Fatima: The Final Secret

“Honey, has something happened to you?”

“No,” she replied, approaching him to give him a kiss.

“So, why is Manu telling you to calm down?” he asked again.

She lowered her head and said:

“Go on, tell him! The sooner this is cleared up, the better.”

“Well, what’s all this about? Let’s here it Manu, tell me what’s going on,” my father asked impatiently.

I told him everything that had happened. Then, going out into the hall, he called Tono. From his room with the door closed, he asked:

“Is Manu there? Tell him to leave, I don’t want to talk to him.”

With an authoritative voice, my father said:

“Tono, come out here immediately. I want you to clarify one thing for me right now, and enough with this seclusion and childish nonsense.”

He came grumbling down the hall toward Dad and said:

“What do you want, Dad?”

He looked up, and told him what they’d said:

“I want you to explain one thing for me. Who told those children about your brother?”

“Me!” he answered quietly, “but I didn’t know it was bad.”

“Son, it’s not bad, it’s just a different way of thinking, everyone is allowed to think what they want, do you tell us everything you think?” he asked looking at him very seriously.

“No!” he said, trying not to look my father in the eye, “but the other kids told me…”

“Tono, the other kids can tell you what they want. Do you think Manu is bad?”

“No, at least he never hits me,” my brother replied.

“So are you not going to tell Manu that he has to change?” my mother then asked my father.

“Honey!” he said, “why don’t we eat and leave this for another time? I’m home and I’m quite tired, but I do want you to know Tono, that we love you all and that nothing’s going to happen to you because your brother thinks that way.”

He approached me more calmly and said:

“Alright, if Dad says that nothing will happen to me, then I’ll talk to you again,” and then he ran off.

That incident was over, but it seemed that a pending conversation with my father would be on the cards.

<<<<< >>>>>

“Manu,” he said one afternoon, “I want to have a chat with you today,” and we went for a walk to my grandparents’ house.

I was not clear on why he wanted me to go there, then it all became clear.

When he saw us come in through the door of his house, my grandfather said:

“Nice! I have company.”

“How so?” I asked him immediately when I went over to give him a kiss.

“Well, because your grandmother went to visit a friend who’s sick and I didn’t want to go, so I stayed here reading.”

“Grandpa, don’t you already know all your books by heart yet?” I asked.

“Don’t you believe that Manu, I can always pick one up and discover something new,” he told me very seriously.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked my father, who was coming into the room just then. I had arrived before him, because I had run down the hallway.

“Well, I think it’s time for you to talk to your grandson,” he replied to his father.

I was very surprised to hear that, so I asked:

“About what?”

“First, I’m going to make you a coffee,” my grandfather said. I’m sure it’ll do you some good, the afternoon is a little chilly.

Then, the three of us sat there like three friends, it was barely noticeable that there was an age difference between us all, the three of us had always gotten along very well.

Grandpa started telling me that he was also like me:

“Oh good,” he said, “rather, it’s you who is like me, because I was born first and you were born after me.”

Well, he told me that he had also been an atheist, I was very surprised.

“But Gramps, I’ve seen you go to church on Sundays with Grandma,” I said without being able to restrain myself, even though I knew that he did not like to be interrupted. He always told us, “It’s bad manners to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

He told me very seriously:

“Listen, if you’ll keep quiet and not interrupt me, you already know that I don’t like that, I’ll tell you about it, otherwise the one who’ll keep quiet will be me.”

“Sorry!” I offered, “I won’t interrupt you anymore,” so I listened to him for the entire time he was speaking, quiet and attentive to everything he told me.

He told me that, like many of his friends, he’d been an atheist in his youth, that he did not see eye to eye with the priests nor did he believe in what they were saying and that he was always fighting with those he knew in defense of his ideas, but something happened in his life that made him change.

I really wanted to interrupt him to ask him what it was, but I held back and sat there by his side listening.

“I met an angel,” he said suddenly.

I must have opened my eyes wide.

“Careful, they’re going to come out of their sockets,” he said with a smile. “Well, as I was saying, almost an angel, your grandmother.”

