Double Trouble Too // Neymar Jr //

-2.5- Suddenly

"He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart"

Psalm 91:4

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/Andrew's POV/

*Somewhere around 12am*

**A 'roach' that Andrew is smoking, is a nickname for a thicker joint/blunt**

I twiddled the roach in my hand, it felt good to have the fumes of something so familiar filling my lungs. It almost felt natural to me, like something that was devoid in my life for all the wrong reasons.

But then I remember that I'm an athelete, and my eyebrows knit together. My eyes scanned the lounge room of my home. The california king bed that my daughter and I were laid up on, the wall to wall windows that showcased the deep night sky. The lights of Barcelona's downtown shimmering into the room. The beige walls that hung pictures of yesterday and murals. The east wall which held my book cases and encased my TV behind two false walls. I spotted Camp Nou, and I dragged on my roach, inhaling the fumes as deeply as I could.

I didn't want to dwell on the fact that my father was right, but he was.

Before I took my career seriously, it used to be about more childish things. I loved picking up women, I loved drinking--that I still do, I loved laying up next to Niko, Tòmas, and Wes with a blunt between my fingers. I swore like a sailor, smirked obnoxiously, and only cared about myself. It was a blissful time, even though my emotions were scattered like a ripped up love letter.

A pang of guilt went through my body at those thoughts, and although my mind was temporarily altered by the skunk like fumes, I flicked the blunt into the trash. Because my little girl was laying up on my chest, snoring softly.

"I'm a bad dad." I scolded myself, trying to rationalize my smoking around her. "I should never smoke around you, ever." I stroked her reddish curls, and she stirred.

I am a worse dad than I imagined I would be.

Always absent, busy with matches and practices, still being a functional alcoholic, always speeding, listening to loud, bass filled music, etc...etc...

Things Melody constantly criticized me for.

She's not the best co-parent, but do I blame her? From a young age she was absused by her step mother while her real mom stood behind bars in a Spanish jail. Melody didn't know how to be a mother.

But I accepted that fact.

I didn't know how to be a father, but I tried my very best.

But I was absent and my custody was limited to a few days. What did I know?

Rebekah wasn't intentional but she saved my life. Who knows what I would have done without this slumbering blessing from God? No child was a mistake. Just a bouncing surprise filled with joy.

Football was good and all, but it felt good to have somebody to win for. To dedicate goals to. To want to impress.

I sighed, kissing the little baby. Contrary, she was turning into a toddler faster than I had hoped, and these days of cosleeping would soon end. I didn't want to think about that, I squeezed her snuggly, fixing the blue blanket that my mãe knitted for her.