[ six ]
I returned to our hotel suite over an hour later. I thought I would be met by James, but he was nowhere to be found. My first instinct was to run into the bedroom and begin to pack my things. I was to ashamed to face him. I was to much of a coward to explain to him what I was feeling, I was afraid. I threw all my things into my luggage desperately, one of those things was my yellow Colombia jersey with the name James on the back.
I stuffed it into my luggage and tears blurred my vision as I remembered the hurt look in his brown eyes. I was headed down the hallway towards the front door when it opened before me, revealing a broken man, who at the moment looked to me like a vulnerable child. "Mi amor," He sniffed, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. It broke my heart to hear that even after what I did, even for someone like me, he was still able to say I was his love. "Its okay if you don't want to marry me, but you don't have to go." He sounded like he was struggling to get the words out, like every word was to painful to escape his lips.
My whole body tensed and I found it difficult to look him in the eyes. “James...I can’t do this." I cried, "I can’t keep lying to myself! I have no reason to stay here, it’s very clear that I don’t belong.” I watched through my tears as I saw my words register in his mind. "I'm just a girl from that town in Colombia no one knows about. You belong to the world now. You'll be surrounded by the best footballers, the most beautiful women...that isn't the world for me."
He sighed sadly, before sitting on the livingroom couch and putting his head in his hands. He rubbed his face before looking at me, this time with a fresh wave tears in his eyes. “Nothing to stay for? We are supposed to be getting married. We were happy together. Arista...are you trying to break up with me?”
“I’m sorry.” I cried.
“Porfavor," He begged. "Don’t leave me, Arista. I love you.”
I looked him in the eyes one last time before picking up the suitcase and walking out the door.
Though it took me a while to finally hail a taxi, I finally got one and was taken to the airport. A thousand eyes were on me as I walked into the crowded place. One reason was because I was still wearing my strapless chiffon evening gown and heels. The other reason for so much attention was probably because the news of her refusal to marry James was most likely out.
I purchased a ticket back to Colombia and waited until my flight was announced.
On my phone screen were notifications of in coming text messages from James which I opened, but didn't reply to. My eyes pooled up with tears at the sight of his contact name on my phone. Jamesito.
jamesito: ari please don't go.
jamesito: i can't live without you.
jamesito: how can you say you aren't part of my world if you ARE my world?
jamesito: porfavor, mi amor...i know you're reading my messages.
jamesito: porfavor...you're breaking my heart.
jamesito: you're all i ever wanted.
jamesito: i'll quit madrid if you take me back, you just say the word and i'll do it. i'll do anything for you.
But I still didn't reply to his messages and sobbed into my hands. How could I do that to James? I didn't want to be selfish and keep him away from the glory he deserved.
He needed to stay in Real Madrid.
He was destined to make history.
And as much as I loved him, that was one thing I could never take from him.
.
.
.
.
Because of the time difference between the two countries, the plane arrived early the next morning in Colombia. I called my parents to pick me up and they were waiting for me when I arrived. My mother saw my tear stained face and what I was wearing, her face suddenly full of concern. "What's wrong, Arista?" She asked, "Did something happen with James?"
I shook my head. "He asked me to marry him..."
"That's great." She beamed with excitement. Even my dad, who was overprotective seemed pleased with the news. "When is the wedding? Oh my gosh, we need to start planning and getting the family together-"
She would have continued talking for ages if I hadn't interrupted her. "I told him no."
"What?" My parents both asked in unison.
"I told him no." I repeated monotonously.
"But why, sweetie?" My mother looked horrified at the news. She, like most other people, would never understand why I couldn't marry James. "You two were so happy together. He loves you so much-"
"I don't want to talk about it anymore." I cut her off again. "Can we just go home?"
She nodded silently and my dad took my luggage from me, trying to help. They led me to the car and the entire ride was silent. I spent it looking out the window at the city where my story with James began. A story that began and ended in the same place because of my fears that wouldn't let me be happy.
.
.
.
.
That afternoon, I found myself turning the television on in my bedroom. I felt like a horrible person for doing what I did to James, but I still hoped to see him on my television screen. I wanted to see how we was doing.
And I got my wish.
The very morning after we broke up, there was an inteview scheduled with him at a Spanish television station. Since James was our country's golden boy, his interview was all over Colombian television. My heart dropped at the sigh of the man I loved. How broken he looked. His eyes were puffy and blood shot, like he had been crying as well as drinking. In addition to that, his once lively eyes looked dull and lifeless.
Under his beautiful brown eyes were dark and prominent circles, even though it had only been one night without sleep. He was slowly destorying himself.
During the interview, I noticed he often bit his lip, forcing his emotions back and he kept his repsonses short and vague. The last question happened to be about his personal life. And I knew the news about his proposal had gotten out when the interviewer asked, "On a more personal note, we heard you proposed to your beautiful girlfriend, Arista Páez, who is your childhood sweetheart. And I, as well as all of Spain, wish the both of you the best. Congratulations on your engagement."
But the interviewer's smile dropped into a look of shock when James broke down sobbing before him. "We're not getting married." He cried, "She said no. Will you please turn the camara off?"
And that was where the interview ended.
-
ooooh,
poor james.
i feel so bad making him suffer this way in the story. but sometimes people need to suffer. yep.
anyway, i hope you all like the update.
thank you for reading.
i love you.
-clary xx
