Learning to Lose (41 page)

He came back from Buenos Aires convinced he was going to break up with Sylvia. But her appearance at the airport changed everything. That long walk to the parking lot, keeping their distance, made all his desires to hold her come rushing back. Sylvia’s proximity transformed everything. There was no loneliness or pressure, no anguish or anxiety, only the shadow of a full life. He was living a fake existence, in a city where he had no roots, and Sylvia had shown up and given it meaning. The waiting, the distance, the return trip, the training schedule, the hasty shower in the mornings, even his nap now had importance. Because he had someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone to feel close to.

Sylvia took possession of the house, of that empty, soulless house that Ariel wanted to leave as soon as possible. I have a five-year contract, they might be the best years of my life, and I don’t want to spend them in this unfriendly house, pushing
open these ugly doors in ugly doorframes with ugly handles, with these narrow stairs that lead to an ugly bedroom where I’ve never felt at home.

Now the corners of the anonymous house hide Sylvia’s smile, a gesture of her hands. Even the throw pillows piled up on one end of the sofa held her presence long after she’d gone.

Ariel decided to buy an apartment in the real world, the world he had no right to be in. At least he could look at it from his terrace, like he had envied that rooftop in Belgrano Walter now enjoyed. Just like he loved the time spent with Sylvia, people-watching from a bar or from his car. It was a break from that obsessive gaze others fixed on him.

If you could see the people in the stadium, Sylvia told him one day, when you get the ball they lift their butts up a little off their seats, like they’re levitating. It’s like they’re moving with you on the field, whether it’s an old man with a hacking cough or a guy who smokes cigars or a teenager eating sunflower seeds. And they all fall back into their seats when you lose the ball, as if it were rehearsed, you ruined their fantasy. It makes sense when they curse you up and down, of course …

Sylvia was watching it all for the first time. She asked questions, she wanted to know stuff, she noticed the over-the-top details that everyone else saw as normal. She repeated his answer in a television interview, noticed his constant gesture of running his hand over his sock as if it were falling down, the way he pressed his upper lip when he didn’t like a play, or gazed toward the sky to avoid the stands. There were times when Ariel didn’t really indulge her curiosity, responding only in monosyllables; then she felt instantly belittled. The demands on Ariel never let up. This will consume me and when there’s nothing left of me
that surprises her, she’ll leave me behind forever, thought Ariel one day.

She recognized his moods instantly. Sometimes Ariel felt overwhelmed. He appreciated Sylvia’s youthful intensity, but he needed breaks. She defined his absence as fucking soccer. Sometimes she said to him, if they took soccer away from you, you’d be empty.

Sylvia maintained the modesty of their first days together, which was attractive to Ariel. Nothing was easy and what happened the day before wasn’t something that could be taken for granted the next time they got together. One afternoon, because theirs was an afternoon love, she might let Ariel caress the entire length of her body with his tongue, but the next day she might ask him to turn off the light before taking off her bra and
bombachas
, as she liked to say, having picked up the Argentinian word for panties. One day her hands were barriers and on another they were curious and demanding. Then, she would say things to Ariel that made him laugh unexpectedly: a dick is a pretty absurd thing; it looks like a turkey’s wattle, don’t you think? Did you notice that our feet make love at their own pace, not coordinating with the rest of our bodies?

Sylvia was capable of stopping him mid-caress and saying suddenly, I know you want me to suck you off now, but I don’t feel like it, okay? Or if he threw himself onto her, she’d stop him, you already ran me over once, all right. Other times she’d interrupt their long kiss before going up to his room, I think we don’t know how to love each other any other way, I’m not in the mood to fuck today.

Perhaps they were adolescent games, but Ariel preferred to take part in them. He didn’t want to be in charge. He was afraid, sometimes, of turning Sylvia into too sexual a woman,
of raising the bar of his desire too high. He remembered a teammate from his Buenos Aires team who had broken up with his lifelong girlfriend and had confessed to Ariel, somewhere between irritated and ironic, I don’t know what I’m complaining about, I was the one who turned her into a whore, when I met her she was just a little girl, and I molded her into someone who needed to have a ready cock nearby all the time, and she went looking for it elsewhere when I wasn’t around. “Dragonfly” Arias’s girlfriend cheated on him, the others said, but Ariel never forgot his complaint.

