I collapse into Clàudia's arms the minute she arrives. She has made record time – the fastest achieved between hers and mine yet. My roommate conveniently decides to go out for dinner with her friends, and we are left alone.

She holds me tightly, her presence comforting against so many unknown things that swirl around me. I can feel her warmth, slightly sweaty from the speed in which she ran to me. I can smell her perfume; the sweet, vanilla scent is familiar and soothing.

"I've got you," she whispers. I vaguely register being taken to the sofa. I take a shaky breath, trying to regain my composure.

I sniffle.

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"Sorry."

She wipes her brow, eliminating the bead of sweat trickling down her forehead, and she pushes me away from her gently, hands on my shoulders, firm and steady. "Amor, ¿qué pasa?" Her frown reminds me that I have not told her what today was. "Is it your mother? Do you need to go home?" Before I can open my mouth, she readies more possibilities. "Was it Vilda? If Vilda... Joder. If he hurt you, fuck me ever playing again! I will kill him!"

I push her raised fist into her lap. She unfurls her hand. "Jorge Vilda is innocent, as of right now." An odd statement to make, but true within the context. The future might be different. "No, it's nothing. I'm being dramatic." She nods. It's a 'go on' kind of nod, unfortunately. "I just had lunch with, like, the entirety of the Segura bloodline. I don't know how to feel. It's manifested weirdly."

"Crying because you're overwhelmed isn't strange," she instantly responds. "You should have seen me on my first day in Sevilla. This is my second language." Less comically, she bows her head so that she is level with mine, meeting me where I rest in my crumpled state. "Why didn't you tell me that you were doing that today?"

There is only one honest answer that I can give: "it is all too much."

━━━━━━━

The phone call has lasted long enough, but she still won't budge.

I know exactly where she is: Manuel's house. I can hear the sound of his TV playing through the line, and I can vividly imagine the smell of the tortilla she is making for him. She says that she has grown lonely without me. At the start of this conversation, she did not bother to ask how Barcelona was treating me. This is the first time I have spoken to her since I left – I have been too caught up in the ongoing hunt for the (now known to be hated by Abuela) Marc Ivorra, also known as my father. If that is what a father is.

"Mami, it is only for a little bit." I can see her shake her head, as if I am in Córdoba with her. "I'll get you a fancy hotel room right in the centre, and I can take you to all the places my teammates have shown me. You can watch some of our training sessions, if you'd like. You can meet Fleur de Voss!" The face I catch sight of in the mirror, reflection disappearing quickly once she sees that I am still on the call, makes me smile. "There is someone else I'd like to introduce you to, as well. I can't come home just yet, but I'm getting impatient about keeping you from... him."

"You have met a Catalan man?" Her inquest is accusatory. My mind generates more questions about Marc Ivorra, and what he did to ruin the happy smiles of the Seguras when his name was mentioned. "Talia, mi cielo, I thought you were focusing on football. I thought that was the whole point. You can date and kiss and smoke marijuana here, near me. If that is what you wish to do with your life, you should return home."

"Pero, Mamá," I whine. "Please. Please, please, please."

I would get down on my knees and beg, but she does not understand how to work a video call.

"I promise, you come visit me and I will have you treated like you are the Queen of Spain."The words spill from lips to entice her into a glitzy holiday that I doubt I can orchestrate, but I am sure that Alexia will help me lead my mother into a very luxurious trap. She has both the money and the motive. "Please. Don't you miss your daughter?"

"I miss her very much," she says, and I can almost picture the furrow of her brow. "Every day, I wonder why she decided to move so far away. It makes me think about whether she misses her mother."

"I do!" I interject, desperation laced in my barking tone. "I miss you so much. That's why I want you to come visit me."

"And so you can introduce me to your new boyfriend." She'll be fine with Clàudia. As of right now, I don't even have to worry about her reaction seeing as the stubborn mule won't give in.

"Manuel," I shout, hoping the sound rings out through the room and reaches him. He'll help. "Manuel, she won't listen to reason!"

"He's in the garden."

"Mamá, please."

"Why are you so desperate, Talia? This is the first I have heard from you in weeks, and now you are overcome with longing for me?"

Oh, I just happened to stumble on a secret family that includes La Reina among other interesting characters!

"Please, please, please."

She thinks. Audibly. Her pondering fills the distance between Barcelona and home, and the pregnant pause seems to stretch on forever.

She thinks, and thinks, and thinks. A new question sprouts in my mind, because it is extreme of her to actively refuse to come here. Avoiding a place and hiding from it: two different things.

And finally.

"Three days. Send me my ticket, and get me a room in Hotel El Palace."

The decision, when it comes, is a lifeline that I easily grapple onto. Relief floods through me. "Gracias, Mami. You won't regret it. I'll make it the best three days of your life." It is a necessary lie. I don't need to repent – I am on the fence about the existence of God at the moment.

As I end the call, plans begin to form in my mind. This could go so wrong, but it could also reunite a family. Mamá and me, though I never knew, have always been part of something far bigger than the two of us. I like it. It feels like I have an entire village behind me

━━━━━━━

Nervousness bubbles inside of me. We got back from Madrid last night, and I have not slept at all. I have a slight suspicion that Alexia hasn't either, but I do not ask and she does not give me an answer.

I bring no one with me to the train station, though I am sure Alexia has had to fight off the entire Segura bloodline to make that happen. It's crowded inside, and the growing heat of Barcelona is enough to have put me in a short-sleeved t-shirt for once. I think this month has had a massive effect on my identity, and it is obvious enough from my lessened resistance to the sun.

Mamá, when she arrives, does her best to look a little lost. There are tears in her eyes, and I feel a pang of guilt for tricking her back here. I know that something terrible happened, but no one will tell me exactly what. I have deniability, I suppose.

She engulfs me in her arms, strong and worked, and kisses my entire face before releasing me. I take her suitcase from her as she begins to recount the happenings of Córdoba in great detail, gladly updating me on the lives of the gossiping men and women I left behind. Manuel has built a football pitch in the church's courtyard, and my old school enjoyed a wonderful exchange in which the English children spent all their time in the sun ("must be a foreign thing for them," she says). Sadly, Feria has come and gone, too.

"We've been training for the Champions League final," I explain. Barcelona has taught me to be just that bit more dedicated to football. "I've really improved. I'm going to play for the senior team at the World Cup."

"I'm sure you will, cariño," says she, patting my back affectionately as I hail a taxi.

"No, no. Jorge Vilda called me to make it certain."

The passers-by do not seem too alarmed at the shriek of joy she lets out as she throws her arms around me once more.

"A boyfriend and a call-up?! Dios mío, me vas a matar."

Yeah.

I'll tell her. I promise. 

notes: 

it's really short but this is probs the last light thing the fic is going to get before the world cup. and then there's obvs um... why she gets banned from spain x

thanks for reading!!!!