Alexis opened the envelope with care, and playfully peeked inside.
“Come on, open it!” Ronnie urged, laughing. “I’ve told you it’s not a big deal. Just a little nothing for your birthday.”
“But my birthday has long since passed. Is it still valid, then?” she teased.
“Your birthday was a week ago. It’s not my fault you didn’t come home earlier, being so busy that you don’t even have time to celebrate your own birthday!”
Inside the living room, Veronic was sitting in an armchair, but the wheelchair was also nearby. She was having a good day. She felt strong enough to even go for a short walk in the morning, for which she was accompanied by her dad.
Her illness was progressing much more slowly than normal. This may have been to do with the dedicated and thorough massages with which her sister had been insistently torturing her with for many years. Although Alexis had recently become a university student and now only came home at weekends, their relationship was just as close-knit as before, despite meeting less often. Sometimes it even happened during the week that if Alex couldn’t come, Ronnie would order a taxi and would go to see her sister in her student lodgings. At other times, Alexis would drop into the family home to say a quick hello to her dad, greet her mum if she was in, and then she would already be on her way upstairs to Veronic’s room. She folded out the medical mat, put healing oils on her hands and began to knead Veronic’s meagre little body, putting straight into practice what she had freshly mastered at the human kinesiology lectures at the medical university. Ronnie didn’t specifically ask her to do this, but she didn’t protest either. She knew her sister was doing this as a sign of affection and gentle care, so she had appreciated it from the very start. And then, as Alex got more and more skilled, the treatments had become more and more professional, and in time they both realised with amazement that the massage did wield results. The illness wasn’t completely irreversible or curable, but with the right treatment, muscular dystrophy could significantly be decelerated. The palpable outcome was that Ronnie had a lot more better days, and much less worse ones. So Alex didn’t let herself be talked out of the treatments, and continued the “sessions” with perseverance and enthusiasm – since this was what they jokingly called the massage.
The past week had indeed been unusual as due to Alexis’ busy schedule they hadn’t seen each other for a full week. Of course, she knew that her younger sister’s reproach was not to be taken seriously, and that she would never hold it against her that she wasn’t spending enough time with her – even if she had a reason for it. They knew each other too well, and their sisterly love was too strong to get upset about issues like that. Also, since Ronnie had turned 17, and became a student of St. Andrew’s, she had become much busier as well. Regarding her illness, they had made it possible for her to only attend school twice a week, and the rest of the time she was to spend at home, studying. But even that had brought a big change into her old life when, as a private student, she had hardly ever left her house, and had no friends. She was a kind and intelligent young girl. Knowing her pleasant nature, Alex never doubted for a moment that as soon as Ronnie was with people, they would come to like her, and she would find friends. Elisabeth Woodville was against the plan that Veronic should attend a school outside their home. She might have given in to her mother’s pressure, but Alex remained very determined about the issue. Since she could see that Ronnie also liked the idea, she openly opposed her mother, and wasn’t going to stop until Ronnie was enrolled at St. Andrew’s. Thanks to the new company and the massages, she began to blossom, and although she hadn’t been sad before either, since she began to regularly spend time out, a new era had started in her life. She had her hair cut short like a tomboy, which gave a new charm to her childlike face. Only the close relationship between the sisters had remained unshaken.
Alex looked at her sister naughtily, and slowly pulled two tickets out of the yellow envelope. She twisted them around her fingers for a while, then looked at Ronnie with amazement.
“Football tickets? To the Bradford match? For me?”
“For you and Nick, of course. Or don’t you like football anymore? If I remember correctly, you also played for a while, didn’t you?”
Ronnie looked at her in expectation, eyebrows up. At first Alexis didn’t even know how to respond. Yes, she still liked football, but she hadn’t attended a match for… who knew how long. Recently she had been much too busy for things like that. And Dominic belonged to the group of a few young men who were not in the slightest bit thrilled about football, so whenever they organised something together, it never came up as an option. Her own short, but all the more eventful highschool football career now remained in the back of her mind as a blurred memory, and she made sure never to bring it up again.
