Page 64 of Playing for Possession
Chapter 27
Joanie
We passed two glorious days as tourists, exploring the vibrant harbor of Ciutadella, browsing markets, and popping into the cooling Gothic cathedral when the sun became too intense. We feasted on fried potatoes, tangy olives, and cured meats. Kieran held my hand the whole time we roamed together, and it felt exhilarating but at the same time natural, as though we were meant to be holding hands. As though everything was the way it was supposed to be. In the evenings we went to the beach to swim and watch the sunset before falling into bed together. No sex. Just long, delicious make-out sessions, touching, and talking. I had the sense he was waiting for me to initiate more, and I would, when it felt right.
I sat on the sidelines watching Kieran play with the local kids. He kicked the ball between the group of excited young children, showing off tricks on a rough patch of dirt beyond the villa. The late-afternoon sun bathed him in a honeyed glow. The wind gently rustled the tall grass and wildflowers, and the last of the sun’s heat warmed the back of my neck.
“He looks like a kid again.”
The low voice made me jump. I spun to see Ramirez. I’d seen his flashy McLaren parked on the drive this morning, but we’d been out all day and hadn’t had a chance to catch up.
He held his arms out to hug me. “Hello again, Joanie. How are you getting on with your legacy?”
I smiled. “One day at a time.”
“Very good, and how is Mr. Earnshaw?” He turned his attention back to the pitch and laughed as Kieran got tackled to the dirt by a group of boys. “I’ve never seen him so relaxed. It must be you.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You. I thought I almost caught him smile earlier.”
“A smile from Kieran? You must have been imagining it.”
He laughed. “He looks a tough guy, but that’s only the outside. Look after him, won’t you?”
I felt a blush creep into my cheeks. “We’re just...” What were we? Teammates? Friends with benefits? Lovers? “Friends.”
Ramirez raised a teasing eyebrow. “If you say so.”
Before I could reply, a child pelted from the pitch, grabbed Ramirez by the hand, and dragged him away to play.
“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder.
A knot of anxiety rose in my throat. “Maybe later.”
Ramirez nodded and jogged off to play. His control of the ball could leave you swooning, but it was Kieran I couldn’t take my eyes off. Laughter wrapped around me, and my heart pounded with the buzz of excitement. The wild terrain made the ball go all over. Nobody cared. It didn’t matter. This was football in its purest form. No cameras. No performance. This was just joy. Two of the most talented footballers of all time were playing right in front of me. The little Joanie inside was doing cartwheels.
A young boy tackled Kieran, and the two of them fell over, laughing. Kieran leapt to his feet and dusted himself down. I longed to be the same way. To have his guts and confidence. A hot,frustrated feeling made me feel heavy inside. I wanted to bounce back from my injury and carry on like nothing had happened. There wasn’t a single opponent I’d ever come across on the pitch that gave me more trouble than myself.
The game stretched on into the evening. Ramirez broke off from the group and jogged over to me. He planted his hands on his thighs. I kept my gaze trained on Kieran as he darted down the field, his breath escaping him in hard snatches. The last time he’d been breathing this heavily, we were up on the balcony. A hot flush crept up the back of my neck.
“These kids are killing me.” A swath of gray hair fell over Ramirez’s sweaty forehead. He shot me a casual glance. “It’s fun though. Fancy joining us yet?”
Another young boy tried to tackle Kieran, and Kieran effortlessly held the kid at bay before he eventually relented and passed him the ball.
I swallowed. “I don’t think so.”
Ramirez scratched at a spot of dirt on his cheek. “You’re scared to play?”
This explained why Kieran and Ramirez were friends. Ramirez didn’t care about asking direct questions either. Kieran headed the ball into the net. A sudden well of emotion knotted in my throat. I wanted to be better. I wanted the joy on these kids’ faces. Most of all, I wanted to be playing with two football legends. But I couldn’t risk reinjuring myself. I’d worked too long and hard for that. I wrapped my arms around myself. Who wanted to admit weakness to their hero?
“Yes, but I’m working on it. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”
“When you step back on the pitch, it won’t be because your fear is gone.” He kept his eyes on Kieran. “It will be because you have courage. Courage is turning to the fear, looking it in the eye, and carrying on regardless.”
He gestured to the children laughing and messing about passing the ball among themselves.“Watch these kids play. They know everything we need to learn. When I was a young man, I wanted to be the best. Winning was all that mattered. Now I just want to run like the little kid who played barefoot on the streets of São Paulo. That was my joy. This is a game. Even if I don’t play professionally anymore, I still play.” He nudged me in the ribs. “It is a joy to play. No matter what happens in this life, always protect the things that bring you joy. You will be OK, Joanie. I know it.”
The scent of turf brought with it a slew of unwelcome memories. I pushed them away. I wanted to have fun again. No pressure. Just a group of kids and two men who I admired. This was what football was about. At the start it had been a game. It had given me a kind of joy I’d found nowhere else.
