Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
B ack at Townsend, campus is buzzing with excitement about the upcoming Division II soccer tournament. I barely get to see Mateo, as Coach Anderson is piling on extra practices, conditioning sessions, and film-watching meetings. I distract myself from missing him by studying for finals, getting quality time with Teegan and Amaya, and doing some follow-up work from the advocacy phone calls I facilitated for Elena.
I’m in the middle of typing a paper for my sociology class when my phone lights up with a text from my mom.
Mom
Check your email for your Christmas gift.
What’s the deal with Christmas gift emails this year? I see a forwarded message from an airline. My parents purchased a plane ticket for me to travel to North Carolina to watch the soccer tournament.
Tears spring to my eyes, and I immediately call my mom. “Mom! I can’t believe you did that! This is the best gift ever!”
I hear the smile in her voice as she responds. “We felt like it was important for you to be there for Mateo. And it’s way too far for you to drive—we would have been worried sick. ”
“I’m so thankful, Mom. Mateo will be so excited too.”
“Well, the gift is half for you and half for him. Ever since he talked with Dean and connected him with that Parker friend, Dean’s been a different person. He voluntarily talked to the school counselor to suggest forming an Esports club at the middle school. He’s been playing chess with Carter and just being all around more pleasant. Mateo even sent me the link to a set of reflex training lights that Parker recommended for us to get Dean for Christmas. Sending you to watch his final soccer matches is the least we could do.”
Mateo isn’t even here to smolder at me, but my insides are still evaporating from hearing how he’s helped my brother. I hang up with my mom and FaceTime Mateo right away to tell him the good news. When he answers, he’s clearly running, and good gracious, if he isn’t easy on the eyes. Even dressed in warm workout gear, hair poking out from under a beanie, he makes my heart race.
“Oops, did I catch you in the middle of practice?”
“No,” he huffs, “just out on a run.” He looks away and calls out, “Go ahead, Andrès, I’ll catch up with you!” He comes to a stop, breathing deeply. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to tell you about the Christmas gift my parents got me,” I say with a smile. He looks slightly confused but plays along. “I have a plane ticket to North Carolina on December eighth.”
His face breaks out in a huge grin. “Are you serious? You’ll get to be at the tournament?”
I nod and grin back. “Yes! My mom said the gift is just as much for you as it is for me after all you’ve done to help Dean. I didn’t realize you were on a personal contact basis with my mom now,” I tease.
He laughs. “I’ll take whatever brownie points I can get, especially if it means I get to have you in the stands for the tournament. Lana, this is amazing—you’ll get to meet my dad!”
Mateo abandons the rest of his run, and we excitedly talk about the tournament as he walks back to his house (after texting Andrès to meet him there). His limited availability over the next couple of weeks seems like less of a hardship now, knowing that I’ll get to be there in person to watch him play.
I alert my professors that I’ll miss classes on the eighth, which isn’t a huge deal since we’ll just be reviewing for finals the following week anyway. Soon, I’m driving home to Kansas City so my parents can drop me off at the airport the following morning.
My flight is on time, and I Uber to the hotel I booked that looked not scary but not too expensive. I text Mateo to let him know I made it, wishing him luck for the match that night. He messages back that his dad’s flight was delayed and he’ll arrive just in time for the match.
That evening, I arrive at the complex about thirty minutes before the match, scanning the eticket in the family section that Mateo sent me. I’m wearing a sweatshirt with his jersey over the top—thank goodness North Carolina isn’t as cold as Kansas right now.
About fifteen minutes later, I hear my name and look up to see a man I’d recognize as Mateo’s father even if I wasn’t expecting him. I stand up with a smile. “Mr. Alvarez! It’s so amazing to meet you!” I hold out my hand, but he steps in and wraps me up in a hug.
“Lana, que alegria !” he says, still hugging me tight. “Please, call me Luis, no need to be formal. We hear so much about you, I feel as though I know you already.”
We spend the rest of the time before the match happily chatting, then cheer loudly as Mateo and the rest of the team are announced. The ball is kicked off, and I quickly realize I’ve found the perfect partner to match my screaming energy. My frustrated yells at the refs are echoed in Luis’ rapid-fire Spanish shouts. We have plenty of moments to celebrate together as well, as our team closes out the match with a 4-1 victory, meaning we’ll head to the final tomorrow.
After the match, Luis and I wait around for Mateo to come out of the locker room, talking like old friends instead of new acquaintances. He tells me more about their restaurant, singing his wife’s praises so enthusiastically that I can see why Mateo is so comfortable openly expressing his emotions and his affection for me.
The team starts emerging from the complex doors, and as soon as Mateo spots us, he jogs over and throws his arms around his dad. They stay locked in a tight embrace, having their own conversation in Spanish, and I just stand there trying not to cry at how sweet it is to finally see Mateo with his father.
