APHRODITE

Hours of silence walking down the streets of the city served well enough to set his mind clearer and back then he had hoped his absence also soothed your nerves. You were never a fan of his temper and you let him know more often than he liked to admit that he needed to manage his quick reactions, not because his passion and drive for things was bad, but because he could get too into his head and fail to notice there was a world around him, people that could get hurt by his actions and words…people like you. 

Back then, when you fought, Agustin didn’t wait for you to have a say on the matter that made you two fight. He lashed out until he emptied the thoughts on his brain, moving erratically everywhere and pointing fingers, finding causes and people to blame, finding reasons to get back at you, and you beared it like you often did, in silence, sealing your lips until he was done knowing fully you wouldn’t have the opportunity to have some room to talk like adults until he was completely drained from the anger that poisoned him sometimes. 

You knew more than anyone how much pressure was on his shoulders. The world cup was around the corner and he was having a hard time practicing, the head coach was against his addition and he made sure Agustin knew. Practice was harder, words were harsher and the days passed building up all the tension until it simply exploded inside out in the form of you having a couple of nights out with friends. He wanted more time with you, he needed you all to himself to remain grounded and less scared of his football performance. You wanted to be for him but you didn’t want to stop yourself from having a life just to be at his mercy whenever he happened to be free from responsibilities. 

He was getting on your nerves with demands, you were getting on his nerves by not attending to every need of his, he exploded and you took it. He walked out without hearing you out, smashing the door shut, and in the back of his mind, he knew after a long walk he’d come back home and find you there waiting for him to talk more calmly. He always counted on your unwavering presence, silently waiting for the right moment to speak with your honey tinted voice he so much loved. 

So he walked, he pushed past all thoughts until they were all rearranged in his brain and when he felt ready, he retracted his steps back home, opening the door with tired eyes and an air of guilt around him. 

“Love, I’m really…” He stopped. No one was in the living room as he walked in. All the lights were off. “Love?” He called. “Love, where are you?” He insisted, turning on some lights as he moved forward. 

You weren’t there. Your presence couldn’t be found in the kitchen, not the spare room, the bathroom or the garden, but a note was left on the nightstand of your shared bedroom. I need some time away from you, take care. 

It crushed him. The blue tint of the paper glued to his side of the stand, right next to a box of jewelry you bought him and he never used because he always forgot to buy some rings like you suggested.

Take care, take care, take care…Take care from what? About what? What for? 

He obeyed. Reluctantly. He had never had the displeasure of seeing you walk out before but despite his confusion he could understand this time he was too rageful, too impulsive to not push you away. You were patient enough, the least he could do was give you the grace of taking some time off for yourself. 

He expected a few days to pass and for you to come back before you had to board a plane to attend the World Cup to support him, but your call never came through, a text was never sent and your presence slowly vanished from the house, leaving a faint ghost of your perfume in the closet, but even that faded away before Agustin accepted you weren’t coming back that easily, so he began reaching out. 

He texted you to see how you were doing, questioning if you’d join him on this important moment, he spilled apologies left and right, promised to change, remembered you were the most precious thing to him, and yet, nothing went through. No call was answered, no text reached you and the day of departure came and went with no news from you, forcing him to go alone. 

Agustin didn’t get into the topic with his friends. He didn’t want to ruin the mood with his issues, but your face haunted him and blessed him all the same. He couldn’t pinpoint the last look you gave him as he walked away that day, but what he could remember was your face waking up that morning, the feeling of your fingers going through his hair to slowly get him out of slumber, your butterfly kiss on his lips and the smile you gifted him when he finally opened his eyes. Your happiness, just hours prior to the big dispute, clung to his heart and cupped his feelings tenderly, yet the mere thought of the fight pulled you away little by little, like a disease.  The negativity consumed your memory to the point he forgot how your touch felt. Have you kissed him awake that day? Did you two prepare breakfast together in the morning? Did he say ‘I love you’ before screwing it all up? When did you notice his love wasn’t enough to stay? Was it before, when he took you for granted, or after he shouted, shattering your calmness? 

The travel became a blur. One second he was arriving and the next he was getting ready to compete. 

He remembered what you always told him. Don’t let them get to you. Play with your heart on your sleeve. 

You used to admire his passion, you told him it was his best quality, he played with his all, no fight was truly over until the last heartbeat was left on the field. You were always on the stands, cheering even when the odds were stacked against him, knowing fully well he could revert any situation if he tried hard enough and he appreciated that so much, you had faith in him even when he couldn’t believe in himself sometimes. 

Now, when he finally was allowed to enter the field, he knew you weren’t there. 

That night, he tried to call you ten times, all of them went straight into voice mail and just when he was about to give up, a text popped, giving him hope. You will do well, I’ll be watching, Agus. 

Agustin nearly cried. A sob did escape his lips but no words came out, you were somehow there for him despite it all and so your memory persisted going back to being the woman who liked to wake him up with butterfly kisses and little touches on the head and hair. In his heart, your warmness set a camp, lighting a little fire to admire the stars while he played in front of the world to see. 

Maybe you didn’t want to be there but you still had him around somehow. Through the screen he couldn’t see you nor touch you but the promise of your presence admiring him was enough of a push to make him focus. 

Somehow you dangled on the edges of his mind, dangerously threatening to jump away and remain a memory, while you dipped your toes in the pool of future he could offer, presenting yourself in everything he saw. From the fresh oranges he was offered the next morning, reminding him how much you liked to share those with him, to the scent of the shampoo he purposely brought from your side of the shower just to smell a bit like you during competition. You could be everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and still, for a fraction of every second in every other minute, he’d bring your existence forward into his thinking, blurring the reality into a dream where you were still beside him. 

He replied fast to your text, thanking you for the support and asking how you were feeling but no more replies came through and for once he understood it was better to stay in silence. 

The rest of the matches passed by with no news from your side, slowly forcing Agustin to grow some patience and calmness. He kept the details of your absence private but did admit, after some coercing, that he had made a terrible mistake before the trip and intended to make amends once the competition was over for the team. Of course, he said this expecting for many matches to pass before he had to eventually catch a flight home, but defeat slapped him harshly and fast, taking him by surprise. With the odds favoring his opponents, Uruguay lost the last chance of winning they had, sending them straight home. 

Controversy arose as fast as expected. The public was divided, those who blamed the DT and those who blamed the players. Comparisons were brought up with past teams and their drive to win and Canobbio found himself stuck in a weird loop, where he and other three players specifically became the talk of the town for their good results but also their final moments in the competition; Agustin specifically was praised, for once, for his anger towards the referee and his harsh playing. It was well knew that Uruguayans had a strong will and temperament when it came to football, they toyed with the ball mixing feelings in between, often pushing harder against the current to get the better results, but the same sentimentalist drive that pushed them up, could drag them down just as fast when things were not going according to plan and none of the current players and some therapists to hear them out or have their back during tough times, so more often than not, defeat caused a lot of them to lash out. Canobbio was no exception to this rule, if anything, because of this exact thing, he left the field praised by the common folk for showing just how much he wanted to fight for the title by arguing against the referee and stealing as many balls as possible without a care for the well being of the rest of the players in the opposing team. 

He left that place with a strenuous roar that carried on a few days on the internet. Some questioned, mostly outsiders, but many of the folk back in Uruguay supported him. 

He knew who wouldn’t support his last outburst though, you.

Play with your heart on your sleeve, yes, but don’t hand it around to be toyed with regardless of the circumstance. You tended to remind him of that also, and that last match, he had offered the worst of his feelings on a silver platter. 

On nights where he arrived home defeated by a current match, you’d wait by the kitchen with some take-out, urging him to dismiss the current healthy diet in favor of having some indulgement to fill his spirits. Often he’d be smiley when seeing you despite his negativity plaguing him. You’d sit and talk it out, discussing mistakes during the game and improvements as well, you’d take his input seriously, adding some of your outsider views in the mix just to give him a bigger picture. By the time the food would be gone from the plate, Agustin tended to feel lighter and more at peace. 

You’d then offer a warmer treat. 

Agustin would beg for soup, your soup, and you’d be so used to cooking it whenever he was feeling down that all the ingredients would be near and already cut beforehand. 

You’d offer for him to take a shower while you prepared the rest and boiled some vegetables, and when you both were ready, you’d knock on the door of your room and find him sliding into his pajama pants. The curves of his mouth would raise up, showing a sweet but timid smile that never failed to cause you some softness, and you’d bring two bowls with soup to bed, getting cozy under the sheets with your warm treats. 

