Fatima: The Final Secret

How time flies. The summer passed and everything reached completion. The assignment was done and the two whitewashed rooms looked as though they’d been built by professionals. We even put in windows, well mini-windows, they might not have been very large, but they were big enough to let the light in and properly ventilate the place.

We did as we’d intended on that seemingly distant day at the start of the summer. The two rooms were connected, but there was no way of putting in doors, no matter how hard we tried, so one day when we were discussing it with the woman, she immediately told us:

“Don’t worry, they can be separated with a curtain and that’ll do very nicely.”

The ladies who came from time to time would tell us:

“Look, this’ll come in handy for you,” and they brought us a little something.

One of them appeared one day with a very beautiful painting, with views of the sea. When Encarnación saw it, she immediately asked us, “Why don’t we put it on the wall? That way it would make the place look more beautiful.”

On another occasion, they brought some blue curtains, which one of the ladies had been keeping in a drawer. She said that since she’d changed them for new ones, she wasn’t going to need them anymore and they were only getting in her way. She hadn’t wanted to throw them away because they were still good.

Those were the curtains that we subsequently put up to separate the two rooms and everything looked ten times better than we had ever imagined.

They also brought a vase, which, although it didn’t seem useful to us, Encarnación was very excited about. Santi immediately went around the field and picked some bunches of flowers and put them into that vase and in truth, what he created was pretty original.

One of the days that the ladies came, one of them brought a small picture frame.

“When the little one gets older, I’ll take a photograph and put it in here,” the mother said, thanking them.

Santi, who had inadvertently overheard her, having passed by at just that moment to get some water, told us. I instantly had an idea and I told them:

“Let’s give them a surprise, you’ll all see, let’s take that photograph ourselves and give it to them.”

“How?” Simón asked. “That really is beyond our abilities.”

“No, listen, my father has a device for that, I’ll try to get it from him,” I was telling him, but I was already questioning it as I heard myself say it, it would be very difficult. Surely he would tell me, without even thinking about it, that he wouldn’t dream of letting me take that device.

I was thinking about it for several days, but I just couldn’t decide upon the right moment, and one afternoon while we were returning Jorge asked me:

“What about that photo you talked to us about?”

I didn’t want to tell him that I hadn’t yet dared to ask my father for it and I answered:

“I’m on it,” and as I headed home afterwards, after having said goodbye to the others, I told myself: “If it doesn’t happen today, if he says no, well, at least I tried.”

I summoned up my courage and asked my father for the camera. Of course I had to tell him what it was for. He thought about it for a few moments. I was afraid that he would say no, so I insisted:

“Dad, they’d be very excited to have a photograph of their young son.”

“Yes, you’re right son, I’d also have liked to have one of you all when you were little and that way you would all have some to remember your childhood whenever you saw them, but Manu, you have to be careful not to damage it,” he said in an apprehensive tone, “these things are very fragile.”

Then, after giving me some instructions so that the photo would turn out well, he left it in my care. I handled it with the utmost care because I did not want anything to happen to it. My father would be so dismayed if anything did, he’d only acquired it recently and he took great care of it.

With that, we took a photo of the little one. We placed him in a seated position, sitting well-behaved on the floor next to a hen, which he tried to catch and I took it right at that moment. It came out pretty nice. When my father finished up the film and the photographs were developed, even the photographer where he’d taken the film congratulated him on the photo. He said:

“Look at that, it’s difficult to get a chicken to stand still, how did you manage it?”

“I don’t know,” said my father, “my son took it, and I don’t know the child.”

“Well, congratulate your son, he has a future as a photographer,” the man said.

He smiled and told me that he’d answered:

“Well, it’s the only photograph he’s ever taken in his life.”

I believe the gentleman told him:

“Not a chance, he’ll have done it before without you knowing.”

“No, because the photographs would be here, he doesn’t have another camera,” my father argued.

