June 23rd, 2017
My phone rang at eight o'clock the next morning. I was already awake, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed in Seville, a cup of coffee going cold on the bedside table. I had not slept much.
The conversation with Navas had been playing on a loop in my head all night. The orange trees. The quiet garden. The long silence before he had said he would think about it. I had been trying to read that silence ever since.
I looked at the screen. It was a Spanish number I did not recognise. I answered.
"Mr Walsh." The voice was quiet. Measured. Navas. "I have made my decision."
I said nothing. I waited.
"I will come," he said.
I closed my eyes. Let out a slow breath. "I'm glad to hear it, Jesús."
"My agent will call your sporting director today," he said. "One year, with an option for a second if both parties are satisfied. The salary is not the important thing. The project is the important thing."
"The project is everything," I said.
