Never Leave Again

a familiar face

María drives me to my new apartment with her own enthusiastic commentary about the areas we pass through. The city is more metropolitan than Córdoba, but the differences are not unwelcome. We drive past the Sagrada Familia, but María makes a joke about our Mezquita and the Alhambra that resounds with me.

She drives into the underground carpark of my new building, rolling her eyes at the sight before us. Most of the spaces are empty, bar three. Two shiny Cupras next to the old Fiat 500 I bought for a criminally cheap price.

"That one is Alexia's," María says, pulling up next to the cars. She points to the more expensive-looking of the two. "The other is Mapi's. Fleur doesn't like Cupras, though the club tried to give her one." I try to remain calm at the prospect of living in the same building as the best players in the squad, but María sees through my façade easily. She gets out of the car, chuckling to herself, and opens my door for me.

I follow her to the lift that should take us up to my floor. It's smaller than a commercial one, but the sides are panelled with shiny wood and the buttons are a garish gold even if they are tarnished from use. "How many first team players live here?" I ask as smoothly as I can, noticing the floor María has selected. My suitcase and I may encounter some big names, it seems.

"Officially three, not including you. Mapi León is on the sixth floor, often accompanied by Ingrid Engen. Alexia Putellas lives on the fifth floor, and Fleur de Voss on the third. You are on the first." Which means the ride in the lift is short, and we are getting out soon enough. "Each floor has two apartments; A and B. They're all pretty similar, except the third floor and above all have two bathrooms as opposed to one. Since you are not a permanent transfer, the club put you up in 1B following an advert for a roommate from the current resident. You have been sent the details for rent and the landlord's information, yes?"

I nod, having flagged the email with a sense of self-responsibility that comes with moving away. "Are there rules about fangirling?" I joke, accepting the key María offers to me. It slides into the lock with ease, and I pause before opening the door.

"You'll meet them all tomorrow." María squints, as though she is remembering key information. "Apart from Fleur, who is not training at the moment. You shouldn't finish too late, though, so drop by my house when you are done and you can meet her there. Try out your English on her. Her Spanish is barely conversational."

My heartbeat increases dramatically. "Tomorrow?" Of course, I know I have to meet them all eventually, but tomorrow is soon.

"Well they have to train and you have fitness testing, so, yes, tomorrow." Noticing my hesitation to open the door to my new apartment, she gives me a pointed look that is so motherly I feel obliged to obey. I take a deep breath and bite the bullet, revealing my home until my loan expires. María gives me an encouraging hug goodbye, pushing my suitcase in with me as I step inside. She waits in the doorway for me to look ready to be left alone. When I do, she sucks in a satisfied breath through her wide smile. "I will send you my address and check in with you later to ensure you have met your roommate. I'll be at the training ground tomorrow too, so you will see me then. For now, have a nice evening, and get some rest."

I thank her gratefully, glad that she isn't completely abandoning me. She shuts the door behind her as she leaves, and I stand in the middle of the furnished apartment, wondering what I am going to do now.

This is it, I guess. I now live in Barcelona. On my own.

"Fuck, you're here already?" A woman brings me out of my thoughts, hugging me tightly before I can reply. "I'm so sorry. I think I fell into a coma, you know. I was so tired."