He had told me all of that, and I was telling the parents of the little boy while they stared enthralled at the photo, which had been put into that little picture frame that the wife had placed on some boxes in a corner. We had taken the frame from there a while ago, and she hadn’t noticed, we had put the photo inside and then the four of us gave it to them as a farewell gift.

The father, who was on the verge of tears, told us:

“It was a pleasure,” and we laughed, so as to keep him from tearing up.

“Let’s see if from now on, it can make you happy,” Simón told him. “You see how everything has been overcome. You have to have more confidence man; life is very beautiful.”

“Well, almost everything,” he said, looking sadly at the sheet that covered him.

“Yeah, but that’s not something we can help you with that,” Simón added very seriously.

“Yes, well we can’t complain,” the woman interrupted. “Thank you for everything, we’ll never forget you.”

We all said our goodbyes. We didn’t want to extend that moment that was difficult for all of us any further. So many hours spent there, so many memories that would safely stay with us forever.

When we were returning home, commenting on the incidents that had happened to us, we said:

“We spent so much time there and we never did find out what was wrong with him, why was he always covered?”

“I know why,” said Santi.

“Tell us, tell us!” we all asked him, eager to know.

“Well, he was a blacksmith, and one day he had an accident. Some chunks of iron fell on him because the wooden shelf they were sitting on collapsed. He was so unlucky that they injured both his arms. He took little notice, but it seems that the iron was rusty. The wounds it caused developed gangrene, so his arms had to be cut off.”

“Oh, is that why he was always covered up to his neck?” asked Jorge. “It did seem odd to me.”

“Come on you idiot! Didn’t you notice that the bedding was flat where his arms should have been?” asked Simón.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think much of it, I thought maybe it was his legs that were bad. Hey, and how come you know that?” he asked Santi looking at him.

“Listen, do you remember that day when we had to break down the wall that connected the new room to the old one? I overheard the woman when she worriedly said:

‘But honey, they’ll have to find out, they’ll help you, I surely can’t do it alone.’”

“‘No, please,’ I heard him say, crying. ‘Please help me on your own, please don’t let them see me like this.’”

“On impulse, I walked in and told them:

‘I’m here to help you for whatever you need.’”

“He was uncovered and I saw him lying there without his arms. The woman rushed to cover him right away, but when she saw that I’d seen him, she told me:

‘Please don’t tell the others, I couldn’t bear to see their faces full of pity, watching me,’ and two big tears ran down her cheeks.”

“‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘keep calm, now I can help you,’ and before anyone could protest, I was uncovering him, and helping him to get up.”

“I put him in a chair in that corner, where he could be sure that no rubble would fall from the wall when we made the hole, and I wrapped him up properly with a blanket so that he wouldn’t get cold, and also so that if you guys came in, you wouldn’t see.”

“The woman was watching me, it seemed that she couldn’t believe what was happening, I’d caught her off guard and all she could say was:

‘Thank you! Thank you! Are you okay, honey?’ She looked at him with such tenderness.”

“He was sobbing the entire time and I asked him:

‘Am I hurting you?’”

“He shook his head, because the words wouldn’t come out. He let me do this to him, and once he was sitting in that corner, he said softly:

‘Thank you son, God will bless you for it.’”

“I tried to smile to calm him down and said:

‘Come on, it was nothing.’ Then I grabbed the straw mattress and pulled it out so that it wouldn’t get in the way, and in turn so that the rubble from the wall wouldn’t fall onto it.”

“When I came outside, I went to tell you guys that we could start making the hole where we had planned, because it was in the same place where he had been lying on the other side, and I told you:

‘He’s already been moved from there, there’s no danger that anything will fall on him.’”

We worked more quickly that morning. Everything had to be completed so that he could go back to his place. The back room was almost finished, all we had to do was close up the hole through which we went in and out. After creating that connecting door, two of us dedicated ourselves to closing the hole and plastering everything properly and the other two to removing the debris.

The wife could not stay still and in her eagerness to help, was faster than we were. Surely it also came down to her nerves, but it made us take on more than we would have done had she not been helping, because we realized how much she was doing, which was a lot and we were not going to be doing less.