Now, looking at the tickets she heaved a deep sigh, then pulled a smile.
“When was that, sis? It may never have been true.”
“I can very much remember it still. It was only four years ago,” she noted, sounding smart.
“What was four years ago?” enquired James Woodville, who had just stepped into the living room with a newspaper in his hand.
He kissed Ronnie on the forehead, then stepped up to Alex and held his cheek to her for a kiss.
“We were saying,” she started, “that Alex also played football at highschool.”
“Good heavens!” James said, lifting his eyes to the sky. “Don’t even remind me! How could you not find a decent female sport?”
“And what would that be, do you think? Embroidery or crocheting?”
Alex glanced at her father haughtily, and he returned her gaze while furrowing his brow, but wasn’t really able to force seriousness into his voice.
“Female bloody football! You don’t want to start over, do you?”
“No dad, don’t work yourself up,” she laughed a bit more permissively.
“Why are you talking about it, then?”
“Ronnie has given me football tickets for my birthday,” she said, waving the tickets in the air.
“Now, that’s something. To which match?”
“Bradford Stadium. The Champions’ League qualifier.”
James’ eyes began to glitter. Although he was primarily enthused by polo and cricket, he also enjoyed high-quality football. And Bradford was one of the top teams in the English Premier League, and what was more, they had even won the previous year’s league championship.
“Who are they playing?”
“Dortmund.”
“I’ll come with you if you want it,” he said, blinking at her.
“No, dad!” Ronnie interrupted with unusual vehemence. “Alex is going with Dominic. Or the gift will be taken back.”
He lifted his hands in defence, and left the room laughing.
“All right, all right. Don’t bite my head off,” he shouted.
When he had left, Ronnie continued somewhat more gently.
“You’d better get used to Bradford Stadium anyway, because unless I’m mistaken, you’ll be there quite frequently in the future.”
“Yes, but only on professional grounds. Only due to the physiotherapy course.”
“Same difference,” Ronnie agreed. “Besides, these are very special tickets, Alex.”
“Are they?” she turned to face her sister playfully. “And what kind are they?”
“Well… unique ones. Have a closer look!”
Alex took the tickets into her hands once again, and studied them more thoroughly. Now she could also see that they were not just for the row directly behind the teams’ benches, but they were valid even for the VIP lounge.
“What the heck, Ronnie! You must be out of your mind! Didn’t you say you were giving me just a little nothing? These must have cost you a fortune. You really shouldn’t have…”
“Come off it! You’re only 21 once. This is something special, Alex. We have to celebrate it! I hope you are happy,” she said with excitement, studying her sister’s face eagerly.
Alex ran to her, sat down next to her and hugged her.
“Of course I am. How can you ask that? But if you surprise me with such expensive presents, what can I give you for your birthday? Are you perhaps pining for a pony in secret?”
“Stop it!” she said shaking her head indignantly.
Alex kissed her cheek, then put her head on her younger sister’s thin shoulder. Ronnie lovingly stroked her long hair, which still had its brilliant auburn shade, but now instead of the natural waves of the highschool madcap, it was all straightened carefully. Alex was past 21, and had become quite an attractive young woman, fully aware of her femininity. Her dressing style was still on the sporty, casual side: her favourite pieces were jeans and simple T-shirts. Of course, she paid more attention to her thick hair now than before, and lately she had begun to use a little makeup. With her full lips, her open and happy smile, slim build and picturesque, reddish crown of hair, she often attracted the stares of men, filling their imagination.
She was about 19 when a middle-aged, well-dressed stranger addressed her in a fast food restaurant, and stuck a business card into her hand. He said he was an agent working in the beauty industry. He saw a lot of potential in Alex and predicted an auspicious modelling career for her; she just had to call him on the phone. She gazed at him for a while in surprise, thinking he was only kidding. As he pressed his point further, saying she could make good money as a model, especially if she wasn’t too choosy about commissions, she began to laugh. The situation became more and more embarrassing, so Alex decided to cut the conversation short. In a friendly way she told the man that she wasn’t in need of money as her parents were rich, and her pocket money was more than she could spend. She had no intention of working as a model. She had other plans. And anyway, she would have driven any photographer crazy with her twitchy behaviour. The man stared at her agasp, then left her, shaking his head.
