The Little Prince of the Field

Chapter 28

November 21, 2019, Thursday. Gran Canaria, Calle Don Pedro Infinito.

“We are here.”

"You don't have to give me a ride, Uncle."

“Yuhan, from now on, You should always travel by car.”

Uncle Bari's nagging lengthens at my polite answer.

It was a story that he repeated constantly on the way, but still, I made a mistake due to my instinctive words.

“Korean media is swarming for your interview, I turned them down, you remember, right? Don’t say anything if they contacted you."

"yes."

According to what Uncle told me, last week, countless transfer rumors arrived in Korea, on the other side of the globe.

My dad liked it when he saw me on the Korean evening news, but Uncle Bari's reaction was very different.

“Last time, I didn’t say anything, but there are a lot of people who want to try and get something out of the U20 national team selection. I am not kidding.”

"I know."

“I'm not just talking about the national team. There are a lot of difficult problems in Korea too."

"Yes, I understand. I’ll get going now."

"…Okay. Call me when you're done!"

I cut off Uncle's nagging and got out of the car.

Even though I didn't want to be rude, it wasn't something I wanted to have a long conversation about.

The place where Uncle Bari dropped me off was Calle Don Pedro Infinito.

Today's destination is this building that looks like a place where yellow paint has been poured instead of being painted.

It was the place where I promised to receive my psychological counseling along with Manager Pepe.

After the promise with Manager Pepe, I regretted my choice.

It was stupid of me.

I shouldn't have made a rash promise.

It was an emotional choice.

The business card that Uncle Bari gave me had the name ‘BENJAMIN' and the number 201 written on it.

As I went up the stairs following the written address, a wooden brown gate appeared.

Seeing that the house next door has an ordinary iron gate, I thought they had intentionally set up the cabin concept to stabilize visitors’ psychology.

Still, It was a terrible choice.

When I knocked on the door, a human figure appeared from the inside along with the sound of footsteps.

The counselor was a skinny, brown-haired, middle-aged male.

The deep wrinkles around his eyes looked impressive.

"Come on in."

“Si.”

"Want some tea?"

“Just give me some warm water.”

I watched around the house while the man was boiling water in the kettle.

There was a yellow curtain hanging from the window, a sofa in the corner of the room, and a TV in the cabinet.

Fist-sized statues were placed all over the furniture in the house, giving the house a tasteful look.

“There is also a study in the back.”

“I didn’t come here to read.”

"That's true. Sit wherever you feel comfortable. I'll get you some warm water."

I glanced at the man and looked inside the study from outside the door.

In that room, there was a ‘lying couch' that I have only seen in movies.

I really don’t want my counseling to be conducted there, but I eventually gave in to my curiosity and entered the room while sneakily looking around.

I lay on the couch and discovered that it was harder than I imagined.

Before I could even get up, a man with a mug in both hands walked into the study.

"I…thank you."

“Didn’t it take long for you to find this building?”

“My agent took me here.”

The man naturally sat down on the chair next to me, and the cup he was holding smelled of raspberries.

"Is he the one who called me?"

“Probably.”

“He sounded like a good guy. He must have worried a lot about you.”

“What did he say?”

“He's a mature and strong boy, but he doesn't look back on his wounds.”

The beautification was severe.

Considering Uncle Bari's personality, he would not have used such an expression.

“Ah, my name is Benjamin Saul. Feel free to call me any way you like.”

“You can call me Kim.”

"Okay."

We exchanged our basic personal information and the time passed by relying on the warmth of a mug.

Benjamin just waited quietly and didn't say anything.

I must confess that this atmosphere is far away from the image of ‘counseling' that I had envisioned.

I've been thinking about a few things that I revised to answer.

I just couldn’t stand the awkwardness and finally asked the question first.

"How old are you?"

Benjamin answered 52 with his fingers.

If I was in Korea, I would have bowed my head as soon as I entered the gate to greet him.

He was older than expected, I thought he was about forty.

“How old are you Kim?”

"sixteen."

“When did you come to the Canary Islands?”

“It’s been a little over a year. Didn’t the agent tell you about these?”

“Well, I didn’t ask for any detailed information.”

The conversation gets cut off again.

I felt a little awkward.

Even if I looked everywhere in the study, there was nothing special to see because all of them were filled with books with strange titles.

“Have you ever received counseling before?”

“No, I’ve imagined it a few times.”

Benjamin smiled sharply,

"Then you can take it easy. If you don't have anything to say, just close your eyes and lay down, it's okay to pass the time."

“What about counseling?”

“Counseling is when you have a story that you want to tell.”

“It’s kind of, like…not professional… um, are you not working?”

“Haha, you can see it that way too.”

With a smile on his lips, he gets up from his seat without answering and leaves the study.