I took a deep breath.

“Yes, you don’t believe it, I know what you’re thinking, but she was straightening out my life, and making me see how wrong I was. She never gave me big sermons, or forced me into anything, she just set me an example, gave me understanding and affection, and that gradually made me reflect and see that my position was incorrect, that I had the wrong ideas and I changed them as things were becoming clearer in my mind.”

He paused in thought for a moment, and then continued.

“She changed me! It was like I was a sock and she had turned me inside out. I’m not saying I became sanctimonious or anything. No, that’s not me, but she made a new man out of me. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

“Do you love me Manu?” he asked me suddenly.

I was unsure of whether or not to answer him or if he would scold me for interrupting.

“Answer the question son!” said Dad, who was sitting there quietly beside me.

“Of course Grandpa! I don’t imagine you doubt that,” I told him softly so he wouldn’t get annoyed.

“Well, God loves you like that,” he said, looking me straight in the eye.

“Whaaat? If God doesn’t know me, how is he going to love me?” I said bewildered.

“How can that be? How do you know that?” my grandfather asked me.

“I don’t know, that’s what I’ve asked myself many times, if God really exists.”

“Of course He does son, and He’s like a patient Father who’s there looking after His children, even if they don’t realize it.”

He was telling me in a way that, I don’t know… that was so sweet. I had never heard my grandfather speak that way before.

“But how do you know, Grandpa?” I asked curious.

“Look, the little one doesn’t know if his father is next to the crib, but haven’t you seen your father when Chelito was little? He would go over to put on her little baby clothes.”

“Yes, of course, Dad would stand there and watch her, very quietly, I think so as not to wake her up.”

“Well, imagine your father being nothing more than a man and taking care of his little daughter, and surely inside he was thinking and saying, ‘Little one, be at peace, I’m here and nothing’s going to happen to you.’”

“Yes, he’d say something like that, because I would approach slowly to see her and my father wouldn’t see me because I was hidden behind him, but I would hear him saying things like that, and I would also say, ‘And I’m going to take care of you too,’ but I would say it very quietly so that Dad wouldn’t realize I was there.”

“You see? We all have feelings inside us that make us love others. Sometimes siblings, sometimes grandparents,” he was telling me.

“Yes, and parents too,” I said, interrupting him.

“Of course, parents too, because if God has created us in His own image, how is He not going to love us?” he asked me softly, as if he were reflecting upon it himself.

“But Grandpa…” I began to say.

“No, Manu, I want you to think about all of this, I don’t want to convince you of anything, just to tell you that He loves you and cares for you, even if you don’t know who He is, or where He is.”

The conversation ended and my father said:

“Thanks Dad, I couldn’t have done it that well, he wouldn’t have listened to me.”

“I know son! Children don’t listen to their parents, that’s a generational thing, it’s no one’s fault, but relax, the seed has been sown, it’ll blossom in the spring.”

“What are you talking about Grandpa?” I said, because I didn’t understand anything. “What does a seed have to do with all that?”

“You pipe down, you want to know everything. This is between your father and me.” He did not say any more and then exclaimed: “Here comes your grandmother!”

At that moment, we heard the key in the lock and I made my way quickly to the door. In truth, my intention was to hide and give her a scare, but when I got there I told myself, “No! It might be bad for her,” and before she came in I said:

“Grandma, what are you doing outside your own house?”

She finished opening the door and said:

“What are you doing here? What a surprise!” I wrapped my arms around her neck and told her:

“I love you so much Nana!”

“Charmer!” she said smiling. “You’ve come to have a snack, right? Just give me a minute to change my shoes, and put on my slippers, my feet are frozen.”

After a while, now that “she had gotten comfortable,” as she put it, in her housecoat, which according to her was “warmer than her actual coat,” she went into the kitchen and in no time at all, she brought me one of those delicious sandwiches that she used to make me on cold days. Then she brought me an omelet which she had “Stumbled across,” as she liked to claim, with little chunks of chorizo through it, which were so delicious, and then she also brought me a glass of warm milk, and she asked me:

“What about your assignment? How is it going?”

