From Madrid To Moscow - By Liz

[Annie]

From Madrid to Moscow
By Liz

Please do not reproduce this elsewhere without her permission Contact Liz: [e-mail]

(a/n): This story as you know is purely fiction. Furthermore, it takes place a couple of years from now. Please if you have any comments, I would love to hear them.
Other thing is sometimes instead of using his name I use his initials (i.e. MS or M) because I started feeling a little weird about using his name so much.
Without further ado, I present to you my story.
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It was a beautiful morning indeed. I jumped out of bed, like the shinny light outside the window was beckoning me to open my eyes to a brand new world. Isn’t it wonderful how every day starts with a blank page waiting to be filled? I was looking outside the room, wearing one of his t-shirts that smelled as good as he did, and I felt so happy I could have burst into tears if it wasn’t for the sound of a soft voice…

“What are you doing up so early Lydia? Come back to bed, is not even… 9 am yet…” He said yawning.

“I know we are not morning people, but I couldn’t help myself, it is so beautiful outside!” I threw my arms in the air like trying to capture the beauty of the moment.

At that point I turned around and I saw him staring at me, half awake, with a smile on his face. Like every single time, I couldn’t resist. So I went back to bed, placed myself into his arms and took a deep breath.

“Give me a couple of hours,” he whispered, “I’ll take you out for breakfast and any place you’d like in this beautiful day of yours. And you can wear my t-shirt if you want, it suits you well.”

“You know that I love you sleepy eyes?” I said laughing.

“I love you too.”

And with all being said, I went into a sweet dream, knowing in real life I had all I ever needed.

[Annie]

Chapter 1



It was still early in the morning when I and a couple of loved ones where at the airport somewhere down Latinamerica…

“Take good care of yourself sweetheart, and call me as soon as you get installed in Madrid.”

“I sure will Mom, I love you.”

I gave her a big hug, and tried to conceal the fact that I was terrified to my core. For a couple of years I toyed with the idea of moving far away from home. I felt like I was suffocating under an over-protective family. “Come on Lydia, you are 25 years old. It’s about time your life begins,” I used to tell myself. When the day of departure finally arrived, I was so excited but I was also scared. What would happen after I finished my masters? Where would life take me? I didn’t know.

But indeed I was a big girl. No regrets. I looked for an opportunity to go study far away, and I got it. Now I had a year-long journalism program waiting for me, in a distant country. In Europe nonetheless! This wasn’t the first time I was traveling to Europe, but this time I knew my life would never be the same.

As I walked through the security check at the airport, I waved back to my family and felt heartbroken about leaving my Mom. After all, it is a very Latin-American thing to grow old near your relatives. But I knew with time she would understand why I needed to gain control of my life. Why I needed to find purpose, distanced and all, for myself. It wasn’t a matter of liberty as much as a matter of building my future. Or so I thought.

I had to switch planes in the Atlanta International Airport. As I had still two hours left for my next flight. I went to the ladies room and looked at myself in the mirror. I don’t think I looked 25 at all, I looked quite younger. Or I guess I felt a lot younger. Many people toyed with me that I didn’t looked latinamerican, since I had very fair skin and long wavy auburn hair. My big hazel eyes completed the portrait. I never considered me as being too pretty. I felt like, well …just me. I was never obsessed with my figure, as I wasn’t too much a fan of doing exercise as I was of more intellectual activities. But I tried to keep it healthy. I took out my lip balm since my lips looked dry. I smiled as I was ready to get out of the bathroom. I was carrying a huge bag of stuff, but I didn’t felt its weight as my mind went drifting to the future months in Spain.

The long journey to Madrid went well, and about 15 hours later I was satisfactorily installed in my new apartment. It would be a couple of days until I met my roommate, a girl from Venezuela with whom I shared a couple of emails. Her name was Ruth and she was going to be in a similar program that me, but she was focusing on multimedia design.

