Читать книгу Fatima: The Final Secret - Juan Moisés De La Serna, Dr. Juan Moisés De La Serna, Paul Valent - Страница 11

A mild ache in my belly reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything for a long time. At that moment, I suddenly heard a noise and I said to myself, “What’s that sound? It sounded like someone was raising a metal shutter, the kind they have in some stores. Let’s see if I’m lucky and it’s a coffee shop or something. Whatever it is, at this point I’ll settle for anything, sweet or savory, it’s all the same to me, but I can’t hold out much longer without getting a bite to eat,” I thought, “I’m going to end up fainting.”

Getting up from those stones that I’d spent such a long time sitting on, and becoming aware of some pain in my buttocks, caused by the discomfort of my seat, I headed toward the place where I thought that sound had come from.

I was walking slowly, my legs seemed to be half asleep because of the way they’d been positioned, when I suddenly saw a girl walking a dog. She was calling it beautiful and other things that I found amusing.

Why do people imagine that animals are listening to them? I have stopped to think about that at times. I had a neighbor who lived alone, and with the idea of keeping loneliness at bay, or so he told me, he bought a puppy. It was a tiny little thing, a Chihuahua, I think it’s called. If you weren’t careful, you could step on it, and when I would meet him on the porch as he was coming in or setting out for a walk, my neighbor would tell me:

“Manu, you have no idea how good company he is.”

Smiling and doubting his words, I would leave and hear him talking to his dog as I walked away.

“Let’s go here or there, I know you like it there,” he would say to the dog.

How did he know what his dog liked? What an imagination. Well, this girl was so entertained talking to her dog, that when I said, “Hi,” having not seen me approach, she was startled, so I immediately added:

“Don’t be afraid, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where there was a coffee shop that would be open at this time.”

After her fright, she had pulled on the dog’s chain and placed him between us, to defend her. She made a gesture with a shrug of her shoulders to show that she hadn’t understood me, which made me realize that I had spoken to her in Spanish.

I immediately said the same thing in Italian, and when she heard it, smiling, she extended her arm and pointed to a place for me. I looked toward the place she had indicated and saw that the curtains were being drawn at that moment. Yes, that must have been the place where I had heard them raising the shutter earlier, I had no doubt. I thanked her and headed over there with long strides.

I pushed on that glass door and looking over near the windows, I saw that a waiter was finishing drawing the curtains, he still had the cord in his hands.

“Buongiorno, can you give me something to eat?” I asked immediately, trying to pronounce it properly and in a way that he would understand me. He didn’t react as that girl had just a moment ago.

Looking at me in surprise, he replied:

“We don’t have anything at all. This is a coffee shop, there is no food, we’re only just opening,” he told me in Italian of course, but speaking slowly. It was clear that he was used to talking to strangers, perhaps visitors from other countries, because he understood very well.

As I sat there at a table, I said:

“Whatever you have, cake, bread with butter or coffee with some cookies, whatever you want, but surely you have something in there that could placate my stomach,” and I put my hand on my stomach to make it clearer.

He didn’t seem to understand me as well that time, even though I had taken a lot of care when I said it, but turning around and without saying anything, he went into what I assumed must be the kitchen, and immediately came back out with a plate full of pastries.

My eyes widened when I saw that treat. Given my sweet tooth and the hunger I felt, surely I wouldn’t leave a single one.

I held back, but as soon as he left it on the table, I thanked him and took the first one, I wasn’t going to be fussy.

I reached out for the biggest one, which was decorated, it was covered in chocolate. I could not believe how lucky I was while I took my first bite. “Food finally,” I told myself.

I was like a little kid, but I was already feeling very faint, so I said to myself, “Why should I wait before I have more?” and when I’d finished with that one, I took another.

I was starting to eat that one when the waiter approached me. He was holding a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand, which smelled… Aaah! It smelled so good! How wonderful! That made me forget all my aches and pains.

<<<<< >>>>>

Ever since my student days, coffee has been my drug of choice. I’ve never even considered trying any others, even though “certain companions” have invited me to on occasion, I have always been clear, no drugs. They bring a lot of problems, but I had never been able to resist coffee.

Of course I picked up the habit at home, with the coffee my mother made. I’ve never had any quite like it, and of course I dare say, knowing how much mothers love their children, none would consider giving their kids a substandard version of something.

Therefore, if she made me that delicious coffee every morning, well, it was sure to be a decent brew, not that she would give me a lot. Whenever she poured it for me, I would ask her for “one more little splash,” and she would top me up with a few more drops on top of what she had already given me, saying:

“That’s enough to keep you alert.”

That’s how I gradually fell in love with coffee and I’ve never gotten out of the habit. It’s not that I abuse it, but it’s true that I prefer it to anything else.

A warm sip of that coffee that the waiter had given me made me recall that now long ago day and that decision I had made. I had to learn everything I could about those three children, and about what really happened.

Surely they’ll all be stories whipped up by priests. They were Portuguese and when communism was introduced there, someone very smart must have said, “Let’s fight it,” and the plan was surprising at best, they would have to have had a lot of resources to implement it.

Because of what little information I’d been able to glean so far, led by my curiosity, there were people who really believed it, even that “the sun had danced”, what nonsense! How far did superstition go? How can you be deceived like this and believe that nonsense?

But I was ready and willing to discover the deception. I had no idea how difficult that would be, but I had nothing better to do. I would devote myself to it for as long as necessary, because when I set out to do something, I go all in to reach my goal.

On top of that, I had read something about the subject of Fatima, to try to understand “The Documents,” which I had hidden well. It was not until my first vacation, when I had more free time, that I thought I would devote a little time to that topic, to see what I could find out.

“I’m going to Portugal for a few days,” I told my family.

“Son, when did you make that decision? Why so suddenly? Has something happened that you don’t want to tell us about?” asked my surprised mother.

“Mom, I’m older now,” I replied with affection, “it’s high time I made a move and learn something for myself.”

“No, it’s not that I object, but tell me, what part of Portugal will you go to?” she asked in a worried tone.

“I think I’ll go to Fatima,” I said, lowering my voice.

“Whaaat?” said Carmen, “to Fatima? Did I just hear you properly? What business do you have going to Fatima?”

“Well, to Lisbon,” I adjusted quickly.

“I thought I heard you say you were going to Fatima,” she said with a smile. “Will it not be to pray, to get rid of those weird ideas in your head?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked seriously. “We all have the freedom to believe in whatever we want.”

My father, who certainly had an opinion on a matter like that, even if it was not the same as mine, intervened and said:

“Yes Manu, believe, if you can, in whatever you want, in something that’s not right and which I think even goes ‘against nature.’ I didn’t know then what it meant, to not believe, to question everything and to have such absurd ideas, but how can there not be a God who created us, who created everything? That’s impossible.”

“Dad,” I said, “let’s drop the subject, we’ve already discussed many times. You have your ideas, and I have mine, and I don’t think I’m hurting anyone thinking the way I do, and Mom, rest assured that I’ll be careful and nothing bad is gonna happen to me,” I said when I saw how her expression had changed when that topic of conversation had come up.

My mother, who didn’t want to talk about it either, said:

“Do you know that the twins have written?”

“Really? And what did they say?” Carmen asked very quickly, because she wanted to move away from the subject too.

“Well, that they’re doing very well at camp, that they swim a lot and that they’re training for a competition. They both say they’ll win.”

“Well, as always,” said my father, interrupting her, “they’ll have to give the trophy to both of them and they’ll have to share it. In reality that won’t be difficult because they sleep in the same room.”

“Well, I wonder,” said Chelito, “why don’t they each focus on something different?”

“But darling,” said Mom, “that’s impossible, they always have to do everything together.”

