"Let not your heart be troubled; you believe in God, believe also in Me."
-John 14:1
-0.6- "The Hardest Thing."
Stories to check out:
hsheek1- Football Imagines
ginger_minge- Boy Bait
Alana Andrade Amero
Sr. Lampello
Intermediate Writing
September 2016
The Hardest Thing
"The hardest thing I can honestly say is...this paper. I have no idea what to write about, or write something you haven't read a million times before. Honestly bro, I just want a good grade on this because I am stressing about it. Do you know how stressful this is--"
The cursor began to blink as I caught a painful case of writer's block. And if that weren't enough, being trapped in my new canary themed room was a bonus. With Neymar having a little get together in the sitting room. They were laughing and messing around. I heard Thiago, Marcelo, David Luiz, and Roberto's voices. Along with a female voice that I couldn't distinguish.
Nor did I care.
Although they were uknowingly detering my concetration on my paper. Attempting to drown out their obnoxiously loud voices did not help either. I grew impatient with my lack of process, backspacing everything up until the title. Because let's face it, my paper was trash just a paragraph in. My fingers continued to type, nonetheless.
"The hardest thing is being trapped in a hotel room while your ex has his friends over in the central room. They're laughing loudly and talking while I sit here, typing this. Do you realize that it's been thirty minutes and he has all his friends here? I would've loved to have Bàrbara over, or maybe Bia, or Andressinha (I mean, they are my best friends in the team). But nooooooo, he has to have his friends over. This guy has absolutely no respect for boundaries or even asking what's okay and what's not okay--"
The paper was not A1.
I kept drawing blanks, with no clue on what to possibly write about. Staring at the screen for minutes didn't help my writer's block, or my eyesight. Sr. Lampello expected a completed thesis to show how much progress we've made. And if that didn't help, my friend and classmate Gina already had pages upon pages of what the hardest thing is: her boy problems. I had plenty to come up with, but I couldn't even put it into words.
Giving up was not an option, but I'd chosen to close the lid to my white laptop, calling it a day. I fluffed the pillows behind me, making sure it was comfortable enough to lay down. Doing just that, I began to observe the good-sized room that I was to stay in. From the apricot colored walls, to it's warm design complete with a mahogany wardrobe and desk facing the two enormous windows overlooking a lovely sky. I do say that this was possibly nicer than my single. Not to mention the bed that was fluffed to optimum comfort. Minus the embroidered pillows at least. An extra bed lay idle in the corner of the room, but it didn't obstruct the beauty of the room. But I did find it's presence strange.
My hand passed over my face as I contemplated my assignment. I pulled out my phone, answering a few texts from Andrew and Dani. Mainly asking about my predicament with Neymar. They were the only two who knew, well, besides Rafinha who was probably enjoying his isolation. But answering them wasn't why I grabbed my phone.
To: GinaBear
"Answer back soon please. What exactly is your topic about and how did you find it? Hope you're enjoying your classes without me haha. We have a lot to talk abt!"
I fumbled with my phone, which fell on my face after pressing the 'send' button. As I tried to stifle a laugh, I heard footsteps approaching my door. I examined the shadows under the crack of the door before bolting to the other side of my bed. Maybe if Neymar told me that he was having company, maybe I could've left to hang out with the girls.
But no, what Neymar wants, he gets.
But I was not about to put up with that for a week. I rolled my eyes as they became rowdier, with the sounds of a femle voice cackling. They were screaming and shouting as the cackles became louder, with an eventual slam on my door. Cue more cackles from everybody in the sitting room. My eye twitched as the sound from the TV in the next was risen to maximum, and another voice of a woman speaking could be heard.
"Where's Raffy, Juninho?" That same woman spoke, and I heard a few mumbles. "I haven't heard him in a long time." Finally recoiling up from the other side of my bed, I crawled unto the bed.
"Raf is sleeping." I could barely make out Neymar's words. "He came down with something." Which was true.