“This is it, Lydia. The chance for a new life, embrace it.” I looked around the place. I knew it would grow in me. I was lucky enough to snatch a bargain near the Serrano area, which is one of the most expensive places to live in Madrid, if not the most. The apartment was completely furbished; it seemed to me that I was going to live in a hotel or something like that. It kind of worried me that I wouldn’t be able to pay rent if the price went up halfway through the year, but I couldn’t cross that bridge until I had it in front of me.

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A couple of days later Ruth finally arrived, her sister came along too to help her settle. I’m one of those people that just know who to trust or not since the first encounter. And Ruth seemed a very free spirited and warm person. I was convinced we would be good roomies.

“Now tell me a little bit more about yourself,” she demanded as we finished a long day of unpacking and were unwinding in the living room couch.

“Is there anything specific you would like me to tell you?” I asked with a cheeky smile.

“Well there are so many things I can ask, like for example, you haven’t told me much about your family. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No I don’t. It’s only me…” I sighed “My parents got divorced when I was very young so no time for expanding the family. My dad got married again to some woman and moved on, I’ve never met her or their sons. Three years ago my mom married a Canadian guy she met in the internet… nothing too interesting really.”

“I’m sorry about your parents, but I can see life has gone on for you.”

“Yes it did. It took me a long time to get pass the issues the whole thing gave me. But I forgave and forgot. And who knows? Now I am in Madrid talking to you,” I said smiling.

“I know isn’t this exciting? It’s the first time I come to Europe. I was living in the US near my sister and her husband. I have three sisters, I’m the youngest one. My parents are still together, I’m a lucky girl. I still can’t figure out how they do it though…”

“Wow that’s a big family… Well this is probably the third time I come to Madrid but this time is for studying and not for visiting only…”

“Have you ever been to the States?”

“Yes I spent a year as an exchange student. I was an international business major … I still have a very good friend from that school, her name is Debra. She lives near New York City.”

“Oh that’s so cool. I majored on liberal arts. My sister went to a university in the city of Pittsburgh so I got a scholarship there… I actually thought I was going to do my masters there but then the opportunity to come presented and I feel much more comfortable to study in Spanish again…”

“I know, it’s such an issue when you are trying to live in a different language… and I don’t know how you feel about it but sometimes American guys can be a little bit distant for us Latinas…”

“Yes exactly! That’s what I was going to say. It was almost impossible for me to date any guy because I felt I couldn’t express myself the way I wanted to.”

I laughed. “That’s so true. When I was over there I ended up with a Chilean guy. I just thought it was funny I was so far away from home and still surrounding myself with people who spoke Spanish…”

Both of us smiled seeing already we shared opinions about things.

“I already like you Lydia. You seem so down to earth and like someone I can trust.”

That was a moving comment considering we had only spent less than two days together.

“Oh you are sweet Ruth. I like talking to you; I think we are going to have a great time sharing this apartment.”

“We should drink to that!” she said as she went for a couple of glasses with soda.

“For the great adventure we’re about to begin,” she said solemnly.

“And the start of a wonderful friendship,” I added

“Cheers!”

We stayed awake until deep in the hours talking about everything. It seemed that we were two very old friends trying to catch up. I thought that was a very good beginning.

[Annie]

Chapter 2



At some point of the morning of a January day, I woke up. It was my first day of school. Man! It had been so long since I last was in school… I went to take a shower and had breakfast. I wasn’t sure at what time Ruth had to be at the University so I thought I shouldn’t wake her up.

“I’m late, I’m late, I’m late…” she screamed as I saw her running to the bathroom.

“Ruth I’m sorry I didn’t know! I should have woken you up too” I screamed through the bathroom door.

“Oh is not your fault… but next time please wake me up.”

Next thing we were waiting for the subway and heading for school. There were people running around everywhere. I felt a little overwhelmed; I was not used to such a crowd. About half and hour later Ruth and I were at the University.

I waved her goodbye as I went to the classroom. I was amused at the fact that the teacher will call me “Señora” (Mrs.) instead of “Señorita” (Miss)… back home we only called Señora to women that were married. But in Spain it didn’t matter, so I had to get used to it without cracking up in laughter.

Later on I had a break at the University’s cafeteria and was also surprised by the fact they were selling beer and other stuff. I know is part of European culture to have wine with food, but it amused me thinking back home people would be drunk all the time if they did the same thing.

I was sitting there on my own when two guys came to sit with me. One of them was from Colombia and the other one was Spanish. I feel a little bit uncomfortable since they just come out of nowhere to start a conversation, and I was on my guard since I didn’t know if they could be trustworthy or just a pair of psychos. But they were nice enough. Ruth came to join us and I the Spanish guy couldn’t stop looking at her.

All the while I was looking around and noticed a bunch of extremely handsome guys. But many of them were screaming with the worse vocabulary or smoking like there was no tomorrow.

For a couple of days I felt like a stranger, like I didn’t fit in. I was not as open or outgoing like, let’s say, Ruth. But then something happened. If there was one thing I was good at was school. And I started to get noticed by my teachers and my peers. My geeky confidence went back to me.

So the first week of school went by and I was already carrying a never-ending list of things to do. On Friday afternoon I was riding the bus back to the apartment. I was reading a book when some homeless guy came to ask for money. I tried to ignore him to sort of protect me, but then he start arguing with me about his unfair situation. I was afraid. People back home wouldn’t argue about that with some stranger. So I decided to give him money so he would leave me alone.

Then I realized I was really on my own. Like The wizard of Oz,

“Lydia you’re not in Kansas anymore.”
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It was late at night and I was out with Ruth, the Spanish guy whose name was Hector and his friend Carlos from Colombia. We were walking around when we passed by a Salsa-dancing place.

“Hey guys do you want to go in? Azuquita is a great place to dance. The girls are going to feel like they’re back home…” Carlos said.

“Yeah, why not?” I answered.

So in we went. Hector took Ruth to the dance floor as Carlos did the same with me. He was very nice in a kind of cool brother way.

At first I was a little bit shy with my moves. But a couple of songs later I was sweeping the dance floor. Carlos couldn’t keep up with me, so some Caribbean guy came to take over. We danced a lot until he said he was going to take a break. I decided to take one myself.

I went back to Ruth and the guys to have a drink. All of the sudden I was the center of attention.

“Girl I didn’t know you had those moves in you.” Carlos said looking amused.

“There’s a reason why they say that the quiet ones are the ones you have to look out for,” mocked Hector.

“Shut up guys,” added Ruth, “you are going to make her feel uncomfortable.”

“No it’s okay. I know I give the impression of being serious and timid, I am. But when the music comes on it’s like I can’t help it.” I said shrugging.

We all laughed. Then the Caribbean guy came to take me to the dance floor again.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you, you’re kind.” I responded uncomfortably.

“But you are so beautiful, you are…why do you look at me like you don’t believe it?”

I didn’t say anything. Every time I was at a nightclub there would be one guy saying those words to me. But I never believed them. I would be suspecting the guy to be drunk, or wanting to get me into bed. I knew very well that attitude would lead me nowhere if I wanted to have fun. But for some reason I felt like one day a great guy would come. Someone that would really mean those words… someone that would sweep me off my feet capturing my mind, my body, my soul.

And for that, I thought, it was worth the wait.

[Annie]

Chapter 3



It was the end of April and the warm weather took upon Madrid. “It’s been only four months, but it certainly feels like a lifetime” I was thinking. During those months I completely fell in love with the city. The busy streets of Madrid where like vitamins and minerals to my body. The smart conversations at the bars over tapas, the amazing cultural life, the comfort of a shared cultural heritage… all of that and more. I felt like I was at home. It is true that even speaking the same language I found it sometimes difficult to deal with busy Madrilenian Spaniards, but I adapted quickly. I was not going to let small things spoil the state of ecstasy the city brought to me.

And after all, I was not really alone. I made a nice group of friends from Carlos, Hector, and some other guys I met from the journalism program. And my roommate, Ruth, became my best friend and my counselor. She was a very sensitive, open person, and very popular too. She looked exactly like you would expect a Venezuelan girl to look, like she was going to crown herself miss universe. She had long black hair, big green eyes and cinnamon skin. And I think she was a size 2. Sometimes I felt like I was living with a model.

With all of that in my mind I was walking down Paseo de la Castellana to an interview for an internship position at one of the top newspaper/media groups in Spain.

About half and hour later there was a very young lady across the desk interviewing me. As I looked around, it seemed like a really nice place to be working at. I had the feeling I would fit in very well.

“Very well Miss Garza, I see you have good recommendations and enthusiasm about working with us.”

“Oh I certainly do, I want an early start so I can really make the most of this experience and apply all the things I’m reviewing in the classroom to real life work, especially at a highly respected institution as yours.”

“All which are very worthy objectives Miss Garza. Now, what would you say are the areas you’d be interested in working at here?”

The question caught me off guard. There were just so many things that I was interested in, that defining one was a puzzling matter. So after a short silence I managed to say:

“Well, there are many things I’m interested in, mostly regarding news-writing and investigative reporting.” I tried to smile to show my confidence.

“I see. Well, we have open internship positions in our newspaper staff. As you know there are specialized sections, so we’d like to see in what areas you would be willing to work. If you had to pick three, what would they be?”

“I feel I would be more prepared to tackle business reporting, given my college education and my professional work. But I am also interested in International news reporting, and… sports.”

“Sports?” the lady looked at me with curiosity. “That’s interesting. We usually get a lot of guys asking for positions in that section. In fact, right now we need someone to fill a place as an assistant to one of the editors. This person mainly works on local sporting events, but given your background it would be an excellent place to start, that’s if you are interested to get into Sports Journalism.”

“Oh really?” I smiled. “Well I am interested.”

“Very well Miss Garza. We have to review your Resume and we’ll call you back.”

Sports Journalism? Why on earth I said I was interested? The idea sounded good in my mind at the spur of the moment, but a couple of hours later I was becoming aware of what I did. “Lydia, what were you thinking? You have never been able to keep your own body coordination… what do you know about sports?” It was one thing being a fan of Real Madrid and watching games every now and then, but another very different thing was to actually have the knowledge to report about it, in a professional way. “My God what did I do?” I kept thinking about it all day long…

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“Cheer up, Lydia. Is not definitive you are going to get that position,” Ruth tried to comfort me as I was telling her all about my interview back at our place.

“And even if you do, I’m sure you’ll be able to learn really fast about it and show what you are capable of.”

“I know that Ruth, but I don’t want to be the stupid rookie. How are people going to address me when they find out I know nothing about sports? That could affect my career. My reputation is on the line here.”

“Oh my friend, don’t be so dramatic. I don’t think all those experts knew everything the first day on the job. Besides, who knows if you will be there doing nothing more than serving coffee and running errands, at least for the first couple of weeks? I’m sure there will be time to adapt.”

“You’re right, I’m just being dramatic. I can do that job. It’s not like I have to do sports journalism forever.”

“Everything happens for a reason my friend.”

And it was true. I wasn’t aware of it yet, but that so called “mistake” was one of the biggest assets of my life.

Three days later I had a phone call. I was in. I would start on Monday working in the position the lady told me was open. “Ok Lydia, so you wanted to be a journalist? There is your chance.” I felt a sudden rush of energy as I walked out the apartment and locked myself away at the sports section of one of the biggest libraries downtown Madrid. I was determined to do that job well.
Even to the point of having to sleep to the sound of Sport TV…

[Annie]

Chapter 4



Next Monday I started working at “Pasion Deportiva” or sports passion, the title of the newspaper section. It came every Sunday edition as a small magazine, and had updates throughout the week. It turns out Ruth was right, my first chores were running errands and making coffee, but also reviewing the stories the reporters brought, as a first look before the editor approved them.

