Perfection

70 Days After, 318 Days Until

Alexia

"Ale," My shoulder was shaken a few times. "We need to get up."

"The plane won't leave us. Stop worrying." I rolled over, pulling a sheet with me.

"Someone famous once said, 'Punctuality is important to me.'" Her lips were on my shoulder for a moment. "So, get up."

"Punctuality is important, but so is sleep. I don't know why I have to go to Madrid."

"Well, I'm not your agent, but I'm pretty sure you have an interview and it's the last one before your documentary comes out."

"Dios míos. I hate interviews. They just pry in on my personal life."

"Alright, while you get yourself into a more positive mindset, I'll go get Riley up."

Once the bedroom door shut, I slowly sat up. Sam had opened the blinds and the sun was peaking in through the windows. I moved into this house because of the city view.

It was simply stunning.

But interviews were not.

~    ~    ~

"Alexia, the interview will take place in here. Would you like for me to take your family somewhere—"

"No, gracias." Riley's small hand found its way into mine. "How long will this take? No more than a few hours?"

"No more than an hour. I made sure of it. I know you're always eager to get back home and I talked with Jonatan about your training."

"Yes, well, I'm a little over two months into this injury and I'm still not running, so there's not tons of training at the moment."

"Give it time. Enjoy your time off."

"I am. I really am." We walked into a room that seemed homey. I didn't understand why I couldn't have don't this interview at home, but at a point, you stop asking questions. "Can they sit on the other couch?"

"Sí."

"This hopefully won't take long." I told Sam. "Then we can go get lunch and go back to the hotel where we can relax."

"Hey, no stress."

"No, so much stress, but you being here helps. We'll be home soon enough."

"Alexia, the longer you talk over there, the longer this will take."

"I'm coming. Can't you be patient?"

I walked over to the chair I was supposed to sit. People came around and fixed my hair and makeup, much against my will. I insisted that I were fine, but I apparently wasn't.

"Are we ready?"

"Sí."

I put up a stone wall. I couldn't show my emotion in those minutes.

"Can you take us through that training?"

"When I tore my ACL?" The cameraman nodded. "It's a play in which I dribble the defense, and I'm already visualizing kicking with my right foot to score the goal. So, I dribble the defense and step down. I do like a little jump, to jump over the defense and in that little jump...I heard a crack. I couldn't finish the play and I fell to the ground. And..." I shifted in my seat. "And then I just started saying, 'I can't believe it. It's impossible.'" I sighed. "I begin...I don't know how to pray, but I began to ask: 'Please don't let it be this no, no...'" I picked up the glass of water that was set beside me and took a drink. "They helped me up, I took a step and my knee gave out. So, I said: 'That's it, I've broken it. I'm out. I won't play in the Euros.' My mind is already thinking: 'Boom, I'm out.'"