What You Don't Understand [Sergio Ramos] - FiveA match and taking a dip in the pool.
Chapter Five: Match
Monday comes around and Isotta can't wait for the match. She searched her clothes, looking for something white to show her support to Real Madrid instead of Sevilla, who they are playing against. Kick off is at nineteen on the dot. She has all day until around dinner time, Isotta will be heading to the game. Keeping that in mind, she figures she should make something easy for dinner and leave a note for Esteban before she leaves. Isotta did tell him she was going out tonight, but that doesn't always sink in.
Shaking those thoughts off, she concentrates on doing her job of cleaning Sergio's home. He isn't home, but luckily he has given her a key for days just like this. She wipes all the counters down as well as vacuuming all the carpets. She does the bedding in his room, figuring it needs to be washed as well. But the whole time, the only thing she can think about is the game, feeling giddy about going. She never had time before, and she likes football.
Humming softly, she puts his bed back together again before walking out, knowing she is basically done. And it isn't even noon. Isotta ignores that her body complains each time she moves, sore from overwork and exhaustion. All she can do is take many breaks and do as little as possible. This is one of those breaks.
Chewing on a banana, she sits at the island in his kitchen, wondering where the seats are in the stadium. If Sergio got them it must be pretty good, but I don't know. Shaking the thought from her head, she tries to keep a pragmatic view on all of this. It could just be what he could find for decent seats. “I would be happy with any,” she mutters to herself.
Sighing, she tosses the banana peel away, heading back to his room, just to do his bathroom, replacing the towels. After doing so, Isotta checks on the laundry, having done the towels from the kitchen and several she used to clean up messes with. It is about done anyways. Standing before it, she waits, slowly drifting off into her thoughts once again.
The washer beeps, waking her from her daze. Switching the laundry to the dryer, she puts in the other towels, starting it before stepping back. Not having anything else to do, she sits down on the floor, once again going back to her thoughts. “What the hell are you doing here?” a familiar voice asks, annoyed. Snapping her gaze to the hallway, Isotta sees who is there, standing with a hand on their hip: Liliana. She glares at Isotta, feeling threatened by the girl. “I thought you have something else to do.” Liliana stalks forward, eying the laundry behind the Italian.
Isotta sighs, standing straight and brushing her hands against her pants. “I do work here. Besides the game isn't until the evening.” Liliana scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder, not liking the maid here in her boyfriend's home while he's not here. She could steal something. The woman scrunches her nose in dislike, annoyed Isotta was hired over someone else. Why couldn't the maid be older and...less her! Liliana scoffs once again before walking away.
“I expect the whole house to be cleaned as well as the pool.” She stops, turning, placing a finger to her chin. “In fact, why don't you go do that now? I want to take a dip anyways.” Isotta rolls her eyes, but doesn't protest as she heads outside to the pool, looking for the small shed where the supplies for the pool are. Finding the wooden structure, she pulls out a long net to get all the leaves, bugs, and other things from the chlorine filled water.
It takes her an hour just to get the stuff out of the pool, mostly because someone forgot to put the cover on for a couple of days. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she crouches down, breathing heavily. Knowing she needs to put in more chlorine, she goes to get that, pouring it in and swirling it around. She rolls on her feet, feeling exhausted to say the least. “Oh? You're done? Better get to the house then.” Liliana's voice echoes in her ears, ringing every time she thinks of it. Brushing her dirty hands off, Isotta walks pass the bikini clad woman and into the house. Annoyed and frustrated, she goes about cleaning the house once more.
“I need my towel!” Liliana's voice screeches from outside. Isotta sets down the dirty pan she was washing and dries her hands before heading out. Standing at the top of the stairs, she glances down at the blond. “Well?” Spying the white fluffy towel on the lawn chair, Isotta walks down the stairs and to it. Picking it up, she walks over to the other side of the pool. Liliana grabs it, but pulls hard causing the black haired woman to fall face first into the water.
From beneath the surface, Isotta could hear Liliana cackling up top. Swimming to the surface, she flips her hair back and glares at Liliana. “Did you fall in? Shame. I'll get a towel.” Coughing up water, Isotta rubs her face, feeling the slight sting of falling in the water. Treading water for a moment, she glances at the edge, swimming for it. Grasping the edge of the blue pool, she pulls herself out, flopping on the stone tiled. Her chest heaves up and down, gulping in much needed air. Sitting up, she looks for Liliana, wondering if she got that towel.
Not seeing her, Isotta stands up, heading around back. She shakes and squeezes as much water as she can out of her clothes and hair before heading in, taking off her shoes before stalking back to the laundry room. Pulling off her clothes, she stuffs them in the washing machine and pulling a clean towel to wrap herself in. Leaving only her bra and panties on. She turns the machine on, hoping they will be done soon. She doesn't want to ask for some clothes from Liliana nor does she want to pick something from Sergio's closet. Huddled down in front of the washer, she waits.
That's where Sergio finds her when he comes home for a bit. He went out to lunch with some of his teammates. Staring at her, he wonders what happened. Crouching down, he gently shakes her awake. When her eyes open, he smiles, smirking slightly as his eyes wander down her figure. It's more that he knows there is less on her now than before. “Hola, I don't think sleeping here will do you any good.” Isotta slowly starts to piece things together cheeks turning scarlet. Sitting up, her hand goes to the towel, making sure it is still around her. “Come on, let's get you into something wearable.” He stands up, offering her a hand. Gingerly taking it, she stands up, looking down, embarrassed. Leading the young woman to his room, mostly because he doesn't want to use Liliana's clothes—she would be furious.
Walking into the large room, he gestures for her to wait as he walks into his walk-in closet, searching for something to give her. Finding a shirt and some shorts, he comes back out, holding them out for her. “Thank you,” she says softly before taking them. She moves to another door, the one to his bathroom and gets changed.
“So what happened?” Sergio asks, standing in the middle of his room, letting his curiosity get the better of him.
Isotta bites her tongue, not wanting to say anything bad about his girlfriend. It would reflect badly on herself. “I fell in the pool.” It's a simple answer and would explain everything, but for some reason, she doesn't think he will buy it.
And she's right. Sergio eyes the closed bathroom door. He doesn't like being lied to, but she must have a good reason. “Fell?” His question sends Isotta's heart racing. She doesn't like lying, but...
“Why are you home? I thought you had something else to do today,” she asks, avoiding the subject. He sighs as she comes out, not even embarrassed slightly with his clothes on. The shirt is long, hitting her just above the knees and the shorts are to, looking more like pants than anything. “They're a bit long, but I don't mind.” she says, noticing him looking at the clothes.
He smiles. “That's good. Now, have you had anything to eat?” Tilting her head slightly, she is curious as to why he cares for her so much, but shakes the thought away, chalking it up to that it is just because he is her boss. Slowly nodding, he eyes her. “Really? Well I say you should have some more.” He reaches out, grasping her wrist, tugging her along back down to the kitchen.
Liliana stands against the counter, eating an apple. “Liliana, when did you get here?” Sergio asks, not realizing she was here this whole time. Her brown eyes look up at Sergio, meeting his own. A smile pulls at her lips before they turn down. She glances at the two, Isotta and Sergio, misinterpreting what is going on.
“Why is she in your clothes?” Liliana snaps, pointing to the short woman only because she isn't wearing heels.
Isotta replies soft, “Mine were wet.” Scoffing, Liliana turns to Sergio, knowing Isotta's clothes were wet, but not that she would take her boyfriend's clothes. It just rubs her the wrong way. She's getting too close. Liliana gracefully saunters to his side, resting a hand on his bicep. Sensing where this could be going, Isotta excuses herself to check on her clothes.
Ducking into the laundry room, she sees that the washing machine is done. Pulling her clothes out, she tosses them in the dryer. Turning the machine on, she sits down and waits, not wanting to interrupt Sergio's and Liliana's time together. Staring at the white machine, she finds herself drifting off into her thoughts. An image of Sergio smiling at her when she came out of the bathroom flickers to life in her mind's eye. Her heart races as nervous, fluttering butterflies swirl in her stomach. A feeling she has had before, but not while thinking of someone. Shaking her head, the image disappears, leaving her to figure out why she reacted the way she did. At the time it didn't seem that significant. Some advice would be perfect right about now.
The dryer beeps, signaling that it has finished. Pulling her clothes from it, she checks to make sure they are dry before heading to a bathroom. Once inside, she changes back into her clothes, warm and freshly washed. Smiling softly, she picks up Sergio's clothes. Tossing them on the washer, she decides it is about time for her to head out. Sneaking around the two, Liliana on the counter, running her fingers through Sergio's hair and him kissing her lustfully, Isotta ignores them, even the slight sinking of her heart as she slips out. Getting into her car, she starts it before heading back home.
Slinking into her apartment, she locks the door behind her. She heads into her room, changing her clothes. Pulling a white blouse over her thin form, she places a light, knitted sweater over her shoulders. She pulls on a pair of skinny jeans and low heels, wanting to feel pretty for once. Isotta pulls her hair back in a high ponytail, hoping she hasn't dressed up too much for a football game. Rolling her shoulders, she walks down to her car, driving to Bernabéu. The traffic to it is horrible. Many people are going, to support their team, mostly Real Madrid. Looking at the clock, she finds she still has an hour before kick off. Sighing, she takes the first spot she sees and decides to walk the rest of the way.
Finding the large stadium, she heads inside, giving her ticket. “Oh, Señorita Marino, please wait a moment,” the young man says before getting on the phone. He speaks rapidly, hanging up after only a few seconds before turning back to her. “Come in. Security will take you down stairs.” She smiles before walking in, looking around. She doesn't even have time to look around as a large man dressed in bright yellow takes her downstairs to the locker room. The long hallway is painted with different colors and Real Madrid written down the side. She glances at them before being escorted into the locker room. Inside is all the players and José Mourinho, the manager.
All eyes turn to her as the door is shut behind her. Before she could explain or say anything, Sergio walks to her, smiling. “Isotta, you made it.” Slowly nodding, she glances at the others. Another tall, dark haired man stands before her, blocking the rest of the players from her view. “Kaká, this is Isotta. Isotta, Kaká.” They go to shake hands, smiling at each other.
“It's wonderful to finally put a face to the name, Isotta.” Kaká smiles, glancing from the corner of his eye at Sergio. “He says such good things about you.” Those words cause Isotta to look at Sergio, wondering what would possess him to talk about her; she isn't very interesting. And what these 'good things' are. Kaká glances at Sergio as well, silently sending a message to the defender.
“I'm sorry I can't really say the same. He usually doesn't tell me anything about you or his team.” The Brazilian smirks saying something she can't understand, glancing over his shoulder. She leans out, trying to see around the two before her when a hand lands on her shoulder, startling her. Spinning around, she stares at the security guard before it clicks in that it's time for her to go back to her seat. “Hasta luego ,” Isotta says as she and the guard head out. A chorus of 'goodbyes' and 'see you laters' sound behind her as the door shuts. The guard leads her to her seat, glancing at the others around them before heading out, leaving her there. She apologizes softly to every single person she has to walk in front of.
Sitting down, she sighs out of relief and relaxes. That is until she remembers she didn't leave a note for Esteban. Pulling out her phone, she quickly sends a text, hoping he reads it. Turning the volume to vibrate all, she shoves it back in her pocket, smiling as she watches the two teams warm up. Real Madrid is in front of her, warming up with drills.
It isn't long before the match starts. Every time the ball comes spiraling towards goal, the whole crowd stands up in anticipation. Several miss their target, but most make it into the back of the net. Every time a player in white goes down, the crowd yells for a free kick, booking, or penalty. It is amazing to see them play live and not on reruns or on the TV. The atmosphere of the stadium is something. No matter how good her vocabulary is nor how many words that could be used to describe the atmosphere; it is indescribable. The very essence of what being a fan is is being projected at the stadium. Nothing can compare.
The half time whistle goes. Everyone gets up, heading to get some refreshments or to go use the restroom. Isotta stays in her seat, smiling. She even ignores the vibration of her phone as everyone comes back, even the players onto the pitch. This time, Madrid are in front of her. Casillas, their goalkeeper, stands in the goal, waiting for the second half to start. Shouts from the fans don't even drown out the whistle, allowing the players play.
When the game ends, Real Madrid are 5-2 against Sevilla. All of the Madrid fans are ecstatic, joining in the party, the fiesta. Isotta doesn't, avoiding the celebrating fans where ever she goes, heading back towards her car. On the way, she checks her text messages, seeing the one from Esteban. With nerves running rampant within her stomach, she opens the message, reading it. Dread fills her as she gets in her car. She's tempted to just stay the night in it, not wanting to face what her boyfriend could be planning at home.
Taking a deep breath, she heads home, figuring she should not make him angrier. It might prove fatal for her if she does. Driving along the roads, avoiding the traffic as best as she can, Isotta ends up at the complex in under thirty minutes. Shutting and locking the door, she heads up, wringing her keys. Slowly, she opens the door, peeking inside. Esteban is watching the television, watching the after show of the game she was at. Silently shutting the door, she sets her keys down and slips off her shoes before heading into the kitchen.
Before she could get there, Esteban's voice stops her. “Where were you?” Freezing in mid stride, Isotta glances at him, trying to gauge how angry he is. The deafening silence starts to unnerve her.
“Out. I'm sorry. It won't happen again.” Esteban stares at the TV, not saying a word before standing up, dropping the remote onto the table in front of the couch. She watches him as he stalks towards her, staring into her eyes, searching for something, but she doesn't know what. After a moment, he sighs and heads to bed, leaving her there confused. Spinning on her toes, she looks at the closed bedroom door, wondering what just happened.
Her cell vibrating brings her from her daze. She glances at the ID, smiling softly before answering. “Grandma, it's good to hear from you.”
A old, slightly scratchy voice answers her, her grandmother Beatrice.“I do always call my granddaughter. Besides it's been a month since we last spoke.” Beatrice always had one quirk; she always spoke in Sicilian. Isotta had to learn just to speak with her. She's not even that good, but can understand more than she can say.
Isotta sits down on the couch, smiling softly. Only Beatrice speaks with her of her family and doesn't pressure her to come back. She made a mistake, she can admit that, but Isotta believes she can handle it, get back on her feet. She just doesn't want to be the damsel any more, relying on others to get her out of things. But that is exactly what her family want right now. Beatrice is the only one that says to let her live her life, to learn from her mistakes the hard way. Even when the rest of her family has turned their backs on her, shunning her, Beatrice has stayed by her side, doing what she can to help, but never interfering.
“I got a job. A good paying one this time.”
“That's great. What are you going to do with the money?” Beatrice asks. Isotta smiles softly, feeling the tears start coming, but she forces them back, not wanting to cry, not now.
“Going to get my own apartment.”
“How is Esteban taking this?” Beatrice doesn't know how bad Esteban really is, but she has a feeling he is hurting her baby. It hurts her every time to know Isotta isn't telling her the whole story, but at the same time she doesn't want to push, understanding her granddaughter better than anyone.
“I haven't told him. I don't want to until the papers are in.” Isotta fingers her pants, tracing lines and drawing invisible designs on them. Her grandmother doesn't say anything for a long moment, leaving a tension between them. “I will tell him. I just want to make sure it's happening before I do.” Beatrice sighs, breaking her silence.
“I understand. Anyways, I'll call tomorrow, late as usual. I have to get to bed before Anna throws a fit again. Bona notti , Isotta.”
“Bona notti, grandma.” Both hang up. Isotta smiles softly, setting the phone on the coffee table before heading to bed. Curling up on the couch, she figures she might be able to look at some apartments since it's her day off. Pulling the blankets over her, she drifts off into a wonderful sleep.
italics-- are thoughts
"italics"-- spoken Italian or Sicilian (will most likely specify)
A/N:I hope you have enjoyed reading this chapter. I want to point out that the match isn't a real one. I apologize for any grammatical errors. And thank you to all who rated and more.
 Spain uses a twenty-four hour clock. Nineteen is Seven o'clock.
 Hasta luego -- see you later
 bona notti -- good night
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