Waking up the next morning had been more than difficult.
Especially waking up to my phone ringing at 9 a.m. when training was only at 2 p.m.
Groaning, I fumbled for my phone, squinting at the bright screen.
"Hello?" I mumbled, my voice heavy with sleep.
"Happy birthday, Mija!" The cheerful voice on the other end of the line instantly banished the remnants of sleep.
It didn't turn my grogginess into happiness, though.
"Mom, my birthday was two days ago," I grunted, sitting up on my bed. Of course, my mother would forget on which day her only child was born.
"Sweetie, I've been so busy with work, you know how it is. But it's never too late to celebrate, right?" Her attempt at enthusiasm fell flat, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
"Yeah, Mom, it's never too late." I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that belated celebrations were better than none. "Anyway, what's up? Why the morning call?"
"Well, it's midnight in LA, Mija. Not morning." She reminded me.
"Right, sorry, Mom. Midnight call then. What's going on?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"I saw Charlotte, yesterday. She told me about your game. Liverpool, yes?"
"Yeah, Mom, that's the one. We won, by the way. Two-nil," I replied, a hint of pride in my voice.
"Yes, yes, I know. It's not what I'm worried about." She said, and I raised an eyebrow. What could she possibly have been worried about?
My mother's cryptic words left me curious and slightly concerned. I leaned back against the pillows, waiting for her to elaborate on what was troubling her.
"I saw you celebrate goals. With that girl. Number 15." She said, and I knew exactly where she was going with that.
"Yeah, with Katie. What about it?" I asked with a sigh, even though I knew what about it.
The brief silence that followed my question felt like an eternity. I could almost sense my mother choosing her words carefully, a sign that whatever she was about to say held weight.
"Mija, you know I've always supported you in everything you do..." That was a lie. A blatant one. "But I hope you're being careful. People talk, and rumors can be damaging," she finally said, her tone carrying a mixture of concern and caution.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The truth was, I had anticipated this conversation at some point. The world of football, especially for women, often came with its share of judgment and scrutiny.
"Mom, Katie, and I are just teammates. And friends," I explained, the weariness evident in my voice. "I scored goals, and we celebrated. It's part of the game."
My mother's response was hesitant, as if she wanted to believe me but still harbored reservations. "I just don't want you to face unnecessary challenges or judgments, Mija. I don't want people to think you are... you know..."
"A lesbian? That's what you want to say, mom?" I said, and I heard my mother gasp at the word, making me roll my eyes.
"You are already making this difficult for yourself, Maria Valentina. By doing a man's job. How do you expect to find a husband if you keep associating with women like that?" My mother's words hung in the air, a heavy silence following her judgmental statement.
I greeted my teeth, trying my very best not to curse at her face.
"What if I don't want a husband?" I said, and my mother laughed at my words.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Valentina. Every woman wants a husband."
"No, mom. Not every woman wants a husband. I don't. I don't want a husband, I don't want kids, I don't want your idea of a 'stable job', I don't want to come back to California and live two houses away from yours. I don't want any of that! I want my life, my career, and to make my own decisions, even if it means being with another girl!" I said, my voice growing louder and louder with every each one of my words.
"Do not say that, Maria Valentina! You'll find the right man, settle down, and everything will make sense!" She replied, her tone a blend of dismissal and stubbornness. "I already put up with your... football nonsense, I am not going to let you ruin your life even more!"
"I'm in love with a girl, mom!" I yelled, in an attempt to make my mother stop. And it certainly did. The admission hung in the air, a palpable tension seeping through the phone line. My mother's silence spoke volumes, and I could almost envision the internal struggle she was facing. "I'm in love with a girl, who's amazing, and beautiful, and guess what? A footballer too. She's stable, she's fun, and she likes me for who I am. So, no, I'm sorry, but I don't want a husband. I want her. And if you're too stuck in your ways to accept that, it's your loss, not mine. Because at least she remembers my birthday, and when I score goals for the club I've been wanting to join my whole life, she celebrates with me, and she's proud of me, something you've never been your entire life!"
