Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna
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“But son,” she interrupted, “that’s impossible. Well, there will be some who have come on a journey from another country, but here we’re all Catholics.”
“Okay, you’re right,” I gave in to her so as not to get deeper into something that I saw was starting to bother her.
Turning around, I was going to cut the conversation short, as we began to hear Chelito calling. She had woken up and did not want to be alone, although we both noticed by her voice that the fever had gone down and she was feeling better, especially because we heard her say:
“Mom, Mom, aren’t you going to give me lunch today? I’m starving, have you forgotten that I haven’t had breakfast?”
Smiling, the two of us headed to her room, with what I’d said having settled that talk that I’d been delaying for a while for fear of how she would take it.
Now I had to tell my father, but he was more understanding, and now that Mom knew, I’m sure she would tell him as soon as he arrived, so it would make things simpler for me. It would also be made easier because Carmen would also be coming home with him, and I knew she was on my side, because we’d talked very seriously about it, in fact, it was she who told me:
“Tell him and don’t let more time pass, it’s best for everyone.”
I hadn’t yet decided to share it with my parents because, as I said to Carmen, I wasn’t ready, but she, who has always been very prudent, made me see that every day that passed with that secret would make it harder for me to tell them, and that’s what helped me to decide.
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Finally, it’s summer. The anticipated moment has arrived. We anxiously turned to our new work. The year has passed quickly, the days seemed to have wings and they flew away, well the day before an exam not so much, those were very difficult, “Endless,” you might call them.
This will be the last year I can devote to this for now. I have to start the University Militias next summer, which I am not looking forward to, but it is preferable to do it this way than to leave it and do military service when I finish studying.
“Son, it’s more comfortable, you don’t know what it’s like to be on sentry duty in the winter, out in the open all night,” my father used to say to me whenever I protested, because I didn’t want to do it.
“Don’t exaggerate Dad, nobody’s died of that,” I answered. I was still undecided and didn’t really know what I wanted to do, which made me a little uncomfortable.
“Listen Manu, military service is hard, any way you look at it and the University Militias have been made to measure for you. If only I could have landed such a sweet deal back in my day,” he said with a face of resignation.
“What are you talking about Dad?” and since I didn’t want to remind him of the hardships of the past, I tried to change the subject, but he continued.
“On top of that, I’m sure all your friends are going to do it, you won’t be left high and dry,” and he insisted that it was the best, and the most comfortable way.
What he’d said about not going alone had just convinced me, but I said:
“Well, I’ll decide when the time comes.”
When she heard us talking about it, Mom would intervene saying:
“Yes, that’s enough of that, I really don’t want you to go so far.”
“Sweetheart, the University Militias are held in the summer. If I’ve not been misinformed I think they’re from June 20th to September 15th. Think of it like going on vacation and that’s it, it’s only a few days and then you’re home again, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be taken to the ‘El Robledo’ camp, which is near the Palace of La Granja de San Ildefonso, in the province of Segovia, surrounded by pine groves called Valdesain.”
“Where’s Manu going? And how do you know that?” asked Chelito.
“Wherever they send him, like everyone else, but the son of a friend of mine from work was sent there and when he got home he said that they’d had a great time, that they went down to the town on weekends to dance and that they did marches or something through the pine forests, singing that little song that’s become popular, called ‘Margarita,’ you know, young folk stuff, so I don’t think it’s going to be so bad.”
And with that, the conversation was over, seeing that my mother was starting to pout. Cautiously, he approached her to give her a kiss and to calm her down.
“Yes, of course, everything is very easy for you,” she told him. “You don’t even realize that they’re slowly growing up and we’ll be more and more alone every day, and before we realize it, we’ll be at home on our own, just you and me.”
We all laughed and my father scolded us:
“Don’t treat it like a joke when your mother is suffering.”
And turning to her, he said:
“But honey, what are you saying? They’re practically still babies, we still have to put up with them for a long time yet, you’ll see how before you know it they’ll all have completed their military service, or the militias as it’s called now, that they’ll go off and do whatever it is that they do and you’ll have them back here again in no time.”
“I’ll ask them to let me do them here in Santiago, so I don’t have to leave home,” Tono said.
“Yes,” said Carlitos, “and you can also ask them to let you do your duties lying on the sitting room sofa, so you’re more comfortable.”
My mother, seeing that we were all more relaxed, was more content.
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I’m anxious to see what they’ve assigned to us, the guy who acts as the coordinator told us that, like the last time, we did such a good job that this time it’s going to be a bit more complicated, but we’ll surely have a good time. During the year, I’ve gone to see the elderly couple on two occasions, on each of their name days, when we celebrate with all those named after a particular saint, and I took a little something special for them, something small. I saved a little of what they give me at home for my meager expenses, and I bought them two chocolate candies on both occasions, which I know they both liked very much.
I also met with some of my workmates there, and we had a fun time recalling the variety of incidents that happened to us while we fixed up their house.
The old man, Rafael, reminded us of the fresh novice faces we had on the first day, afraid that they wouldn’t give us their approval, but how could they not agree with some people who were going to help them? He did not imagine for a second that those inexperienced students, who were surely doing what they were doing because someone would have punished them if they didn’t, and who wouldn’t return when they ran into their first difficulty and leave everything worse than it was before, if that were possible, would fix it up and leave it as they had when they were finished.
The old man apologized for having thought that about us, but that was indeed what he’d thought after seeing our faces. It was our hands, pretty much children’s hands, with clean fingernails, hands that had never done anything. At best, they had held the enormous weight of a book, but how were they going to make cement? That was unthinkable and he was close to telling us to leave, that they were not a joke and they would not be putting up with anyone who came to mock their needs in their own home.
But he’d restrained himself and thought, “I’ll give them one day, I’ll watch them and see what they do, and when they leave, I’ll tell them not to come back here again,” but seeing how eagerly we started and the interest we put into what we were doing, he was convinced that we were good people, and he gave us another day.
“Yes, because today, as there’s no trust, they’ll be behaving themselves,