Chapter 3
Carla
Luca
I’m back in Valencia. Hope you’re settling in. If you need anything, I’m here.
I smile at his thoughtful message, my thumb hovering over the keypad. Luca never told my brother about how I fell apart after the gala. For that, I’m grateful.
But, as much as I probably do need someone to talk to, I don’t know what the hell to say. These days, I’m still a bit in shock that my life has taken such a drastic turn. I feel…adrift. Even when I’m in the midst of my loud, nosy family, I feel separate. Apart.
January 16
Vale
I miss you! I hate that our time zone difference is six hours now instead of one. Womp. What are you up to?
Carla
I know, I miss you! Ugh, Vale, Mamá and Papá are driving me bananas.
Vale
It’s been one week.
Carla
I think I need my own place.
Vale
Go stay with Abuela for a few days.
Carla
I’m picking her up in an hour. We’re going to look at apartments.
Vale
Wow! Did you tell Mamá you’re moving out?
Carla
Abuela is my buffer. I’ll tell Mamá after I find a place. Hopefully, today.
Vale
good luck on all of it.
Valencia is both how I remembered yet completely different. It’s strange to be in my hometown and know that this isn’t a visit, it’s my new reality.
In the past, I’d float through for a handful of days, riding a natural high.
I was giddy to visit my family and join them for Christmas or Fallas—Valencia’s legendary celebration that serves as a giant street party.
Nearly every corner displays enormous, incredible, artistic sculptures that are set on fire and burn through the night of March 19.
I showed up for milestone events, like Abuela’s eightieth birthday party and Valentina and Avery’s second wedding in Spain. I made appearances for Alejandro’s big games or my cousin Rafa’s races in Barcelona.
But that giddiness that buoyed me through the visits, that made me ache with nostalgia when I boarded my flight back to Chicago, is absent.
I’ve been back in Valencia for seven days and each hour is plagued with a heaviness I hate. There is no structure or purpose. No excitement or challenges. Nada.
Mamá and Papá are thrilled that I’m back home and don’t understand my disappointment.
Papá has mentioned opportunities to train with Spanish teams and try for a call up to the national team.
He keeps encouraging me to go to the gym, the park, the soccer field.
Condition, train, play fútbol. Meanwhile, Mamá brings me around town to shop, have lunch, and visit with her friends.
They both mean well but I’m…somehow simultaneously adrift and stuck.
Abuela has been a softer place to land.
We look at a handful of apartments and I consider myself supremely lucky when I find one I love, right near the Parque Turia, with a move in date of February 1.
Now, I just have to tell my parents.
January 23
Marlowe
I hear your mom and dad are finally coming around to the idea that you’re moving out.
Carla
What did Ale say?
Marlowe
That your parents are hosting a farewell dinner party in your honor…
Carla
They’re so dramatic. I’m literally moving four streets away.
Marlowe
I know. I think they’re happy to have you close by and want to soak up every minute with you.
Carla
Yeah.
Marlowe
But it’s normal to need your own space.
Carla
Thank you! How are you feeling?
Marlowe
Terrible. And, at the same time, giddy. It’s a mind fuck.
Carla
January 27
Luca
How’s it going, campionessa?
I roll my eyes. The last thing I feel like these days is a champion.
Carla
I’m surviving.
Luca
Chin up. A friend told me about a coaching position that’s about to open up at Santa Isabel. The coach is going on maternity leave early and the team needs a strong leader…
Carla
My leadership skills are in the toilet these days.
Luca
When you pull them out, email your CV to [email protected]
I swear and close my eyes. Why the hell is Luca being so good to me? I know he said he’d help but I never expected him to ask around about job opportunities and message me to check in.
Sullenly, I stare at our text exchange. His messages are thoughtful and sweet. Mine are surly.
Reaching deep, I find some gratitude.
Carla
Gracias, DiBlanco.
Luca
Always, cucciola.
“Are you ready for Zumba?” Abuela asks in Spanish, fist-pumping the air as I meet her near the entrance to Parque Turia.
I smile at her colorful and warm workout clothes and glance down at my black spandex. “Apparently not, Abuelita.”
She chuckles as she kisses my cheeks. “How’s your new place?”
“It’s fine,” I reply, hugging her.
