HERO
My eyes slowly open in the familiar hotel we always stay in during our trips to Liverpool. Instantly, the shit feeling I've felt now for the last six days surfaces and I don't want to move out of the rather uncomfortable bed. Our trip here didn't go to plan at all. To say it was a failed trip is too much of an understatement. We lost. Four goals to fucking nil. They trounced us. Honestly, in hindsight, I've no idea what we were expecting really. They're what we're striving to be but the game yesterday was and is a stark reminder that we're a long way off being what they are as a team.
I feel awful. I let the team down with how I played and my attitude. The way I acted was and is completely unacceptable. It's everything a professional footballer, especially someone who's captain and wears the number 8 shirt for West Ham, shouldn't do. Not only have I let the team down, but I've also let myself down, the fans who travelled to watch us, the fans at home watching, my family and the club. I did everything I always said I wouldn't. The media will undoubtedly be commenting on my actions last night at Anfield but I've become quite adept at not googling myself, so that's what I'll continue to do and avoid any news channels.
I took it upon myself in the dressing room after the thrashing on the pitch to apologise to the players. Obviously, they were far from happy with me but Jack and Trent - after everyone else left - let me talk to them. I'm embarrassed by my performance and actions. And that, added to the fact Curt's words are still running riot in my head, I didn't get a wink of sleep. His words kept repeating and repeating as they have done now for the last six days. Another thing that spun around my mind was Jo and her reaction to what I did. I know she'll have seen it, she told me she'd be watching. What must she think of me after that?
Needless to say, I'm not looking forward to going home. Even though I have until next Monday off now and Mila finishes school today for Christmas and I'm picking her up, these two reasons don't seem to be enough to make me excited about returning to London. I'm just hoping Mila didn't see my outburst last night. My daughter seeing me in that light is the last thing I want. I just hope my mum and dad, for once, didn't watch the match with her. But I have a horrible feeling they did... Which means she'll have seen.
I don't want to leave the bed, but I've got to make a start on packing and getting myself ready to go home. I should be looking forward to everything ahead when in reality, I'm fucking dreading it. I hope for Curt's sake I don't see him for a long time. Jesus Christ, the things I'd do to him now after what he's done to me. I should be looking forward to going home for a variety of reasons, with Christmas on the horizon there are plenty of things I should be doing with Mila. Putting up the tree and sorting presents. But all I want to do is go home, lock the door and keep us together in there. Me and my little girl against the world. But that can't happen and I know it won't. It's just wishful thinking.
I should be looking forward to celebrating Christmas with Jo too. But God knows what she must think of me now. Again, I'm pretty sure that'll be wishful thinking now. Why would she even want me? Not after how I've ghosted her. But replying was something my mind and body wouldn't and still won't allow me to do. All because of these planted doubts. Everything still hangs on that what if and it feels horrendous. But there's nothing I can do now...
Pushing up out of the bed, I stretch my arms above my head and make a start on getting myself ready for the return to London. Even if doing things is the last thing I want to do. But I've got to, I've got to go home.
Heading down to the restaurant for breakfast, just as I'm in the elevator descending the floors of the hotel, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. But no excitement courses through me as there has been in the past. I know it won't be her. I lift my phone out of my jogger pocket and see a message from my mum, waiting for me. Sliding my thumb across the screen to unlock my phone, our text thread opens and I see her latest message to me.
Morning, son. We had tears last night, Mila saw what happened at the match. Just be gentle with her when you pick her up from school today. Are you sure you don't want to talk? X
Fuck. Mila saw what happened. The one person along with Jo who I really didn't want to see me acting the way I did. It sounds wrong of me because my behaviour was unacceptable and I let people down, but I don't care about anyone else's opinions of it. They don't know the reasoning behind it. I've no idea how she's going to respond to me when I pick her up from school and that terrifies me. My daughter's such an emotive girl too and I have no idea what to expect. This news just solidifies that returning to London is the last thing I want to do.
***
I've clock watched since I arrived home but thankfully, as Mila's finishing time is nearly here, I have something to try and focus on. My little girl. My Mila. She'll be finishing school at any minute and will be home with me until after Christmas. They're finishing early this year, why I couldn't tell you. But I'm glad they are, I can focus all my efforts and my mind on her to try and push past this self-sabotage.
