It's difficult to find the way everything fits into place once it's broken, even if a surgeon gives you a pretty significant first push. Alexia's recovery is progressing with hope. Her knee is responding well to rehabilitation, but she doesn't feel...
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I went over the bar one more time, leaving it shining. The bar was nearly empty, and the sunlight streamed in through the windows so strongly that we had decided to lower the blinds slightly, creating a fresh atmosphere inside, decorated with aggressive splashes of sunlight.
We weren't expecting more people, and we didn't need them either. Today was a different day, and all the nerves that had been building up inside me needed to come out, leaving every surface within my reach immaculate. Mapi was nervously tapping her leg up and down, exchanged anxious glances with me. Jana was excited too, biting her lip and getting lost in the middle of conversations.
Getting to this point hadn't been easy. It took a lot of courage for me to approach The Elf Bar and talk to Fernando. Fortunately, Rocío had held my hand, squeezed it, and made everything simpler.
It hadn't been easy for the others either. Alexia left without warning, confirming the rumors they had themselves dismissed as implausible. She explained her reasons, but not everyone found it equally understandable or appropriate at that moment, especially with a signed contract in place.
The fans didn't take it well. Boos were heard from the stands from her own supporters when Barcelona faced Chelsea in the quarter-finals. She also gained enemies among the Blues' fans when, after the defeat, she responded to a journalist with a smile on her face, "The best team in the world won."
It was difficult to explain. There was a lot of speculation. Some said she was asking for too much money, others claimed it had gone to her head, and there were rumors of rivalries within the team, with some suggesting that her own teammates had proposed she step aside. It wasn't any easier when she gave the only interview she would grant to dispel the rumors. She said it was a decision to put someone else before herself.
Chelsea was eager for the contract to end, despite her outstanding performances in the English league. Alexia Putellas had never been their player; she was just wearing the wrong jersey. And Joan, initially reluctant to understand why his most disciplined player had made a decision motivated by something outside of her professional career, also wanted the new season to begin.
The bell on the door rang, a tinkling sound that made every hair on my body stand on end. A blonde girl with sunglasses and a white cap let the door drop, allowing its own weight to close it, and scanned the establishment with her eyes.
She was far away. Her field of vision from the door wasn't the best, and she probably couldn't see me. But I could see her. And I was looking at her.
We had seen each other many times since I took the flight back to Barcelona. And she had kept her promise magnificently. She had been closer than ever. Every night, I had been the last person she saw, the last one she talked to, and the first one to receive good news. I was the first to connect to her games, to spot her on TV among all the women in blue, the first to get nervous when a ball came to her feet.
Every two weeks, Alexia took a couple of days off to spend them with me, and she had also invited me to visit London. It had been hot every day I spent there. I liked to think it was because Alexia carried the sun with her. It was easy to enjoy walking hand in hand with her along the sidewalks of a city where few people could pick your face out from all the others. I knew she felt the same, now appearing like a fugitive under a cap and sunglasses.