After this incident, at home, she studied herself in the mirror through different eyes. She even put on some makeup, and remarked matter-of-factly that the man actually had a point. From then on, she began to focus a bit more on her appearance. She took better care of her hair, and dressed in a more feminine way. Smiling at herself, she decided to keep modelling as a plan B in case her career in medicine didn’t work out. This time, however, she said nothing to Ronnie about the issue. Not that she had to fear Ronnie being jealous of her, or anything like that. Still, she would have found it rather inappropriate to tackle the physical beauty she had been born with, when Veronic, due to her illness, looked a lot less mature than she really was. Yet, Ronnie openly and regularly admired her stunningly beautiful sister — as she lovingly called her — and took delight in combing her hair. She created pretty hairdos for her when Alex had to make an appearance somewhere posh.
The fact that Ronnie stubbornly insisted on her going to the match with Dominic, made Alex smile. It was actually logical that she go with him. Who else would she take if not her boyfriend? But the way her sister, four years her junior was nourishing her private relationship with Nick with such worry, was a little unusual. She knew Ronnie was driven by good intentions, because she could see that the two of them had spent very little time together lately. And she also knew that often, when Alex could have been with Nick, she just chose to come over and give Ronnie a massage, or simply dropped in for a chat. She was sure the gift was Ronnie’s humble support to help her and Nick spend some undisturbed time together. Alex and Nick… If anybody had asked how long they had been going out exactly, she couldn’t have responded, no matter how hard she tried. Very rarely, though, it crossed her mind what if they had been born like this. Could it be, that she and this neighbour boy had been an item back in nursery, then in pre-school, and they had always been in this state, without ever making it official?
“The match is next Saturday. Don’t forget!” came Ronnie’s pleasant, chirpy voice, distracting her musings.
“And what if Nick can’t make it? If he’s busy?” she asked the question, teasing.
Veronic closed her eyes, and shook her head slowly, with an authority that suggested she knew something.
“That won’t happen,” she said firmly. “I asked him on the phone before I bought the tickets.”
“You are one dangerous woman, that’s all I can say.” Alex laughed so loudly that the whole house echoed with her voice, then she gave her sister another affectionate hug.
#
One week later, on Saturday afternoon, Alex and Nick were indeed standing at the VIP entrance to Bradford Stadium, holding the gift tickets, waiting to be let in. Only 500-600 exclusive tickets were sold for the bigger matches, and most of them ended up with the sponsors anyway, so there wasn’t such a big crowd at this gate as the other ones. Soon they were inside the elegantly furnished VIP lounge, where the carefully arranged welcome drinks were waiting for the arriving guests. The huge room had a glass wall on the side of the grandstand, offering a direct view to whatever was happening on the pitch and in the rest of the stadium. Along the walls of the room, cream-coloured leather settees were positioned, with small tables in-between. Each of the round tables were covered with snow-white cloths, and they were numbered too, so the smiling hostesses positioned at the entrance were able to direct the guests to their tables immediately. Alex studied the gigantic black-and-white photos decorating the walls. They depicted superstars of old in their original outfits, and football shoes which looked quite funny to viewers of today. The buffet row was positioned in the middle of the room, laid with all kinds of delicacies for starters. The elegant counter with its colourful offer of drinks was delicately in line with the glass wall of the lounge. Thanks to the countless large-screen televisions, even people who didn’t feel like leaving the pleasant room during the game, were able to follow the events. It was also quite usual that inside the VIP compartment, footballers of the past and prominent players of the present would make an appearance. The club’s leadership and employees often spent time there too, so Alex wasn’t at all surprised when Nick, returning with two drinks from the bar nudged her side, and without caring to show good manners, pointed to the balding middle-aged man standing by the bar, just a few footsteps away from them.