Every afternoon they went through the security check into the housing complex and Sylvia asked him for those tacky sunglasses he always wore, to protect herself from the guard’s gaze. They’re horrible, but they pay me thirty thousand euros a year to wear them once in a while, Ariel said as he put them back in the glove compartment. Sylvia laughed. And when are they going to tattoo some brand name on your forehead, while they’re at it …

Emilia, of course, had let a few hints drop to make him aware that she knew he wasn’t alone at night. Today I left meat for two in the fridge. A few days ago, Sylvia had spent the night at his house. They were awoken by the sunrise. She was terrified at how her father would react. They dressed quickly. Ariel tried to calm her down. He avoided running into Emilia, who had already started to bustle about the kitchen. Ariel kept her occupied while Sylvia went to the garage unseen. On the way home, Sylvia cursed. I don’t know what I’m going to say to my father. The traffic jam on the highway made everything worse. It turned them into something they didn’t want to be. Her into a fraught teenager talking to her father on the phone, telling him
that she had fallen asleep at a girlfriend’s house. And him into an inconvenienced, shifty lover.

A little while later, he dropped her on a corner near her high school and Ariel felt ridiculous again. He read the newspaper in a café, surrounded by construction workers. He confirmed the greasiness of
porras
, the fried dough he had seen people eating for breakfast so many times in Madrid. One of the articles mentioned him: “Ariel Burano has seized up and he’s nothing like the unstoppable young man who played in San Lorenzo. There is no trace of that player with frenetic jinks who knew how to mark the pace of the game. The Argentinian is now a sloppy player flustered when he has the ball at his feet.” The worst thing was he was convinced everyone had read the article and agreed with it.

This Wednesday you guys are gonna win, right? said the man with sunken eyes and yellow teeth working behind the bar. Throw us a bone, come on. Ariel smiled and nodded, to reassure him. In Madrid older men had that punishing air to them, they never gave a compliment without a threat hidden behind it. This year we’ll do a double or you’ll all be sent to dig ditches. There was no bar that didn’t have a photo of the team and a pile of sports newspapers getting stale along with the day’s tapas. Soccer spread like hope or a curse. People gave it such an exaggerated importance that Ariel suspected they didn’t truly care.

They lose the game. The referee marks the end with a cruel triple whistle. Ariel thinks of the guy in the café. They haven’t been eliminated, but the next matchup makes it complicated, an Italian team or a Spanish rival that knows how to play you where it hurts. They hadn’t had time to do more than look at London through the bus window, the roundabouts, the huge airport.
All cities look the same to him. In Heathrow Ariel watches a family sleeping on an airport bench, their flight delayed. They look like Pakistanis. An obese woman eats chocolate bonbons. As they board, the pilot greets them with, you lost, huh? From the looks on your faces. I don’t really follow football, honestly. The flight attendants seem tired. They return to Madrid after midnight, doomed to train the next day like unruly schoolboys. Amid whispers, the vice president invites a few players to have one last drink at a topless bar near Colón. Ariel isn’t in the mood for anything, but the laughter of some teammate or other and the naked dancers arouse him enough to buy time in a private room with a Brazilian with a tattoo of an eagle on her back. After a short dance she gives him quick fellatio. Ariel lets himself do it; anything that can separate him from Sylvia is welcome. He needs to focus on his work, get everything else out of his head. I don’t want to see her anymore, I shouldn’t see her anymore.

Sylvia opens the door to her apartment. Her key ring is an
A
encircled in metal. A gift from Mai, she explains to Dani. I don’t know if my father’s here. It’s three in the afternoon and from the kitchen echoes the TV news theme song. Sylvia peeks into the kitchen and finds her father sitting down. Hello, Papá, this is Dani. Come in, come in. Lorenzo stands up and extends his hand. Dani shakes it, somewhat uncomfortable. Then he sits down. There’s plenty of food, says Lorenzo. Sylvia takes the plates and glasses out of the dishwasher. It is a tacit agreement
she and her father have, to use the dishwasher as a cabinet, and when it’s completely empty, they put the dirty dishes from the sink in there and turn it on again.

Water? asks Sylvia as she fills the pitcher from the tap. Okay, he says. The television shows the charred corpses of the passengers on a Russian plane brought down by Chechen terrorists. Fuck, how horrible. Lorenzo watches Dani, who has started eating. You guys in the same class? No, I’m in the grade above. He’s in Mai’s class, explains Sylvia.

