domenica 10:34
It's been really hard on both of them.
Paulo has trouble sleeping now. Not a day passes by where he wonders about Charlene. He prays for her wellbeing and safety every night, and he's not even religious. He does it because she left that much of an impact on his life.
She made him cry that night—the last time they spoke. The next day, she was at work, and Paulo was reading articles on his Macbook about people with depression. He saw her with Mario, laughing about something in Croatian. That is when he realizes that everything is not what it seems.
He constantly wakes up at four in the morning, thinking about her. He hopes she's been sleeping well, and that she's taking care of herself. He hopes that she had something to look forward to everyday.
He becomes very tired throughout the day now, he tries to stay awake during passing drills, but it's like physically fatigue now.
"Paulo!" Allegri jogs over to the Argentinian right after a straining game of possession in the box. "You okay there?"
"Uh—yeah. Just tired."
"Are you sure? You're like, about to faint." The Italian manager puts his hand on Paulo's forehead to feel for any signs of a fever, any alarming temperatures.
"Hm? I always look like this."
"About to faint?"
"Yeah. Don't question it."
Ever since Paulo began waking up at four in the morning, he's been looking tired as fuck during training that it worries everyone. Giorgio has to check up on him after every drill, and everyone's taking turns to make sure he's literally not about to faint during training. The medical staff are worried it might be harmful to his health—they've taken him in several times but he always leaves with the same piece of advice:
Get some rest.
Well, he's fucking trying.
"No, Paulo. I need you to get some rest, please." Allegri looked concerned, just everyone in Paulo's life now. "I just don't want anything to happened to you, alright?"
"What are you implying that I do?"
"I'm giving you permission to leave training early."
Paulo doesn't fight it. At this point, he's out of fuel to even speak. It's the kind of exhaustion that makes you emotionally numb and it physically hurts. It hurts the most at his chest, like there's something there eating him away, making him silently ache under a face everyone smiled at.
When he gets to the dressing room, Paulo falls asleep on the benches right next to the cubbies.
It's the only thing he really wants to do nowadays. Sure, he'll play football and train with the team, but it's not like he really wants to everyday. He used to, though. How, he just wants to sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.
"Pau?" It's not even ten minutes until Paulo can feel someone roughly nudging his shoulder. "Paulooooo?"
"Hm?" he groans, rubbing his eyes and rolling over to his side. "Por el amor de Jesucristo y sus discípulos—what do you want, Mario?"
The Croat puts his hands up in defense just as if his wife got mad at him for doing something he didn't do even though he really did do it. "Wow. Okay, chill, princesa. I just need you to move. You're in the way of my stuff."
Paulo moved grudgingly, mumbling curse word after curse word under his breath and sat up a little too fast, making him look like he had just seen the light from the lightheadedness. They're done already?
"You do know that this isn't a nap area? Men change here. We change—you change here."
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Just a little," yawn, "tired."
Mario looked at him because he knew the kid was a lying piece of shit. Not the greatest actor. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. Why you ask?"
"You are a terrible liar."
"Really?" Paulo scratched his head and gave a drowsy smile. "I always thought I was pretty good at acting. Brie Larson level."
"Yeah, okay. Um, are you even sleeping? You almost passed out when we were doing passing drills today."
"I did not almost pass out." He put his hands on his hips and started to sit up.
"You fell asleep on Douglas' back for like five minutes."
"Was I really?"
Mario rolled his eyes in annoyance. Even when he was tired, Paulo was still annoying. "Okay, Pau. We're all gonna be honest here. How much sleep are you getting?"
He laughed. "Funny of you to assume that I sleep."
"Paulo."
"Okay, okay—uh—" He started to count on his fingers but stopped when he got to five. "I don't know. But hey—you're Croatian, right?" He leaned over to nudge Mario's elbow. "Right?"
"Just tell me what you want."
"You said we're gonna be honest, so tell me—is Charlene okay?"
Of course the first thing he asks is the one person he worries and thinks about the most these days. Is appropriate to still call her his girlfriend? Or is ex-girlfriend what she is now?
Mario raised an eyebrow, getting a little defensive when Paulo referred to his fellow Croat. "Will it help you if I tell you?"
"Well, I don't sleep anymore because of her, so yeah."
"She's physically fine, Paulo. I'm like her personal therapist now, it's weird."
Paulo wanted to gasp, but he was too tired to even breathe. "Did she say we're like....broken up? I need some clarification here, it's been kind of...rough for a while now."
He shrugged. "She doesn't really talk about you."
Paulo's heart kind of dropped a bit, lower than it had already been. A frown magically makes its way onto his lips and he sighs. Well, what else was he expecting?
He wants to cry and punch the bench in anger. All of this is happening because of something he never even did. Never even told her in first place. He just loved her, and now she's pushing him out of her life and shutting herself into a tight box that no one can open.
"It's all Anto's fault. If she didn't—if I didn't—if we didn't—" So many things went wrong that night. Maybe he shouldn't have ever let her go. "I don't know what to do. She's just pushing me away because of whatever the fuck Anto told her, and it's not fair."
"Well, have you tried talking to her?"
"Yes. But she was drunk and emotional, and she told me all the reasons why she thought she didn't deserved to be loved even though I loved her, and I told her. I don't understand her."
The whole situation just stresses Paulo out now. The fact that it's been weeks since they last spoke, since Charlene bursted out in front of him, drunk on wine makes it even worse. He's had all this time to fix everything and settle things, but his only barrier is understanding where she's coming from.
To understand Charlene's thoughts is like taking a demanding university philosophy course—Paulo feels like he could never.
But he can.
"Maybe," Mario started to speak again, and Paulo was calming down from his internal breakdown, "talk to her again. Sober, this time. Find her and talk to her. Don't do anything fancy, I don't think she'll appreciate it right now."
"Do you really think that?"
"What, you think I'll do all your dirty work for you? Hell no. This is your personal relationship, so you gotta fix it, brat."
Paulo doesn't think he can. He thinks he will chicken out and leave this situation unsettled for the worse. He doesn't trust himself enough to go up and find the courage to speak to her after such an outburst.
But he will.
//
martedì 13:28
It took longer than usual. It's not an immediately the next day thing—it's like a debate.
Knowing Charlene, Paulo can just imagine everything she will say against him. She's smart, so he knows he'll get his ass kicked, but he's optimistic. For the first time in weeks, Paulo is well rested and optimistic.
He walks into the cafeteria, looking for a certain short Croatian woman.
She usually stands out in a crowd full of people, well, to him she does. He's already checked her office, and it's locked. Like, locked locked. So his best bet is the cafeteria—he knows she comes here occasionally, so there's hope in him that he'll find her.
He's mustered up the guts to do this. Normally, Paulo wouldn't do this—confront someone and talking about it. To a referee for a foul that definitely was a foul? Yeah, sure. But to Charlene? That was some level 384 shit right there. Anything can go wrong, and he's just really nervous—shaking hands and heart beating way too fast for his body to handle. It really is like a debate.
But when he scans the cafeteria for the ninth time, he finds nothing. Even when he walks around in revolutions twice, she's not here.
"Mario!" He flags down the Croat when he comes walking back with a cup of coffee. "Have you seen Charlene?"
"She's on leave right now."
Paulo furrows his eyebrows. "For what? Did she do something wrong?"
"Oh, no. It was a family emergency. She left for Croatia yesterday."
Family emergency. Charlene never talks good of her family, she's always distant to them, the fact that she willingly went this time around is concerning to Paulo.
"What family emergency?"
"Oh, you don't know?"