In the Spotlight #2
I grab the phone with hands as wobbly as jelly, so much so that it almost slips through my fingers.
The digital front page of one of England’s most widely circulated sports newspapers unfolds before my eyes.
There’s a huge photo of Alicia that takes up practically the entire screen; she looks spectacular, with that defiant, feline, magnetic gaze that I know perfectly well she uses as a shield to hide her battle scars.
The headline, in giant, bold letters, hits me like a shell fired straight at my heart: “Alicia Puertas Breaks Her Silence: ‘I Have No Intention of Apologizing Again for Loving Freely or for Defending Myself Against Those in Power.’”
I feel my entire nervous system tense up.
I click on the link and devour the lines.
Every damn sentence pierces my soul because I recognize her voice—it’s her speaking without filters, without censorship.
She speaks openly about the smear campaign, about how she learned the hard way to bite her tongue to survive in an environment that devours female soccer players alive if they dare to speak up.
She talks about women’s soccer today, criticizing how spectacle and marketing sometimes take precedence over the actual sport.
She speaks plainly about the abuse of power, fear, and manipulation in the front offices.
And suddenly, I come to the paragraph where she mentions me directly.
“Under no circumstances will I allow another woman to have her professional career destroyed simply for loving me.”
I have to stop reading for a second because my chest burns as if I’d swallowed hot coals. The bustle of the café, the clinking of cups, and the sound of the rain fade away; the whole world has shrunk to the pixels on that screen. I keep scrolling down with my finger.
“Clara Valle has committed no wrongdoing and has not violated her professional ethics. The easiest and most cowardly thing for both of us would have been to keep hiding to protect our public image. But I’m utterly tired of living in the shadows, as if loving someone of the same sex were a problem or something to be ashamed of. ”
I feel a huge lump rising in my throat, and my eyes fill with tears. My fingers tremble uncontrollably around the phone. Charlotte watches me from where she’s sitting, maintaining a respectful silence.
“You have to admit she’s got guts,” she says after a few moments. “A whole lot more than I ever had back then with you, that’s for sure.”
I can’t bring myself to say a word. I’m too busy trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my mouth at such a declaration of intent.
I look back at the screen. Alicia talks about our relationship with such raw, unvarnished, genuine honesty that it’s heartbreakingly beautiful.
She doesn’t try to paint our relationship as an idyllic or perfect fairy tale.
She tells the plain, unvarnished truth, in no uncertain terms.
“Women soccer players in this environment have been conditioned for far too many years to tough it out, to keep our mouths shut in the face of injustice, and to smile for the cameras while four men in an office decide which version of us is most convenient for their business. I’m drawing the line here.
I don’t want to keep jumping through hoops anymore.
I want to love whoever I want with complete freedom.
And I want Clara to have the same right to do so without losing her job. ”
The words in the article start to blur and fade because of the tears I can no longer hold back. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision.
Just then, Dani returns to the table, but as soon as he sees my face, his smile fades and he frowns in alarm.
“What’s going on?”
Charlotte slowly gets up from her chair with her cell phone in hand, straightening her coat and grabbing her umbrella.
“Take good care of her, Dani. Do a better job than I ever did back then,” she says, staring intently at him, then turning to me with a sincerity in her eyes that leaves me taken aback.
“And you take care of her, too, Clara. That girl more than deserves someone who’ll fight for her with the same passion. ”
I wipe a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, moved by her words.
“Charlotte…” I manage to stammer.
She pauses for a second just before heading for the exit.
“Alicia is absolutely right about what she said. It’s high time the rules of the game changed. And it looks like she’s decided to be the first to break the mold. Don’t leave her alone in this battle, Clara. She’s waiting for you.”
And without adding anything else, she turns around, orders a coffee to go, and leaves. I remain frozen in place, watching through the window as she opens her umbrella and disappears into the downpour, feeling the echo of her words reverberate in my chest with overwhelming force.
Dani sits down very slowly, looking at me.
“What the hell happened to make you look like this?” he asks with an urgency that comes straight from his soul.
“Dani… too many things,” I say as I get up from the chair, clutching my coat anxiously.
“But where are you going now?” he calls after me, though from the look on my face, he already knows exactly what the answer is.
“To find her.”