Kulti

by Mariana Zapata

Me. Press conference. Today. I would rather get a root canal, donate my kidney and be constipated. Seriously.

Some people were scared of heights, the dark, clowns, spiders, snakes… I never made fun of anyone when they were scared of things. But this horrible fear I had of speaking in front of a camera with a group of people watching had gotten me called a wimp at least a hundred times, mostly by my brother, but that still counts.

It was one of those moments that lifts a person’s spirit up. Sure, it wasn’t you that did anything special, but it made you feel like you had. It gave you the impression that you could do anything because this other person did. It reminded you that anything was possible.

I mean, hadn’t he known we were supposed to get married and have soccer-playing-super-babies together? That he was supposed to sit next to me on an airplane one day and instantly fall in love with me? Yeah, apparently he hadn’t gotten the memo, and he married some actress with boobs that seemed to defy gravity.

No one ever says that fear is logical, because it isn’t. It’s stupid and irrational and on a scale of one to ten it sucked about a fifty.

To be prepared for war is one of the most effective means of preserving peace.

To my absolute horror, my inner thirteen-year-old, the one that had planned on marrying this guy and having soccer-playing super-babies with him, peeked in and reminded me she’d been around once. I’d swear on my life that my heart clenched up and my armpits started sweating simultaneously. The best term to describe what was going on with me: star struck. Totally star struck.

I would've been the same😂

I’d gotten over my crush-slash-infatuation when I was seventeen, when I finally accepted the fact that I didn’t have a single shot of ever playing against him—obviously—and… there was no chance in hell that he’d ever be interested in me, the Argentinian-Mexican-American tomboy thirteen years younger than him. There wouldn’t be a marriage in my future or soccer-playing super-babies.

It was the worst non-break-up ever in the history of imaginary relationships with a man who didn’t even know I existed.

I can relate to you Sal!! Finding out that your celebrity crushes has a girlfriend is the worst break up ever!

By the time I looked back at where he was I’d been dismissed. His attention had gone right on to the girl next to me without a moment to spare. Well. Okay. I guess I should have been glad I cancelled our wedding preparations years ago.

😆

I was used to having someone butcher it. It happened all the time. Suh-lome. Saah-lome. Sah-lowmee. Salami. Salamander. Salmon. Sal-men. Saul. Sally. Samantha. Or, in the case of my brother: Stupid. In the case of my little sister: Bitch.

Regardless, when someone continuously messes up your name even after you correct them… it’s a sign. In this case, it was a sign that I should have known this guy was a moron.

He annoyed me, but I was also annoyed with myself for letting his attitude bother me.

The urge to open my mouth and tell him to go suck a cock was right there, but I reeled it in slowly and steadily like it was a barracuda fighting for its life. But I did. I kept it deep in my chest, in my heart and locked it up.

I made it as far as the light before one single tear came out of my eye. Just one. How could he threaten me after what I’d done? I couldn’t understand. I took a deep, ragged breath and told myself that I wasn’t going to waste my tears on him. Whether it was humiliation or being insulted or plain being angry, it didn’t matter. His stupid-ass opinion didn’t matter to me. I knew who I was and what I was.

He could go suck a big dick. And I hoped he gagged on it.

The problem with men, or males in general, that I’d discovered over the course of my life, was that they had huge mouths. I mean a whale shark has nothing on the average man with a couple of friends. Honestly.

“A dream is just a wish without a plan.” After you hear it enough times, it grows on you and the older you get, the more you realize how true the words are.

Whether it was because I was tired of this shit, his shit or whatever, I found myself caring less and less who he was and how I should probably treat him differently. Maybe not totally, but at least a little bit. “I’m happy to hear that.” I scooped the fifty bucks that had fallen on my lap after the meeting of his fist and my shoulder and tossed it at him. “I really do need to get to work though, so…” I tipped my head in the direction of the door at his side, indifferent to how rude I was being.

That look I recognized all too well crossed over his features, and I was honestly torn between shivering in fear and… well I wasn’t going to say it, or even really admit the other emotion. He had the look of the old Kulti—the borderline psychotic competitor. Oh my gosh, he was going to wipe the floor with me.

“You’re one of the best I’ve ever seen, period, man or woman. What kills me is that you are a complete fucking pushover who’s hung up on worthless words in front of a person that doesn’t matter.” His cheeks were flushed. “Grow some balls, Casillas. Fight me for this. Fight anyone that tries to take this away from you,”

appreciate how he saw her as his =

When something is broken into too many pieces, you can’t stare at them and try to glue them back together; sometimes you just have to sweep up the pieces and buy something else.

Instead of saying anything, he walked past me, bumping the side of his upper arm against my shoulder, lightly… playfully.

my heart! My heart!!!! their shoulders touched!! Like touched. touched!!!! (Pterodactyl screeching)

“Do you have father issues?” “What? No. My dad’s great, jeez.” His mouth still hadn’t closed that tiny gap. “You like old men.”