Dani accepts Lorenzo’s curious looks. But he’s not completely sure how to interpret them. Two days earlier, Lorenzo was coming out of the shower when Sylvia called him on the phone. She hadn’t slept at home. I fell asleep at Mai’s, she lied, and then I didn’t want to call you so late. When she came back from school at lunchtime, Lorenzo meet her. He found her with messy hair, a forced smile, and sleepy body language. Lorenzo didn’t exert his authority, avoided getting irritated. Come on, let’s eat.

You were with a boy and you spent the night with him, obviously, said Lorenzo before she decided to speak. At his house? He lives alone? His parents weren’t there, lied Sylvia. Can I meet him? I have a right … Papá … I’m not going to interrogate him or anything like that, just see his face, I just want to meet him face-to-face.

She thought he would forget all about it in the following days. Ariel was playing a game in London and Sylvia took that time to spend the afternoons at home, go to bed early, study. But her father insisted. When are you going to bring him over? Sylvia wanted to get out of it, but Lorenzo was serious. Look, Sylvia, I am not going to let you be out all night with someone I
don’t know. I imagine you are taking precautions and not doing anything stupid, but I’ll feel better about it if I’ve met him. Sylvia imagined, with amusement, her father’s surprise if she introduced him to Ariel. Would he ask him for an autograph? Would he tell him he needs to help the defense more? Or would he be furious at him?

I’m not going to start laying some embarrassing father shit on him, Sylvia, I just want to meet him. Is that so weird? Would you rather I just tell you to be home at a certain time and that’s it? Come on, I just want to have a look at him, I’m sure he’s a great kid, knowing your good taste.

Sylvia smiled. Worried about my daughter? No, no, what I’m worried about is that you’re not going to make it to Champions’ League final. She was still imagining the scene with her father. My father wants to meet you, she would tell Ariel, you’re lucky, he roots for your team.

Which is why, when at lunchtime recess that morning she was walking with Mai toward their usual corner at the back of the schoolyard, against the cement wall, and Dani joined them to chat, Sylvia forced the situation. Do you guys wanna come over for lunch today?

Mai shook her head, I can’t. In exchange for Vienna I promised my mother I’d go to the dentist, and the appointment is this afternoon. After six years, it’s about time, right? If he threatens to put braces on me, I swear I’ll strangle him. In her class there were three boys who wore braces and Mai jokingly called them the metalworkers. Dani tells them that his dentist is a woman and when she leans over to fill his cavities he looks down her shirt. One day she got me right in the eye with the silver crucifix she wears around her neck, almost took my eye out. Divine punishment, said Mai.

And you? You coming? Sylvia looked into Dani’s eyes. He let a few seconds pass. Okay, he said. Mai opened her eyes super-wide, to comic effect. The look was just for Sylvia, who stifled her laughter.

On the way to her house, Sylvia felt she was being cruel to Dani. He was walking with a spring in his step while talking a blue streak about music and Web sites. He had a half-empty backpack hanging over one shoulder and both hands in his pockets. If my father starts to ask you ridiculous questions, said Sylvia with a smile, just play along, you know how they can be. Deep down she was enjoying this game.

Sylvia interrupts her father’s attempts to strike up a conversation. When he mentions something about international terrorism, she says, what an entertaining topic for the lunch table. When he asks about school, she responds, after spending the morning in that hellhole you don’t expect us to want to chat about it, do you? When he questions Dani about his future schooling, Papá, let him eat in peace. Lorenzo is in a rush and finally has to leave. A pleasure to meet you, he says, and extends his hand to Dani with surprising virility. He kisses Sylvia on each cheek.

I think he thought I was your boyfriend, says Dani when they are left alone. Did you see the way he shook my hand? Like he was thinking, I trust you with my daughter, the girl I love most in this world.

The weatherman talks about a drop in temperature. The weather depresses me, says Sylvia, laughing. Don’t you find it depressing? The way the world is, we don’t really need to worry about whether it’ll be sunny or windy tomorrow, but if we’ll be alive, right? Sylvia flips through channels. The African baby recently adopted by a famous Hollywood couple is going to have a wax figure in the London museum. Can you
think of anything more depressing than a wax museum? asks Dani. It’s like a morgue of people who are alive. She turns off the TV.