My nerves shot up again once whoever was standing by my door left. I didn't know how I was supposed to control a team full of men. Nevertheless with their captain in a mutual dislike for me. How would they listen to me if I couldn't stand up to Neymar? Who made sure to ignore my requests on a guideline to sharing a suit with me.
"Ney, why can't we go into your room?" I'm pretty sure that was Vala speaking.
"Cause Rafinha is sick." He answered, and my head shot up out of my pouting state.
Was this the only room?
Oh. No.
Dunga what have you gotten me into?
I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. Not wanting to feel sorry for myself anymore, I grabbed the clipboard on the bureau next to me. I started to write something on the clipboard itself with the green sharpier that accompanied it.
"You can do it!" With a verse above it. "Psalm 30:5."
I set the clipboard to my side, and decided to rest my eyes. Even with the annoying get-together in the sitting room. Knowing that I could very well sleep the rest of the night, I changed into a pajama top, staying pantsless. I texted Shane and Andrew a goodnight, praying that I wouldn't panic tomorrow.
I poked at the bird's nest that was my hair, hoping that it wouldn't give me too much of a problem in the morning
//+//
My alarm woke me up at 7 in the morning. I was caught off guard as I quickly jumped out of my bed, looking to the left of me. Seeing the bed where Neymar was supposedly supposed to sleep empty and untouched. Not knowing whether or not to sigh a breath of relief, I quickly tip toed to the bathroom across the suit. It had the nicest hand towels.
As I was walking towards the bathroom, being sure that the coast was clear; I saw him laying on the couch, completely knocked out. He was only in his black boxers, and my eyes widened. His body looked more toned than how I remembered, and his hand lay under his head, softly snoring. The rise and fall of his chest was like it used to be. An over elongated inhale, and then a short exhale.
Why am I watching him sleep?
"Staring again?" Neymar's I-just-woke-up ridden voice interrupted my thoughts, making me jump.
"There's another bed in my--the room, you know that right?" I asked him, and he nodded.
"Yeah I do." He stretched, looking at me with confusion. His eyes looked to his right and then his left, and to me. "And you're still standing here cause...?"
Oh no, he is not using that attitude with me.
"Right Neymar. Let's set some rules here to ensure that I won't kick a football at your head today. Or the rest of the week." I spoke as assertively as I could while standing in my night clothes, he just chuckled groggily. "Okay?" I supported my weight on the arm of the beige couch. Neymar began to half smile, and he motioned me to go.
My finger tapped on my chin as I thought of what to possibly say to him.
"Rule #1: I won't take it from you when it's just us, or anybody for that matter. Rule #2: stop insulting me you meanie. Rule #3: Tell me before you have company over so that I can leave beforehand. Rule #4: uh--" I began to think.
His eyes never left the direction of my face, he looked as if he really was waiting to hear me speak again. His hands passed over his beard, and I shrugged. Trying to make more rules I hoped that he would in the least attempt follow.
"Rule #4: stop indirecting me on instagram. Rule #5: try not to be so loud. Rule #6: Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong, since it's my first day." I inhale sharply as I say the last rule. "Rule #7: Respect me please." I pleaded honestly with him.
"Yeah. That's fair enough." Neymar nodded, stroking his beard once more.
"Thank you." I said, and he stood to his feet, pulling on his white undershirt from yesterday.
"Mhm." He sauntered over to the mini kitchen, scanning me once more before going into the fridge.
Did we just agree on something?
Then I smelled B.O., not from him, but from myself. Ew, Ana! It's a really big taboo to smell bad in Brazil.
And I really haven't showered since Saturday? Wow.
//+//
My hair was looking better than it had been in a few days. It was straightened, (I had to keep it tame somehow, all of my natural products had gone missing.) Neymar left way earlier than I thought he would, so I used a purple flat iron in the main bathroom of the suit to get the job done. I was to be at the training center by nine, and Dunga promised to bring me himself. He wanted me to meet the team in training. He told me to keep my outfit casual chic, and after my first day; I'd be given an official training shirt for warm days, and an official training sweatshirt for colder days.
