breathe | r lewandowski

1

"Right, is that OK with everybody?"

No. No it's not. It wasn't alright at all. What part of me wanted to travel to the other side of the world to play football in a place that didn't speak my language, have the food I liked or TV shows I would occupy myself with? I'll tell you. No part of me wanted to.

But of course, the team around me nodded in agreement as if it was the greatest plan they'd ever heard, and the room suddenly filled with a buzz of excitement that I could only sense, not engage with whatsoever.

Some could call me arrogant, lazy or just down right boring; they couldn't be more accurate. I was perhaps one of the most self centred, disinterested people one could ever come across, and it wasn't something that I'd try and hide.

Rolling my eyes, I rose to my feet and walked out of the conference room and through the main reception of the hotel. The marble floors and high ceilings of the antique building made the footsteps from my black dress shoes echo around the place, drawing unwanted attention to myself.

I took a seat at the bar, ordering myself a bottle of sparkling water since it was highly frowned upon to sip such a sinful pint of beer just before pre-season, how could've I have been so stupid to not realise that the first time around?

"So, looking forward to China?"

Closing my eyes, I waited a moment and tried to pretend like Mario wasn't there and that the bar stool beside me was empty. Alas, he spoke again.

"Or...not?"

"Bingo, we have a winner."

My acid tongue dripped with sarcasm as I threw the ice from my glass down my neck without hesitation. Mario just looked away and ordered himself a drink. He nursed the hot cup of cocoa like a child and I laughed to myself quietly, ignoring him when he asked "what's so funny?"

You, Mario. I'm laughing at you.

Soon enough, the bar filled with the rest of my team and it was like I'd never left the conference room. The loud chatter and bubbling atmosphere seemed to repulse me to an extent, almost forcing my feet to walk away from the situation and excuse myself for the evening.

"Leaving so soon?"

Manuel stood in the doorway, grinning at me as if he knew something that I didn't. Even if he did, I didn't care one bit.

"Yes."

Laughing, as if my rotten mood was some sort of act, Manuel place a hand to my chest and gently pushed me back into the room, not allowing me to exit.

"Are you going to move out the way or?" My tone rose at the end, again my sarcasm became impotent and Manuel shook his head.

"Excited for pre-season in China?"

"Will everyone stop fucking talking about China? No I'm not excited, not at all. I'd rather go and sit in a log cabin with no phone signal for a month with my ex mother in law. Does that sum up my excitement?"

Sighing, Manuel stepped aside and allowed me to pass through the door and back out into the lobby. The moon hung high in the velvet sky, my view from the glass elevator making my reflection crack and taper in distortional places.

I wasn't even tired, yet I had been tired of everyone around me and that was enough of a reason for me to go to bed. I pulled some strings, telling a few lies about feeling an illness coming on and I ended up with my own room for the three nights that we were staying in the city.

I locked the door to my room and turned on the air conditioning. I had a floor to ceiling wall of windows that looked out across the fluorescent, lively city that made me want to throw up. I didn't understand how people could be so happy all the time, so full of energy. It made me think that everyone was fake, which they probably all are at some point in their lives.

Striping down to my underwear, I took one last look out across the vibrant night life that made my stomach tense up before drawing the curtains closed with force and aggression. Aggression that had built up inside me for so long that little bursts that came out were either actions that added a goal to my records or caused me a lot of pain and bruised knuckles, to which I had many of each.

The bed felt cold and the sheets were fresh and crispy, just how I liked them. The air conditioning made the room even colder and I soon began to sub consciously shiver under the covers, but I didn't get up and turn the AC down. No, I liked the feeling of being cold. Being cold made me feel like I matched myself, after being told that I was cold hearted. After all, there's nothing like being true to yourself is there?

Late at night was when I got deep thoughts. I was alone, and especially in hotels, the sound proof walls proved secure enough for me to not hear another human being for at least 14 hours. I was alone with my mind and my heart and I used those hours to contemplate myself, which usually ended up in me resenting one of my team mates for something that they didn't do or getting angry over something that never even happened.

It seemed like I was constantly in a bad mood and I was, everybody knew it. My silence, my stubbornness and my bitter tongue earned me a sudden reputation over the course of six months after my heart was shattered by a girl who had managed to get a hold on me so highly that I was wrapped around her little finger. She was devious, manipulating and downright irresistible. There was no way I couldn't have fallen in love with her, but I knew from the day I met her it wouldn't end well for me, and I wasn't proved wrong.

When I managed to glue it back together, it was stone cold.

My mind felt like a block of ice that had to be cracked and cracked and cracked before anybody got any emotion out of me, and when they did, I had been wound up so much by them that I stormed off into a haste of anger and confusion, wondering where that piece of me suddenly came from.

My lungs had frozen over and as I lay down in bed, I thought so long and hard about ridiculous things that something so simple as respiring became pushed down on the list of things I needed to do, and I forgot to breathe.