“I haven’t done it yet,” I said jokingly.

“If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have given you anything. You haven’t earned it,” she told me, turning very serious with an irritated face.

“Nana, I’m only joking,” I said, “of course I’ve done it all.”

“Don’t ever stop doing what your teacher tells you to,” she told me.

<<<<< >>>>>

I remember that first time I went to Fatima so long ago. I was overwhelmed by feelings; curiosity, fear, hope, what did I hope to find? What would that place that I thought I knew through my reading really be like?

I had searched everywhere, and I had read everything I’d found about the events that had taken place there, but I wanted to see it all with my own eyes.

I left Santiago de Compostela one morning at dawn. I had a long journey of over 400 kilometers in front of me. It was raining, and boy was it raining. “That rain was certainly not normal,” I was saying to myself, while the car’s windscreen wipers were moving ceaselessly from one side to the other.

I almost couldn’t believe it, I was driving. I had recently taken my driving test and gotten my license, and I still remember how the urge to drive started.

“Look, Manu, maybe you won’t ever need it, but that way, you’ll have it,” my friend told me on the day he suggested it to me.

He was very excited, he had gotten his license to help his father, who’d had an accident and couldn’t drive now because he had broken his leg in a fall and had had to get a cast. As he could not take time off work, his son had to take him there and bring him home every day in the car.

Santiago, the friend in question, encouraged me. He was the only person in my generation I knew who had a driving license.

Up to that point, it had only been something that our fathers did, and not even all of them, only those who needed it for their jobs like mine, who had to go to La Coruña or Madrid now and again, and they’d had to buy one for that reason. The truth is though that he didn’t really like driving, and the car spent the vast majority of its time sitting parked outside, next to the door of the house, getting wet.

“Manuel, the car spends so much time in the rain that someday it’ll start sprouting branches,” my mother would say to my father from time to time.

“Well, let’s see if a tomato plant grows and we can have tomatoes for salad,” he joked.

One Saturday afternoon, I went with Santiago for a drive as we didn’t have class, and he let me take the wheel so I could see that there was nothing to it. I started to like it and that made me decide to learn, out of curiosity more than anything else, to see how I would do.

When I had it “Mastered,” as Santi put it, I decided to tell my family, even though I was pretty certain they were going to say no, and ask me why I wanted to.

“Dad, I want to get a driver’s license,” I said one day when we were all sitting at the table.

“Are you going to buy a car?” Chelito asked immediately. “With what money? What do you want it for?”

“Hold on a minute,” said Mom, “what’s brought this on son? Why do you want a car? What you have to do is just think about your studies, that’s your most important business for now.”

“Mom, it’s to ride around with his girlfriend,” Tono immediately said mockingly.

“Quiet everyone,” said my father, “Manu, what did you say? I didn’t hear you properly.”

And before I could continue, my sister Carmen said:

“Well, I think you should do it. You never know what awaits you in life, and having it can’t hurt.”

My father, who always listened to Carmen because, as he said, “She was the wise one in the family,” asked her:

“Do you think it’s good to have it?”

“Sure Dad,” my sister laughed, “it’s hardly going to be a bad thing.”

Then with an angry tone, Mom said:

“So do I have no say on the matter? After all, I’m only the mother,” she said.

Carmen, who was sitting beside her, kissed her and said:

“Mom, if he’s told us it’s because he’s already decided, it’ll only be a matter of time before he does it.”

“I already know how to drive,” I said quietly.

“You see Mom, what did I tell you?” Carmen said to my mother, “I could tell.”

“But son, how can that be?” my father asked me. “You haven’t let me teach you.”

“Look Dad! I wanted to know if I would like it and if I was able to learn it, because at first it seemed really difficult. First of all, you wouldn’t believe how much of a struggle it was fitting my long legs into that small space.”

“Don’t grow so much,” Tono laughed, “look what happens.”

