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“How was your training today?”
Jude was on the phone with Erling, having completed his practice sessions for the day. The walk from the training grounds to his home was never longer than half an hour, and he found a morning stroll to be a far more efficient method of conveyance than almost anything else.
“Oh, you know,” Jude replied, “it’s the same as always. We have a game tomorrow, of course. I had to put in a lot of effort today.”
“That’s no surprise,” Erling hummed. “The season is coming to an end. These last few matches are very important.”
Jude often rang Erling after fulfilling his training sessions. His were early in the morning, while the striker’s were typically during the afternoons. These calls had become a sort of a tradition between them, ever since Erling had left the German club for Manchester City. The two had a connection so ardent that his transfer was not enough to sever their close relationship.
“The summer transfer window is opening up soon,” the voice from the other end continued.
Jude exhaled audibly. During each call, Erling brought up the topic of his inevitable transfer without fail. The midfielder already knew what he was going to say next.
“Have you decided yet? You’re running out of time.”
“I don’t know. I’m still skeptical about joining your side. Something just doesn’t feel right.”
“What?” Erling spoke with a tone of urgency. It was uncommon for Jude to hear him speak this way. He found it odd. “What doesn’t feel right? It only makes sense for you to join me here.”
“I know, Erling,” Jude clenched the strap of his duffel bag, lowering his gaze. “But I don’t know if I’m ready for the Premier League yet. It’s a big change from Dortmund.”
“It will be fine! I mean, look at me. I did it. I’ll take care of you, you know I will.”
It was true that Jude’s heart nagged him to join Manchester City. He wanted to be reunited with Erling desperately; weekly phone calls from him never truly felt sufficient. He wanted to be able to stand beside him on the pitch again, to wear the same kit and feel united with him again, to feel Erling’s strong arms around him after another win together.
But his brain said otherwise.
“You don’t really need me there,” Jude answered sternly, feeling his heart ache only subtly as the words escaped from his lips. “Unless I’m benched. You already have Kevin. I’ve seen you two play. I couldn’t possibly serve as a replacement for him.”
“You could play a different position, maybe,” Erling responded without delay. It was as though he had already calculated all of Jude’s counters. “Someone’s going to leave. I know it. Maybe it will be Gündoğan… He has been yapping about Barcelona recently. What a shame. But if it’s you that replaces him,-”
“Erling,” Jude interrupted the striker. He stopped walking, his eyebrows furrowed. He would wait no longer. He figured it was time to let Erling know of his decision.
“I’m going to be straight with you. I know City is one of, if not, the best club in the league. You had a perfect reason to join the club, your family; but me? I’m sorry, Erling. Manchester City is a great team, but it’s never really appealed to me. I want to be with you, you and I both know that, but deep down, City is not what I want. I wish you could understand. I can’t let my emotions get in the way this time. I know now how you felt when you left me behind in Dortmund.”
There was a lengthened pause between them. As if Erling never expected this response. Jude began to question the possibility that he might have really hurt him.
“...What are you going to do then? Which club will you choose?”
Jude’s recalled his manager’s words to him. He had played a significant role in deciding his next club; for it was him who urged the midfielder to reject City’s advances. Despite the money, the respect, the fame; there was another team that was simply impossible to turn down.
“You wouldn’t reject this club if you’d received an offer from them.”
The silence that came forthwith informed Jude that Erling knew exactly what club he was referring to. Sweat formed on his brow as he waited patiently for the striker’s reply.
“I knew it.” It was barely above a whisper.
“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “...It just feels right, you know?”
There came another pause, tensity beginning to wallow within Jude’s conscience.
“And now I know how you felt when I joined City,” he attempted to chuckle, in vain. “This is great, Jude. I’m really happy for you.”
He did not feel convinced. Not only had Jude rejected Manchester City, but he knew that being a part of Real Madrid was a dream for Erling, too.
“One day, I’m going to play for Real Madrid. I will make sure of it.”
Erling had declared it as they returned from an away game while they played at Dortmund together.
“Why Madrid? I thought your dream club was Manchester City.” Jude raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, I like City. But Madrid is a club of passion. A club of history. A club of power. The best players are made there. And the thrill of La Liga is so exhilarating!”
The midfielder hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right. Maybe we can play there together one day.”
“Maybe. One day.” Erling lowered his head and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, grinning playfully. “I hope we are never apart.”
“Maybe we can play there together one day,” Jude murmured into the phone.
An uncomfortable silence followed afterward.
“I don’t know anymore, Jude.” Erling’s typically assertive voice sounded lacklustre. Empty. Hopeless. “It seems unlikely. You know what football is like… It’s not fair.”
It was Jude’s turn to fumble for a response.
“I have to attend training now,” the striker continued. “Talk to you later, min kjære.”
Before he was able to open his mouth, Erling had hung up the call.
Jude stood, rooted to the ground, his eyes fixated on his phone’s darkened screen. There was nothing he could do about Erling’s disappointment. They would still remain so apart from each other; but it was never too late.
Perhaps, if he was favoured by fate, he would reunite with Erling one day at the Santiago Bernabéu. It was with this hope that Jude reassured himself that Madrid was the next club on his agenda.