“No, I know that they were born together, but at some point they’ll have to realize that they have to do things separately, otherwise when they get older, will they also marry the same woman? I think that with that condition, no one will want them.”

Laughing at the remark, we finished the meal, but after having been in my room for a little while, I heard some tapping on the door. I was surprised because I hadn’t heard any footsteps in the hall.

“Yeees?” I said.

“Can I have a moment?” I heard quietly.

“Sure,” I answered. “Come in, come in, what do you want?”

Opening the door just a little, Carmen slipped inside:

“You don’t fool me you know. What are you looking for in a place like Fatima?” she asked, and then she said, “Look me in the eye and answer me, are you questioning something about religion at this point? You can count on me brother, you know that, right?”

“No!” I said in a serious tone. It seemed to just come out of me and I raised my voice a little.

“Alright, don’t be like that, don’t get angry, just acknowledge that what you said is very strange, that the one time you go on your own vacation, you’ve chosen to go there,” she told me.

“Well, it’s not the first time I’m leaving home on my own. Besides, what do you care where I’m going?”

“Why wouldn’t I care? I’m your big sister and I know it’s not the first time to see you doing something on your own. I already know that, but the other times were different, you got up to those high jinks over your summer breaks, to ‘help out in your own way,’ as you put it when you didn’t want to give us any further explanation.”

“What’s wrong? Can I not do what I want now? Didn’t I go to Paris?” I said a little nervously.

“Yes,” she answered immediately, “Paris, you were so lucky! I remember it well, but you weren’t alone, I think you were four, right? I think it’s great that you’re going where you want, I just wanted to know why this time was different, it just surprised me, that’s all.”

Not wanting to give her any more information, I said:

“Go on, leave me be, I have to study. I’ve got a final exam tomorrow and it’s gonna be pretty hard.”

“Alright, but when you come back from your trip, you have to tell me what you’ve seen, okay?”

“Okay,” I said so she would drop the subject, and saying goodbye, she left the room.

I looked at the closet. Fortunately, no one knew what I had hidden there. They would have asked me so many questions if they did. I would’ve had to give them so many explanations, and say to them, “Please don’t tell anyone,” so many times.

It was better this way, with only me knowing. I would share it with them some day, when I was clear on the matter, when I had discovered the reasons why that person had hidden it in that place.

<<<<< >>>>>

On my second day of being in Fatima, a very strange impulse within me compelled me to head to a solitary place. I let myself be carried away. For some time, I had stopped wondering about certain things that happened to me, and my curiosity made me follow those impulses. I knew that what happened next was not by chance, because I’ve never believed in coincidences.

I walked slowly, as if I were waiting for something, but waiting for what? I didn’t know anyone there. I had only arrived yesterday, and nobody knew that I was there, because I hadn’t told any of my family the specific place where I was going to stay.

Surely they thought I would be staying in Lisbon and that was also what I had thought at first, but when I arrived here at Fatima and after driving around a little to take a look at the place, I saw that sign that said, “Quartos,” or “Rooms,” so I stopped the car and got out. I had to ask if there were any free rooms to spend the night. A man was standing there at the door to the place and approaching him, I asked about it.

“Yes son, there are still some left, they’re not exactly banging my door down, this place only fills up on special occasions, and now it seems that the weather isn’t bringing much business with it,” he answered before entering the building.

I turned around to properly park and lock the car, then I went back to the entrance and saw the man talking to a woman. They both looked over at me as I came in through the door, and the man left to go into another room, closing the door behind him as he went.

After greeting me, the lady asked me if I would stay that night. At that moment I was confused and answered:

“I don’t know!”

Opening her eyes wide, she said:

“Do you no longer want the room? What happened?”

“No, yes, I want it, but I don’t know if it’s only for one night or if I’ll stay for longer,” I answered.

“Ah, alright, don’t worry about that, stay as long as you want,” and she gave me a key. “Look at this one, it’s bigger than the others and you’ll get a better sleep,” she said putting a smile on her face.

“Can you tell that I’m tired?” I asked.

“Well, getting a little sleep is good for us all. I’ll prepare something for your dinner, you must be hungry, and it’ll do you some good to have eaten a little something before going to bed,” the woman was telling me with such confidence, as if she were a relative, even though we had only met just a few moments ago.

“Yes,” I said, “I’ve been driving for a long time, I didn’t want to arrive too late and find everything closed around here.”

“Alright, well, everything will be ready in half an hour,” she told me, “I’m running off to make it now.”

I went to the car, because I just remembered that in the rush, I hadn’t taken my luggage, and I took out a bag that I had prepared, with some clothes and shaving stuff. Although I didn’t really have much of a beard, one of my friends had told me that if I shaved every day, it would grow quicker and come in more, and I wanted to have a beard.

What’s more, I was determined that when it grew in properly, I would leave it, that would certainly give me a more serious look, because I was tired of everyone telling me I had a baby face. That made me mad, I at least wanted to look my age.

I went up to the room. Upon entering, I looked around to take it all in. It was a simple room, but everything was very clean, I liked it, I was sure I would get a good rest there.

I tossed the bag onto the bed, then I thought better of it and picked it back up, putting it on the table and I lay on the bed to stretch my body a little. I spent a little while there before going downstairs for dinner.

What she had prepared for me smelled so good! It was a vegetable soup, something indescribable. There were vegetables of all colors, but the taste was incredible!

I had to ask her how she had done it. I wanted to tell my mother so she could make it for me. I complimented her for it and she stared at me. At first I thought she hadn’t understood me correctly, but immediately putting on a broad smiling, she said:

“Son, it’s just a handful of vegetables from the garden, boiled in some water,” and smiling, she walked away saying: “That poor boy was so hungry, it looks like he hasn’t eaten all day.”

When I heard her, I thought she was referring to how quickly I had eaten it, right to the last spoonful of that course that had tasted so good.

The second course wasn’t long in coming, an omelet, from the smell of it, and again I got that impression that it was fresh food that was being prepared. I waited a little for it to cool down, and as I absently-mindedly split it with my fork, I thought, “Who would have told me that in this life it would have occurred to me to come to this place, with so many other places to see, and look at me now, here I am, let’s see what comes of it!” and thinking that the omelet had already cooled enough for me to eat it, I put a piece into my mouth:

“Ow!” I said in surprise, it was still too hot

Well thank goodness I was the only person in that dining room, something that I had verified with a quick glance to see if anyone had heard me.

No, nobody saw it. I waited a little longer and then I tasted that delight, omelet with asparagus, which surely was also from her garden. It was so delicious, and even I was thinking that, not being a great lover of vegetables, but I acknowledge that that night, everything was excellent. Perhaps it was because of the trip that had made me so hungry, and that I had long since finished the last sandwich my mother had prepared for me to eat, because I wouldn’t let her give me more, I thought I would have enough. Maybe it was the exhaustion or I don’t know. What I do know is that I did have to take a bite out of one of the sandwiches from time to time, which I’d put there next to me on the passenger seat, until I finished it and reached for the next one. I don’t think I was eating like that just out of hunger, but out of loneliness too.

“Be careful what you eat out there, you don’t know how it will be made,” my worried mother had told me while she gave them to me.

“Mother, relax. I’m sure that the Portuguese also know how to cook properly, though I’m sure not as well as you,” I said to try to get her to think of something else.

“Manu, be careful with the road too. Don’t rush, you know you’ll be safer if you drive slowly.”

That’s what I think was troubling her, but I was someone else in the car, I think I was cautious to the extreme. I didn’t like rushing, or exposing myself to any danger.

