Hold Me Close

pressure is a privilege

"I don't think it was malicious," Jaimie insists over dinner. The tasting menu is delicious, but the conversation between courses is infuriating. "I know you're angry about it – and I get where you're coming from – but she seemed like she meant what she said, from what you've told me." I thought my sister was going to agree with me. I was wrong.

"Why would she do that?" Alexia could not care less about my personal well-being. Surely.

"She understands what it's like? She also deals with pressure. They literally call her 'La Reina'. The Queen. You're refusing to believe she did you a favour, even if you don't perceive it to be that way."

"So you're saying that she did the right thing?" I challenge, my eyes narrowing as I stare at her somewhat incredulously. She's supposed to be on my side.

"No," Jaimie replies, growing bored of the conversation as though it is not something important. "I'm saying that she thinks she did what was best for you, regardless of whether it was or wasn't. Her intentions weren't to 'destroy your career', as you have so dramatically put it. Even if she has caused a bit of attention for you, it's not going to be that big of a problem. People are understanding."

"I don't want them to be understanding," I grit out through a clenched jaw.

The waiter brings the next dish out, and Jaimie and I pause our increasingly heated conversation to listen to him explain what the lobster on our plates signifies in the gastronomical journey we have embarked on. For €184 each. Jaimie is paying.

When he leaves, Jaimie picks up her fork and prods the food on her plate, frowning. "I wish you would let yourself see what she means. You can be stubborn as you want about it, but Alexia is right. There is a lot of pressure on you, and it isn't healthy to ignore it. Yes, she may have caused a stir, but she's human and she makes mistakes. And, for what it's worth, I think she actually cares about you. Past the benefit of the team."

I sit back in my chair, averting my eyes from hers so that she doesn't see the confusion in them. "Stop humanising her." Though I know it is impossible for Jaimie to hear my panic, it feels like she has finally unravelled a tightly wound coil that I had never intended to acknowledge.

━━━━━━━

In therapy the next day, we make a list of differences between here and Chelsea. The psychologist, Emma, is growing on me. She is good at her job. She gets to the point, and she lets me avoid certain topics as much as I want until I cave and divulge into them.

Which, despite being an irritating skill for her to possess, gives me a lot more control of what we talk about.

Staring at the list of comparisons, I realise that I have plonked myself in a totally different situation during a difficult time. "This makes sense," I say with a tired chuckle, setting the pencil on the grass of the field we have sat down in. We don't use her office. I still can't talk in there.

"Do you feel isolated here?" she asks me, referencing the last point I have written down.

I shrug. "At times." They speak a language I can't speak, and they have an atmosphere that holds no similarity to any other team I have been a part of. Plus, the general way of life in Spain is unique enough to rattle my daily routine. Jaimie and I have started eating an hour later than usual. "When I first arrived, the team felt like it was divided between Alexia and me."

"And now?"

"The same, but not as obviously." She still has the undying faith of the younger girls, and I remain the favoured company of Ingrid, Frido, and Caro. But, with Jaimie here, it is easy to slip out of team dinners with a valid excuse. "I don't want to get close to anyone here."