Pulling into the school car park, I drive around a few times, up and down the rows, searching for a space. When I finally see one come available, I drive quickly, pressing down onto the accelerator to pull into the space. They're so hard to come by, obviously because of how many kids go to this school. But I've found one now so I drive in, pull the handbrake up and switch my car off. Pulling the key out of the ignition, I reach into the glove compartment and reach for my Heroes cap, remembering swiftly how Jo always used to point out the irony of this hat. Sighing, I pull it into place and open the door, pushing out of the car before locking it behind me.
I pace through the car park and onto the path leading to the playground. Already it's packed with parents and knowing there's a chance the people standing around me watched last night, I keep my head and eyes down, thankful I got changed before I came here.
The school bell rings for the last time and all the doors open in tandem. The teachers open the door and I see Mila waiting to be let out. Still, she doesn't look herself. The glow in her green eyes isn't there and she looks so sad. I've got to try and be more normal around her, this is affecting her just as much as me. And I already know about the tears, so as mum said in her text this morning, I've got to be gentle with her. She moves to the front of the queue and she looks around before her eyes find mine. But there's something in them that I've never seen before. Something I never want to see in my little girl's eyes... Fear. They're wide and worried as she tentatively points to me before wandering away from the teacher and to me.
Slowly, she walks over to me, her eyes still wide and worried. She must've seen it all. She's seen me acting up. And I've scared her. I've scared my daughter. Good God, no. I open my arms to her and she cautiously walks into them, her eyes still fearful.
"Hello, Princess," she doesn't say anything. Her arms stay by her side too and she doesn't hug me back.
"I saw you yesterday, daddy. You were angry," her voice trembles as she tentatively wraps her arms gently around my shoulders. I'm going to have to be cautious with this one. She's clearly upset and scared after seeing me act the way I did at Anfield. She's never seen me angry before, I rarely get angry and if I am I keep it away from her. This is a first for her but the last thing I want to do is scare my daughter.
"I was, darling. And I'm sorry you saw me that way. How daddy acted isn't the right way to act when you're angry," Mila sighs as she pulls away, her eyes still fearful but not as fearful as they were before.
"Was it because you've not spoken to Princess Jo?" Somehow, I knew this was coming. She may be five but my girl is wise beyond her years.
"It's part of it. But mainly because daddy couldn't carry on playing football. You know how much daddy loves football. Almost as much as I love you, darling. So it made me upset I couldn't play," she nods, understanding before wrapping her arms around me again. Thankfully, a little tighter this time.
"You never have to be scared of me, Mila. I'll never let any harm come to you, darling. Let's go home and have some hot chocolates. Next time you're in school, it'll be after Christmas and the new year," we pull away and she silently slides her hand into mine. I begin to lead her out of the playground for the last time this year, wanting to get her home, shut the door and just be with her for a while. I'm just hoping it'll help silence the thoughts, just for a little while before she goes to bed.
***
As much as I'd love to say things were normal at home, they've been far from normal since the moment we got in the car together. We barely spoke on the drive home, I felt like we were in the car for hours when in reality, it was no more than fifteen minutes. When we walked in, she trudged upstairs and told me she was going to get changed out of her uniform. She took her sweet time, so much so the hot chocolates I made for us were lukewarm by the time she came down into the kitchen, wearing my black hoodie with the word Boss in the central, horizontal white stripe.
As a treat, I ordered us a McDonald's for dinner, telling her she could have anything she wanted but even though it arrived piping hot as it always does, she only picked at her food and didn't even finish the Happy Meal. I'm getting more and more worried about her. She's distancing herself from me and when she's with me, she's barely talking to me. And all of this is because of me ghosting Jo because of what's been going on in my head. It pains me to see her like this, she doesn't want to be around me, only when she has to be.
