if I had suddenly turned invisible.

“What the fuck?” I mouthed to myself as I slammed the front door shut and followed the sound of their voices towards the dining hall. The twilight zone theme was literally starting to play nonstop in my head as I watched my dad and Cristiano head outside gripping onto a beer and water bottle respectively.

“What the hell is going on?” I wondered aloud as I heard the audible sound of the glass door leading outside slide back shut.

“You would know better than me,” Joie snapped with a furtive look as she set an extra place at the table.

“Why the hell are you setting a place for him?” I hissed irritably, waving my hand at the incriminating white china plate.

“He’s a guest, don’t be rude,” She chided and glanced at the table muttering something about reheating the bread and making more salad.

“Whatever I’m going to go and eavesdrop before I completely lose my mind…in the twilight zone,” I muttered feeling a bit like Rod Sterling and sauntered off to the sounds of Joie chastising me and chopping lettuce.

I stood hidden by the thick dark purple curtain, only able to pick up a word here and there exchanged between the two until I felt the curtain abruptly swish past me revealing me in my all my guilty, eavesdropping glory. Cristiano smirked as my dad shook his head slightly mortified by his daughter’s immaturity and led Cristiano further into the backyard. I stood still and watched them as I bit down on my lip and flicked on the outdoor light.

“I’m pretty sure I’m doing you a favor,” Joie assured and walked away.

“You’re being a jerk!” I shouted after her as I watched the pair outside sit down across from each other near the fire pit.

Joie and I sat in the living room after she kicked me out of the dining room for trying to eat another piece of chicken because apparently we were running low and it was rude not to save some for our guest. They were showing highlights from Real Madrid’s game, and sure enough Cristiano had scored a hat-trick. The highlight reel ended and the glass door slid open within the same minute.

“Cristiano’s staying for dinner,” My father announced.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’s your turn,” Cristiano answered.

“For what?”

He nodded towards the still open glass door, “Let’s talk.”

“My curiosity will kill me one of these days,” I announced and allowed him to lead me outside to where he had been sitting with my dad. I glanced around at my dad who smiled encouragingly at me.

“Why aren’t you answering my calls?”

“Even if my phone wasn’t broken…really, you’re really asking me why I wouldn’t jump to answer your call?”

“How’d you break your phone?”

“I threw it on the ground and stepped on it,” I calmly recalled.

“Why?”

“So I wouldn’t be tempted to call you while heavily intoxicated.”

“And what, Senna, it didn’t occur to you that I would just come find you?”

“No, it didn’t,” I answered immediately and honestly.

“Why not?”

“We broke up.”

“No…we didn’t,” He honestly looked baffled.

I scoffed, “Yes, I believe we did.”

“No, you just shouted a lot at a guy whose team lost out on the domestic and European league, who was still shell shocked, and didn’t have it in him to shout back,” Cristiano reprimanded, “And then you disappeared and broke your phone.”

“How did you even figure out where I lived?” I asked, even though I was pretty certain I knew the answer and already had a threatening text ready to send to Mina.

“I asked Iker to ask Pique.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned, “Great, now I’m never going to hear the end of it from him.”
“If you had answered your phone…” Cristiano trailed off.

“If you had told me about your dinner date with your ex-girlfriend,” I mimicked with a frown, beginning to feel the sting burn me again.

“It wasn’t a date,” He muttered.

“I hate this laid-back attitude of yours when it comes to you being honest with me!” I exclaimed, coming to my feet, making him quickly follow suit, “You made a mistake, own up to it properly instead of trying to constantly belittle me for being mad at you for lying.”

Cristiano took an audibly big breath and appeared to be searching for the right thing to say. When seconds trickled into minutes, I decided to speak up.

“I dare you, Cristiano, put yourself in my shoes. Picture me dropping you off at a train station, and immediately going off to have dinner with Cesc without mentioning it to you. Picture me petting his cheek, complimenting him on his new hair cut, and pressing my lips against his cheek just barely missing his lips, and having an entire city discussing what every movement, every smile means,” I returned and I don’t know at what point the tear started trickling down, but it was there and I felt it heavy and moist sliding down my cheek.

