One day I'll have it all. // Williamson

Family problems

Waking up the next morning had been more than difficult.

Especially waking up to my phone ringing at 9 a.m. when training was only at 2 p.m.

Groaning, I fumbled for my phone, squinting at the bright screen.

"Hello?" I mumbled, my voice heavy with sleep.

"Happy birthday, Mija!" The cheerful voice on the other end of the line instantly banished the remnants of sleep.

It didn't turn my grogginess into happiness, though.

"Mom, my birthday was two days ago," I grunted, sitting up on my bed. Of course, my mother would forget on which day her only child was born.

"Sweetie, I've been so busy with work, you know how it is. But it's never too late to celebrate, right?" Her attempt at enthusiasm fell flat, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Yeah, Mom, it's never too late." I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that belated celebrations were better than none. "Anyway, what's up? Why the morning call?"

"Well, it's midnight in LA, Mija. Not morning." She reminded me.

"Right, sorry, Mom. Midnight call then. What's going on?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"I saw Charlotte, yesterday. She told me about your game. Liverpool, yes?"

"Yeah, Mom, that's the one. We won, by the way. Two-nil," I replied, a hint of pride in my voice.

"Yes, yes, I know. It's not what I'm worried about." She said, and I raised an eyebrow. What could she possibly have been worried about?

My mother's cryptic words left me curious and slightly concerned. I leaned back against the pillows, waiting for her to elaborate on what was troubling her.

"I saw you celebrate goals. With that girl. Number 15." She said, and I knew exactly where she was going with that.

"Yeah, with Katie. What about it?" I asked with a sigh, even though I knew what about it.

The brief silence that followed my question felt like an eternity. I could almost sense my mother choosing her words carefully, a sign that whatever she was about to say held weight.

"Mija, you know I've always supported you in everything you do..." That was a lie. A blatant one. "But I hope you're being careful. People talk, and rumors can be damaging," she finally said, her tone carrying a mixture of concern and caution.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. The truth was, I had anticipated this conversation at some point. The world of football, especially for women, often came with its share of judgment and scrutiny.

"Mom, Katie, and I are just teammates. And friends," I explained, the weariness evident in my voice. "I scored goals, and we celebrated. It's part of the game."

My mother's response was hesitant, as if she wanted to believe me but still harbored reservations. "I just don't want you to face unnecessary challenges or judgments, Mija. I don't want people to think you are... you know..."

"A lesbian? That's what you want to say, mom?" I said, and I heard my mother gasp at the word, making me roll my eyes.

"You are already making this difficult for yourself, Maria Valentina. By doing a man's job. How do you expect to find a husband if you keep associating with women like that?" My mother's words hung in the air, a heavy silence following her judgmental statement.

I greeted my teeth, trying my very best not to curse at her face. 

"What if I don't want a husband?" I said, and my mother laughed at my words.