Chapter 7
Niko
“Come on, mate, have another beer,” my new teammate, Stavros, says, placing a pint in front of me.
“Thanks.” I lift the lager.
Stavros is from Greece and, given my family background, has taken it upon himself to welcome me to Stuttgart. To be honest, I’m grateful.
It’s been just over two weeks since I started preseason training in Germany and it hasn’t been what I expected.
“How are you settling in?” Stavros asks.
I roll my lips together, wondering how honest I can be with the team’s veteran player. While Stavros is nearing retirement and built his career playing in Italy, he’s been a starting midfielder for Stuttgart for the last two seasons. “Doing alright. It’s been a transition.”
“Neutral answer. You’re already learning.”
“Is training always so…regimented?”
“Yeah,” he breathes out, taking a swig of his beer. “When I first got here, it took some getting used to. Stuttgart is a good team, but the coaching style is very results oriented. Wins over everything. With that type of singular focus, there isn’t much team bonding.”
“Do any of the guys hang out after a win? Or grab dinner together at away games?” I try again. I need to manage my expectations. I want to understand how isolating this new experience is going to be.
While I spend my days at the stadium, moving through warm-ups and drills and team meetings, the guys on my new team, save for Stavros, haven’t exchanged more than greetings and generic small talk.
By the time lunch rolls around, most of the guys prefer to scroll on their phones than get to know each other.
“Sometimes.” Stavros shrugs. “I’m at a different place in my career than you are, Karas. I’ve got one season, maybe two seasons, left in me. But you have your whole career ahead of you. This is one of those teams where you keep your head down and perform. It’s not one where you build a legacy.”
I nod, knowing in my gut that he’s telling the truth. “I don’t think I managed my expectations well.”
Stavros flags down a server and orders a few appetizers and salads.
“Nah.” He shakes his head at me. “I get why you had the hopes you did. You played for your hometown, came from a team with a solid culture and a sense of trust and community. I hate to break it to you but you’re not going to find that here.
The best advice I can offer is to show up, stay out of trouble, and give it everything you’ve got on the pitch.
If you can prove your potential, you’ll have opportunities to play for other clubs.
If that happens”—he sucks his teeth and shakes his head again—“sign on the dotted line.”
I take another sip of my beer and nod my thanks. “I appreciate the honesty.”
“Just looking out. Get some of your friends to come out too. Time here passes faster when you have family and friends around you. Especially in the winter.” He grimaces.
That makes me laugh. “Chicago winters are pretty brutal.”
“True. Maybe you’ll be safe from the seasonal depression.”
We share a laugh and I thank the server as she drops off the appetizers. Then, our conversation turns to Greece and family traditions.
It’s the first familiar and easy exchange I’ve had since I arrived in Germany.
Before Stavros, I spent my free time trying to find my footing, looking for an opportunity to engage with my teammates.
But at every turn, my attempts were shot down.
My teammates aren’t looking for a new friend.
They’re looking for a professional player who is going to help improve the standing of the squad.
That’s it. As far as they’re concerned, we’re only here to play soccer.
While it’s a tough pill to swallow, it’s best I clue in now and change my perspective.
Fortunately, Dimi and Ellie are coming to visit in three weeks and will be here to watch my first game.
While I don’t expect to start, I think I’ll have solid playing time.
The bright side of having no social circle is that my existence has narrowed to soccer.
I’ve doubled down on my game and have proved that I’ll be a strong contender on the field.
If everything Stavros shared is true, then I’ll take that as a win.
Even if it doesn’t really feel like one.
The bright spot in my week arrives in the form of three deep-dish frozen pizzas, straight from Chicago.
I thank the delivery guy, sign for the pizzas, and laugh as I unpack the box.
There’s a cheese, a pepperoni, and a mushroom, onions, and peppers.
My mouth waters at the sight of the frozen pizzas.
Immediately, I turn on my oven and leave the mushroom pizza on my kitchen counter while I store the other two in the freezer.
“It’s gotta be Mama. Or Aunt Thea,” I murmur to my empty apartment. Then, I shake my head. Would Mama or Aunt Thea really send me a delivery pizza? They both struggle to use the Uber App or sign into their Facebook accounts. “No,” I decide. “It’s Alex. Or Ellie.”
But when I dig into the main delivery box and my fingers open the folded note inside, I’m surprised to read Bianca’s name.
For when the nostalgia hits. You’ve got this, Niko. Have a great season! Love, Bianca
I smile at the note, running my thumb over her typed name. The fact that she thought of me at all warms me up. It was a thoughtful gesture and while I doubt she thought I’d already be homesick, the timeliness of her gift is unrivaled.
Once the pizza is hot, I pull it out of the oven and cut a slice. Happiness flows through me at the delicious scent of the onions and peppers, the trickle of grease that drips off the crust, the taste of the melted cheese as I take my first bite.
I record a quick video of myself eating. “This is delicious,” I admit. “Thank you, Honeybee. You made my week.”
I send her the video as I enjoy dinner.
That night, she texts back.
Bianca
I’m glad it arrived! You’re supposed to save the pizzas for when you really need them.
Niko
I needed it.
Bianca
All good?
I sigh, not wanting to admit just how difficult the last few weeks have felt.
Niko
Getting there.
