Chapter 5
"Don't be cruel," Joel called from the other side of the court.
Leire bit her lip and raised a hand in apology after dropping a soft shot right at the net — one her friend had had no chance of reaching.
"Sorry," she said, setting up to serve.
"No you're not. Not even a little," Marta teased beside her.
Leire laughed and served again, this time remembering it was a friendly game.
That morning she'd trained hard for two hours at full intensity, then spent another hour in a recovery session with a physical therapist. At lunch she'd gone out with her father, taking him to the only restaurant he ever wanted to go to — the one that had been his wife's favorite.
And now, after a couple of hours resting by the pool, her friends had shown up, and after catching up over drinks in the garden, they'd started a little match.
These were some of the moments Leire loved most. Her friends were hilarious — they screamed whenever they missed a shot and burst out laughing at their own errors, even if it meant stopping play entirely.
"We're heading out," Sara announced when the game wrapped up. "We've got a family dinner tonight." She nodded toward Joel, her cousin, and both of them said their goodbyes, making plans to see Leire before she left for England.
"So it's just you and me," Marta said, raising an eyebrow as Leire closed the door behind the others.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Leire asked, smiling her most charming smile, because she already knew.
"That you're going to tell me what's actually going on." Marta draped an arm over her shoulders and steered her toward the garden chairs. "You're going to talk to me about what's worrying you — and most of all, about her."
Leire's heart skipped. She'd never told her best friend Kate's name, but she'd talked about the redhead. Marta knew how their thing had started, and she knew just as well how deep in the closet her friend was.
Leire settled into her chair and stretched her legs out, resting her feet on the low wicker table in front of her.
"I need to renew with Costel. The old contract's up, and Isaac negotiated much better terms than what I've got now."
Marta looked at her without a word.
"I'd be signing for another five years. That's a lot more than I could've hoped for."
"I'd ask why you're telling me this like you've just been handed a death sentence instead of jumping for joy — but I'm guessing that caveman clause is still in there," her friend said.
"Yeah, that hasn't changed. And on top of everything, my dad hinted that I should be seeing someone," Leire added, frustrated.
"Someone with a dick, I assume." Marta smirked, and Leire let out a snort that set them both off.
"That wasn't even the worst part. He told me who."
Marta cracked up.
"God, your dad never changes." She shook her head, then went serious and leaned forward. "But I don't think any of that is really your problem, Leire."
"What do you mean?"
Marta looked down at her hands, tracing one of the lines on her palm as she searched for the right words.
"If that Costel contract didn't exist, would anything really change for you? Because honestly, I'm not so sure, Leire."
"I don't follow," Leire said, genuinely confused. Marta traced another line before going on.
"I think you use that contract as an excuse not to face who you really are. I think even if those clauses weren't in the deal — or if the deal didn't exist at all — you still wouldn't admit that you're into women. Because you've been hiding from yourself so long you don't know how to stop."
Leire took a few seconds before she answered. A dozen quick deflections came to mind, the kind she kept ready for exactly these moments. But she didn't stop to weigh whether Marta was right, because that answer might cost her sleep.
"I'm not hiding. I'm with Kate — maybe not officially," she corrected herself, "but we're together."
Her friend stared at her, jaw dropped, so stunned that Leire worried for a second she'd given her a stroke.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Leire snapped her fingers in front of Marta's face.
"You're sleeping with Kate Brogan?" she asked, lips curling into a satisfied smile.
Now it was Leire who looked stunned. But when she played the conversation back in her head, she realized she'd said Kate's name — that her friend's accusation had thrown her so completely off balance that, for the first time in three years, she hadn't managed to keep it hidden.
"I guess I am," she admitted, a little dazed, starting to smile as her best friend began to clap.
"Oh my God, I've been hoping it was her for years, but you always made me doubt it with your vague answers. What's she like? Is she as good in bed as she is on the court? Actually—" Marta went red. "Don't tell me."
"I wasn't going to," Leire laughed, though her smug smile gave her away completely.
"I can't believe it. How can you keep a woman like that hidden, Leire? I don't know her personally, but she just radiates warmth and kindness. I really don't get it."