The weight of my confession hung in the air, a tense silence following the revelation of my truth. The truth that I was in love with a girl, unapologetically, and that my happiness mattered more than conforming to societal expectations.
My mother's voice, when it finally broke the silence, was strained, carrying the weight of disapproval and disappointment. "Maria Valentina, you need to think about what you're saying. This is not the life we envisioned for you. It's not right."
"And why would I care what you and Dad think? He's never home, and when he is, he tries to buy my love with money. And you...you're so busy chasing an idea of a perfect life that you can't see the happiness that's right in front of me. I've spent years trying to fit into your mold, and it never brought me the joy I found on my own terms. I'm not gonna stop being who I am for you."
For a second, I considered waiting for my mother's response before hanging up. But I knew too well it would only anger me even more.
So I hung up the phone, silence invading my bedroom after the yells of me and my mother had stopped.
I spend a few seconds in plain silence, watching the wall in front of me.
Then, I burst into tears.
And I kept on crying for two hours straight, Dominic Fike's and Halsey's albums doing very little to ease my pain. Even The Clash's 'Hits Back' album played in the background. And I didn't have the strength to even change the music.
I didn't manage to eat anything at lunch and left for training with my stomach empty and my head aching.
In my car, parked in front of the training center, I took the time to rearrange my look. Stirring up my teammates' attention was the last thing I needed right now.
I took a deep breath, wiping away the remnants of tears that stained my cheeks, plastered a fake smile on my face, and I left my car.
Entering the training center with a heavy heart, I masked my inner turmoil with a practiced smile. The weight of the emotional confrontation with my mother lingered, but I couldn't let it overshadow the focus required on the pitch.
As I stepped into the locker room, the buzz of my teammates filled the air. I exchanged quick greetings, deflecting any inquiries about my well-being with casual responses.
Leah, perceptive as ever, cast a concerned glance my way when I hugged her good morning, but I reassured her with a subtle nod and a forced smile, my hand convincingly squeezing her arm for a quick second.
The training session proceeded with a facade of normalcy, each drill and exercise demanding my attention. The rhythmic routine of football offered a temporary escape from the emotional turmoil that still lingered within.
I put everything I had into my training, momentarily forgetting my empty stomach, and thus the lack of sugar in my blood. My body didn't, though.
Fatigue settled in as I pushed through the drills, the emotional strain and lack of sustenance taking a toll. Yet, I couldn't afford to show weakness, not on the pitch.
During a brief water break, Leah approached me with a concerned expression. "You sure you're okay, Valentina?" she asked, her eyes searching mine for any sign of distress.
I nodded, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a rough morning. I'll be fine."
"You're... abnormally pale, Vale. I'm not sure you should keep on running. You didn't even laugh at Katie's joke, and you always laugh at her jokes."
"I've got this, Leah. Just a bit tired," I reassured her, my smile aiming to mask the underlying weariness.
The training continued, and I pushed through, determined not to let personal matters interfere with my performance on the field. The physical strain, however, became more evident with each passing minute.
As the session progressed, I felt my legs growing heavier, and my movements slightly sluggish. Leah's occasional glances in my direction mirrored her concern, but I pressed on, unwilling to show vulnerability.
Towards the end of the training, Coach Jonas noticed my subdued energy and called for a break. Leah approached me with a bottle of water, her eyes reflecting genuine worry.
"You sure you're okay to continue?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
"I'm fine, Leah." I said, my tone more harsh than I had anticipated. She instantly looked hurt, and I immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to say it like that. I'm just...I just want to play football." I said, and when I did, Jonas called the end of training.
I sighed, both happy it was over, and sad I couldn't keep playing.
Suddenly, the urge to puke took me, and I masked my mouth with the back of my hand, to keep it from happening.
Leah immediately saw that, and put her arm around my shoulders.
"Okay, that's it, I'm taking you back inside." She said, looking around her to find a teammate who was still on the pitch. "Steph, can you find some sugar, please?"
Steph hurried off to fetch something sugary, leaving Leah to support me as we made our way back inside. The emotional turmoil and physical strain had taken their toll, but I was determined to compose myself.
