Page 92 of Polo Fever
‘Because by then, I felt too upset to talk to you,’ I erupt. ‘Ineededyou, Mateo. My ex had just announced to the world that he was releasing a book that details our relationship and, unsurprisingly, apparently, I’m the villain in his story. Do you think anyone is fine when that happens? I needed you to take a moment out of your job to come find me and tell me that everything was going to be all right. I know that your career is incredibly important, but I alsoknowthat you could have made the time to do that if you wanted to.’
‘Ash—’
‘For Christ’s sake, Mateo, you didn’t even come to say hello to me at the party tonight until you thought someone else was hitting on me. Do you know how that makes me feel?Small,’ I answer before he can try. ‘And it’s not the first time you’ve made me feel that way recently. When this thing between us first started, you put on a good show of making me feel like I was important to you—’
‘You are important to me!’ he croaks, pained.
‘No, Basilio was right.Polois the most important thing to you and no one will ever compare. Ever since your team told you I was a distraction, you’ve been distancing yourself.’
‘We’ve talked about this. It was only while—’
‘The season was going, yeah, except the season is over and I feel more distanced from you than ever. That’s the British season done, right? But then there’s always the next one you need to be signed for. Europe, Australia, the US, Dubai, and, of course, let’s not forget the big one: Argentina. What’s your plan, Mateo? Keep me at arm’s length until you retire? Then we’re all good! Then you can have as many distractions as you like!’
‘No! You don’t understand. Please.’ He takes a step towards me, but I recoil. ‘I had to focus on polo; I had to try to get back on form the last few matches.’
‘And how’s that gone for you, Mateo?’ I snap.
His jaw tenses. It was a bit of a low blow and probably a sore point right now, but I don’t care. The frustration from the last few weeks is violently bubbling in my stomach and ready to boil over. The hurt I’ve been trying to suppress at being made to feel second best, cast aside until he’s fucking ready, is spilling out in resentful, bitter arguments. I don’t want him to give up his dreams for me. I’d never want that. But I want to share in them. I want to feel like I’m on the ride with him to get there. I can’t pretend that I’m okay being benched.
‘I wanted to prove I was good enough to play in Argentina,’ he begins through gritted teeth, ‘and then I—’
‘Oh my God, pleasestopwith Argentina,’ I beg, lifting my eyes to the night sky glittering with stars overhead, a fanciful romantic canopy at jarring odds with the scene taking place below it. ‘It’sonetournament, Mateo; it’s not all there is.’
‘It is for me!’ he cries, confusion flitting across his expression as though he can’t comprehend why I’m notgetting this. ‘You want me to tell you why I’m this way, Ash? Why Basilio takes pleasure in telling you that polo comes first for me? Why Ihaveto play in Argentina?’
‘Please!’
‘My mother sacrificedeverythingso I could play polo,’ he tells me, his eyes brimming with tears, and the sudden overwhelming emotion in his voice making my heart lurch and body ache to hold him. ‘She left my father and took me to the Rossi estate. Her family never forgave her for that. They were strict Catholics and disapproved of her actions so much, they cut off all ties. She didn’t just lose her husband that day, she losteveryone.’
I stare at him, too stunned at this outburst of unchecked feeling to speak.
‘She gave up her career for me and got a shitty job on the Rossi estate so I could be around horses every day, so I could work at the yard and get the chance to learn with a pro. That was the deal. She’d work for Rossi, I’d help out at the yard and in return, he would train me to play polo like Basilio and all those other boys.’ He pauses to take a breath, hands on hips, his eyes misted with painful memories. ‘She sacrificed everything for me because she knew I’d repay her by being a great polo player. She believed in me that much.’
I swallow.
‘I’d catch her crying sometimes,’ he continues, his voice hoarse. ‘She would brush it off if I asked. Make up some bullshit excuse. I asked once if she was sad about her family and she told me she was, but that they would be the ones to regret it. They would see me win the Argentine Open and they would finally know that she was right. That she’dmade all the right decisions. I think that’s what drove her every day. Knowing that was in her future.’
‘But… but surely you’ve proven you’re good enough,’ I say, confused. ‘You’ve already played in the Argentine Open.’
‘My worst performance in a tournament. It was humiliating. The pressure… it was too much. I was too young. Basilio and his friends made sure I never forgot where I came from, that I wasn’t one of them. If any of her family saw or heard of my appearance that year, it only would have served to confirm their feelings: that my mother had turned her back on everyone and everything she knew for a…failureof a son.’
It’s taking everything in him not to crack. I can see it in his face, how he’s fighting the urge to break and crumble. I wonder if he’s ever spoken this out loud to anyone before.
‘You are not a failure. You’re a great polo player,’ I tell him truthfully, blinking back the hot tears pricking my eyes.
‘You know, she died a year after we moved to the Rossi estate,’ he says, tipping his head back and looking up at the sky. ‘She didn’t even get to see me turn pro.’
‘She didn’t have to. She knew you would.’
‘I promised her I would dedicate my life to this sport. I had the opportunity to honour her memory in Argentina, where it matters most, and I let her down. Now, I have grown as a person, as a player; I am more focused, calmer, braver, more experienced. It has taken time, but I have built up my reputation and I promised myself I would go back to Argentina and make her proud.’ He looks at me earnestly, his eyes glistening with regret. ‘This was supposed to be my year. Our Maycourt team was good enough to get everyone’s attention. I knew I was finally ready.’
‘You’re talking as though all hope is lost. You can still get to Argentina. It’s not over just because of a few local matches and a bust-up at a cocktail party.’
He shakes his head. ‘It’s going to be harder to persuade a patron I’m worth the trouble. But IknowI can do this.’ He clenches his sore fist. ‘I will do whatever it takes to win in Argentina for her. Nothing will get in my way. All I need is someone to recognise that and give me one chance. Just one more chance.’
Fighting back tears, I mutter under my breath, ‘You mean no one.’
‘What?’