Bianca
Give it time.
Niko
How are you? How’s work?
A few minutes pass and I assume Bianca got busy with work. I clean up my kitchen, take a shower, and get ready for bed. I’m just about to turn out the lights when her response comes through.
Bianca
Busy! Have a great week, Niko.
Niko
You too. Thanks for thinking of me.
Bianca
Anytime.
Sighing, I toss my phone on the nightstand and flip off the light. My phone buzzes again and I scoop it up.
Bianca
I think of you more than I should.
Lightness sweeps through my limbs at her confession. Based on our weekend together, I know it was tough for her to admit that so I don’t leave her hanging.
Niko
I think of you too.
Leaning back against my pillow, I close my eyes. Feeling more at ease than I have in weeks, I drift off to sleep.
A week later, I’m scrolling through my social media when an image causes me to plant my thumb in the center of the screen and stop my scroll.
Bianca DiBlanco.
She’s wearing skintight leather pants, combat boots, and a tiny black camisole with straps so thin, I could snap them.
Her hair is pin straight, her lips stained that merlot red, and she’s giving a peace sign.
Her mouth is slightly ajar, as if mid-laugh, and her eyes flash—deep, dark, and seductive as hell.
The caption reads: NYC energy: bold, untamed, and unapologetically mine.
Sighing, my thumb moves over her face. Damn, I miss her. Isn’t that something? I miss a woman I hardly know. A woman I spent a handful of hours with a month ago.
That’s an indication of how fucking lonely I am.
How adrift I feel here, in Stuttgart, where I’m supposedly living my dream.
At least, that’s what my family thinks. There’s no way in hell I’d confide in my parents, Dimi, or Alexandria about how tough this move has been.
Not when they’ve all sacrificed so damn much for me to get here.
No, as far as everyone back home is concerned, my reality is a goddamn dream come true. And, at least on paper, I suppose it is.
I screenshot Bianca’s photo.
Switching apps, I open my messages and scroll until I find Bianca’s name. Then, I send the image of her.
Niko
Peace sign or a signal that you miss me? I can’t tell from here.
I sit up straighter on my couch when I note the dancing bubbles on the bottom of the screen. I didn’t expect her to reply quickly but…my heart rate ticks up. Desperate for conversation much?
Bianca
That’s cause you’re too far away.
Niko
True.
Bianca
How’s Stuttgart?
Niko
Fine.
Bianca
Everyone knows what fine means. How is it—really?!
I snort. Gripping my phone, I stare at our exchange. More than anything I want to confide in someone who isn’t Stavros. Someone who knows me.
And even though we spent a short amount of time together, the time Bianca and I did share was honest. Authentic.
Bianca
That bad?
I chuckle and shake my head.
Niko
It’s been a transition.
Bianca
Not the hailing hero welcome you were hoping for?
Niko
Not even a team dinner.
Bianca
Wait…seriously?
Niko
The team culture is insulated. No one’s sitting around a fire singing Wagon Wheel.
Bianca
Your favorite song.
Niko
Smartass.
It’s a good song!
Bianca
My specialty.
And I know it is.
Niko
How’s all by you? Work?
Bianca
Busy.
Niko
Replacing me already with a newer, younger, hotter athlete?
Bianca
You’re above fishing for compliments, Karas.
Or are you really that lonely?
I snort but her calling me out, accurately so, scrapes.
Niko
Pathetic. Isn’t it?
Several moments tick by before she replies.
Bianca
No. It’s honest. And I like that about you, Niko.
If I wasn’t tied up at work, I’d call you right now.
Niko
Don’t worry about it. It’s actually funny. I’m not this forthcoming with anyone but you
Bianca
I find that hard to believe.
Niko
Me too.
Bianca
You’ll settle in. It will get easier. And I’ll send you more pizzas.
Niko
We’ll see. But you look happy. Stay that way.
Bianca
For now.
I frown, leaning forward as I search her words for subtext.
Niko
What’s that mean?
Bianca
Nothing. Just…tired lately. I’m heading into a meeting. Have a good night, Karas.
Niko
You too, Honeybee.
Sighing, I throw down my phone and drag myself from my couch. Then, I force myself to shower, fix some chicken and vegetables for dinner, and plop down in front of the television.
Bianca is right. I need to give this more time. Little by little, I’ll settle in and find my footing. If Stavros could do it, after having an illustrious career with a family-oriented team in Italy, so can I.
I have to stay the course. Show up. And embrace doing the work.
Besides, if I told my baba this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, he’d howl with laughter. I won’t disappoint him, or dishonor the opportunity he’s given me, by letting on that this move hasn’t been the experience I expected.
Instead, I vow to double down on my commitment to my game. I’ll keep my head down and perform on the field. I’ll let soccer do the talking for me and hopefully, as time passes, I’ll find some common ground with my teammates.
It’s time for me to shut down this bullshit homesickness and nostalgia and do what I came here to do. Play soccer.
By the time my brother and Ellie arrive in a few weeks, I’ll be living the dream I envisioned for myself. I’ll show them around the city and ensure they have an incredible time in Stuttgart—my new home.
Sucking in a breath, I turn off the television, and pad to my bedroom. Starting tomorrow, I’m shifting my perspective. I’m changing my outlook. And that will change my situation here in Germany.