When everything had been cleaned up, we finished properly reviewing the new space we’d created, and we said satisfied:

“It’s not too bad.”

The husband, who had been tucked up quietly in that corner the entire time, told us:

“Not too bad? It’s fantastic! You seem to be professionals, surely they wouldn’t have done a better job.”

Since we were lucky that day and it was very hot, the cement dried well, so we could put the mattress into their new bedroom at the end of the afternoon. They would sleep there that night, and we told them that we would take it out again tomorrow to finish up and whitewash the walls, and we left it at that.

Santi was still telling us his story and as we reached the point where we had to go our own separate ways and say goodbye, we asked him:

“What happened the next day? Why did you go early?”

“Don’t you remember? When we were on the way home that afternoon, I said, ‘I forgot my sweater, you guys just keep going,’ and I ran back.”

“Yes, and by the way you took a long time to come back,” Jorge said, “we were waiting for you there in the countryside, we were exhausted and you didn’t seem to be in any hurry.”

“Well, that’s because I’d thought, ‘When we leave, he’ll have to be put back into his bed,’ and I had to find an excuse to help him without you guys knowing, so I left my sweater in a corner, how could I have forgotten it? That’s why I told you that I was going back for it, and that’s how I arrived just when Encarnación was about to lift him up so she could put him back onto the bed. I helped her to do it and then I went back to where you guys were waiting, but in the rush, I left again without the sweater and I had to go back to pick it up, that’s why it took so long.”

“And the next day?” Simón asked.

“See, as I knew that he wouldn’t let himself be touched or seen by any of you, I said to myself, ‘Surely his wife will have to do it before we arrive so he’s already up by the time we get there,’ so I came earlier, when there was barely any light in the sky, to help in any way I could. Sure enough, when I arrived, she was already getting ready to carry him, and she got a fright when I called out, she wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“What are you doing here at this early hour? The sun’s barely up,” she asked me as soon as he saw me, when she opened the door.

“‘I’ve come to help you,’ I answered.”

“‘You’re an angel,’ she said quietly.”

“‘Please! That’s just because you don’t know me very well, ask my mother and you’ll see. She’s always telling me, ‘Santi, you’re a demon, you’re always messing about.’’”

“‘Well, that’ll be at home, you don’t behave like that here,’ she added, smiling as I entered.”

“I went in following her instructions and I found the man in the new bedroom already prepared because he’d heard me and the boy was asleep beside him.”

“‘And what are we gonna do with this one?’ I asked quietly so as not to wake him up.”

“‘Don’t worry, we can move him anywhere and he won’t even notice,’ his mother told me.”

“I took the man out and put him in the same chair he’d been sitting in the day before. The wife was patiently feeding him breakfast, spoonful by spoonful into his mouth. As I didn’t want to disturb them, I went to leave, but she noticed and asked me:

“‘Where are you going? Stay here, it’s still chilly.’”

“So I stayed there for a good while. Then I took out the mattress, so that it wouldn’t get in our way, and I did a little preparation for everything we needed to start the day’s work, and as soon as you guys arrived, you were surprised to see me there and I had to tell you that I’d been confused with the time and thought I was late and that you hadn’t waited for me, and that’s why I came to the house by myself. I saw that you looked at me with a weird expression, it seems that you didn’t believe me, but you didn’t have time to question me about it. It was just then that the boy came out and started to run after the hen and we all started laughing and you forgot about it. Now you know everything,” Santi told us, “there are no more mysteries. I’ve told you now because everything’s finished, and I don’t think they’d mind now.”

“We did leave everything really nice,” I told the others to change the subject, “and about the furniture you’re all asking me about? When I asked my mother to give me the crib, she nearly collapsed.”

“But son, I’m saving it for when you get married and you give me a little grandchild,” she’d told me very upset.

“What if I become a priest?” I answered.

“Stop that! Don’t mess around with that,” she said very seriously.