I had a lot of respect for the wheel, and my father also told me, “I’ll pay for your gasoline for now, but any fines you’ll pay yourself, because if you drive carefully, they’ll never impose one on you, as has happened to me. I’ve never once been fined.”

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized that I’d finished that delicious omelet. At that point, the lady came out through the door with dessert in her hand, a homemade flan, that was really too much for me, and I said:

“If you keep treating me this well, you’ll not let me continue my trip, I’ll have to stay here forever.”

“Well, I just want you to feel good, and that way you’ll remember us, and when you come back through here again, you’ll surely pay us a visit,” she said smiling.

“Certainly, you can be sure of that,” I said and began to taste that delicious flan, which was wobbling on the plate, just inviting me to eat it.

<<<<< >>>>>

I felt quite nervous during the first part of the night. Something was wrong, although I didn’t know what. It was impossible for me to fall asleep and I did nothing more than toss and turn in bed. It’s not that it was uncomfortable, it was quite the opposite, it was very comfortable. In fact, it had been a long time since I’d been lying in such a big bed, because it was a double, for which I thanked the owner of the place at that moment in my mind. I was certain that as she saw I was so tall she’d said to herself, “This one needs something big,” and that’s why she’d given me this room.

I blamed the problem on the fatigue of the trip, I had never driven so much. I was remembering reaching a certain point along the road where I’d stopped and gotten out to stretch my legs a little, and I’d been contemplating the landscape for a while.

I could see the Miño river, how full of water it was and how wide it was, I’d never seen anything like it and I liked what I was seeing. I noticed the island and the structure in the middle of it, I knew it was a prison and I wondered, “Who’s idea would it have been to build it there? It would have been better to have built a hotel there with this landscape and the guests could have enjoyed the views.”

At that point, I was still not sure whether I should continue with the journey or not, I could still go back. I asked myself, “Why had I insisted that I had to go to that particular place? What did I want to find there?” and I told myself, “Well, seeing that I’ve come this far, I should continue, there’s no turning back now, let’s see what comes out of all this.”

Now that I was finally here and after that long journey I’d just made, I couldn’t forget that thought I’d had from there, looking out over the Miño. “If you had stopped before you got here, you’d not be here now,” I was saying to the water, and that made me continue, more emboldened. I was also going to continue on my way to see where it took me. I got back into the car, started the engine and said:

“Thank you Miño for your boost,” and crossing the bridge, I didn’t hesitate again, “The die had been cast,” as they say. I would continue to the end, I had to see what destiny had in store for me.

<<<<< >>>>>

I had taken out two books, those that seemed the most interesting. “It would be quieter here,” I thought, leafing through them as I used to do whenever a book fell into my hands. I had the habit of taking a look at the whole thing first, to see the chapters. I used to read the last page too, although someone had told me:

“That’s how you take away the fun.”

I’d been doing it that way since my sister Carmen once told me:

“Manu, when you know the ending, you read it more carefully.”

I think of her all the time, but that’s because she’s older than me, she taught me so many of the things that I know. It is true of course that my parents tell me things, but being parents, there is a lot they don’t take into account.

What are they going to tell me? Just adult things, but what my sister told me was different, she had always taken care of me, and her advice came in handy. When I followed it, which wasn’t always I’ll be honest, because I’m a little stubborn, but when I did pay attention to what she told me, I could generally see that she was right.

She helped me with my homework, and helped me get good grades, because she always added some example for me, with which I could then show off in class, because my classmates didn’t know it.

That was the advantage of having an older sister and one that was so smart. I could ask her about things, and she would know the answer.

She was two years above me in school, and since she was very studious, she’d always gotten the best grades in her class.

I started reading that book in my hands with curiosity to see what happened, I had liked the ending. It was a study, conducted by an author who self-identified as an atheist. That was curious, that made two of us who were interested in that topic, because the rest of the books were either written by priests, or by journalists who were very personally involved in the subject for religious reasons. That was what had made me decide upon these two that I had brought with me.

One seemed scientific, with dates of the event and almost no additional comments to divert attention away from the occurrence itself. This was the one I had in my hands, which purported to be, according to its synopsis, an aseptic, in-depth study of “The Great Deception that Surrounded the Entire Subject and Discovering the Reasons Behind it.” Although those words written there seemed a little harsh in my view, deep down I did agree with them.

If you really want to analyze a subject, you cannot take part in it. Feelings or beliefs should never be involved, just a study of the facts and nothing else. That’s what I had proposed from the beginning, to try to collect as much information as possible and then collate it thoroughly, and write a paper on it.

I wasn’t sure why I wanted to do it, but I had to continue, because it was getting interesting.

I kept remembering the amount of documentation that I had found when I’d first started looking, and without the need to leave my hometown, but I was determined to travel, if necessary, to continue finding more material on the subject.

I had to get up to turn on the light. The sun had gone, I don’t know how, or when, I hadn’t been aware of the passage of time, what I was reading was so interesting that it had flown past, as they say.

First I turned on the ceiling lamp, stretched my arms a little and thought, “I’m going to make myself a sandwich and I’ll continue reading for a while, I don’t really plan to go out,” the weather didn’t really invite it. In addition to the fine rain that we usually always have in Santiago, there was an unpleasant breeze blowing today, the kind that gets right into your bones.

After a visit to the bathroom, I quickly made a sandwich with the first things I found, a slice of bread with chorizo sausage, that would surely be delicious. The truth is that I don’t have any aversions to anything, everything seems great when it’s time to eat. Well, if I did have any aversions, I don’t know what they would be to, because I’m forever eating.

I didn’t have the patience to eat the whole thing and after a few mouthfuls, I looked back at the book. Leaving what I still had in my hands on the napkin, I continued, engrossed in my reading. It was so novel and so interesting that before I realized it, it was morning, or rather, the alarm clock sounded.

I got freaked out, that could not be the time. Yes, I’d been reading all night and not only that, but looking at the table, I saw that more than half a sandwich was still sitting there, just left on top of the napkin. “How could I have left it sitting there unfinished and not even noticed?” I asked myself in surprise.

Closing the book quickly, I almost ran to the shower. I had to get a move on if I didn’t want to be late for work, but even though I was a little tired, the truth was that it was worth spending the time reading that book.

It’s really quite amazing how the work of some people can in turn make it easier for others to get on with their own. I’d been receiving all that information compiled by the author through his trips to so many different sites, and however many interviews he’d conducted to find out so much, while I was seated comfortably absorbing the knowledge.

If I’d been determined to dedicate my time and my efforts to illuminating the truth before, a truth that seemed increasingly likely to have been concealed, now, I suddenly found myself with a huge desire to see where all this took me.

Up to that point, Fatima was just a more or less meaningless word to me, a place that had been, and which still was, important to many people, although it had never interested me personally. Now I found myself becoming increasingly interested in the place.

I wanted to know why there was so much mystery surrounding something that should be simple. If there were really seers and messages, why were they not available to anyone who wanted to know what they were, whether they were a believer or, as in my case, not?

Firstly, it was out of curiosity, to substantiate my discovery, that secret of mine, which nobody knew, and that of the person who had left it hidden there, because if they had wanted it to be known, they would certainly not have chosen to keep it there in that secluded place.

Thinking about it, why would they have done that? Couldn’t they have found a better place to leave something that important?

This intrigued me right from the start, from the moment I scraped at the damaged wall, trying to fix it up a little, giving it a coat of plaster. I noticed that a brick had shifted, which made me take a closer look at it, because up to that point it had been just that, a wall that I had to scrape so I could then apply some patches and then paint it to make it look decent. It was certainly not decent-looking when I’d found it, and if that wall could speak, it could tell me how many years it had been standing there without anyone spending any time maintaining it, that’s how bad it was.