At first I dreaded reading all those “so team A won in a match that was three hours long, blah”, but after a while I really enjoyed them. Some of the reporters helped me get tickets to several competitions (including an invaluable pass to a Real Madrid game…) and while at that job I discovered a new passion for photography I didn’t knew I had in me.

Two months went by and the summer was in full fledge. It gets really, really hot in Madrid. Sometimes is unbearable. But I was too busy studying and working to notice.

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One Sunday afternoon, Ruth and I were hanging out our apartment, having one of our amazing conversations over two cups of gelato, with our pjs on at four in the afternoon. She was telling me about her family, which in majority was now living in the United States.

“Lydia, you know? I miss them so much! But I still can’t figure out what I want to do after I finish the program. I would like to travel to Venezuela to see my parents, but since the situation is not very good in my country, perhaps I should try my luck in the US.”

“I totally understand you. The situation back home is not the best either. You know very well those leftists governments are good for nothing…” I said in an angry tone.

“So what are you going to do?”

“I have no idea, Ruth. I love my life here so much, I can’t manage to think going back home. I think I’m sort of holding out for a sign that would tell me if I should stay. I feel I’m on the verge of discovering something, like one great event is about to change my life. It is a weird feeling, I don’t know if you have ever felt that way.”

“Yes I have,” Ruth sighed with a sad smile on her face “well, I hope that sign comes to you soon, because time is flying by!” She was totally right.

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Of all the people I was working with at the newspaper, my favorite was a tennis fanatic. He began at it way before the Roger Federer frenzy started in 2004. Of all the work stuff I had on my hands, too little was from tennis, though it was something that kind of interested me. I used to be a Marat Safin fan. I don’t know what happened, I guess with time the fascination grew old, may be I wasn’t exactly a fan, or there are just so many things to care about out there.

Anyway, my co-worker, Juan, was gearing up to go to the US Open. One morning we were working to finish arrangements for his trip to the tournament when another co-worker came around to give us some news. The photographer that usually traveled with Juan was sick, and they couldn’t find someone else to go with him. Juan just gave me a blank stare in disgust, like Spaniards react sometimes too emotionally to things.

“You can always use archive photos? Or buy some copyrighted material. What’s important is your own experience of the event firsthand, I think?” I told him trying to quickly fix the situation.

“Lydia you are always the endless optimist… I guess you have a point, but I was certainly hoping to get our own stuff. After all, is the last Grand Slam of the season … Let me think.”

Juan was silently staring at the ceiling for a couple of moments, a sign of deep reflection that I secretly found hilarious. Then he jumped of his chair and gave me a mischievous little look I knew would bring nothing but trouble.

“I have an idea. I’ve seen your photo work before, it is high quality. How would you like coming with me and getting some of it published?”

“To the US Open? You are asking me to photograph the US Open?” I gasped.

“Yes that’s the general idea Lydia, or were we talking about my grandson’s birthday party?” Juan used his talent for sarcasm.

“Well, I’m not sure Juan. I still have to work in a project idea for my final examination, and I don’t know the date in which I have to turn that in… and what about my classes?..”

“Darling,” he gave me a very serious look, “if your real question is if I think you can do this job, I certainly do. I could use someone with your quick wit around there, I’m not becoming any younger you know? The rest are just details, work them out!” He demanded as he started walking out the room. “I’m going to go tell your boss the change in plans. I think she will agree with me, so it’s up to you now.”

Son of a @#%$#! But he was right, it was up to me. He was offering me a chance to get something published. And man, I was intrigued!

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Later that day just before we were going to sleep, I was laying on my bed just staring at the ceiling. Ruth noticed right away that something was bothering me. I needed to let it off my chest so I decided I should share it with her.