Like the tidal patterns of the ocean, your presence was constant but never the same whenever Agustin needed you, and yet, that night you weren’t there for the first time, breaking a precious cycle you two walked in together for the most part. He didn’t attempt to call you that night or the next one, not even by the third and final day he reached out. He needed space from everything and everyone; his temper had finally cost him two of the most precious things for him, playing and you. It was time to stop promising better results and actually working hard to get them, not only as a player but as a man, he had to be better because you deserved better. 

The process of leaving became tedious. Packing his bags, he carried an air of disillusionment, the world appeared a bit grim and Canobbio couldn’t blame it on anyone but himself. He allowed himself to ponder all the way home, from the smallest of actions he had taken by impulse to the biggest of outbursts. Most of his life he conducted himself with a stern hand, demands were sprawl and never scarce, what he wanted he got and nothing really stopped him from reaching his goals and then he managed to be with you, someone that fought to get what you wanted but knew when to step aside or accept defeat, you understood life could be slightly painted in other ways but couldn’t be completely change, getting what one wanted was not always on the table and throwing a fit was never the answer to a diversion from the current path you were currently walking. You calmed him down when days got darker and lit up with him when the events were brighter but you also reminded him to accept the things he couldn’t fight against. True winning sometimes meant losing a lot of things too and no one could truly learn if they didn’t make mistakes and allowed others to make them too.  He was only human, he could fix things eventually, but you were too, you had tried to be the bigger person for the both of you for so long you probably forgot what it meant to be there for yourself. 

He liked when you were always around, it reminded him there were people counting on him, but perhaps, in the pursuit of greatness, he had forgotten you had dreams, friends, goals you wanted to achieve. Had he cheered for you too? Had he been loud about his fondness and pride over your presence or had he fallen short? Love and dedication were meant to go both ways.

Agustin remembered when you told him you always dreamed of simply being seen. Existing in someone’s presence reminded you of your own mortality and the wonders of it. 

He didn’t get it back then, existing was nothing spectacular, he preferred to be seen by many doing grandiose things only, otherwise the time spent under the limelight of others was useless. 

Now he understood, you kept on existing even if you weren’t seen. And when you were seen, you wanted to be truly looked at as you were genuinely. That was braver and purer than what he had to offer; he desired admiration, you asked for understatement. 

He asked for things and he took them regardless. He took and he took, until there was nothing of you left. 

He understood now, you needed a break from him, probably to gather some pieces of yourself back. 

“Hello? Agus?” 

Silence. Agustin gave himself one more chance to call you. 

He didn’t want to take much of your time, he was just arriving from his flight after all, he had to get home, unpack some stuff and then catch the next plane to Brazil. He had nothing to do in Uruguay now and Fluminense had called him back to start practicing again. He just wanted to part ways on good terms, maybe even talk this out properly face to face. 

“Oh…oh, you are actually responding — shit, sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up even if I called you. I…” Agustin grabbed his suitcase and began walking between the rest of the people, phone in hand. “I just wanted to say I was sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” 

“I let you down. I honestly didn’t know so many things could go wrong so quick, I just…I was an idiot.” The automatic doors open, letting him pass and he raises his head up, expecting to see one of his family members waiting for him by the entrance but instead, there you are. 

Agustin lowers the phone slowly, surprised. 

You stand in front of him shyly smiling, car keys pressed against your palm, his jersey on top of your clothes and some baggy pants. You remain comfortable as he takes in the information of your existence so close to him after so long. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. “I’m truly sorry.” He means it, for the first time he means each and every letter that forms those words. 

“I know,” you take a step forward. “I know you are. I can see it.” 

“You do?” You close the gap between you two, touching his forehead with yours. Your free hand goes up to his cheek, cupping it tenderly and nodding. “I will do better.” 

“You will,” you whisper. “For you. You will do better for yourself.” 

“And for you, love.” He adds. “Because I want to truly love you.”

Your breaths merge for a split second before his and your lips sweetly touch each other, initiating a kiss that turns deep slowly, timidly and lovingly. He drops everything just to hug you, pressing you to his chest and he cannot help it but smile in between kisses. 

“I missed you.” He admits. “I missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too.”