“Look at that bloke. There, by the counter.”
Alex looked at the drinks in his hands and chose wine over orange juice. While taking the glass from Nick, she at once pressed down his inappropriately pointing right hand.
“Stop pointing so obviously! They’ll think we are groupies, or something like that.”
“Sorry,” he laughed. “So, that guy there, the baldy one. I know him from somewhere. I think I have seen him on TV a few times. He must be a politician or something.”
Alex turned her head too, then sipping on her wine, gave a reserved response.
“Who? Bobby Lane? The legendary defender of Bradford, who was a champion at least six times with the team, and won the Champions’ League in the 90s?”
Dominic looked at her, his mouth open in surprise, then he began to laugh. He reached out and messed up her hair in a way her dad would tease her, or at the very least, a brother.
“I always forget what a football expert you are.”
“Hey! My hair!” Alex said with seriousness, but she also burst into laughter.
She knew exactly that Nick wasn’t interested in football, and sports weren’t his thing in general, so he couldn’t place the face that by all means any five-year-old would have recognised. Of course, if the man had been a Nobel-prize winning researcher, or a doctor, or perhaps a writer, Nick wouldn’t have mistaken him for a politician. It was clear to her that Nick only came to Bradford Stadium for her sake, so that they could celebrate her birthday together, but he himself would never have come up with this idea for a gift. Dominic soon lost interest in the ex-football star, and they changed the subject of their conversation to university issues. They had piled a few cold snacks onto their plates from the buffet, but since neither of them was particularly hungry, they agreed to go upstairs for dinner during halftime. From outside, a roar was heard, indicating that the teams were marching out onto the pitch, and the spectators began to comment on the names of the domestic team members with loud cheers. They quickly downed their glasses, and left to find their places on the grandstand before the match kicked off. Alex took the lead, and holding the tickets in front of her, looked for the numbers. They made their way ahead, stepping lower and lower onto the grandstand. She looked back at Nick in uncertainty. He also found the situation strange, but only pulled his shoulders up in response. Finally, they reached the second row, where there were indeed a few seats still untaken.
“10 and 11,” Alex murmured half loudly, pointing to their seats.
By the time they were finally seated, the commentator had long since finished listing the away side’s players’ names. They were about two steps from the bench, one row above it. Alex looked around.
“Wow! That Ronnie’s really something, isn’t she? Here I feel like I’m the coach. As if I was also on the pitch. This is a superb place! We can see everything right up close.”
She turned to the side and smiled at Nick enthusiastically. He smiled back, and with a little less thrill, told her he agreed.
It was a heated, intense kind of game, and they were hardly midway through the first half when the referee began to give out yellow cards, one after the other. In the 30th minute, Dortmund’s defence came under pressure and the ball was kicked far out of the pitch, so Bradford was allowed a throw-in from the side of the benches. A domestic player – in the dark blue jersey labelled number 9 – conveniently jogged away from the edge of the pitch, and came a bit closer to the benches, making the ball boy’s job a bit easier as he ran off to get the ball. The team members who stood close, took the opportunity to grab one of the water bottles lying by the edge of the pitch, and take a gulp. Number 9 with the dark hair and tall posture wiped his sweaty forehead into his jersey, and straightened himself. Putting his hands on his hips, he waited for the ball’s return. As he turned towards the grandstand, the concentration was visible in his eyes. For just a little while, though. Because shortly after, his facial expression suddenly changed; he at first looked amazed, then shocked. His whole physique froze still. It seemed like he had fallen out of his role, and his spirit briefly let his body down. Exactly the same thing happened to Alexis. She was too paralysed to move, even forgot to close her mouth as she stared at Bradford’s number 9, whose petrified gaze fell on hers.
“Hey! Hey!”