Abuela sighs. “Carla, hija, tienes que hacer tu vida.” Carla, you need to make your own life. She says it with warmth and humor, but I understand her point. I can’t wallow in my disappointment and shortcomings forever.
“I know,” I reply.
“Pues hazlo, Carlita. Saberlo no basta.” Then do it. Knowing isn’t enough.
I nod. Leave it to Abuela to give me the tough yet tender love I need.
Satisfied, she pats my back. We enter the park and walk toward the bridge to join her Zumba class. Abula recounts every detail that occurred in the most recent episode of her guilty pleasure, the reality television show, La Isla de las Tentaciones. Essentially, Temptation Island.
And while this was once a secret between Abuela, Ale, and Rafa, Marlowe accidentally spilled the beans, making it an entire García family affair. I’m waiting for Ale or Rafa to start a family WhatsApp thread for it.
I nod along, half listening to Abuela’s account of the couples and the solteros, the singles, but my attention catches on the soccer field as we approach the bridge. Squinting, I note the fluidity of the players on the field—dribbling, passing, scoring.
And then, I grin.
“It’s El Tanque!” I laugh, pointing to the massive player, my old school buddy, Luis, who now plays for the Segunda Division, or B League, team in Valencia.
Abuela pauses and squints in the direction of the field. “Hm. No está nada mal…” She glances at me. “Para ti, claro.” Not bad at all…for you, of course.
I laugh and swat her shoulder. “He’s an old friend. A buddy from my school days.”
“Si tú lo dices…” She raises an eyebrow. If you say so.
“I do,” I murmur, biting my bottom lip.
“Anda, ve a saludarle.” Go on, go say hi to him.
“But we have Zumba…”
Abuela chuckles and shakes her head, turning toward her Zumba class and waving to me without bothering to turn around.
“I’ll be right back!” I call out to her retreating figure.
Then, with more gusto than I’ve felt in weeks, I turn toward the field and jog over.
El Tanque grins as soon as he spots me. “?Mira quién es! La Pulga.” Look who it is. The flea. He spreads his arms wide as he drops my secondary school nickname and switches to English. “Thought you forgot about us.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “I could never forget about you, El Tanque.”
He chuckles, winking at my teasing tone.
Risitas, the class clown of my graduating year, snaps the ball off the top of his laces and catches it in his hands. “What about the rest of us, Pulga?”
“I missed you all,” I admit, throwing my arms wide, encompassing the group of guys I’m now mentally clocking—Capi, our group organizer, Guapo, the pretty boy that won rey de la fiesta, the king of our end-of-year party, and El Mago, the magician.
I tilt my head to the side, biting my bottom lip. “Got room for one more?”
Surprise flares in El Tanque’s eyes as Capi nods.
“Entonces, a ver si todavía sabes jugar,” Capi says. Let’s see if you still know how to play. “We’re running drills. And don’t think we’re going to go easy just because eres una estrella americana.”
An American star. I bite back my snort. Hardly, I want to reply, I lost my spot on the squad.
Instead, I flip my chin toward Risitas who flips me the ball. I juggle it three times before slamming it down with my instep, sending it straight toward Capi’s chest.
“Good.” I smirk. “I’d be insulted if you did.”
The crew hoots with laughter and smack talk.
Capi shuffles back a few steps, clutching his chest as if I’ve wounded him.
I grin, feeling myself relax. Relief snakes through my limbs as I glance around the group. This is what I’ve been missing. This feeling of…camaraderie. Belonging. Being back on the field and knowing I’m supposed to be here.
These guys, even though it’s been years since I’ve seen them, have always treated me as one of their own. One of the guys. And I never relished it more than this moment.
“Let’s play three-on-three,” El Mago suggests.
“Okay, pero, cuidado chicos. La Pulga’s here to break ankles,” Risitas warns.
I shake my head and tighten my ponytail. “?Venga!” Let’s go! I jog to the center of the field.
El Mago sets up two cones on the halfway line for a makeshift goal as we play half field. The play starts—me, El Tanque, and Risitas facing off against El Mago, Capi, and Guapo.
And a fire I’ve missed sparks in my bloodstream.
The sun beats down, already causing me to sweat.
My mind sharpens, waking the hell back up, after weeks of feeling sluggish.
The springy grass shifts beneath my sneakers, my lungs burn from running, and I admire the fluidity, the strategic movements, the smart play of my old friends.