Knowing she's not eaten enough, I take myself out of the living area and into the kitchen. I grab two bowls and lift out the box of cereal stashed under the cupboard. We don't have this often but it serves a purpose at times like this for supper. At least then she'll go to bed with a full belly, I don't want her going to bed hungry. I pour out two bowls of Cornflakes before heading over to the fridge and grabbing the milk carton. Before I pour the milk, I pace over to the archway, deciding it's best to call her now because she'll probably take her time coming down.
"Mila. Come and have some supper," as soon as I project my voice upstairs, I hear footsteps, albeit slow footsteps, coming towards the stairs. Her eyes connect with mine from the top of the stairs and she starts to descend, watching me while I wait for her. I can't read her expression though which concerns me.
"Let's have some supper, darling. I don't want you going to bed hungry, you barely touched your Happy Meal," she sighs and nods, saying okay as I lead her into the kitchen. After lifting her onto one of the barstools, I wander around the breakfast bar and begin to pour the milk into both the prepared bowls. I grab us two spoons and slide one over to Mila while keeping one for myself. While I begin to dig in, Mila starts to shuffle the cereal around the bowl, playing with it before she takes a small spoonful. I can't keep things like this, I have to hear it from her to know what's wrong so I can hopefully do something about it. Although I have a horrible feeling I already know what the issue is.
"What's wrong, darling? You've barely said a word to me all day," Mila sighs heavily before looking up at me, her green eyes hollow and sad.
"I'm not happy. I don't like this. I don't like you not talking to Princess Jo. You told me it's ignorant to ignore people," she takes a spoonful of her cereal, moving her glaring eyes down and away from me. I can sense in her tone just how pissed she is. She really is her mother's daughter. Tentatively, I place my hand on her back, but she shrugs me away. She doesn't even want to be near me.
"It's... different this time, sweetheart. This is -"
"How is it different?" I didn't expect that.
"Because I've said it is, Mila," her head shoots around to me, her green eyes glaring murderously at me. I'm losing my temper with her, this never happens. And I know it's because she's pressing me and I still can't give her the answers she wants.
"I don't like this. Having Princess Jo here was like..."
"Go on," I already know what she's going to say.
"Was like having a mummy and a daddy. But now she's gone. And you won't tell me why," her words come out as a heavy sigh, like she's tired of having to explain herself. I knew what she was going to say but actually hearing the words hurts more than I thought it would. Of course, it was like that for her.
We continue to eat our cereal only Mila is picking at it. Playing with her food, moving the soggy pieces of cereal about in the milk in the bowl.
"Are you done, darling?"
"Tell me why you won't speak to Princess Jo," it's not a question, she's turned it into a statement. And her voice has changed again but this time, it's laced with pure anger and annoyance. At me. Her father.
"Mila, stop,"
"Tell me," she's snapping at me, this isn't right.
"Mila," looking me directly in the eye, her arm swipes across the counter, pushing the bowl and remaining bits of cereal away from her. It tumbles off the side, spilling all over the floor. The bowl bouncing, surprisingly not breaking or even splintering. Her gaze holds mine as I feel annoyance much more than I have in the past build and bubble inside me. This isn't my little girl.
"Go to your room. Now," I point towards the archway and without a word she hops off the stool and storms her way out. She doesn't even look back, it's like she doesn't have a problem with me doing this. I've never experienced anything like this with her but she's never acted this way before. Similarly to me never acting the way I did yesterday. My hand rakes through my hair as I try to get to grips with what's just happened. This is just getting worse and worse now... But I'm going to give her the benefit of the doubt and let her cool off for a bit before going upstairs to get her. I know she's in her room from the slam that echoes down to me. Jesus Christ, what the fuck is happening?
I don't know how long Mila is upstairs but I've taken myself over to the couch in the living area. I've not even bothered cleaning up the purposeful mess she made before. Her point and annoyance were more than made with her words but that certainly added to it. My thoughts have continued to eat me up. My mind's spinning even more now after Mila's outburst. But since that has happened the small dose of guilt I've been feeling since things turned more serious between Jo and I has suddenly become crippling. It's weighing on me more so now because of how Mila acted and what she said before. She said it felt like a mummy and a daddy. Sara left an empty space inside me. A chasm of pure darkness that's stained my soul. I knew that would come, eventually, from Mila. It was only a matter of time. What would Sara think of all this?