“What am I saying? If the wall could speak!” That word made me reflect. That was undoubtedly what the wall had done, it had spoken to me through what I’d found. How would they have taken the brick out at the time? How had they been able to carefully place that behind it? And how could it have been preserved over all this time?

When I’d taken out the little package, the fabric that was wrapped around it was very damaged, because it had absorbed all the moisture and thus protected the contents, which were still in perfect condition.

I remember that I was going to look at what it was more closely, when I heard my companion who was shouting, calling out to me:

“Manu, it’s time for sandwiches, come on, you can get back to it afterwards, it’s time to rest for a while.”

Fearing that he would come into the room where I was, I tried to quickly store what I had just found in the back pocket of my pants, but seeing that it wouldn’t fit no matter how much I pushed it, I unfastened two of my buttons, carefully placed it under my shirt and put on my sweater, which I’d brought with me and sat down there on the floor in one corner. That was how I went out to join the others, have my sandwiches and chat for a while. And so we rested and talked about how each of us were doing in the tasks we had been assigned.

“What’s up Manu?” the others asked when they saw me appear.

“Well, I’ve been peeling the wall and removing all the bits that are coming loose, but I think we’re going to have to repair the whole thing, it’s in a really sorry state,” I said, taking a bite out of the mouth-watering sandwich I had in my hands, which Simón had just given me.

“You’re so lucky!” Blas told me. “Today I have to repair the roof, that’s much more difficult.”

“Do you need any help?” I asked him, but I was hoping he would answer me that he didn’t, I just said it in the spirit of compromise. I’ve never liked heights, but I thought it would be nice to offer my assistance.

“No, I can do it on my own for now, but I’ll call you if I need you,” he answered me.

When we were finishing up with our sandwiches, a few drops of rain began to fall, and when I saw that, I said to Blas:

“Looks like your work is done for the day, you’ll not be able to get up onto the roof, it seems you won’t need my help after all.”

“Yeah, nobody’s getting up there now” he answered looking up at the sky, then he added, “Well, you know what? Now I’m gonna be the one who comes to help you, what do you say?”

And without waiting for an answer, he went with great strides into the room where I was halfway through my work and put himself to work on another wall, removing the loose pieces. He looked at me and said:

“Of course I don’t know how you always manage to land the simplest jobs, you’re so the favorite! I’m sure it’ll be because you’re always willing to do any job and you never complain about it, so they reward you by giving you the less strenuous jobs,” and laughing, he added, “I’m only kidding by the way, don’t get annoyed. Look at how heavy the rain is now, especially given how lovely a day it was earlier! It was so nice that I said to myself when I was up there, ‘If the wind blows those clouds away, I’ll have time to inspect that row of tiles and replace the broken ones,’ but clearly it’s not a day to be changing tiles, they’ll have to wait a little longer. To be fair, I’m sure they’re not too bothered, because I have no idea how long they’ll have been like this, but it’s certainly been a good few years since anyone has lifted them off.”

Impatient because the day was ending, and because I had to remove my sweater so I could get on with the work, I tried not to move much, because I feared that Blas, who was now there with me, would notice the bulge under my shirt, which felt massive to me, even though he was working on the wall behind me.

Suddenly, perhaps due to the rain, the temperature changed, and using that excuse I quickly put on my sweater again.

“You’re gonna get it caked in dust!” Blas told me when he saw that I’d put it back on.

“It’s just that I’m cold, but I’ll be careful not to get it stained,” I replied.

“Cold? Are you for real? Take it off and you’ll see how much faster the work goes,” he said laughing. “Goodness, you get cold easily!” He got on with his work and we didn’t talk any further.

With that “Little package” already well hidden, I felt calmer, but I was wishing that the day would end so I could leave. I don’t ever remember that having happened to me, because I was usually the one who always finished last.

“Let’s keep going for a while longer, there’s still a lot of work to be done here,” I would tell the others in the evening when it was time to pack up and leave.

“Leave something for tomorrow! Don’t you see that even the sun has gone to rest?” they would protest at me, already looking tired and happy to leave it behind and go home.

I would drop whatever I was doing, but reluctantly, and on the way home I would always say:

“We could have stayed a little longer, we still have a lot to get through, and if we don’t hurry, the summer will be over and we won’t have finished everything.”

“Fine, we’ll stay longer tomorrow,” they would answer me, but they never did. Normally, as soon as the sun went down, we would leave, but today I was the first to say it:

“Guys, what if we leave it until tomorrow?”

“Earlier you were cold and now you want to go? Hmm! That sounds fishy to me, you’re not getting sick are you? Those symptoms sound like you might be coming down with the flu, or something worse,” Blas said surprised.

“Get outta here, don’t exaggerate, it’s not like we can wait for the sun to set today, because it hasn’t even come out,” I said trying to justify myself.

“Well, let’s gather everything up and we’ll continue tomorrow,” he said.

The others also agreed, because even though we’d not yet finished the task we’d set ourselves, as we do every day, today we all seemed a little more tired than usual. It would be because of the change in the weather, and picking everything up, we left.

The rain started falling even heavier than before and wore my raincoat. In Santiago de Compostela you always have to be prepared, and when you get into the habit, you always carry it wherever you go.

That prevented the rain from wetting my sweater, and with it, the object that I was hiding with such zeal, but my legs were soaking wet, because the rain had been accompanied by an unpleasant wind, so the water that fell came from all directions, and it was impossible to stop it from soaking me all over.

I took a warm shower when I arrived, but quickly, because I was impatient, and I think even nervous. That was something unusual for me, my classmates had always told me:

“Manu, you’re the calmest person we know. We never see you getting nervous, you don’t seem to get bothered by anything.”

Well, I would say that I did get nervous, but I didn’t show it. Now I was really starting to notice it, instead of hitting the hot tap, I hit the cold, so when that jet of icy water sprayed out, I wasn’t expecting it and I jumped back, then in the kitchen, I went to heat up a glass of milk, to invigorate myself, and instead of milk I poured water into the saucepan. “You see!” I thought. “Boy, you’re more nervous than Jell-O, be careful.”

Just then, Mrs. Petra, the owner of the boarding house, came into the kitchen and asked me if I needed anything. She had told us from the first day that everything was at our disposal, that we were the only ones in the whole place, well, besides them of course, but that when we needed anything, there was no need to ask her, we could just take it because we already knew where everything was.

Of course, she showed it to us by opening all the drawers, so that if we needed anything, like sugar at breakfast, or water or whatever, we confidently went into the kitchen and took it for ourselves, that’s why I was here trying to prepare the milk for myself.

I answered that I was a little out of sorts and was going to prepare a glass of milk.

“Hold on, I’ll prepare it for you and I’ll even throw in a little honey, you’ll see how well your body takes to it and you’ll have recovered in no time,” and she immediately set herself to warming it up.

Already more relaxed after taking that little glass of warm milk, which went down so well, I returned to my room and sat down, carefully picking up the little package that I had left there when I came in. “What might it contain?” I asked myself. “Who could have put this there?” I also asked myself. “Hold your horses Manuel, you’re about to find out what it is,” and with trembling hands, something that I could see perfectly clearly, I started to unwrap it.

First I removed the rag, which back in its day must surely have been white, but now it was a color somewhere between brown and blackish due to the moisture it had absorbed. It was that object that I had already handled when I pulled it out from the wall, but which I had then put back where I’d found it. It seems I hadn’t put it back so carefully though, because I remember that when I had originally taken out the little package from the hole left by the brick when it had been removed, the small package was well wrapped and the wrapping was uncrinkled. Now though, as I’d rewrapped it hurriedly for fear that my companion would come in and see me with it, a part of the fabric had torn slightly.

