Hold Me Close

bottled up

We don't speak of it.

I see her at training, she continues to drive me home. We don't acknowledge what happened.

I never get called into the psychologist's office, but I think about the amount of times I've only just escaped a panic attack recently, deciding that living alone isn't ideal, and I need some sort of help. 

So I get a cat.

He's called Oliphant because he's grey and has a longer-than-average nose. I end up calling him Oli more. I adopted him from a local shelter, but he's only a year old. Jaimie (and Leah)'s teasing evolves from calling me a spinster to a cat-lady, but I mind the latter less as it doesn't bring up the same worries about what the actual fuck I'm going to do with my love life. Is now a good time to reappear on Instagram? Will I be judged for being happy?

Alexia and I manage to not scream at each other in front of everyone again. Jonatan isn't as impressed as we are, calling it the 'bare minimum'. He benches us for our game against Levante. We come on as a double substitution in the eightieth minute; Alexia and I assist a goal each just to prove to Jonatan that we can play football quite well in case he has forgotten. It takes some pressure off us both though, once the world realises the team is just fine without us.

The next day at training, we bicker over me wanting to be with Mapi for some passing practice because she is apparently reserved for Alexia. I call her childish and immature, and she calls me antagonistic and provocative. Mapi leaves us to it, going with Ingrid, resulting in Alexia and I begrudgingly pairing up. Jonatan shakes his head disapprovingly, having watched the entire argument play out. We find ourselves still on the bench again for the Valencia game.

I sit as far away from her as I can, but the girls tell me to move so they can sit together, giving me either the option to stand or claim the empty seat beside Alexia. When I sit, we both silently edge to the end of our seats, avoiding closing that gap.

She drops her bottle in front of me during the celebrations for Salma's goal in the sixtieth minute. I hand it to her without meeting her eyes. She thanks me so quietly that she may as well have stayed silent.

After the game, I realise I will get home to Oli later than expected, having had to wait for Alexia to wash her hair at a purposefully slow pace despite her knowing I like to shower at home. Mapi couldn't give me a lift because she and Ingrid were busy doing something or other.

My car will be a saving grace.

"Hola," she says as she finally meets me outside the changing room. "Vámonos." The fans shriek at us when we go outside, but nothing compares to the noise level as I get into her car. I roll my eyes.

"Imagine if they thought we were dating," I say off-handedly. She almost reverses into the steward directing her out of the car park.

"No," is all Alexia responds with, turning up the volume of her stupid playlist. I swear I know all of these songs off by heart at this point. I don't need any more Rosalía in my life.

When I get inside to my whining cat, I flop on the sofa, pulling him into me. "Alexia is still the worst," I mumble into his soft, grey fur. He's a tabby, and would probably be called Tiger if he were orange. He purrs as I hug him close, finding comfort in being fussed over constantly. Mapi and I have been talking about introducing him to Bagheera, considering how friendly of a cat he has turned out to be.

Just as we are getting settled in front of the TV to watch the highlights from Ajax's latest game post-shower, a high-pitched barking spooks Oli. He darts out of my lap, hiding underneath the dining table. The dog scratches at my door, whining.