I could and would never compare Sara and Jo. That would never happen. I thought I'd felt everything when it came to a relationship, I really did. I loved Sara with everything I had... But recently, as in these last few days, I've wondered whether I didn't feel it all with Sara. Primarily because of our age. We were so young. I'm not saying I'm ancient now but I'm older and much more mature than I was back then. I've had no option but to be, Mila's depended on me since her first birthday. And what terrifies me is I think I was starting to feel more with Jo than I have done in the past. It scares the hell out of me, to know that there was more. So much more. And that I started to feel it without even realising.
A loud bang from upstairs pulls me from my thoughts. What's she doing? She's not come down once, I was going to check on her shortly, to see if she'd cooled down. She's her mother's daughter when it comes to her attitude. She's determined and honestly, I think there's also a bit of Mercy in her too. She's well on her way to being a force to be reckoned with, just like her aunt.
The loud bang is followed by footsteps that stomp closer and closer to the landing above. I pace around the couch and hear the stomps begin to descend the stairs, purposefully. She wants my attention and she's got it. Heading to the archway, I see Mila dressed in her jeans, her West Ham hoodie I bought her at the start of the season and strangely enough, her Nike Air Force One trainers. Her face is still straight and determined just as it was before. Her little jaw taut and clenched. I realise as she comes further down, the overnight backpack on her back, the one she used last weekend.
"What are you doing, Mila?" I keep my voice as even as possible. But she doesn't even look at me, she just continues down the stairs, determination still written on her face.
"Mila, I asked you a question," she huffs and rolls her eyes at me as she steps off the last stair.
"I'm going to Princess Jo's," she snaps. What the hell...? It sounds ridiculous because she's just five, not fifteen but I really wouldn't put it past her to try. She's definitely my daughter.
She pushes further forward through the hall, away from the stairs and towards the front door. She's not looked at me once apart from when she told me what she was doing. And while I should be stopping her, I find my feet are glued in place and my eyes just watch her moving towards the front door. When she gets there, she just stands in front of the large, wooden and glass door. Her little hand places itself on the handle softly and slowly her head turns towards me. But gone are all the traces of determination and adamancy from her face. Her lower lip trembles and her eyes fill to the brim with heavy, unshed tears. Oh, God no...
Pushing against the arch, I stride my way over to her and as I fall to my knees in front of her, the tears spill over her cheeks. The sobs fall from her as her shoulders fall up and down.
"Oh, darling. Come here," I wrap my arms tightly around her little form, feeling her cry loudly into my shoulder. We can't go on like this... She's not herself and nor am I.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry, please don't cry, Mila," I tighten my hold on her but her cries continue. Surrounding me as I hold her to me. Her little arms just hang by her sides, mine clutched around them.
"J-Jo was the clo-closest thing I've had to a mu-mummy and now she's g-gone. Now I've lost t-two mummies," fucking hell. Her words are like a knife slowly piercing into my heart. I sigh heavily and shuffle my arms around her again, holding her against me tightly. Burying my head into the crook of her neck as she has with me, I feel her hot tears running through my T-shirt. None of this is okay.
As much as I hate to admit it, Mila's right. Jo is the closest thing she's known to a mother. Given the timing of Sara's diagnosis shortly after her birth, Mila was way too young to remember any of the few stolen moments she shared with her mother. Jo being there for her showed her what it's like. It gave her a good taste of a full family. And I've denied that from her. And myself. We need Jo in our lives. I can't listen to the words in my head any longer. I have to listen to my little girl and my heart. I love them. Both of them. I'm such a fool. Fuck me, what the hell have I done?
—————
Fun fact, I wrote this chapter while flying to my honeymoon destination. It's amazing what you can do when you have 9.5 hours to yourself in the same seat 😂✈️
Firstly, don't hate me but it just had to be Mila to be the one to make him see sense. Don't worry, it hurt me writing her breakdown just as much as it probably hurt you reading it 🥺😭
So, what is he going to do about it? What are your guesses? 💭
As always a big thank you for your love and support up to this point, you're all incredible 🥰
No idea when the next one will be, but until then, Jen 💜