I had already noticed myself doing it when I’d tried to unwrap it there the first time, but my haste had made me so inattentive. Now I was treating it with great care, although there was nothing I could do about the damage.

I left the pieces of cloth there on the table and continued removing the rest of the fabric very carefully. I did not want anything to go wrong, because if the fabric was the packaging, what was important was what I was about to see, what I had here in my hands, “Come on!” I thought at that moment.

Before continuing, some questions popped into my mind, “What should I do with what I have here? Who will own it? And how can I justify that I’ve seen it?”

A lot of doubts were jostling around in my mind, when I decided to cast them aside and continue with the task of finding out what it was, what it contained and I continued slowly, very slowly unfolding that fabric.

With every fold I unwrapped, I imagined the hands that had wrapped it, surely they were feminine, a man wouldn’t have been so careful.

<<<<< >>>>>

I was alone in the room. I had closed the door. I did not want any surprises, someone who needed something and came at that inopportune moment to ask me, or any of the guys wanting to ask me about something.

I don’t know why, but I had suddenly become afraid and that was what made me not only turn the key to lock the door, but also to place a chair to jam the door, something that I was surprised to find myself doing, because it was a reflex, like I was protecting myself, but I wasn’t sure what from.

At that moment, I saw myself doing it and I had no logical explanation for it. It seemed that I was anticipating the problems I would have in the future, but now I had no reason to be so cautious.

I took the object slowly with my hands. I’d left it on the bed when going to lock the door, because a moment ago when I was finally on the verge of seeing it, I realized that anyone could come in and catch me with it in my hand, so I left it very carefully on the bedspread. Now back, I took it between my fingers as carefully as if it were a delicate crystal.

I noticed the calluses I had on the palms of both hands, anyone who saw them wouldn’t doubt for a moment that they were the hands of a laborer, perhaps a full-time bricklayer. I had already gotten used to them, but Mom said that “I had to take care of them, that my hands were going to spoil me forever and that no girl would want me to caress her, because I would scratch her.”

Chelito had found that very amusing and said:

“You’re going to stay single, nobody will ever love you.”

“You shut up snot nose, they’re hardly gonna be knocking down your door either with those freckles you have, who’s going to notice you? And if they do it’ll only be to try to wash your face, to see if they can get those spots off you,” I said jokingly, but it always ended up making her angry, although that wasn’t what I’d intended, because my little sister was the one I loved the most.

When my mother heard me, she scolded me:

“Manu, you’re too old to treat your little sister like that, don’t you see what you’ve done?”

“Mom,” said Chelito, “but don’t you see that the poor thing has no other way of messing with me? He always says the same thing to me. It’s because men are ‘so dense’ that on some rare occasion, when something occurs to them, they use it all the time. Manu’s problem is that he envies me, you’ve not noticed it, he knows I’m smarter than he is,” and with a laugh from my mother, the discussion was over:

“It’ll be as you say darling, Manu would like to have freckles like you,” and off she went to get on with her tasks.

<<<<< >>>>>

I stopped looking at my hands and being careful not to damage what I had between them right then, I went ahead. I carefully removed the papers from the wrapper, I had already seen how fragile they all were when they’d been covered, and how they’d been damaged as soon as they were touched. Now I saw that yellowish paper and I took it out with great care. I was surprised; inside was “a little book.”

I sat on the bed, a chill ran through my body, what was I doing with that it my hands?

I looked around the room, as if wanting to make sure nobody saw me. “What nonsense!” I told myself.

Nobody can get in here and there’s nowhere to hide, since the room was very small. A bed, which was indeed very comfortable; a nightstand with a drawer; the chair which I had placed at the door earlier; a small closet, which of course would only be capable of hiding someone very thin, and the table placed in front of the window; that window through which the light entered and you could see the small courtyard down below, a white wall opposite and nothing else.

That made me feel calmer. I was sure that nobody was watching me. Sitting on the bed, I shifted as if wanting to reassure myself. I corrected my posture, because I had a nervous itch that ran down my back.

I realized, what if someone had slipped into the bathroom? And as if propelled by a spring, I jumped up and moving around the bed I abruptly opened the door.

At that moment, again I thought, “What nonsense!” It was naturally empty.

As my nerves were making my hands all sweaty, I rinsed them in the sink since I was already there, and taking the towel, I dried them. When I tried to put it back where it’d been hanging, I missed and it fell to the floor. I bent down to pick it up. As I put it back on the towel rack, I saw myself in the mirror and I said to myself, “Manu, why are you so nervous? This is very strange for you, calm down.”

I turned around and went back into the bedroom, I went around the bed, and sitting down again carefully, I took that little book that was there waiting to be looked through.

“BREVIARIUM,” yes, that’s what it said on the cover, which left me thoughtful for a few moments. Who would have left their prayer book in there? Why would they have hidden it in the first place? What fears led them to hide it so carefully? How would they have managed to find the right place? It’s not easy to take a brick out of those pilasters, which are solid and usually strongly secured.

The questions were crowding my mind, without giving me time to find any logical answers that could clarify anything. I opened that “Little book” that I had in my hands with great curiosity, with those black covers made of a strong cardboard, but which were very worn.

It was clear that it had been used a great deal, but why had the owner left it there hidden despite clearly having loved it so much? Maybe the plan had been to retrieve it at a later date?

I don’t know how many mysteries were surging through my mind, but what I was sure of was that it belonged to a woman. Why? That was simple, the place was a convent for nuns, as far as I was aware. That was the reason it had been built and it had never had any other tenants aside from them.

I looked at it carefully and thought, “Surely it had to belong to one of them,” but why would she have put it in such an unusual place? And if she’s living there, why hadn’t she taken it out when she’d learned that we were going to repair the walls?

It might be that the owner is no longer there, perhaps she’s already passed away, or she’s gone somewhere else. Then, why wouldn’t she have taken it with her? Maybe she forgot about it, it all seemed so strange to me!

Reflecting on these questions, I stopped and closed the “Little book” again. What if it was personal? What if she had something written down? What right did I have to read something personal that someone had written in there?

I started to feel like an intruder who was going to violate someone’s privacy, who was going to break that veil of mystery that the person had wanted to cover up there, so well-hidden, and who did I think I was to clumsily handle the discovery of that secret that she wanted to keep?

I really didn’t believe that anyone would put it there as a joke, if they were hiding it there for a prank and someone had taken it from its owner and hidden it there for her to find, why would it still be hidden there? Who would it belong to?

Of course, what was certainly beyond any doubt, is that it had been there for a long time because of the fragility of the fabric that it had been wrapped in, or could it be that the fabric was part of the joke? and it was already old and fragile when she put it there. Surely not! If so, whoever it was would have wrapped it up with more care.

I was pondering these questions when I heard a knock on the door that scared me. I stayed very still. I think I even held my breath, when again I heard the knocking and someone saying:

“Manu, have you fallen asleep? We’re waiting for you to have dinner.”

Those words brought me back to reality. Suddenly I saw my room, I was sitting on the bed, and I awkwardly said:

“I’m coming now!” with a faltering voice.

“Wake up sleepy! If you don’t, we’re gonna eat your share,” he was saying from the hallway.

“I’m coming!” I said a little louder this time, “go on ahead.”

I listened to my friend’s footsteps as he was walking down the hallway. I took a quick look around the whole room, I had to find a hiding place for the “Little book,” somewhere where nobody would find it if they came into the room while I was not there.

At that moment I thought, “Who exactly will come in if they’ve already cleaned it today?” However, I decided to first wrap it up in a handkerchief of mine that I took from the drawer of the nightstand.