From the bench and the pitch, impatient cries were heard, making number 9 finally look up and shake his head as if trying to chase away a bad vision. He cast another short glance at the second row of seats to the left from the bench, then waved to the boy to throw the ball. He turned towards the pitch, and more powerlessly than usual, threw the ball in. With glassy eyes, Alex articulated the word written on the back of the jersey: “Cruz”. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, and made a soundless cry. She turned to the side to see how Nick was reacting to this, but he didn’t seem to notice anything, nor did any of the 25 thousand supporters in the stadium. Dominic was busy reading a small medical publication which he had fished out of his pocket about fifteen minutes into the game. He only glanced up from it for seconds, whenever there was a roar from the crowd as a reaction to something interesting in the game.
Alexis turned back to the pitch, and began to look for number 9. The more she focused on him, the more obvious it became whom she was seeing. She had no doubt, and now she didn’t even understand how it was possible that she hadn’t recognised Nathaniel earlier. True, his appearance had changed a lot since high school. His hair had been trimmed Iroquois style, spiky on both sides, and in the middle, due to the application of some strong gel, it stood erect. What was more, it was bleached. His face, however – as much as she could tell from the distance – hadn’t changed much. It may have looked more determined, with his features appearing stronger, but this, of course, could have been attributed to his present physical exertions. She also noticed that Nathaniel occasionally glanced in her direction, which was definitely affecting his concentration in a bad way. No doubt, he had also recognised her. Her heart beat in her throat; her hands trembled with nerves.
After a few more seconds of struggling, she jumped up from her seat.
“I need to pop outside. I’ll be back in a sec”, she said to Nick.
“Okay,” he turned to her, giving her a quick smile.
She was on her way up the steps, as quickly as she could. As she left the stadium, she stopped and leaned against the wall. Thoughts were raging inside her head. How had Nathaniel got into the Bradford team? She had read in a newspaper years before that the twenty-year-old had joined a team in Nottingham. Of course, that would have been at least two years ago, and Alex had recently given up following football-related news. Being such a big promise during his high school years, it seemed very possible that a top club like Bradford would have signed him since then. So his dream of becoming a professional had come true! She was surprised and immensely upset by this new encounter after four years, although practically nothing had happened between them back then. There was no chance, as Nathaniel had had to leave St. Andrew’s right after they had met. And it was a fact – she reminded herself coldly – that she had heard nothing from him since. There hadn’t been a letter, a phone call, or anything. Of course, what did she expect? By now, Nathaniel Cruz had become an idolised football star. Why would he remember her from all the girls he had met in his life?
She breathed out determinedly, and went into one of the women’s toilets. She sprinkled cold water on her face, fixed her makeup a little. Then, after forcing herself to calm down, she went back to Dominic and took her place once again next to him.
“Where have you been so long? You missed a brilliant goal. Bradford’s leading one nil,” Nick said enthusiastically.
Alex was ready to snap back, asking him how he had known about the goal, having been buried in a book the whole time through, instead of following the game. But she thought the better of it. She just smiled, heaved a big sigh and replied, “Say no more. I bet it was scored by Nathaniel Cruz.”
“Y…yes, I think so,” he responded uncertainly. Then, putting his hand on her shoulder, he pulled her to him. “You are a real expert, Alex. I’m impressed.”
At halftime they went back to the VIP lounge, which was now full of guests, and had dinner. Alex was absent-mindedly piling food onto her plate, absorbed in her thoughts, while Nick carefully prepared himself a nice dinner plate from the abundantly laid buffet table. As they took their place, they began to talk. Or, rather, Nick was guiding the conversation, because Alex was in an unusually pensive mood, and she only responded with brief acknowledgements. She listlessly tossed the small salmon and tuna bites around her plate, and it took her an eternity to chew an olive off the tooth pick.
“What’s wrong? Are you not hungry?” Nick asked after a while, with his eyebrows pulled up questioningly.
“No, not really,” she replied.
“What a shame! The buffet is excellent.”
“I know, but somehow… I simply have no appetite,” she shrugged.
“I don’t think Ronnie would be happy if she knew,” Nick remarked jokingly, at which Alex cast a serious glance at him.
“It’s just as well she doesn’t,” she responded slowly, and gave him a harsh look.
“You think I’m so bad?” he asked.