“No, I said that to you as a joke, but I’m serious about the crib. Please can you give it to me? It’s not doing anyone any good being kept here when there’s a little boy who could use it,” I said, trying to calm her down a little and get her to cave.

“No, the crib was yours, and it’ll be for my grandchildren when you have them,” she insisted.

“Mom, I know it was mine, well Carmen’s first, and after me, it was for the twins and finally Chelito, but look, that little boy I’m asking for has nowhere to sleep and he needs it now. If I get married and have children, and who knows if I will, I’d have to do very badly in my career and my new job to be unable to afford to buy a crib before I emigrate to America,” I was saying in a bid to convince her.

“Enough son, don’t say that, even in jest. Listen, your uncle left and didn’t want to come back here, and it’s not because of a lack of money, he has plenty as you know. Sometimes he’s even sent some to me, he says he doesn’t know what to give me, that money always comes in handy, and I say, he must have enough to spare.”

“Mom, money is never spare, but that shows that, even though he’s far away, he still remembers his beloved sister. Well, if I’m doing badly here with work, I’m leaving like him,” I said without thinking.

“No!” she said resoundingly.

“Well, I’m not leaving, but please give me the crib,” I begged.

“But you have to promise me that you’ll never emigrate,” she said, becoming very serious.

Also seriously, standing there in front of her, staring at her sitting in her chair, I said:

“Mom, I solemnly promise you that I’ll never emigrate to America.”

“Alright smooth talker, take the crib, but tell them to take good care of it,” she said, smiling.

“I’ll tell them what you’ve said. Ah Mom! Can I go to Germany at least?” I said very seriously.

She got up from the chair, and giving me a light smack on the head, said:

“No, not to Germany either. You stay here with me and give me grandchildren, and I won’t settle for one, that’s very boring.”

“I already know that,” I said, “I’ve envied the neighbors since I was little because there are seven of them, always playing and me here alone and bored. I still don’t know why whenever I asked you to let me go to their house to play with them, you always gave me the same answer, ‘No son, there are enough of them, I don’t want you to bother them,’ as if they would’ve noticed one more.”

“Well,” she said, laughing, “then the twins came along, so don’t complain, all of sudden there was two of them. You looked at them and said, ‘Which of them do I play with?’ They were toys to you. Alright, when are you taking the crib?” she asked me more calmly.

“Well tomorrow, so you won’t change your mind,” and giving her a kiss, I was leaving when I heard her say:

“You see what you’re like? You always get what you want.”

<<<<< >>>>>

Summer was coming to an end, we were only one week away from starting classes again and returning to our routine, just enough time to get some rest and enjoy spending time with our families, but unexpected things can happen in just a few days. Tono came that morning crying:

“Mom! Mom!” he screamed as he climbed the stairs.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when I opened the door, because I’d been the first one to hear him, and I’d rushed to open it, to see what had happened.

“No! Not you! I don’t want to talk to you,” he told me very angrily.

I was surprised, but he ran into the kitchen where my mother was preparing food.

“Mom! Mom!” the child kept calling very upset.

“Angel, what’s wrong with you?” she asked in alarm.

He closed the kitchen door behind him so that I wouldn’t go in after him, because I was following him down the hallway, although as he had been closing the door to the house, he was running and he reached where Mom was before I did. I went to open the kitchen door, but he told me from inside:

“Go away! You’re to blame, I don’t want to see you ever again, it’s all your fault.”

I stopped in my tracks. “What had I done? I don’t think I’ve done anything,” I thought, “plus, if he was out on the street playing with his friends and I was at home; surely it would have been a fight with one of them and he was taking it out on me.”

I didn’t really hear what he was talking about, but I immediately heard my mother say:

“Of course, I knew this was going to create problems for us.”

Opening the door, she glared at me and angrily said:

“You see!”

I didn’t understand any of this and I asked:

“Wait, what’s going on? I didn’t do anything to him.”