I carefully wrapped it up and then, climbing onto the chair, placed it on top of the closet, as far back as I could. Surely the cleaning girl wouldn’t be able to reach it there, because she was shorter than me. If she had the intention of searching on top of the closet to see if I had put anything there, surely she wouldn’t reach the place where I had left it.

What was certain was that as long as she didn’t bring a ladder to look on top of it, it would be impossible for her to find it, and I dare say, why would she bring a ladder? Alright, perhaps to change the bulb if it blew, but it was glowing perfectly brightly.

I was also sure that they only came into the rooms to clean up just once a day and as I had checked when I got back from the convent, the bed had been made and the towels had been changed in the bathroom. She wouldn’t be back here again today.

Another small detail; if it was dinner time, the girl would be serving the tables, so I was sure that no one would enter in my absence.

Putting on my sweater and feeling more relaxed, I went over to the door, opened it and closed it behind me. Heading down the long corridor as I went to the dining room, I thought, “And where will I leave it tomorrow when I have to go to work?”

“Manu,” I answered myself for some reassurance, “just leave it there in the same place, I’m sure there’s no way anyone will find it, and besides, who would think to look for it? Nobody knows you have it,” and more calmly, I opened the door to the dining room and sat there were my companions.

“At last! sleepy! Look who we had to go find to get dinner, when you’re normally the first to arrive saying you’re about to pass out from hunger, and you start snacking on bread while they bring us the food. Are you coming down with something?” they asked me.

“What are you talking about? I’m just tired, something that can be remedied with some sleep,” I replied to reassure them.

Dinner passed without any major upheavals. I tasted what I’d been given without much enthusiasm, and I must have made some strange expression, because they told me laughing:

“They haven’t quite hit the mark with your preferences today. Boy, that means your situation is more serious than we thought, because you normally always praise everything they serve us. We’ve never heard you say, ‘I don’t like this!’ You’re always the first to clear your plate and wipe it clean saying, ‘The sauce is the best part, and it’s a shame to waste it,’ and today it seems you’re even having difficulties chewing. Have you got tonsillitis?”

“No,” I answered reluctantly, “I’ve already had my tonsils removed, I still remember how bad those days were after the operation when I couldn’t eat anything,” I told them so they would leave me alone.

“Tell us, tell us,” they said, “you never told us that, that there was a time when you’d gone without food and you didn’t die,” Jorge was saying, ever the jester.

Everyone laughed at the remark.

“Don’t laugh!” I said, becoming serious, “I had a really hard time.”

“We’re tired of hearing you say, ‘I’m so hungry that if I don’t have something to eat, I’ll die,’ so tell us about that. Come on! How could you put up with a day without eating?”

Reluctantly, because what I wanted was to go back to my room so I could finally open that little book in peace, the book that had been so zealously hidden, I started telling them about it, saying:

“Alright, well, like I said… when you have them removed, you can’t eat.”

“Wait,” said Jorge, who was always the loudest voice in the room, and who always came up with ideas, “and to celebrate this secret that you’re about to share with us, shall we have a little something?”

When I heard the word “Secret,” I was petrified, what was he saying? Could he know something about what was going on?

When he saw my face, he continued saying:

“Boy, I didn’t know it would be so difficult for you to talk about something that I don’t think is that serious.”

As words were failing me at that moment, he started saying:

“Well, when I was little, they operated on me…”

“You too?” the others asked.

“Nah, I’m just trying to help him get started,” Jorge said between laughs.

At that point, I realized what they wanted, and I said:

“Yes, when I was little…”

“What age?” they asked me.

“Don’t interrupt him, or he won’t tell us,” Jorge insisted.

“Alright, I’ll continue, I was eight years old, I remember it perfectly, I got really sick one day. My mother sent Carmen, who as you know is two years older than me, she sent her running for the doctor. He lived on the same street as we did, so it didn’t take her long to get there, although as he said, he didn’t like visiting anyone outside of his practice hours, because he had to rest too. What if he fell ill? Who would tend to him?”

“The thing is, I must have had a high fever, I still remember that my father picked me up and carried me to the car. Wait no, it was my mother who took me…”

“Can you make up your mind?” Santi said impatiently.

“Yes, the doctor must have said something to them, because I remember very clearly that my mother started crying and my Dad scolded her, and I found that surprising, ‘We have to move quickly, this is no time for tears,’ I heard him say. Even with the amount of time that’s passed, I’ve not forgotten that, because I’d never heard my father speak to her like that before.”

“Then I remember that he took me and carried me out of the house in his arms, as if I were a little kid. Then in the car, he was driving and my mother was in the back seat. She held me almost lying down, I remember having seen the street lamps shining from back there,” I said a little thoughtfully.

“So what are you saying? Are you gonna keep telling us your story or not? What do the street lamps have to do with anything?” Jorge asked me again.

“Look, it’s because I’d never been out at night in the car, I’d seen the street lamps lit now and then on the street, but not from that angle, with my head on my mother’s legs. I saw the lights go by in such a strange way, that I remember it perfectly well, as if it were happening right now. I remember making an effort and I got up a little to look out the window, and I saw how dark everything was. You could only see the row of street lamps lighting the place. I couldn’t make out where it was. It felt to me like it took a long time. I don’t remember anything else, until I found myself lying on a bed with a huge light above my face and someone, I think a man, but I’m not sure, was watching me with his mouth covered.”

“‘Just relax, everything will be alright, do you know how to count?’ asked that stranger with an unfamiliar voice, and I said yes.”

“‘Well, can you count to ten for me?’ he said, and covered my mouth with something strange. I remember hearing myself saying three, four, and then nothing else.”

“I don’t know what happened, just that I wanted to continue counting at five when I woke up, and my voice wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t hear myself count, and my mother by the bed said:

“‘He’s waking up.’”

“And I saw how my father, gave me a kiss with a worried face. That really surprised me, because he wasn’t the kissing type. Maybe he would give me one at Christmas, or on my birthday, but nothing more, and at the time I remembered that it was neither of those days. What might have happened for him to have kissed me? So I thought I had to ask him what was wrong.”

I stopped to take a breath, and Jorge impatiently took the floor.

“But boy, you still haven’t told us how you felt without eating,” he was telling me.

“Wait for me to continue then. I remember that I was very hungry. I was in bed, I had visited a doctor whom I didn’t know, that was not the norm, then I learned he was a specialist who had operated on me, an otolaryngologist,” I was saying, when I was interrupted again.

“You remember a name like that so well given how difficult it is,” the boys told me.

“Yes, because when I asked what he was called, and they told me, my father wrote it down for me so I wouldn’t forget it, and I read it so many times that I learned it by heart and that’s why I still remember it. Because I couldn’t talk, well I tried but nothing would come out, I communicated by writing in a notebook with a pencil, which the nurse gave me. I’m sure she knew what had happened because she gave it to me the first time she came to see me.”

“‘As you’re old enough and because I’m sure you know how to write very well, when you want something, just write it here,’ and taking the two items out of her pocket she told me, ‘Take them, do you like them?’”

“The first thing I wrote said:

‘Is it for me? Thank you, yes, I like them a lot.’”

“‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘I bought them for you,’ she was saying there next to my bed.”

“‘And can I take them home with me?’ I wrote again there in the notebook.”

“She picked it up again to read what I had written, she answered laughing:

‘Of course, I told you they’re for you, as they say, ‘You can’t take back a gift you’ve given, that way you won’t get into heaven.’’”

“I was amazed because I’d never heard anyone say that before and I asked my mother, or rather I wrote in that notebook:

‘Mom! What is this missus talking about?’”

“The nurse, who thought that what I was writing was also for her said:

‘Missus? How old do you think I am young man?’ and laughing, she left the room.