“Lydia you would be so darn stupid if you don’t take this opportunity.” Ruth screamed, with the high-pitched voice she used when she got over excited. “I know you can do this girl!”

“Ok, ok, ok… stop it! I know! I’ll ask around school to see if I can be absent for those weeks. And about the project…”

“Why don’t you do something related to tennis? … since you’ll be there, flesh and bones and all…”

I was laughing but she had a point. That night I couldn’t sleep thinking about the idea coming into reality. Well, after all I had a chance of proving myself if I could really do it. What was there to be lost? Suddenly the answer became clear as water. “And may be you’ll get to meet Marat Safin” I told myself with a smile “yeah right Lydia, like you are 20 all over again…”

[Annie]

Chapter 5



So then I was on my way to the US Open. The flight was smooth and I had a lot of stuff on my mind. Juan was beside me sound asleep. He was like a real mentor for me. When I first arrived to the newspaper I had a warning about working with him, he was not precisely popular with the staff. I guess because they thought he was arrogant about his work, or because he was really a high demanding professional, a true artist of his craft. As much as that warning made me feel unsure about approaching him, I quickly realized how talented he was and that if I stuck around him I could learn so much more than with other nicer people. That attitude was very helpful in winning his trust and it turned out to be one of the wisest things I ever did.

Secretly, I was thinking Juan would be retiring soon, because I couldn’t understand his urgent need of going to every single tournament he could. I never said anything about it, but my intuition gave me the feeling that may be he would. After all, he was more than 55 years old. Not that I thought he was old by any means, but I could see he was getting tired of traveling...

Ruth made me promise her I would get a decent shot of Carlos Moya, because she just loved him. My teachers were patient enough and recommended I started working on my final project. “Funny situation is this, but I had to give it my best try.” I thought.

I called my Mom just after the plane landed, she sounded excited but worried about me at the same time. I used to call her at least once every week and as much I felt I was growing up, there was a nice little girl inside of me. I think sometimes I am way too naïve and innocent about things, may be that’s why people cherish my optimism.

When I arrived to the hotel, I was so tired I fell asleep, forgetting to call my old friend Debra. She was taking a few days off work to come visit me. I was excited to see her after almost four years. I remember she was a little bit crazy and a lot of fun to be around. So finally the sound of the phone woke me up, it was Juan. He asked if I wanted to get something to eat. I told him I had to make a few phone calls and then I’ll go get something by myself, because he seemed really tired and I didn’t want to keep him much longer.

I tried calling Debra to her cell phone number and she didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if she was coming that day or the day after. Finally I gave up on that and took a shower. When I went out of it I heard someone knocking outside my door. I looked through the peep hole, it was Deb!

“Dude, open the door! It’s me!” she yelled.

“Debra! Oh my God! It’s so good to see you” I told her while we hugged each other and screamed at the same time, like we were a couple of 14 year olds. “Please come in.”

She went inside and put her bag down. Then she turned around and hugged me again. She looked at me up and down and said “Girl! You look awesome! There must be something in Spanish water. I don’t remember you being so thin and so… how do I put it…? So happy!”

I started laughing; I thought it was hilarious since I was wearing a bath robe and no make up whatsoever. “Shut up Deb or I’m going to start believing that. But thank you for the compliments. You are not looking bad yourself.”

Yeah it was true I couldn’t remember feeling so in touch with everything, so healthy or so energetic before. It was a part of living like I wanted to live, including my passion for salsa dancing.

“So tell me everything, how’s your family? And your boyfriend? When are you leaving? Are you hungry?” I questioned, reflecting my eagerness to share thoughts with my long time friend.

“Dude I’m starving. I know a really good Italian place we can go for dinner… don’t worry, we have plenty of time to catch up on everything, and you also have to tell me all about living the large life in Europe!.”

And that way we spent the next five hours talking about every subject possible. The food was good and I learned that my friend was single again, that she was recently promoted in her job, that she was planning to open her own “side business”, and I felt like no time went between us. That’s the thing about good friends; it feels like only yesterday when you are talking to them.

