Never Leave Again

find your roots

"This is one of our favourite restaurants," Eli informs me with a giddy grin as we take our seats outside the bulging place. The plastic chair is slightly warm, heated by the temperature of the night, and I am glad that my wet hair will dry quickly. The table is a square, and so the four of us – Alexia, Alba, Eli, and I – all sit opposite one another. Their frequency of their visits to this establishment is evident in the way no one bats an eye at La Reina's presence, viewing her more as the little girl who presumably kicked a ball around the pavement while her family ate.

"I think I've had about twenty birthday meals here," Alexia dutifully adds, hoping to not let the conversation stale but sensing the difficulty I am facing. I don't know what to do, or what to say. I wish I had asked if Clàudia could join us. "The food is delicious. It's all very local. I'm not sure if they have a Spanish menu."

Eli chuckles. "Shall we just order what we usually would? Talia, are you allergic to anything?" I shake my head. "Okay, great. Drinks?"

"Wine?" suggests Alba.

"Water."

I glance between my captain and her sister, ultimately deciding to follow the decision of the best footballer in the world. "Water for me, please."

Their mother seems to have expected both answers, and enjoys the way I copy Alexia. "We will have champagne when you meet the rest of your family," is her determined addition, to which Alba's grin only widens. The charm of the restaurant settles above us as I take in the faint smell of cigarette smoke and the murmured blend of languages. Places like this, so warm and comforting, make me yearn for home. "Talia, we are so glad that you joined us tonight."

A rush of gratitude at Eli's welcoming demeanour surges through me. Barcelona, although livened by Clàudia and the team, has been relatively lonely so far. "Thank you," I say. I think it would be nice to get to know them. I try not to punish my own mother in my head. "Did you enjoy the match?"

"It was incredibly boring," says Alba. Under the table, there is the movement of legs – I tuck my own back so as to not get caught in the crossfire. "Alexia kicked me!" Alba whines, staring directly at her mother, chin jutting out as if to prompt a scolding for her sister. "Talia, do your siblings do this?"

Eli eyebrows raise, her interest piqued. They look at me, awaiting my answer. The possibility of more estranged family members must be intriguing, but I quickly stamp on it with, "I don't have any. It's just me and Mamá." I feel a little guilty about my omission of the man who named me. "Well, there's Manuel, too. I suppose he is like family."

"Who is Manuel?"

I glance at my captain. It is a little off-putting that Alexia will suddenly know everything about me, if the way this conversation is heading is anything to go by. Alexia nods, as though to assure me that this is something different – she is not Alexia Putellas here. "He's our priest." Eli's laugh tells me, I think, about my mother's life before. It remains hidden behind an inky black cloud of deceit and lies, but this is one more step towards clarity. Their silence is an invitation to explain. "Mamá and him are very good friends. He named me, actually. And he was the one who convinced her to let me play professionally. She wanted me to finish school and go to university."

"He named you Talia?" asks Eli, with a subtle eagerness to learn about my entire life.

"Natalia. I prefer Talia because there was someone with the same name as me in my class, and it was irritating to get mixed up. And then Elisabet, of which the origins are now clear."

"Elisabet?"

"Yeah."

"Natalia Elisabet Segura," she begins. "What's next?"