“I didn’t understand what she meant, but my mother told me:

‘Rest up, you still have to recover.’”

“I picked up the little notebook again and wrote:

‘And when can I eat here Mom?’ I was already noticing that my stomach was grumbling having not eaten anything for a while.”

“‘I’m afraid you can’t do that yet Manu, they’ve had to remove your tonsils,’ she said, looking at me.”

“‘What does that mean Mom?’ I wrote, and I put my hand to my throat as if I wanted to look for a scar, but I didn’t notice anything, but in spite of it I couldn’t speak, even though I wanted to.”

“My father took my hand with a lot of affection, and sitting on the bed he said:

‘Manu, tonsils are the little lumps that hang down at the back of the mouth, and if they get bad, they have to be removed.’”

“‘Right,’ I wrote in my notebook, ‘Well, if they have already been taken out, when can I eat something? I’m starving.’”

“Oh, so when you were a kid you also said that you were dying of hunger?” interrupted Jorge.

Getting up from the table, I said:

“I’m done, I’m not telling you anymore, I’m going to sleep.” But at that moment, the girl entered the dining room and came over to our table, with slices of cake piled onto a tray, one for each one of us.

“Go on then! Get outta here! It’s your loss, all the more for us, we’ll divide up your slice among us,” Santi was already saying, “since you’re so tired, I bet you’d rather be in bed than eating this.”

I looked at that tasty treat, chocolate cake, I could hardly miss out on that and I sat back down again. We distributed the slices, tossing each onto the little plates that they had set down for us. They gave me the biggest piece, saying:

“You’ve earned it for sharing your secret, but don’t take a bite until you finish telling us everything.”

“Well, there’s not much left to tell. I was there, admitted to that place, which I later learned was a hospital in La Coruña, which my parents had had to take me to in a hurry that night. Like I said, I was admitted and I wasn’t even allowed to take any water at first. I was allowed after a while, but just water. I don’t know how long that took, to me it seemed like a month or more.”

“Come on! Stop exaggerating,” the boys said when they heard me say that, “nobody stays in hospital for a month for tonsillitis.”

“Yes, my mother told me it had only been two days, then they gave me my first liquid food, but I think she just told me that to comfort me, because I really had a hard time not being able to eat, because despite the fever and everything else, at no point did my desire for food go away.”

“Did the wound hurt?” Santi asked.

“No, not at all! It was just my gut that hurt, it really craved something, anything, it kept telling me it was empty, I wrote to the nurse in my little notebook every time she came to put in the thermometer or make my bed, ‘I want to eat,’ with very big letters so she could see it properly.”

“‘You’ll have to wait! When the doctor tells me, I’ll bring you so much that you won’t be able to eat it all,’ she told me with a smile, but she left and nothing would convince her.”

“Then when the doctor came to see me and I showed him the message in the notebook, he would tell me:

‘Yes, I know, but you’ll have to wait a little longer, the wounds need time to heal.’”

“And I wrote to him:

‘I don’t have any wounds, what wounds are you talking about?’”

“‘You do,’ he answered me, ‘they’re on the inside and they’re doing very well.’ That was what he’d tell me after making me open my mouth and popping in a little stick, like a Popsicle stick, which sometimes made me gag.”

“‘Manu, be careful, don’t throw up on the doctor,’ my Mom would tell me whenever that happened.”

“I picked up my notebook again, I started writing there:

‘I can’t throw anything up because I don’t have anything inside me, or have you forgotten, since they don’t want to feed me here? They’ll be waiting for me to go home so I can eat there.’”

“That made everyone laugh, which I did not like and I got very angry, and I even started crying. Nobody understood the big problem that I had, the hunger that would not leave me in peace.”

“Well, that’s pretty much it, then one day I was eating just a puréed meal. It was an awful meal, but because I was so hungry, I said to myself:

‘If I don’t eat this, they won’t want to bring me anything else,’ and when I finished it, and it really wasn’t easy for me to swallow it, I remember being surprised. I said to myself, ‘Given how hungry I am, the fact that I can’t swallow it means it must be really bad.’”

“Well, after all that I did get better, the doctor discharged me, not that I knew what that meant, and he told me:

‘You have to be careful for a few days not to eat anything hard.’ I remember it very well because when I heard it, I thought about nougat, that very hard sweet my grandmother used to buy for Christmas, and I was about to write it in my notebook, but nougat was the last thing I wanted to eat at the time, so I left it because he said goodbye and left the room in a hurry.”

“Something else I haven’t forgotten is that my parents took me somewhere when we left. It was a coffee shop or something similar, I don’t know exactly, but they invited me to have ice cream. My mother told me when we entered that it was, ‘Everything you could want.’ Naturally, I chose a very large chocolate ice cream, and while I was eating it, I asked my father, very surprised and very quietly, because although the doctor had already told me I could talk now, I didn’t dare to, I was afraid that my throat would hurt:

‘And why am I getting this?’”

“’Because Manu, you’ve behaved like a man,’ he replied smiling.”

“Right, well, now that you’ve told us your story, we should also eat this chocolate cake, which I think we deserve for having listened to the whole thing,” and laughing, we all ate our slice of cake that they had brought us, and it really was delicious.

<<<<< >>>>>

Poring over my memories, because there had been a lot of changes, I finally found the place where I had stayed that first time I came. Several years had passed, I didn’t remember how many exactly at the time. I had some difficulty parking, because the whole place was packed with cars, and taking my travel bag, I headed for the door.

I went in and taking a look at the place, I thought, “Everything has changed so much!” I saw new faces; could I be in the wrong place? I turned around to leave, when a person who was entering just then said:

“It’s been such a long time!”

I gave him a good look and since I found it strange, because I didn’t think I’d ever seen him in my life, I asked him:

“Do we know each other?”

“Sure,” the man said smiling, “well, I’ve not forgotten you at least, but I see you’ve forgotten me.”

Faced with what must have been an expression of surprise, he told me:

“Seven years have passed, but I still remember when you arrived that night and asked me if we had any rooms.”

Suddenly I remembered, the man I had met the first time I came, at least I assumed it was him, because the truth was that now I didn’t quite recognize him as he was. “Could I be so clueless?” I thought at the time, and to be polite I said:

“Yes! It’s been so long.”

“It was a horse caper,” the man told me smiling and raising his hand to his face.

I didn’t understand him, what would a horse have to do with anything? But I looked at him and suddenly saw a big scar that crossed his face. Was that why I’d not recognized him? Trying to be considerate, I asked:

“How did it happen?”

“Well, she got scared, forgot she wasn’t alone and she stopped suddenly and I got tossed over her head and I landed on my face. The poor animal wasn’t to blame, but my life changed at that moment,” the man was saying to me with a sad tone.

“How did it happen?” I pressed again. When I heard myself say it, I said to myself, “Manu, what a gossip you are, what do you care?”

Grateful to be able to chat a little about it with someone, something that was obvious from the outset, he thanked me for asking and told me:

“Well, you see, the truth is that I didn’t really know what had happened. What I do know is that the horse showed up back here on its own and some of the neighbors were surprised, so they went out to look for me. When they finally found me, I’d lost a lot of blood and my recovery was slow, but what it comes down to in life is that we don’t know what might happen to us when we go out into the street in the morning, whether or not we’re going to return in one piece. That being said, we can also have some mishap at home, who knows.”

Seeing that he was a little sad, I encouraged him by saying:

“Well, at least that’s all in the past now. I see you’re alright now, and that’s what matters.”

“Well son, you’re right, yes…, but I can get by,” the man told me and as if remembering himself at that moment, he asked me, “And do you want a room?”