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The next morning I went through all the accreditation process. There were so many journalists everywhere! I recognized some specialized publications and I felt I was at home. It was weird, since I haven’t been there before, but there was some sort of cool energy about it. After that, Juan and I took a little tour down the different courts, because I wanted to be familiar with the place before the first round started. I knew where I was allowed to be, and then we spent time looking at the draw.

The day went flying by, and some players were having practice sessions. Juan went to speak with some of his old colleagues while I took a walk to see who was practicing with a curious eye. To be perfectly honest, I caught myself drooling at some of the guys in the court, why I am a woman after all. But seriously, it was like discovering a whole new little world. I was about to leave because I was having dinner with Deb. But as I was walking I heard a voice that for some reason made me freeze and turn around. I saw a figure not too far away of a tall man, who was evidently making a lot of noise and laughing a lot, while getting ready for practice.

“Oh dear Lord and this haven’t even started yet,” I told myself while I barely managed to lean on a wall. My face was white and I felt like I was going to come down with something. It was none other than Marat Safin. I started laughing uncontrollably and then I went serious, reprimanding myself for the weak moment. Then my neurons started working again, and I remembered my camera. So I walked nearer the court and I started shooting away. My God was he even more gorgeous in person. He is one of those guys that instead of getting older, they get sexier with time. And how tall he really was! 1.94M from head to toe. Curly long hair, piercing brown eyes and the extremely masculine features of his face, including that strong jaw… His torso and arms were well toned and his skin had this lovely cinnamon color. There was definitely something about him. He looked kind of dorky being so tall but that wide warm smile could make anyone believe he was the most charming and sexy guy ever. And I thought he was one of the few guys who could get away with face hair.

I was thinking about all that until a racing thought come to me. “Lydia you can’t do this. You’re not that girl anymore. You are a professional, this is your job.” So I put my equipment away, and left the court. I had a huge smile on my face as I walked into Juan near the media center and discussed last minute arrangements.

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Later that night Deb and I went to have some Tex-mex food for dinner, since we were starving and that was the first place we could find near the hotel.

“What’s wrong with you dude?” asked Debra, “You seem like you are somewhere else, are you worried about something?”

“I’m sorry I’m a little absent-minded tonight. I think I’m just nervous about my job. I want to do my best, and I’m afraid I will screw it up.”

“Oh Lydia dear, don’t worry. Just remember, you are a pro. I’m sure you won’t have any problems. And just to prove my point, we are so going out to celebrate! I want you to tell me which night you are available and we’ll hit the best club in town.”

There I was worried about my career and she wanted to go clubbing. That’s why we were friends; she reminded me I shouldn’t be serious all the time. I was proud of the fact I was so disciplined, but a part of me knew I couldn’t be all work and no play. I had to take life’s twists more gracefully.

“I think we could go on Friday night, it’ll be only the start of the second round…”

“You’re on,” she said winking at me.

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Work was a daily struggle. As the tournament started, the place was absolutely crowded. I had to struggle to get to a good shooting spot, I had to fight with the racing sun in my face, I had to struggle to carry all the equipment around… But even with that, I was out there, doing something with myself. And when the day was over, I felt the pleasant tiredness of a working woman.

I had to be extra careful to keep up with everything, and my inquisitive mind was alert, trying to find an exclusive, an interview, that moment that makes a difference in a journalist work. As Friday arrived, I had the photo and the autograph that Ruth asked. I had tons of contact information from different people I met. I even ran into people from the media from my home country, and they told me they would consider me for a position when I went back home. That fact made me wonder if it was a sign that I should go back, but I was not ready to make a decision, not just yet.

That same day I discovered that two of my photos were going to be printed in Sunday’s Pasion Deportiva. Juan congratulated me. He said that there were other online agencies interested in buying a couple of photos.

“I told you so,” gloated Juan. “You could and can do this.”
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