Once inside, Leah found a quiet corner away from prying eyes, and made me sit down on the floor, her concern palpable. "What happened, Vale?" she asked softly, a genuine worry etched across her face.
"I just... had a rough morning," I mumbled, letting the wall behind me support my head.
Leah crouched in front of me, putting her hands on my knees and tracing gentle patterns on them with her fingers.
"Rough morning doesn't usually lead to feeling like you're about to pass out. What happened?" Leah's concern was evident in her voice, a warmth that contrasted the emotional turmoil I had faced earlier.
"My mom's a bitch, that's what happened," I said, laughing bitterly. Steph came into view before Leah could answer.
"I brought you some chocolate," Steph's voice interrupted, holding out a bar of chocolate. "Jonas said it might help with the low sugar levels."
"Thanks, Steph." I offered my teammate a shy smile, then began eating, my body instantly responding to the sugar intake. Leah stayed close, her presence offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos.
Steph exchanged a concerned glance with Leah, both silently acknowledging the weight of the morning's events.
After a few minutes, the dizziness began to subside, replaced by a lingering fatigue. I leaned back against the wall, grateful for the temporary respite the sugar had provided.
Leah sat down beside me, her eyes reflecting understanding. "You want to talk about it?" she asked gently, her hand resting on my shoulder.
I sighed, contemplating whether to unravel the emotional turmoil that had unfolded earlier that day. The weight of the conversation with my mother still lingered, and Leah's comforting presence made me feel safe enough to share.
"Yeah, I do," I admitted, my voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and frustration. "I told my mom I was in- I liked a girl. Didn't end up with her telling me she loved me and she was proud of me."
Leah's expression shifted from concern to a mix of empathy and understanding. She squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, offering a silent support that felt more comforting than words.
"I'll let your girls talk," Steph said, and we both looked back at her. I offered her a grateful smile, and she returned it, before turning around, and walking back to the locker room.
Leah and I sat in the quiet corner, the sounds of the training center fading into the background.
"I don't think I'll ever have the... the happy family and proud parents, Leah. I think it's over."
Leah's gaze softened, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered beneath my words. Her hand remained on my shoulder, a grounding presence amid the emotional storm.
"I... I don't even expect her to understand, you know? I just... I just wish she'd at least acknowledge it. And love me for who I am."
Leah's eyes held a depth of empathy as she listened to my words, her hand offering a comforting touch on my shoulder.
"I know it's not the same, Vale, but I love you. Only as a friend, for now, but I do. You're an amazing person, with so much to offer, and so much to be proud of. And every single girl in that locker room loves you. Love you for exactly who you are. I know it's hard. I know how much it hurts not to feel supported, but you're not alone, okay? You'll never be alone. And I don't ever want you to jeopardize your health like you did this morning because of your mother. Okay?"
Leah's words resonated with a sincerity that eased the ache in my heart. I looked into Leah's eyes, and all I found was genuine love and support.
"Thanks, Leah. I appreciate that." I managed a small smile, and gently laid my head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry... I know I'm not the easiest person to be around sometimes."
Leah's arms wrapped around me, offering a comforting embrace. "You're not alone, Valentina," she whispered. "And you don't have to be the easiest person. We all have our struggles, okay?"
I let out a sigh, the weight of the morning's emotional battles slowly lifting in Leah's presence. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much," I admitted, my vulnerability laid bare.
Leah tightened her hold, a silent promise of solidarity. "It's okay to hurt, Vale. But remember, you have people who care about you, who see you for who you are, and who love you without conditions. I'm one of them."
"I love you too, Leah," I whispered, and though my words carried way more than hers did, I was okay with it.
Silence settled in again, and I found myself feeling happy again. Happy that I had such friends. Happy that I had the life I wanted. Happy that I had Leah.
"Let's do something fun, this afternoon. Just the two of us, yeah?" Leah suggested. Of course, the prospect of spending some quality time with Leah brought a smile to my lips.
I nodded, appreciating the simple yet profound offer. "Yeah, that sounds great," I replied, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "What do you wanna do?"
At my question, Leah smirked, offering me a playful wink. "You'll see. You're gonna love it."