“Well, it’s not like I wanted to grow so much, but you, you’ll see, it’s already happening to you. As you keep eating you’ll grow to be as big as me, or bigger,” I answered.

“What are you saying? Wait, are you telling me that I have to stop eating? Because I’ll die in that case. You know what? I’m going to keep eating and if I grow, I can take it.” He fell silent and continued eating.

“Okay, stop fooling around and tell me, why have you made that decision? Don’t tell me it’s not strange, instead of studying. I see that you waste your time when you’re not at home,” my father was telling me, indeed quite angrily.

“Listen Dad! A friend has a driver’s license and now he helps his father by taking him to work, because he’s had a fall and broken his ankle and his leg is in a cast and he’s in no state to be driving, so my friend has had to get a driver’s license and take his father wherever he needs to go.”

“Uh-huh,” said my father, very seriously, “but I’ve not broken my leg, why do you need it? I believe when you can’t walk, you should stay at home to rest in your armchair, because this way the broken bone will fuse back together better.”

I was going to continue with my arguments, although I was not sure I could convince him, when Carmen interrupted me.

“Wait,” she said, “Dad, look, let him get it, but on one condition.”

“What condition?” said my father, looking at her with a stern look on his face.

“That he get better grades this year and never take the car without your permission,” she added.

“That’s all?” said my mother. “He would take the car whenever he wanted. Out of the question! I’m strongly against it. The car belongs to your father and only he touches it.”

“Hold on!” said my father. “Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think it’s a bad idea, that way when I’m old he can take me for long walks.”

“Dad!” said Chelito, “you don’t need a car to walk the streets.”

“Love, I didn’t exactly say through the streets, he can take me to La Coruña or sometimes to Sanxenxo, to the beach, when I’ve retired.”

“I see!” she said, “and why would you want to go to Sanxenxo alone without us?”

“Well, I’ll explain later,” said my father. “Look Manu, alright, I’ll let you get it, but you have to promise me you’ll always go slowly. I have three sons and I want to keep them for a long time.”

“What about us?” said Chelito.

“Well, you’re both daughters, are you not?” said my father with a smile, which I took as an indicator that the tension had passed, and I could breathe easy and start eating. I hadn’t eaten anything yet, not even a spoonful of that delicious food I had on my plate, which my mother had made and which smelled so good.

“I’ll foot the bill!” said my grandfather, who until that moment had been silent listening to us all.

“You?” said my grandmother in surprise, “with what expenses? Keep quiet you and get on with your dinner.”

“Well that’s going to cost a few pesetas,” my grandfather added.

I sat there not knowing what to say. The truth is that I hadn’t thought about that, because I was only asking for permission, but I’d not decided to do it yet. I assumed they wouldn’t give me their permission, at best they would say that I could get it in the future.

My mother, unable to contain herself anymore, spoke up, saying:

“Have you all lost your minds? The boy comes up with some nonsense, and now you all support him. What he has to do is focus on his studies, and drop all these unnecessary flights of fancy, because if he neglects them now, what will he ask for next? And of course if we give it to him, what happens to the others? What kind of an example is he setting for his brothers and sisters?”

“Don’t get upset Mom,” said Chelito, “I’m not going to ask you to let me drive, it’s too difficult. I’ve watched Dad when he’s doing it, and he has to keep looking at the road for the whole time, and doing things with his hands and his feet at the same time. He can’t even talk so he won’t be distracted, like he always tells us.”

“Right!” said my father, “no more talk on the subject, you can get it, and you Dad, we’ll talk about that. I don’t think you should bear that expense; we’ll see where we can get the money from.”

My mother was going to protest again, but she looked at my father and continued eating, but with a scowl on her face, which made it clear that she did not agree.

<<<<< >>>>>

It was my first solo trip. I had already been on one trip behind the wheel with my father at my side. For the first one, we went to La Coruña. He had to do some paperwork and he wanted me to show him how I drove. He was very nervous, but he saw that I was good at driving defensively, well, for a rookie.

