It's difficult to find the way everything fits into place once it's broken, even if a surgeon gives you a pretty significant first push. Alexia's recovery is progressing with hope. Her knee is responding well to rehabilitation, but she doesn't feel...
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Match day. It had been a while since I had experienced that feeling. A gentle breeze, a sunny day, chants of the culés all around the stadium, and his hand holding mine firmly.
Yesterday, Marc had shown up at my house with an apology and a pair of tickets for today. An important match, her long-awaited return. He knew how special it would be for me to witness it, it felt almost historic. The queen's comeback and us as spectators among so many fortunate people.
We had grabbed a coffee to kill some time, and then we elbowed our way through the crowd until we reached the barrier that separated us from the players. Those whom now, after exchanging glances with so many of them in a state that seemed as ordinary as having drinks with friends in a dingy bar, didn't seem so distant from the realities of everyday life.
"The kid behind pushed me," Marc rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I swear, if a parent asks me to let their sperm spawn pass so they can get a better view, I won't be responsible for my actions."
I laughed at his remark.
"Isn't it you who loves kids?" I asked.
"Not on match days. Those are for adults," he replied, raising his index finger.
"Fuck them kids."
"But I won't blame them either," I looked at him curiously. "Think about it, wouldn't you love to bring our kids here to shake hands with the players? We could use their childlike innocence to get autographs."
He looked at me, smiling, and for a moment, I felt that he expected something more from me. A hope, an addition to his paternal fantasy, recognition of that future, perhaps. But the club's bus approached the barrier, diverting his attention away from me and causing the thought to dissipate into thin air, luckily for me.
Irene Paredes, Mapi León, and Mariona Caldentey were the first to exit the vehicle. The noise was deafening, and I sought Marc's gaze, making a face to make him laugh.
The crowd started pushing us backward, waving flags, jerseys... Anything with enough surface area to receive a signature. I think even the kid found a spot to end up in front of us.
In the distance, I could see Geyse and Rolfö handing out autographs or taking photos with the fans.
Marc's hand pulled me forcefully forward, and I once again touched the barrier with my body. Just as the cheers grew louder. And the reason for it set foot on the pavement.
She looked serious, just like the other night. I would dare say overwhelmed. She looked from side to side, waving her hand to acknowledge all those people who recognized her with a general wave of the right hand. She began walking, her eyes mostly fixed on the ground and occasionally glancing ahead and to the sides, positioning herself. In one of those moments, her eyes met mine again.
And she stopped.
In the middle of the path between the bus and the gate, Alexia Putellas stood still. She removed one earphone. Had she recognized me? It was physically impossible. On Halloween, my face was covered in makeup and mostly hidden under a pointy hat.
"She's looking at you!" Marc exclaimed in my ear before shaking my shoulders. "Quick! Ask her for an autograph, a photo, anything!"
Alexia broke eye contact at that moment and focused her gaze directly on my boyfriend. She looked him up and down and glanced at me one last time before resuming her walk towards the locker rooms.
"What bad luck!" Marc cursed. "She changed her mind, huh. She must be really focused. It's her comeback. And she also has to show how focused she is!"
"Damn, does she have to show everyone that she's a hundred percent in the game, just so she won't be judged if she doesn't score three goals?"
"Come on, don't be like that. I'm sure she'll sign for you another day."
"That's not what I mean!" I exclaimed wearily. "It's a lot of added pressure to have to prove to everyone that you take it seriously, just in case on your comeback, you're not the fucking messiah, you know?"
Marc looked at me confused by my reaction. He pressed his lips together and apologized before shouting again, trying to get Patri Guijarro's attention.
Alexia had come on in the second half and hadn't had anything particularly noteworthy. A couple of through passes, a clumsy dribble, and a shot from outside the box that went wide.
She went straight into the locker room after the final whistle, barely minding her teammates and even less stopping with the fans, despite the emphatic victory.
There were some shouts directed at her, which were quickly drowned out by others when they realized she was no longer on the field. Theories were being thrown around about some discomfort, important instructions, a family problem...
"How strange," Marc crossed his arms. "It wasn't her best game, but I expected her to stay and greet the fans."
"I don't know what could have happened."
"You know, when she came out, I thought she recognized you," he chuckled to himself. "From seeing you at the bar or something. The way she kept looking... She might have been trying to place you."
"I don't think so. We've never spoken, to be honest," I dismissed the idea. "Maybe she thought she recognized me from somewhere but couldn't figure out from where."
The fans started leaving the stadium, and we followed closely behind.
"Anyway, I brought you to see Alexia's great comeback. I'm sorry she didn't even stop for a moment," he apologized with sadness.
"Don't be silly," I smiled tenderly. "Coming together was the best gift." I assured before kissing him.