“Of course!” I answered, “if there’s one free, because I see there are cars parked everywhere out there, it seems business is doing well.”

“There’ll be something free,” he said smiling, “there’s always room for old guests. What’s more, you brought us luck and I’ve not forgotten that.”

“How so?” I asked, in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, since you were here, we’ve not been closed for a single day, we’ve always had pilgrims,” he was saying, already with another more cheerful tone in his voice.

“Pilgrims?” I asked a little surprised, “and what did I have to do with that?”

“Yes, I looked it up, precisely on the day you left, talking to my wife, I said, ‘Look, let’s keep the prices affordable, and you’ll see, we won’t lack for guests,’ and that’s how it’s been. There have been other folk who’ve opened up their own places after us and they’ve been adding luxuries to their places, even televisions in the rooms and I wonder to myself, does someone who comes to pray for two or three days really need that? Can’t they go without it?”

“You see? And another thing I don’t understand,” he went on telling me, “is that eagerness to put armchairs and carpets in the rooms. Places that people only come to lie down and rest. Of course that’s their justification for putting up the prices, but that’s what they do. Then when the good weather ends, they have to close, because nobody comes to them, and folk know they’ll always have a comfortable bed to sleep in here and a nice dish of warm soup. Even in January, we have no lack of visitors who come here to ‘Spend some quiet days in prayer,’ as they say, that solitude is what they’re looking for.”

I was already starting to feel a little restless, because the truth is that the journey had been pretty rough, and because I didn’t want to get here too late, I had only stopped when the car needed some gas, so I said:

“Excuse me, I’m just going to see if they can give me a room.”

“No, sorry for keeping you, you must be tired,” he said and went through that front door that I remembered from the last time, although they had painted it differently.

The place had changed. I didn’t remember it being painted like that the time before, nor that it had such beautiful plants. I don’t pay much attention to details, but I have always really liked plants, I must get it from my mother, who has the balconies full of them.

I saw a very pretty young lady at the reception desk, which hadn’t been there last time either, and when I approached her to ask about the room, the man came back through the door again and said:

“It’s all sorted! Give him the key to 203.”

The young lady approached me with an odd look on her face, and when the man saw her, he said:

“Yes dear, he’s been here before, a long time ago.”

“Is it the same room as last time? You’ve no idea how much I’d appreciate that,” I said smiling.

“Sure, I remember commenting when you left about how well-behaved you’d been there, no noise or distractions, just the view of the countryside and also that you’d risen to see the sunrise.”

“What a memory you have, with all the guests that must have passed through here since then,” I commented.

“Yes, that’s true, but you also told me something that I’ll never forget. We were chatting, because I saw that you were very curious and interested in a lot of things, you answered a question I’d asked you, I don’t remember what it was now, but you said, ‘I’m an atheist,’ and that’s now etched on my memory. Why was an atheist going to bother coming to this place and ask all those questions that you were asking me? I remember that from that moment, when you asked me something, I was very careful of the answer I was going to give you. I didn’t know if you had any police friends and perhaps there would be consequences later.”

I was very surprised, I did remember at that moment that there had been a change in his attitude and it felt like this friendly gentleman, who always had a little time to chat with me and clear up any questions that I had, had been avoiding me after a certain point, as if he didn’t want to speak with me anymore, and I hadn’t known why.

I’d attributed it to the fact that every time I saw him I detained him with all my questions. I was sure I was keeping him from any work at hand and that he was too polite and wouldn’t tell me, “I can’t help you just now.” Still, what I was hearing in these moments surprised me and I had to say:

“What are you saying? You thought I had a police friend and I was going to say something to him? About what?”

“I don’t know,” the man said, shrugging, “because you asked so many questions, I wondered why you wanted the information.” Ending the conversation, he said, “I’ve already said to my wife to prepare something for your dinner for when you freshen up a little.”

“It’s alright, don’t trouble yourself,” I said, “I see it’s already too late and the kitchen must be closed.”

“Yes,” he said, laughing, “but my wife has the key and doesn’t have to bother anyone. She’s the one who makes it and she’s very happy to do so, you’ll see later when she tells you the same thing.”

I climbed the steps, remembering the first time I had climbed them and everything that had happened there. Now that I was remembering, it seemed like a movie I had watched sitting in a movie theater, and not my own experiences, and I said to myself, “So now, what will happen to me? Because I really don’t know why I came.”

I left those thoughts for another time. I was too tired; with two strides I was in front of the room I knew so well.

The door had been changed. It was made of a better quality of wood than the one I remembered. “They’ve really made a lot of renovations. It’s natural I suppose, time spoils everything,” I thought standing there, as I inserted the key into the lock.

I opened it slowly, with curiosity, remembering what had happened to me inside those four walls, those experiences that had changed my life, and I looked around after turning on the light. “My” lamp had been taken away, the one that made me dream so much.

“Well this one is fine, too,” I told myself, “the other one must have broken or been replaced by a more modern one.”

How silly I was to hope that everything would still be the same as when I left it. I passed in front of the closet mirror, which was still there in its place, facing the foot of the bed, reflecting my image as I passed.

I looked at myself, how I had changed and “How skinny I was!” as my mother would tell me. She was right, I had to put on a little weight so that my bones wouldn’t be quite so visible.

“Just fill out those bones,” Mom would say, insisting that I eat a little more.

“Leave him be, he’s an adult now,” Dad would say, “he knows how to look after himself.”

I went over to look out the window. My window was still there. Of course it was, as much as they might change a room, it’s not as if they’re going to move the window from where it was before.

What they had removed were the curtains. Now it had some modern Persian blinds and some net curtains that I didn’t remember from before. They’d also removed the table that I’d once used to take notes in my notebook about what had happened to me on that day so as not to forget it.

I remember the times when I wrote down the conversation I’d had with the owner and the amount of information he had given me.

Now, next to the closet was a desk. It was a modern piece of furniture with a drawer on runners and a modern looking chair in front of it. I left the bag there and went to wash my hands. I could tell that there was also something here that had changed, but I didn’t pay it much attention. I finished up quickly and went downstairs to the dining room. I didn’t want to make them wait, since they had been so kind as to prepare me something for dinner in spite of how late it was.

The lady was sitting a steaming plate down on a table. The rest of the dining room had been cleared. It was empty, clean and lonely at that time, although they had turned all the lights on. I smiled at her from the door, she looked the same, it seemed like time hadn’t passed for her, and I told her so.

“You’re very kind to say so son, but time doesn’t forgive anyone, and I’m not what I used to be, if you saw how my knees are getting,” she said smiling.

“That’ll be because you don’t rest all day,” I said.

“That’s true enough, but I don’t know how to be still, so many years doing the same thing… but let’s not talk about me, what about you? What is it that made you decide to come back?” she was saying slowly, almost with an air of confidentially. “What? Are you back at your research again?”

I watched her closely, and said:

“What do you mean? I don’t understand, it’s just a trip to remember old…”

“Yes, old what…?” she interrupted, “because you’re not going to tell me that nothing happened to you. You can’t tell me that. I know something happened to you, right?”

“Wait, what are you referring to?” I asked in surprise.

“It’s alright, I understand if you don’t want to tell me. Don’t worry, the day you want to share it, you know who you can talk to in confidence,” she was saying softly.

I didn’t quite understand it. Yes, something had indeed happened to me, but I wasn’t going to tell a stranger, I couldn’t even imagine doing that.

I took the spoon and began to fill it with the soup that she had brought me, which smelled so good, so I could eat it and finish up.

“Son, there are some things in this life…,” she was saying, “…that get easier when you share them, don’t you forget that.”

Turning around, she went into the kitchen to bring me the second course, that cod that I think only she knows how to make so delicious.