"I'm not keeping her hidden."
"No? Then what do you call sleeping with a woman for three years without me even knowing her name until now?
This changes everything for me. Before, I didn't know who she was — I couldn't picture her face, couldn't imagine how she felt.
It was like you were dating some kind of ghost. But now that I know she's real, that she has a name, I can't wrap my head around it. "
"What is it you don't get?" Leire asked, starting to feel cornered, a little uncomfortable.
"That she puts up with it. She must love you a lot, Leire, because there's no other way to explain it. That woman could be with anyone, and she's chosen someone who hides her like she's something to be ashamed of."
Leire put her feet down and stood, moving a few steps from the table until she was standing barefoot on the grass, staring at the ground.
Marta was her best friend — and the only person who told her the truth straight to her face.
She backed her unconditionally in everything, except this, at least since Leire had started talking to her about Kate.
Marta had always understood that it was harder for her to face who she was, that she needed more time, that she needed to find her own way to accept herself.
But lately, Marta had been telling her the same thing over and over: that she wouldn't be happy until she took the step, that too many years had gone by in hiding.
"I'm not ashamed of her," Leire snapped, more at herself than at her friend.
"Then what is it?"
Marta stood too.
"I've got a contract with a very traditional, backward-ass brand, and if I come out it'll be like—"
"That's not true," her friend cut in, giving her a shove. "That's not it and you know it. At least, not only that. You're scared, and I get it, but—"
Now Leire was the one who cut her off.
"I just don't understand why I have to explain my private life to anyone," she burst out.
"A straight woman can do whatever she wants, date whoever she wants, and she doesn't owe anyone an explanation.
But we have to announce to the whole world that we like women if we want to be happy. That's not fair, Marta."
Leire finished the sentence with her jaw tight, lips pressed together.
"I never said it was fair. But it's what we've been handed.
First comes the confusion, because we don't understand what's happening to us — society's built on its heteronormative rules, and we have to figure out for ourselves that we don't fit the mold.
Then we have to accept ourselves, some of us more easily than others.
And then we have to explain to every single person on the planet that we don't want dick. "
Leire gave a sad smile.
"But that's the reality, Leire. Better to face the world than let it make you miserable."
"I know," Leire said, looking toward the pool.
"But?"
She shrugged. Her eyes had filled, and her chin was trembling.
She thought about Kate, and the patience she'd always shown her — the redhead with that nose full of freckles that Leire adored, who had never once asked for anything or demanded anything from her.
Even though she knew full well that Kate's patience had a limit, and that limit was starting to run out.
"I don't know. I don't know if I can."
"Do you love Kate?"
Leire frowned and smoothed her training shirt as if it had wrinkles.
"Yes. Of course I love her."
"How much, Leire? Because maybe you don't love her enough — and that's why you can't bring yourself to take the step, not even to hold on to what you have with her."
Leire couldn't answer. It felt impossible to measure how much you could love someone, and then the doubts started creeping in: what if it was true?
What if it wasn't enough? But she struggled to believe that, because she'd do anything for her — or at least she liked to think so, because clearly the one thing that mattered most was the one thing she couldn't manage.
"I have to sign the renewal with Costel. Five more years, and then it's done," she tried to convince herself. Marta made a sound that was half scoff, half raspberry.
"You think Kate Brogan is going to wait five more years for you, Leire? Seriously?"
"If she loves me, she will."
"I loved Laura a lot. But I promise you, there's no way I would've stayed under those conditions.
Think hard about what you want, about what your priorities are.
You've got tennis now, but in five or six years you'll be retired — and if you keep going like this, you'll end up without tennis and without Kate. "
"You think I don't know that?"
Leire's eyes flooded over, and Marta raised both hands in a peace offering, stepped closer, and pulled her into a hug.
"I'm sorry. I know I push too hard, but you're my friend — my favorite person — and it kills me that you're always sad. You deserve to be happy, Leire. With Kate or with whoever, but you'll only get there when you're free."
"I know. But I can't yet."
"Okay, sweetheart. That's okay." Marta rubbed her back. "You'll do it when you're ready," she murmured, and a long sigh of resignation slipped out as she held her tighter.