With Alicia in Europe for the next twelve days, and then gone for a few days past that for Raw, Ricardo's life becomes something of a repeating cycle. Wake up, take a walk around the lake, check Twitter, upload some things to Instagram, watch some TV, and go train at Pro Wrestling 2.0, then head home and either try to sleep or stare out of the window at the darkness, then rinse, wash and repeat.
The only thing that disrupts his schedule is the random texts that come in. The first one had been a couple of days after his meeting with Alberto, the man's stilted English greeting Ricardo when he'd woke up early Wednesday morning, squinting at the screen.
Mi amigo, what is this about you retiring before me?
He'd groaned, rolled over and buried his face in his pillows, unable to think of how best to respond, or even if he'd want to. It's not until he's had some coffee and is out in the sun, absently waving a hand through the crystal blue water, when he flops back into the grass and stares at the phone, hand shaking a little as he accesses his texts again. It felt like the best decision I could make right now, he responds, biting his lip anxiously as he hits send.
His phone flashes for a moment before confirming, text sent, and Ricardo breathes in and out for a few moments, trying not to hyperventilate at taking this step. Alberto doesn't answer right away, so he goes inside and does some dishes, not wanting the place to look awful when Alicia returns home, jetlagged and worn out.
It's not until mid-afternoon when his phone lights up again and he'd almost forgotten about the texts until he sees Alberto's name, the old picture that he'd assigned to the man- the two of them posing in Mexico, grins on their faces and painfully unaware of what's to come between them within weeks of the flash of the camera. He closes his eyes for a moment before reading the message. I suppose, if it's what you want, Ricardo. If you ever need anything, you know how to find me.
He's choking on thin air, it's hard to think, much less actually type so he leaves the text there, he ignores the picture, he abandons the entire thing there and, when he goes to the training building, the phone is left on the table. He loses himself in teaching the newer students moves, helping the older students how to perfect what they've already learned.
Once done, he takes a walk down the street leading away from the businesses until he finds a quiet park, well lit and welcoming despite the late hour. Spotting a bench, he sits down and folds his legs under him, closing his eyes and exhaling long and slow. A few deep breaths later, he feels his tension fade away, the rough attempt at meditating working. He leans forward and repeats the breathing exercise until he feels perfectly calm, quiet. Untangling himself from this awkward position, he walks back up the street to his car and drives back home, deciding to face the texts.
There are no new ones waiting for him, which he's relieved by- Alberto is communicating, but seemingly not pushing, and he hopes it lasts. I know, he texts back. Gracias, Alberto. The thoughts of calling him anything else sends a shiver down his spine so he keeps it simple, aware that it's a small step, but a step nonetheless. There's a lot of things to move past, and considering how weary and aching he still is over it all, he thinks this in and of itself is a huge thing. He wishes Alicia were here so he could talk to her about it, get her gauge of the situation.
But she's busy and all attempts at communication overseas is spotty at best, so he waits, and continues working through day by day to keep his head above water, fielding Alberto's random texts as best as he can and doing more meditation than he has in a long, long time, trying not to secondguess the road he finds himself on, still so uncertain about letting Alberto back in, even this small amount.
"I hope I'm making the right decision," he murmurs to the night sky after another training session, staring up at the constellations with blurry eyes.
When a star shoots across the darkness, almost as if in response to his whispered plea, he gapes on in amazement, lips twitching up into the first purely sincere smile he's had since... he doesn't know when, his heart lighting as some hope is given back to him with this one simple sign.