“Manu, I’m sure I’ll get there quicker if I get out and continue on foot,” he said at a certain point, trying to put on a forced smile, to disguise the tremendous nerves that were clearly plaguing him.

“Dad, I don’t want to rush,” I answered, because I wanted to conceal my fear that he didn’t like how I was driving, and he wouldn’t let me do it again.

“No, you’re doing well, going like this we’re sure to get there tomorrow, but it’s better late than never,” he answered, “we’re not in a hurry.”

“What if I pressed down on the gas pedal a little more?” I asked softly to see what he would say.

“Well, a little bit, yes,” he answered me, although it was obvious by his voice that he was still nervous. I also looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and saw that he was clutching the seat so tightly, that I thought, “If he continues on like this, he’s gonna break it for sure,” but surely that gave him peace of mind and that’s why he did it.

I was so careful on the gas pedal that it wasn’t even perceptible. I was putting my foot down at times, but because my feet are so big, I was afraid that at some point, I would press on it too much and the car would go faster than it should.

“You have to be more relaxed,” said my father, “you’ll end up breaking the steering wheel with how tightly you’re gripping it, and stop looking in the rear-view mirror all the time, don’t you see that nobody is behind you?”

With my fear rising, I answered:

“But if I don’t look, I won’t know if anyone is following us, and I can’t let them pass.”

“Well, look at it from time to time,” he added patiently.

When we were arriving in La Coruña, he told me:

“Pull into the curb, carefully and then stop, but first hit the turn signal. Never forget that little detail. That’s how you warn whoever is behind you, so they can be mindful of your maneuver.”

I did it and he got out of the car. I didn’t know why, but he came around the vehicle to the door at my side. Opening it he said:

“Son, let me do it. I don’t trust the streets of the city, it’s more dangerous here, although I have to admit you’re not doing badly at all.”

I got out and changed my seat. That was my first big trip. I felt such fear! Such nerves! But I managed to take him and get there without any problems. That was the important thing. Of course I don’t know how much my mother would be praying at home until she saw us appear, because she knew that I was going to be the one driving and she didn’t trust me.

CHAPTER 4.

“How could my father have let me take that trip?” Remembering that long ago day, I still wonder to this day. He has always been very cautious and has never let us do anything that could be risky. Even if I had to hammer a nail into the wall, he would say:

“Give it here! I’ll do it, surely you’ll hit your finger with the hammer.”

“Honey!” said my mother whenever she would hear him, “if you don’t teach him, he’ll never know how to do anything.”

“He’ll learn when he’s a grown-up,” he said smiling.

“But Dad, when will I be a grown-up in your eyes? I’m taller than you, and I’m almost two meters tall,” I would say when I heard him say that I wasn’t old enough to do something yet.

“Well, the fact that you’re tall doesn’t mean that you’re a grown-up, that’s not the same thing,” he would answer me. The conversation would be over and he wouldn’t explain anything further to me.

“Gramps! When was my father a grown-up?” I once asked my grandfather.

“Ah, have we reached this point already? Seems to me that I’m the grown-up here,” he answered jokingly.

“Well, if Dad’s not old enough, I’m screwed. I’m never going to be grown-up,” I said.

“And why do you want to be a grown-up so badly?” my grandmother, who was there and who had been listening to us, asked me.

“Well, so I can do stuff without anyone telling me that I can’t, because I’m not old enough,” I answered very seriously.

“Ah, that’s why? Then, you’ll never be old enough. There will always be someone by your side to tell you that, even if it’s the youngest among us, like Chelito. Don’t you see how she talks to me sometimes? Telling me not to carry my bag, and she takes it from me, and then she scolds me as if I were a little girl.”

“Nana, she does that for your own good, so you don’t hurt yourself, but that doesn’t mean you’re not old enough,” I said to my grandmother.

“Are you calling me old?” she asked me, getting herself worked up.

“No, why would I call you that?” Since I did not like the way the conversation was going, I dropped it, but I did not agree that I could never be a grown-up. I was older than the twins and Chelito, why didn’t anyone want to acknowledge it?