😆😂

“Quit it. Everyone has a type. I’m sure you do.” Kulti blinked. “I’m not attracted to senior citizens.”

“Okay, Arnold.” Kulti didn’t look particularly impressed. “He’s Austrian, not German, you little shit,” he deadpanned, his face saying I was annoying him, but his eyes said he thought I was a little funny.

😆

“You know your reputation is just what everyone else thinks of you, your character is what you really are.”

True!!

Dear God. A man like that making kissing sounds at what I could only guess was his baby. My vagina, my vagina didn’t know what to do with itself.

UNDERSTOOD SAL!!

“Eyes up here, Taco.”

“Hey, eyes up here, pretzel face.”

“You’re the best striker in America, schnecke. Look up ‘best goals in women’s soccer’ and four of the top ten are yours. I wasn’t going to waste my time on anything or anyone but the best. With more training, better coaching, you could be the top striker in the world.”

“Trust me; I’ve had the urge to punch you in the face a time or five.”

me too Sal, me too😆

“I’m a pain in your ass? You’re a pain in my ass. I try and I try with you, and for what? For you to be an asshole when you’re frustrated or upset? Maybe other people will deal with your shit when you act like that, but I can only take so much. I like you. I like how well we get along sometimes, but I don’t know anything about you really, when it comes down to it. All you do is give me these bits and pieces when you’re in the mood. When you’re not in the mood, you don’t say anything at all. Or you go through this fucking phase where you give me dirty looks and ignore me for no apparent reason. How is that supposed to make me feel?

Before I even had time to think about what he’d done, my oversized bratwurst took a step forward and he did it. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, bringing me in so close my nose was pressed against the cartilage right between his pectorals. He was hugging me. Dear God, Reiner Kulti was hugging the shit out of me.

hugging! they're hugging!!!

I just stood there with my arms at my sides, frozen. Completely freaking frozen in place. I was stunned, beyond stunned. Stupefied. “Hug me back,” the accented voice demanded from up above.

Soccer has given me everything, but it’s also taken away just as many things.” He gave me a sad determined look. “I don’t want it to take you away as well. You are the least shameful thing in my life, Sal. Understand?”

“Have I told you that you remind me of a splinter I can’t remove? You’re incredibly annoying.”

And then one day, that same man for some reason decided to step into my circle, of all the circles in the world he could have chosen. Slowly, slowly, slowly, we became friends. I knew and understood that procession. I was okay with my place. Friends. Not so simple or easy, but those were the best things in life, the hard things that didn’t fit perfectly, weren’t they?

In one instant, in one kind deed and unexpected gesture, something inside of me woke up. There was a reason I put up with his shit and forgave him for being a dick so quickly. I was still in love with this man.

I had no right to be. No sound reason to. I liked to think I made wise decisions, but reviving my childhood adoration for him was one of the dumbest things I could ever have let myself do. But, obviously, I couldn’t take it back. My heart hadn’t completely forgotten what it was like to feel this way for him, but no ma...

I was in love with this pumpernickel. God help me, I think I wanted to cry.

Completely catching me off-guard, Kulti, my freaking German with supposedly no conscience, pressed his cheek to the top of my head and wrapped himself around me. He hugged me back. His body was hard and tense as he did it, but it was different. It wasn’t an angry hug; it was something else. It was like when I was a kid and would hug the crap out of my dog because I loved him so much.

You don’t get to live your dreams by waiting around for someone to hand them to you.

I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face. Maybe he wasn’t in love with me, and maybe I wasn’t really the best friend he’d ever had, but he cared about me. Most of his actions made it loud and clear, even when he was being a bit of a gruff, emotionless dick. I could have done worse.

When one door closes, another one opens. I might just have to do a little breaking and entering to get the right one for me.

“Don’t ever do that to me again. I’m too young to die of a heart attack.” Holy crap, he’d really been worried. I loved it. I loved it so much I snorted despite the sharp pain that spiked through my head. “I would say claiming you’re too young is a bit debatable, don’t you think?” The German tilted his head up and cursed something low and long in German. “You were brought to this planet to give me an ulcer, weren’t you?”

“I care about things,” he argued. “Oh? Like what?” “Winning.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Okay.” “My fish.” His fish. Jesus Christ.

😆😂🤣

I had a man I respected that respected me, and he didn’t care if the world knew we meant something to each other. Our friendship hadn’t been given to either one of us, we had worked at it. On top of that, I felt something for him even if he was an egotistical, arrogant, stubborn pain in the ass. He was my egotistical, arrogant, stubborn pain in the ass.

That wasn’t super reassuring but all right. I smiled at him. I guess his publicist could sign up on the long list of ‘People Who Aren’t Fans of Sal.’ Someone had told me once that you couldn’t make everyone happy, and I’d kept that close to my chest for a very long time. Once you reluctantly accepted that people were always going to judge you no matter what, it got a little easier to deal with having people dislike you.

I flung up my common sense into the air and held my imaginary ovaries out in sacrifice.

lmao!!😆