They pull back to hold each other at arm’s length, laughing and conversing at a speed that only Spanish speakers seem capable of achieving. Eventually, I hear my name sprinkled in a couple of times, and they both turn to me, grinning. Mateo steps forward and lifts me off my feet as I congratulate him on the amazing match. Luis is beaming at us and literally clapping with joy, which melts my heart into a warm little puddle.
Mateo sets me down but keeps his hands clasped around my waist. “I still can’t believe you’re both here. I’m just so happy,” he says as he looks back and forth between me and his dad.
“Ay, tu mamà is very jealous that I get to meet Lana without her,” Luis says with a mischievous grin. He doesn’t look to be feeling the slightest bit guilty about that, which makes me laugh. Mateo tucks me to his side and kisses my temple.
“Well, we’ll have to find a way to all be together sometime soon so you’re not in the doghouse too long,” he says to Luis with an equally mischievous smile. “Coach set an early curfew for us tonight to make sure we’re well-rested for the final tomorrow. But we can hang out in the hotel lobby for a little bit until then.”
Luis is staying at the same hotel as the team, and I feel like he deserves some solo time with Mateo after not seeing him since the summer .
I call for an Uber while they slip into Spanish again, then tell them my plan to head back to my hotel.
“Are you sure, Lana? You can come over to our hotel until curfew,” Mateo offers.
“No, you two should go spend some time catching up, and I’m going to go to sleep early,” I say, squeezing Mateo’s hand. “But I’ll see you tomorrow at the match.”
Mateo waits with me until my Uber arrives, making sure the license plate matches the info on my app. He wraps his arms around me one more time, whispering “thank you” in my ear before opening the door for me.
The next morning, I wake up to a text from an unknown number.
Unknown
Buenos dias Lana. It is Luis. Mateo sent me your phone number. Would you like to meet for a late breakfast before the match? There is a nice café near the complex.
I smile to myself and check the time. It’s 9:15, but the match doesn’t start until 1:00, so we have plenty of time.
Buenos dias! That sounds amazing. Tell me the name of the café and I can meet you there at 10.
I quickly shower and freshen up my hair with dry shampoo, carefully applying makeup and putting Mateo’s jersey back on over a long-sleeve shirt.
I check my bag in at the front desk to retrieve later tonight before I leave town. My Uber drops me off at the café right at 10:00, and Luis is already there, engaged in lively conversation with the waitress. As I approach the table, he stands up to give me a welcoming hug, then introduces me to our waitress. “Linda, this is Lana, the one I told you about who has captured my son’s heart.”
I feel the blush warming my cheeks as Linda loudly “Awwwwws” in response. Sliding into the seat across the table, I ask for coffee with cream. A cup of black coffee already sits in front of Luis, and he fills me in on Linda’s suggested favorites from the menu.
She sets a mug of coffee and a small pitcher of cream in front of me, pausing to take our orders. Luis and I fall into easy conversation as he asks me more about my family. I’m singing Mateo’s praises about how he connected with Dean when our food arrives. Luis asks to bless our meal, so we pause to pray and then dive back into our conversation (and delicious food).
“I’m not surprised that Mateo made that connection with your brother,” Luis says as I take a bite of my biscuits and gravy. “He has always had this way with people, of seeing through to their hearts, seeing who they are and loving them.” I nod in agreement, because that’s completely accurate to what I’ve seen in Mateo. “My older son, Miguel, he has always been more closed off. Still responsible and hardworking, but he keeps much more inside than Mateo does.”
We continue talking about their family, my law school dreams, my childhood in El Paso, flowing easily from one topic to the next over endless cups of coffee. Linda comes over to interrupt us with our check, “Y’all better get on over to the stadium if you’re going to the game. It’s after twelve already.” Surprised at how the time has flown by, I start to pull out my wallet, but Linda holds up a hand to stop me. “Honey, the first thing he told me was that he was taking the check, so save yourself the effort.”
I thank Luis for the unexpected kindness, then excuse myself to the restroom before we leave. As we walk out of the café down the street to the sports complex together, Luis says, “Lana, I have an idea, if you will indulge me.”
“Of course! What is it?”
“I was thinking, my wife and daughter are so anxious to meet you, and we do not have a Christmas present for Mateo yet. You are already the best gift he has received this year. So I want to make you the Christmas gift for our family. Can I buy a plane ticket so you can come visit us in Michigan before Christmas to surprise Mateo?”
I blink back tears before answering. “Oh my goodness, that is so kind and generous of you. I would love to come and visit, but you certainly don’t need to pay for my ticket.”
“Ah no, mija , I insist. You have made my son so happy these months. And it would mean so much to my wife to meet you for herself. It will honor me to fly you to Michigan,” he says with a hand on his chest. “Plus, I don’t think I will ever have to buy Mateo another gift again if I bring his heart to see his family,” he says with a wink.
“Well, when you put it that way, how could I refuse?” I say, smiling warmly.
Luis looks infinitely pleased at our plan as we find seats in the bleachers. We arrive early so we can sit in the front row, and when Mateo sees us, he motions to his coach and comes jogging over. The bleachers are elevated above the field, but Luis leans down to give Mateo a clap on the back over the edge, wishing him luck.
Mateo turns to me, his deep brown eyes reflecting the afternoon sun and his dimple beckoning me. My heart melts all over again with the intense, open affection in his face as he smiles at me. I lean over the wall of the bleachers to wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing tightly. My hair falls like a curtain around us, and his fingers trace the letters of his last name against my back. I kiss him on the cheek and whisper, “Good luck!” in his ear. When I pull back, he tucks my hair behind my ear with a small smile before running back out to join the team on the sidelines.
The nervous energy from the team fills the stadium. I know how much it would mean to Mateo and all the guys to be repeat champions. Townsend is favored to win, but the opposing team only had one loss during the regular season. It won’t be an easy victory.
Both teams play like they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Each team puts together multiple good shots on goal, but heading into halftime, it’s still 0-0. My watch keeps alerting me that my stress level is high and I should take some deep breaths, so I shove it in my pocket.
My anxious energy is reflected in Luis as well. We spend halftime dissecting the play so far, assessing what changes our team will need to make in order to get an advantage. “I think Mateo is going to have to play up farther if we’re going to get more pressure on the goal,” Luis says, and I agree.
As the second half begins, sure enough, Mateo is playing up closer offensively. He gets a good pass over to Andrès, but the opponents’ defender blocks Andrès from getting an open shot, and their goalkeeper sends the ball back down the field.
Thankfully, Chris makes an amazing defensive steal and ricochets the ball off an opponent out of bounds. Our players are able to reset, and Shawn sends a perfect throw-in straight to Jamar, who passes to Andrès in the box. Luis and I clutch each other as we anticipate Andrès’ shot on goal, but instead, he makes the extra pass to Mateo in the middle. I hold my breath as Mateo scissor-kicks the ball in the air, sending it sailing past the keeper.
Luis and I are screaming, hugging, jumping, high-fiving, dancing, and every other triumphant action you could think of. Several teammates surround Mateo, miming taking photos of him in celebration. He plays along briefly but is quick to wave them off and embrace all three of the other guys involved in the goal.
Play resumes, and as the clock ticks closer and closer to ninety minutes, the pace of the match is becoming frantic. Our defense breaks up an offensive run by the other team. One of our younger defenders, Alex, kicks the ball back to our goalkeeper, Marc, to give our guys the chance to reset on the field to keep control of the remainder of the time.
What Alex doesn’t see until after he’s kicked the ball is that Marc is up out of the box, shouting and pointing positions to our offensive players as he reads the defense. The ball rolls behind Marc, and although Chris sprints to save it, he can’t make it in time. The ball crosses the goal line.
There’s a collective groan among the Townsend fans, and the opposing team roars with excitement as the own goal ties the score. Luis is speaking rapid Spanish to himself, and my hands are clutched against my head. Marc is yelling at Alex, who looks positively miserable. Seconds later, I see Mateo wrap an arm around Alex’s shoulders and lean in to speak to him. I don’t have to be within earshot to know that Mateo is telling him to shake it off and keep playing hard.
I just want to run out onto the field and give Alex a big hug. And then I want to positively wrap myself around Mateo and kiss him till I can’t breathe.
Instead, I settle for a permanent increase in my blood pressure as I watch the final minutes of stoppage time tick off, the score still 1-1. Since the championship can’t end in a tie, that means they’ll head into penalty kicks to decide the winner.
I look around to see if there are hidden cameras somewhere, because this feels like a sports movie script.
Each team chooses their five players for the shootout, Mateo lining up first for Townsend. I tent my hands over my mouth, heart pounding. He steps back from the ball, then sprints forward to kick the ball into the top left corner of the net, perfectly aiming beyond the keeper’s reach. Luis and I cheer and hug each other, but then quickly turn solemn awaiting the other team’s first kick. We cheer even louder when Marc successfully blocks their first PK, putting us up one.
Both teams score on their next two PKs, making the score 3-2. My heart plummets when we miss our next shot but the opponents make theirs, evening the score. I feel sick when our fifth player misses as well, and I’m crossing my fingers and praying and holding my breath and closing my eyes hoping the final opponent misses as well to send us into sudden death.
My bubble of hope pops when I hear the loud cheers of opposing fans to my left, and feel Luis’ presence deflate next to me. I open my eyes to see the opponents dogpiling their final shooter and our team in varying poses of disappointment.
Mateo’s hands are on his hips, his eyes closed and head tilted back toward the sky. My vision blurs with tears as I take in Mateo’s defeated stance. This isn’t how the movie script goes, I think to myself. He’s supposed to win his final match. He’s worked so hard. He loves this sport so much. He’s the best man on the planet. He’s supposed to go out on a high.
I glance over at Luis, who also has tears in his eyes, and I reach out to give his hand a squeeze. We just stand there, not speaking, both lost in our own sad thoughts as we wait for the Townsend players to exit the field for the locker room.
Forty-five minutes later, we move down to the same place we met Mateo coming out of the match yesterday. The mood of the Townsend friends and family standing around is somber as we all process this unexpected disappointment.
One by one, players begin emerging from the locker room doors, met with the comforting sight of their loved ones waiting for them. Mateo makes his way over to us, moving more lethargically than I’ve ever seen before. My eyes well up with tears again as he leans in to give his dad a long hug. I hear Luis whispering, “ Estoy orgulloso de ti, mijo, te amo mucho ,” over and over into Mateo’s ear. They finally pull back from each other, and Luis pats Mateo’s arm firmly before glancing over at me.
Mateo steps toward me and locks his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck. His fingers aren’t even tangling into my hair like they usually do on autopilot—just squeezing my torso like I’m his lifeline. I stand up on my tiptoes to wrap my arms around his neck, wishing I could transfer every cell of positive energy from my body to his. My eyes fill again when I feel moisture from Mateo’s eyes slide down my collarbone.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but I don’t rush to let go. Mateo eventually gives my waist a firmer squeeze before releasing me to swipe the tears away from his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re both here,” he finally says, voice raw with emotion.
My heart is physically in pain as I watch Mateo’s subdued face as he talks with his dad about the team’s plans for the remainder of the night. They won’t drive back to Brooklyn until tomorrow—they had to leave enough time for press interviews and a celebration if they had won today.
Unfortunately, I have a flight leaving at 8:00 p.m. I wish I could stick around to be here for Mateo, but I need to Uber back to my hotel to pick up my luggage and head to the airport if I’m going to make it on time.
I share my plan, and as we wait for the car, Luis gives me a long hug, expressing how glad he is to get to know me. Mateo is still pensive, so I silently lace my fingers through his without trying to make conversation.
My Uber arrives, and Mateo checks the car against my app, still so thoughtful and protective despite his sadness. I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry it wasn’t the happy ending,” I whisper.
Mateo sighs, then runs his fingers through my hair as he says, “I’m sad about the match, sad for my team, but this isn’t an unhappy ending. I still have plenty to be happy about.” He presses his lips to my temple.
“I’ll see you back in Brooklyn,” I tell him quietly as I slip into the backseat of the car. He nods and closes the door behind me, turning back to his dad.
My parents must have watched the match online, because I have a bunch of messages from my mom about how sad they are for Mateo. What’s truly shocking, however, is that I have a text from Dean.
Dean
Sorry Lana. Tell Mateo that sucks
I can’t help but smile. A six-word text from Dean is quite the show of care.
Exhausted from all the emotion of the day, I fall asleep on the flight back to KC and still feel groggy on the drive home from the airport with my dad. He turns on some cello music, and we ride home in silence .
I fall into bed, but before closing my eyes, I pull out my phone to text Mateo. I know there are no good words to say that are going to make anything feel better, but I need to somehow communicate how much I care for him in the midst of his disappointment.
Made it home safely. Wish there was a way I could make this not a sad day for you. I’m glad I got to meet your dad and watch you play this weekend. I’ve always loved soccer, but watching you play these past few months has been…it’s just been the best. Not just because you’re amazing at it, but because you’re mine. So even though it wasn’t the ending we wanted, I’m still grateful to have been there with you
I hit send, not knowing if he’ll still be awake or already in bed, especially since he’s an hour ahead of me. Three dots start bouncing almost immediately though, making me smile.
Mateo
Words can’t express how glad I am that you came this weekend. Can’t lie, losing today totally sucked. But holding you afterward helped me keep things in perspective
Dean specifically asked me to tell you “that sucks” so you have officially won him over to the Mateo fan club winky face emoji
Speaking of fan clubs, my dad is fighting me for the presidency of yours. He won’t stop raving about you. It’s legit making my mom furious that she wasn’t here
Your dad is precious. I could talk to him all day. It’s making more and more sense where you get your magnetism. You both make people feel so important
Just wait till you get to meet my mom. She could melt the coldest heart with her kindness. And her food! We’ll have to find a way to make it happe n
I smile to myself, thinking about the surprise Luis has in store for Mateo.
I hope so
You need to rest. Go to sleep!!
I will now. Goodnight Lana
Night heart emoji heart emoji