“How have you not? Look at what’s happened to your brother, he hasn’t done anything and look,” my mother told me, and I still had no clue what she was talking about.

I looked at her, then I looked at him, and I still wasn’t getting it. “What a mess!” I said to myself. I couldn’t figure any of it out, so I asked:

“Okay, well, can either one of you please tell me what’s going on? What have I done that’s so serious? Because I don’t think I’ve done anything, and I can’t work out what’s happened to him. He was out playing on the street!”

Barging angrily past me, Tono said:

“I’m never talking to you ever again in my whole life,” and with that he left for his room, where I heard him locking the door with the key from the inside.

“Mom, please, tell me what’s wrong, what has he told you?” While I asked, I looked at her and I could see her getting angrier.

“Look, do you see what happens by being the way you are?” she said to me very seriously and then she fell silent.

“Me? And what is the way I am? Let’s see, now what on Earth do I have to do with whatever might have happened to the kid on the street?” I was asking her slowly, because I did not want her to get any more upset.

“Listen!” said my mother, when she had calmed down a little. “He told me that the children he was playing with told him he was going to hell.”

“And, what about it?” I asked. “What does that have to do with me?”

“What does it have to do with you? Well, I don’t know how they would have heard about your little thing,” she told me.

“But what is my little thing? Please explain it to me, I still have no idea what you’re talking about, it’ll just be kid stuff,” I said a little irritated, because she insisted on focusing the blame on me for something I didn’t understand.

“Look Manu, this has to change already, I can’t deal with this situation any longer either. Look, my Spiritual Advisor…”

“Who?” I asked a little confused. “Your whaaat?”

“My Spiritual Advisor,” she repeated.

“Wait, what’s that?” I asked again.

“Well, Don Ignacio, the priest, have you forgotten already?” she asked me. “You have to see how you’ve changed son.”

“Yes, the priest, but what you said before, I don’t know what an advisor is. And I haven’t changed at all, I’m still your son, the same as always.”

“Well, the Advisor is another matter, you don’t understand that.”

“Okay, what did that good gentleman tell you?” I said a little irked.

“Don’t call him that! It’s disrespectful,” she said angrily.

“But Mom…, I’m imagining that with him being a priest, that’s proper, is it not? So what should I call him then?” I asked a little more calmly, to see if she finally realized what I had said.

“Look, let’s get on with what we were talking about,” she said getting more and more angry.

“Yes, so he said something, but can you explain it to me just once? What did he say? What do I have to do with all of this? And what does it have to do with what happened to Tono?”

“Well son, you’re coming off like a fool, it’s very clear, it’s all the same thing.”

“But what is it?” I said impatiently, because the issue was becoming increasingly complicated.

“Be quiet and let me finish, and don’t interrupt me every two seconds. Your brother has been told by his friends that he’s going to hell, because he has a brother who’s an atheist.”

Opening my eyes wide, I said:

“Whaaat? Is that what this is all about? I don’t believe it.”

“Of course, I’ve talked about it several times with my Spiritual Advisor, and he has always advised patience, but I’ve had enough. Either you change, or I don’t know what I’m going to have to do with you!” she said staring firmly at me.

“But Mom… It’s not like it’s a dirty shirt that I can take off and put on a clean one.”

“Enough nonsense. I’m having a serious discussion with you, and you, as far as I know, have other shirts. I’d like to be able to take a hold of you and wash you like I do with dirty clothes, and rinse those ideas out of your head. We’d all be better off for it.”

“But Mom… Let’s see, what harm am I doing to anyone by thinking what I want to think? Everyone has their own life to live, the way I see it,” I told her trying to calm her down.

“But don’t you realize? Don’t you see what just happened to Tono?” she told me, her anger not abating and there was no way to change it.

Suddenly we heard Dad at the front door saying:

“Honey, I’m home now.”

Wiping her eyes, my mother said:

“When he finds out…!”

“But Mom…, I haven’t done anything wrong. Calm down!” At that moment, my father came into the kitchen and when he heard me say that he immediately asked: