how do you say, harping on me about that. That’s what I get for still feeling like a player sometimes and not a leader.” He clears his throat. “It would be a pleasure if you accept this role as the head physical therapist for Real Madrid. I think you would do an excellent job.”
He pauses and studies me. I’m in shock.
“So,” he says, brows raised. “Do you accept?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, and it feels like I’m accepting a marriage proposal. “Yes, yes, absolutely.”
“That was the answer I was hoping for,” he says, extending his hand again.
I reach across the table and shake on it, completely stunned at what just happened and unable to stop smiling.
After that, Mateo doesn’t stay long. We talk about a few logistics, like if I need help finding a flat (which I do), signing paperwork, when I’ll start (in a month). Right now is the team’s off season so there are a few friendly matches that Real Madrid is doing and then the official season starts at the end of August. Until then, there’s a hell of a lot of catching up to do.
I watch as he leaves, grabbing a cab on the street to take him to the airport.
I decide to stay in the café and order a mimosa to celebrate before I call everyone I know and share the good news.
Maybe, just maybe, this decade won’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 2
Thalia
Madrid, Spain
“Excuse me?” I say to a twenty-something couple who is strolling hand in hand outside the botanical gardens. “Which way to Plaza Mayor?”
They both shrug and give an apologetic smile and keep walking. Either they’re tourists or they don’t speak any English. Or both.
I sigh and look for the next victim to flag down.
I’ve been living in Madrid for five days and to say the city has me confused is an understatement. I’ve been trying to run the same route every day and yet keep finding myself in different parts of the city. Normally I at least have my phone to guide me once I realize I’m lost, but this time it died mid-run because I was taking too many pictures.
It's Madrid’s fault. The city is ridiculously pretty.
The times I’ve been here before with the team, I never saw any of it. I was either on the field or sleeping in a hotel outside of the city, near the stadium. That was it. You’re in and out with that kind of travel.
Now, I’m finally exploring it. They say there is no better way to get to know a place than to get lost in it, but they probably didn’t have to be at work at a certain time.
I spot a little old lady teetering past the entrance to the gardens and practically accost her. Even though she doesn’t seem to speak English, she still knows what I’m referring to and I’m pretty sure she’s giving me the right directions back to my new place.
Note to self: learn Spanish.
You’re never too old to learn a new language, right?
I thank her profusely then start a slow jog up the street. Once I make it to Plaza Mayor, I know how to get to my flat in La Latina, or the Latin quarter.
To be honest, I’ve been running around since six am. It’s the best time to beat the heat here in the throes of August and I need to keep in top physical condition these days. But really, it’s because I have a shitload of nerves I need to burn off before my first official day.
The nerves I had before my final interview with Mateo? Yeah, they weren’t anything like the literal pins and needles that are spiking up and down my body, and it’s not because I’m slightly dehydrated. I am nervous.
The Real Madrid squad has taken on almost a mythical quality these last few years. They don’t win every game but even when they lose, it seems like they decided to lose for shits and giggles. Nothing seems like an accident or luck with them. They recently acquired a new player from Barcelona, which is causing huge controversy, but even so the team has moved like a skilled, single unit, effortlessly possessing the ball in every game, defeating team after team, rising up and up and up, year after year, winning cup after cup.
I’ve never been intimidated by a team before. The LA Galaxy were sweet and I learned so much from them, and Manchester was rough around the edges, but I