“Hey,” Cristiano gripped onto my shoulder and stepped forward enveloping me in a tight hug, “Stop, I’m sorry, you’re right, I would have gone completely ballistic even if you had told me you had gone.”
“I know you would have,” I sniffed and almost laughed as I pulled away from him, “And I know it wasn’t a date. I know you wouldn’t do that to me, but you should have let me prepare for the onslaught that it caused. I didn’t have an answer to give my friends, and I was embarrassed for myself and disappointed by you.”

“That’s why I’m standing here, Senna. I admit my mistake, but it was a tough week, you have to believe that. I’m sorry, and I am asking what you need me to do so that we could move on,” Cristiano asked and I wondered, genuinely astounded at where this patience came from. Had I been in his shoes, I would have dropped this conversation at the Bernabéu and would not have thought to pick it back up.

There was nothing he could do. It was up to me to decide whether to makeup or breakup…that was the question on both of our minds.

“You’ve done enough; I’m just an awful grudge holder.”

It was an awful trait that I blame on my mother.

Cristiano looked disappointed, but didn’t comment.

“But I want to let it go, and I’ll try to,” I added on quietly.

“That’s good enough for me,” Cristiano encouraged.

“So what did you talk to my dad about for so long?” I asked.

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “Oh you know, just typical stuff, football, family, plans for summer.”

He was screwing with me. I give him an inch and he’s off with a mile. I shook my head, keeping my lips pressed together to hide a smile.

“But mostly I was just convincing your dad to let me date you, get his blessing, and do this properly, publicly, without any secrets or shadows,” Cristiano answered, “And it wasn’t easy. He had a lot of questions, but I think I did okay.”

“You have no problem diving in and convincing others to dive with you, but you do have a huge problem with holding on and keeping people convinced to hold on too,” I elaborated with a low voice and jutted lower lip.

It certainly explained the weird, encouraging smile my dad gave me before I came outside with Cristiano.

“I’m working on it,” Cristiano promised quietly.

We went back inside where the table remained untouched and my family was waiting patiently in the living room to resume dinner.

“So when are you guys leaving for Portugal?” My dad asked as he clapped his hands together and came to his feet.

“What?” I spun around in time to catch Cristiano vehemently shaking his head.

“Your daughter isn’t that easy to convince. I decided to save that part of the conversation for later. Apparently, I’m lucky I even have a later to look forward to,” Cristiano explained as he scratched the back of his neck.

My dad sighed, “Don’t I know it.”

Joie waved for us to return to the dining room to resume dinner, and it still felt so strange to have Cristiano sitting across from me in my childhood home with my sister and dad present.

I absentmindedly piled Cristiano’s plate with food and handed it over which he accepted with an out-of-character quiet and demure thank you. As curious as I was about the Portugal invitation that had yet to be extended to me, I was far too aware of my family’s searching eyes on Cristiano and me to voice my curiosity aloud at the table.

After a quiet dinner, Cristiano politely pushed my dad and sister out of the dining room to do their thing, and volunteered me to help him clean up. We quietly cleared away the table and he began to load the dishwasher while I pulled out Tupperware for the leftover food.

“So are you really not coming back to Madrid?” Cristiano broke the silence first.

“Are you going to tell me what my dad was talking about?”

“I think if you answer my question, it’ll help me answer yours.”

Unbeknownst to my family and obviously Cristiano, I had gotten a phone call from Fernando with a very sweet and timely job offer. He had started to mention it on Friday, but with Sergio’s phone call and my train ticket, he hadn’t been able to delve into details. The job entailed helping to run the media department at Atheltico. And with Fernando’s glowing recommendation, he had assured I was a shoe-in if I was interested. I was a little embarrassed to admit what little convincing it took to have me saying yes. But I did. And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share any of this information with Cristiano.

“I’m still not sure,” I hazarded, “Now your turn.”

He shrugged, “I wanted us to go away to Lisbon for a few days.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“What?” I spluttered.

He didn’t notice the surprise in my voice as he continued, “I mean there’s just the one game against Getafe left to play. And it won’t be a problem to ask for a couple of days off before then.”

“That’s what my dad was referring, that’s what you got him to agree to.”

“Yes, why?”

He noticed me staring and nodded towards me with a smile, “What is it?”

For whatever reason he was being patient, understanding, and making a genuine effort to right his wrong. And I realized that I would rather regret saying yes as opposed to saying no. Maybe he didn’t need to know that just yet.

I shrugged and went back to putting away the leftovers, “Nothing.”
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Thank you to FootieJo for the comment! :)