As I stood in the body length mirror in the main bathroom, I observed my outfit. A gray quarter-sleeved shirt, with anavy blue skirt that hugged my mid section but came out loosely at the ends. It came under my knees just a little bit, with some navy blue heels to match. I brought same colored flats just in case the team would be practicing on the field. Andrew suggested that I'd bring sneakers just in case I had to partake somehow. My hair was parted in the middle as I made some last minute fixes, tucking loose strands behind my ears.
"Please help me Lord, I'm really nervous. Thank You in advance. Amen." I prayed aloud, and grabbed the keys to the room before leaving with 15 minutes to spare. Holding my clipboard to my side, I felt business savy. I walked down the hallway to Dunga's room, knocking softly on his door.
While knocking on his door, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I turned in the direction and saw Lucas Moura eyeing me suspiciously. My lips drew into a thin line, he began to smirk. I knocked again, harder that time.
Why. Does. Everybody. Smirk?
"Hey cutie, everything okay?" He asked me, making me roll my eyes at his use of a common and unsuccessful pick up line. Dunga please, please come out. "Looking for Dunga?" Once I didn't reply to his innuendos, he continued. "You forgot something in his room?" He sounded kinder that time, but I chose to ignore him. "Oh, you're not a Portuguese speaker."
I turned to him with a scowl.
Couldn't he take the hint?
Of course I understood him, he just wanted to make himself feel better.
"Oh yeah, you definitively aren't one." He said as he took a few steps back before turning around all together, disappearing down the hallway. "Don't know how Dunga gonna get a beautiful girl that doesn't even know his own language." I lightly chuckled, knocking again.
"Dunga!" I yelled, and the door opened. I was beginning to wonder if women knocking at his door for something they left was a regular occurence. Nonetheless, he scanned my outfit, and nodded approvingly.
"Sorry about the delay, I just woke up and decided to review my strategies for the day." He locked the door to his room, and we began walking. "We're taking the back door exit okay?"
Reminds me of a time where that was my only option.
"Yes coach." I nodded, rubbing my bare arms.
"Nervous?"
"Probably the most I've been in a while."
Some silence passed between the time we had gotten to his humble red (compared to a lot of football stars) BMW. He looked at me before starting the car, and I saw crinkles form near his brown eyes. I knew he was going to start laughing.
"Well, I see you didn't fight with Neymar." I smiled, but it didn't reach my eyes. "How was it?" He asked as he began to drive, I stared out of the window at the city scape in Cardiff.
"It was good." I shrugged, doing some people watching in the meantime.
"And good means..."
"Good means we kept my presence lowkey, good also means we remained calm finding out there was only one room and two beds." I threw that in to send a helpful hint. "And good means he's gonna help me." I mean, I hope he was going to help me. I heard the coach whistle in shock.
"You know he was going to completely reject you being in this position? Well, Vala, the sweet girl," I shuddered as the use of 'sweet', "she completely convinced him to sign you on. They've gotten on quite well since she went to Espanyol." He went on and on and on about how sweet Vala was, and how much he's happy that Neymar and I can be so cordial. Not to mention how impressed he is with my opinion of 'Nala', their ship name cherry picked by fans. "The team is extremely excited to meet you too."
Now you have my attention.
"Are you so sure?" I asked him, staring at him as he chose then to be the time he'd zone out and concentrate on the road. My eyebrows knitted together once I saw writing scrawled across his hand.
"Huh--yeah! Yeah." He smoothly took a turn into the parking lot of the Vale of Glamorgan training ground. "Now, I'm going to have you stay by my side throughout training. We have a few staff who will help you if you have questions." We stepped out of the car, I kept my focus on the sleek pavement as the coach walked by my side. "Did you have a chat with any players, Ana?" I came to a stop as Dunga scanned an ID on something that resembled a supermarket scanner. My heels clicked on the floor as we waded through white hallways decorated with pictures and trophies in a trophy case built within the walls.
My eyes scanned labels on doors to give me a sense of where we were venturing off to. As we walked further down a barely lit hallway, I heard the voices and rowdiness.
You can't never miss the sound of men being obnoxious.
My body tensed up as I neared the room. Dunga, on the other hand, didn't seem to affected, as if he were used to it. The sounds were echoing in the seemingly big-ish room. Dunga pulled out a key and struck the doorknob, and opened the door. A gust of air blew my hair back that I had spent twenty minutes attempting to fix. Dunga bid me to walk in first, and I inhaled sharply.
I silently prayed in my heart, being scared out of my wits. The room was a regular training room like gym, gym full of men. My hair bounced as I struggled to keep my legs straight.
I was such a klutz.
The room was suddenly quiet as I fixed my skirt, doing everything in my power not to look up. But I did subconsciously, looking at a room full of confused faces. My eyes flickered to familiar faces to help me ease up. Neymar was the first face I looked to, but he averted his eyes once we made eye contact.
Stop looking at him.
There were whispers going wildly throughout the room as I waited for Dunga to stop taking his time to lock the door. There were a few greetings from familiar faces, while the rest just stayed with shocked expressions. The coach walked to my side as I folded my clamy hands in front of me. A
"Alright boys, I want you to meet Alana Andrade, she is the task manager that we have been speaking about, and--"
"But she doesn't even speak Portuguese!" All eyes fell on Lucas Moura, who had his arms spread out.
"She's the captain of the Seleção feminina, idiota." Jefferson whispered, causing an uproarous laughter. "And Neymar's ex." He tried his best to hide that, but I drew my lips into a thin line. Lucas came to that sudden realization, eyeing me.
"You may know her as a pioneer of the women's league or whatever," Dunga was reading off of his hand, it seemed, "or simply as Andrew's twin sister, Jr's soon to be sister-in-law..." Dunga thought on what he could say, before a voice came from the group of players.
"And she's Neymar's ex girlfriend!" Whoever it was yelled, making me feel a stomach drop feeling. Neymar looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
"Hey man, stop bringing up everybody's business. What's wrong with ya?" I heard Zico as he rushed to my defense, and I imagined tackling that kid.
Calm down, don't fight anybody.
"I'm not playing with you Denilson, or the rest of you. You will treat Sra. Andrade as a professional." Dunga said with a warning tone.
My eyes met with the one whom Dunga singled out. I figured that he was a second or third time call up, seeing as neither Andrew or Zico have spoken about him. Whoever this Denilson guy was, he sure was not the shy type as he shamelessly ran his eyes up and down my body slowly.
Not a chance Denilson, I have me a Shane.
I sighed, looking for Dunga to say something.
"Okay, well, I expect you all to listen to Sra. Andrade and stay on task. I expect no back talk or disrespect from any of you. I'm serious." Dunga instructed, pulling out his key that he used to come inside. "Your clip board Alana." He pointed to it. I scrambled to get it into my hands as I skimmed the words heading the page.
"Roster: September 2016:"
After the heading, I noticed all their names and jersey numbers being listed. I ran a hand through my chestnut colored hair. As Dunga opened the door, he motioned for me to wait for all the men to walk out first before I would follow. I kept my eyes downcast as most of them sized me up and down, filing out and snickering with one another. Marcelo, Jefferson, David, Thiago, Oscar, and Willian greeted me, wishing me good luck. Andrew was the last to leave, and he pinched my chin between two fingers, lifting my head up.
"Chin up, Ana, they take any sign of weakness to their advantage." He then poked my cheek, making it emit a weird sound. I chuckled, holding my cheek. "But, good job so far, I just--"
"Amero, to the training grounds." Dunga instructed, sounding quite impatient.
"Yeah, okay." I watched as he turned around, walking a few steps before turning to look at me.
He seemed to look sad for the slightest second, before leaving all together. Dunga motioned me to follow him as he locked the door, again.
"Why do you need to lock it so much?" I asked him, crossing my arms as the air conditioning in the building really began to take effect.
"Security reasons." He effortlessly flipped the key and put it into his pocket. "So the men are going to be doing their laps around for ten minutes or so." From a distance, I could see the group of players laughing and talking. And by the looks of it, I think they were talking about me. "I want you to make sure they don't fall behind the rest of their teammates. But if they do, I want you to mark a little check next to their name in the warmup section of the clipboard. It let's me know who might be too tired for a full training session or two."
As the coach showed the way to the training grounds, he explained to me what a full length session looked like for the men. They weren't much different than what it was like for the women's team, just a matter of timing. The sky was a calm gray, and the grass was a bright shade of green, hurting my eyes with the contrast.
I found the players in one group, except the fact that they were silent. Some staff were already on the grounds with them, talking to one another. Dunga explained that I'd be taking attendance, since 'some of them could not fathom the concept of time.'
I shook hands with the staff, with Dunga introducing me to Gilmar Rinaldi. I was able to spot another two women who were apart of the nursing staff. Thank God I wasn't the only woman there. My flats were the best choice for the grounds since grass makes every step in heels feel like quick sand. After slipping them on, I went in front of the players, standing at a good distance of course. I began reading their names off of the roster on my clip board.
It was either a check mark or a minus, or an "A" to mark an excused absence.
"Andrew Andrade." Was the second name I called after Rafinha's, who was recovering from Rebekah's contagious fever. Andrew smiled to the side, raising his hand. I checked his name with a smile as I continued down the list, feeling a little better. My eyes involuntarily rolled at the sight of the name I came across. "Denilson de Barros."
"Right here pretinha." He pointed to himself, and my eyes rolled at my own will this time. Now some of the men began to talk to each other, but I didn't mind. They still answered if I called their names, at least.
I noticed that the captains' names were at the very bottom, and decided it was just a Dunga thing. Lucho usually preferred the captains' names at the top in alphabetical order...but that was Lucho, of course.
"Neymar Da Silva." I called out, attracting the attention of the whole team. I looked up to see Neymar raising his hand with an emotionless expression.
"Here." He then went back to whatever he as talking about to Robihno.
"Alright, ten minute jog around the field boys." Dunga commanded right after the mini exchange. The men began to run, trying their best to stay together. I noticed that after five minutes or so, some of them started to fall behind, being busied by their own thoughts or conversations. My finger picked up my pen as I made sure to note it. I noticed a rain drop fall on my paper as my I turned up to look at the gray sky.
Sooner or later, Dunga blew a whistle, and the men lined up.
"We have to take this inside, it's going to be a big downpour." He said as he started to gather his stuff. I began to follow him into the training center as the men trailed behind.
//+//
I was left to observe and note since Dunga and Rinaldi had to go to a meeting. It was just me, the two women from the nursing staff, and the team who were using excersizing equipment. Everybody was doing exactly what they needed to do, while I just stood there, wondering what I got myself into.
Dunga doesn't need me if this is what regular training looks like.
From what I could see, there were absolutely no problems. They all were focused, and there were no cliques as he spoke of.
Or maybe, they're just behaving for me.
After becoming increasingly bored by the minute, not wanting to pause to use my phone. I started to walk around as inconspicuously as possible. Although I made sure to avoid Neymar as much as possible, not wanting any assumptions. I didn't catch anybody's attention, until I heard a roar of laughter from a distance.
"Look at you, being all professional." Marcelo commented, working on his already buff legs.
"I try." I forced a smile.
"Don't get me wrong," he paused his excersize, "but what are you doing here? What are you getting out of this?" He looked up at me with a confused expression.
I thought on it, and I shrugged.
"Managerial experience." I wrote something next to his name on my clipboard.
"Asks too many questions."
"Do you even want to be a manager in the future?"
I don't know.
"Um..." I started, noticing that I was getting the attention of a few of the players who were near him. "Yeah."
"You sure about that?" He squinted one eye at me as he resumed his bicycle kicks. I shook my head, knowing he couldn't see me then.
"Excuse me." I began to make another round, writing an excessive amount of notes about everybody I could observe.
//+//
As the men were wrapping up with their showers, I hung back. Being sat right outside of the locker rooms to listen to any conversation, Dunga's neurotic orders. I was texting Shane about the whole thing, mostly complaining to him of how boring it was.
I heard footsteps, and looked up to see a shadow lurking out of the locker rooms. Everybody was either showering, or changing, being extra quiet. The shadow then became bigger, and I soon was staring up at Denilson and Lucas.
"Hey Sra. Andrade." Lucas sarcastically greeted. I replied with an eyeroll, answering a message from Shane.
"Oh so now we're calling her Sra.? She can't be a day over...22, no?" Denilson's tone was annoying the crap out of me.
"I'm turning 23 in six months." I muttered, not knowing why they still were standing there.
"You know that you're younger than a lot of the team, right?" He didn't seem to take the hint, just like Lucas. A few players exited to locker rooms, bidding me a polite goodbye.
"Yes I do know that. I'm not a complete stranger to my country's national team." I stood to my feet, shifting my stuff to one hand. I waved goodbye to them, trying to remain as professional as possible. Denilison dapped Lucas as the parted ways. Now he was following me, making me grow nervous.
"So you tell me, what are you doing here? Like, don't you have enough duties to do instead of trying to control us?" He asked me, his usual tone turning menacing. Where's Zico when you need him?
"I'm not tying to control anybody." I began to walk faster, trying to catch up with those left before I did.
"Well, I know why you're doing this. It's for that raise in your salary huh?"
"What?" My eyebrows rose in confusion, I stopped in my tracks and stared at him with a quizzical expression.
"I heard D-Dog and Gilmar talking about it. They said if you get us results that we need, then they're gonna increase your pay for the women's national team. By tens of thousands." He put his hands on his hips.
"How about you mind your business?" I poked his arm, walking as quickly as I could with my arms crossed.
"Ooh and she's fiesty!" I heard him whisper excitedly to himself. I rolled my eyes in disgust.
Now I was walking by myself, looking for Andrew's Jag. A present from our pai to him. I caught up to the group of players, as they were talking about a few things. They didn't notice me behind them as I eavsdropped on their conversation
"Why does Dunga think this is going to work?" Roberto asked, and the other three.
"I don't know man, but did you see her holding that little clipboard and taking notes? It was ridiculous." Diego said, making them laugh.
"I don't now how she's gonna downgrade like that, missing trainings of her own to try to 'control us', not a chance." Phillipe interjected.
"She's lucky we behaved today, no woman is going to run me." Diego said with determination. I started to feel sick to my stomach.
"Hah! She is lucky. If she saw how we normally are; she would have ran screaming." All four of them started to laugh uproariousley, and I realized how quickly I needed to slip away unnoticed.
"I bet she is crying over the fact that Neymar doesn't give a crap about her anymore. You saw how he was ignoring her?" Phillipe interjected, and a sad feeling arose in me as I tip toed after them.
What if they turned back?
I decided to stop listening and cut away in a different direction, feeling awfully upset. The last thing I heard was Ramires telling them about some party later on. I sighed, knowing that I had to go too.
Or maybe I'd accept this as a stint and quit before any further embarrassments.
Or maybe you stick it to them and have faith.
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Heyyyyy!
How's it going?
By God's Grace we have reached 700 reads! God is Good!.
God's willing we get 100s more?
He is Awesome! I thank Him for you all!
:)
So here it was. Ana and her position thingy
Must've been dry
Like the way she described it was like watching bread toast. Interesting (no seriously)
Tell me what you think! I appreciate every God given vote, comments, and read!
And shoutout to TheNeymarzetes for her wonderful comments. Love ya girl.
And congratulations to leo messi for the 5th ballon d'or!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Congrats to Neymar and Cristiano as well.
God is Love!
All the Love.
Jesus Loves you!
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¡Que Dios te bendiga!
Deus te abençoe!
Que Dieu te benisse!
God bless you all!
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dominiq