I fight my grin as I note an opening. Sprinting forward, I head the pass from Risitas, letting it roll down my body, and keeping it tight at my feet. Then, I go for it, cutting between Mago and Guapo, as I search for El Tanque. But Capi rushes me, his footwork fancy.
Shaking my head, I slip a nutmeg, a kick that passes the ball through his legs, and keep going.
“Still got it,” I call over my shoulder.
He swears loudly as Risitas howls.
“?Cano, tío. Don’t cry about it!” El Mago scolds.
I pass the ball to El Tanque who takes a shot on goal and scores.
“Whoo!” I throw my arms in the air, laughing, as I jog toward the huddle of guys.
Risitas tosses a sweaty arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest and pressing a loud kiss to the crown of my head. “?Qué buena, Pulga!” Nice one, flea.
I nod my thanks but emotion swells in my throat.
Not because of the play but because I finally feel like myself again.
For the first time in weeks, I’m me. And damn, I’ve missed it.
I’ve missed this.
Vale
How’s your new place, Carla?
I smile when I see my sister’s text message on the sibling chat thread. Clean from a quick shower, I perch on the side of my bed and glance around my new bedroom. It’s still bare and boring, in much need of a makeover, but it’s a relief to have my own space.
Alejandro
It’s bigger than I thought. Great view of the Palacio de la Musica.
Marlowe
She needs me to come decorate it.
Carla
True to both. When are you coming over, Mar?
Alejandro
As soon as she can make it three hours without vomiting.
Vale
Still that intense, Mar?
Marlowe
It’s awful, guys. I can’t keep anything down.
Alejandro
We’re going to see the OBGYN in a few hours.
Carla
That’s good. Let us know how it goes.
Marlowe
I will. Carla, how was Zumba with Abuelita?
I smirk, shaking my head. But my siblings, plus Marlowe and Avery, are my people. And I want to share the joy I felt today with people who will understand and care.
Carla
I didn’t make it to the class. I played fútbol instead.
Vale
How quickly you’ve jumped from soccer back to fútbol!
Alejandro
Where?
Vale
Who with?
Marlowe
That’s fantastic, Carla.
Avery
Hell yeah, Carla! How’d it feel?
Biting my bottom lip, I wonder if Ale and Vale will remember the guys.
Carla
Do you remember those guys from school? El Tanque, Risitas, Guapo…?
Alejandro
Ha! El Tanque is good shit and Risitas is hilarious.
Vale
I remember Guapo…obviously.
Avery
What’s so obvious about it?
Marlowe
Vale
Relax, Avery. Carla dated him.
Marlowe
Waiting for details…
Carla
It was like two dates a million years ago.
Marlowe
Why didn’t it work out?
Vale
His hair turned too blonde in the summer.
Avery
Wait…what?
I roll my eyes.
Alejandro
Seriously, Carlita? This is why you’re going to be alone forever.
Marlowe
Hey! Not nice, Ale.
Carla
@Alejandro.
Carla
And the blonde was almost translucent…
Avery
So, it’s true? You broke the dude’s heart because of his…hair?
Marlowe
Carla, you always have the most hilarious reasons for not giving something, or someone, a chance…
Ale
Wait, so did you really break up with the German because he didn’t like pretzels?
Of course, Vale comes to my defense.
Vale
Standards, Alejandro.
Avery
I’m confused.
Marlowe
So…how was playing again, Carla?
Relieved for her interjection, I quickly reply.
Carla
It felt great. Not awkward at all. It’s like we picked up from where we left off almost a decade ago.
Avery
The flirting or the playing?
Alejandro
That’s what I want to know…
Carla
The playing! Obviously.
Vale
That’s awesome, Carla!
Carla
I push off the side of my bed and relocate to the kitchen, digging into the refrigerator for salad ingredients.
I think about how freeing it felt to play today, how nice it was to connect with the guys again. The vacant job position Luca messaged me about flickers through my mind.
Should I apply? What’s holding me back?
I mull it over as I chop a cucumber and tomato.
The truth is, I feel like a fraud. How can I coach a girls’ team and instill them with values like dedication and commitment when I’m team-less? These days, even aimless?
It feels like I’m posturing for an opportunity I’m not qualified for. One I don’t deserve.
And, at the heart of it all, can I handle more rejection?