Benjamin returned while holding on to an object believed to be a stove in his hand.

"I forgot to bring this before. The wind blew into the wall of the study. Turn it on when you feel cold."

"Okay, thanks."

“So are we going to continue what we were talking about?”

"Si."

“I don't know if you've heard my hourly cost, but my time is quite expensive. And one of the most expensive things is keeping secrets.”

“Isn't it important to listen and advise?”

“Yes, it is important, but for the process to go smoothly, a trusting relationship must be established between the counselor and their client. You have to be able to believe in me.”

“How do you make me believe that?”

“If you paid a lot of money, then trust me. Most counselors trust money more than people. So for 99% of the money what I can give you is… secrecy.”

Benjamin makes a comical face, making a circle with his thumb and index finger. He kept his dignity in spite of his playful expression.

“Do you know what I mean? You just being here is already worth 99% of your money.”

"Well."

"If you have something you want to say, just say it. I like to hear the worries of the present and the stories of the past. If you don't say anything, it will cost you money, and it's your choice whether to use the remaining 1% privilege or not."

He shrugs his shoulders and speaks sympathetically.

It's a lie.

The thing about keeping it a secret was a lie.

If Juan Naranjo were to knock on your door right now, I am sure he'll hand over the psychiatric report as soon as he sees the thickness of his forearm.

If not, how can I be sure that he won't sell my medical records to my team doctor, Bolanos?

I wouldn't trust him.

Nevertheless, there was a point.

Just for his confidence, I have to respond.

Yes, I have to consult.

One way or another, Pepe will get the report on me, so by analogy, Benjamin Saul, along with team doctor Bolanos, is the cochlear and lymphoid that made up the hearing organs of Las Palmas Manager Pepe. (I could have used a worse analogy.)

"It's already been 30 minutes. The session is about halfway through."

“You’re making good money.”

“Haha, everyone who was being consulted said that.”

Once again, the conversation was cut off.

An awkward atmosphere came once again.

I finished thinking for a second and broke the silence.

Then the bundle of my stories was carefully unpacked.

Stories that don't matter to strangers.

“My name is Kim Yuhan. And my age is sixteen. I was born in Seoul and lived in Daejeon when I was young, and I came to Mok-dong when I was an elementary school student.”

"Okay."

Speaking is not as difficult as I thought it might be.

Speaking of my story, many may think, isn't it just a 16-year-old short story?

However, when I opened my mouth, it felt like I was speaking from a third person's point of view, so it felt very strange.

“Now I am playing as a football player for a club called Las Palmas, and I am the one who kept scoring most of the goals in the second division of La Liga. I started doing pretty well. Much more than I originally thought.”

“Actually, I wasn’t been exposed to football when I was a kid. When I was in 5th grade, my mom bought me very expensive soccer shoes out of anger after fighting with my dad. My mom told me to go to the soccer class because she had bought those soccer shoes.”

“It was a good choice in the end.”

“So far.”

I lean back and turn on the stove that Benjamin brought since the room was cold.

“Did you have fun during the soccer class?”

“To some extent, rather than playing soccer itself, it was more fun to spend some time with my schoolmates. I was late on purpose… and that was fun too. The class just repeated basic training.”

Yeah, it was fun back then.

I wonder what my friends who went to the soccer class with me were doing now?

Now I can't even remember their name.

"Just before entering middle school, Mom and Dad got divorced. Their personalities didn't match very well.”

"I won't talk about this anymore. It's their problem, not mine. But I can't deny the fact that the divorce of my parents changed my life. There was a soccer club in the middle school that I transferred with my dad."

Yes, that's an old story.

"Kim?"

“I was just thinking about something else for a moment.”

“What were you thinking?”

“When I was in the Las Palmas B team. I was struggling not to be eliminated from middle school. I had a hard time adjusting while getting transferred between schools. Since I am a non-social person, my personality is not normal and I am not good at reading others' feelings, so I guess my classmates never liked me.”

He didn't respond to my words.

“It wasn't that serious. They just sprinkled some eraser powder on my head, spit out chewing gum, or spit from upstairs when I went down the school stairs?”

“Ummm.”

“Still, I was able to solve most of it on my own. It was a little risky when I got caught with saliva on my bag. I made an excuse that it was ice cream that got spilled, but it worked.”

“Did your father not know?”

"I hope he didn't know. If he did, I wouldn't have been able to go to school every day. He…"

I paused.

I replied reflexively.

A mass of negative emotions flowed into part of my brain.

I forcibly closed my mouth.

The stories I had spoken as if they were insignificant began to come back to my head one after another as if they had gained new life.

I don’t want to express them.

I couldn’t control my emotions properly, and my expression got distorted.

“Kim.”

I silently lifted the mug and drank the contents.

The warm water had cooled down over time.