A little later, when the waitress had given them one of their refills, he turned to Alex again, with a friendly voice.
“Have you seen that strange glass cage there, on the other side of the room?”
“What?” Alex faced him incredulously.
“There’s a passage leading there past the steps, behind the bar. It must be something like a grandstand, because its wall is made of glass from floor to ceiling. It feels really weird standing there. Feels like standing in the air. Do you have vertigo?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said impatiently, and took a big gulp from her glass.
“What’s wrong with you, Alex? Is everything okay?”
Alexis suddenly felt ashamed, and at once changed to a more reconciling tone.
“I’m sorry. I have no clue either… But I’ll pull myself together, I promise. You know, what? When the game is over, on our way out, we will have a look in the glass cage, okay?”
“Of course, as you wish,” he agreed.
During the second half, Alexis concentrated more fully on the match. She even tried to joke with Nick, who put away his book guiltily, and made an attempt to follow the game. It wasn’t easy for anybody, though. To make things worse, number 9 seemed to be doing more poorly during the second half. Instead of kicking the ball, his foot went straight into someone’s calf from the opposing team, for which he was given a yellow card. The referee gave him a serious warning that a red card would follow that. The manager replaced him in the 75th minute, possibly to protect him from such serious sanctions. Completely out of his nature, Cruz didn’t even sit on the bench, but left the pitch and made his way towards the changing rooms. The final score was 2:1 to the home team, and this happy outcome caused the hard-core supporters to manifest their appreciation at the top of their lungs, from the grandstand all the way to the bus stop.
They stood up from their seats and were on their way out, when Dominic turned back.
“I’m thirsty. Shall we go back into the lounge for a drink? And of course, there’s also the dessert stand. Or would you rather go home now?”
Nick winked at her naughtily, referring to her well-known obsession with sweets.
“Sure, let’s go back if you want to drink,” she responded languidly.
He nodded, then started up the stairs. As they entered the room and saw the hustle around the buffet, Alex suggested they first have a look at the glass cage Nick had talked about. He agreed, then said that Alex should go on ahead while he got something for both of them to drink. She walked past the bar, and stepped into the glass-walled room, which happened to be a closure to the VIP lounge. There was nobody in there. The whole thing was like a platform, a little protrusion from the wall of the building, offering a great view over the whole stadium. Alex walked up to the opposite wall, and, pressing her forehead against the glass, looked outside. It felt like she was a captive inside a huge see-through balloon floating over the stadium. Making the most of being alone, she tried to calm down. Desperately, she tried to settle her thoughts, but it wasn’t easy, as her heart beat faster than it ever had during the past four years. She lifted her hands, and pressed her palms against the glass next to her face. She paused. She waited for her heart to find peace inside her chest, and for Dominic to arrive with the drinks at last.
#
After Nathaniel Cruz had left the pitch, he went straight to the dressing rooms. One of the physiotherapists stood up from the bench to assist him, but Nathaniel waved him away, so he sat back down. Nate charged down the corridor to the dressing rooms without looking left or right. He kicked the door open in a temper, and threw himself on the bench. He was full of rage, but whether it was the result of the substitution, or something completely different, he couldn’t tell for sure. He placed his forehead into his palms and rubbed his pulsing temple for a while, trying to convince himself that the reason for his feeling upset was the yellow card. He took off his shoes, then got out of his wet jersey too. Hearing the noise of feet coming from the hall, he tried to move faster. He wanted to disappear into the shower as soon as possible. He could guess who was following him there, but he had no intention of speaking to anyone. Not even to Luis, even though he wasn’t only his cousin and agent, but his best friend. They shared a great understanding, even though – or for the very reason that – Luis was ten years his senior. Their friendship started way back in Nathaniel’s childhood, when they spent a lot of time together. Lu was the son of Manuel Cruz’s sister, and as a child he had spent every school holiday with Nate’s family. It was their shared passion for football that really kept them together. Luis never had to say too much, they understood each other from half words. To Nathaniel, Luis was like a brother or a father figure. However, in his present gloomy state