Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La SernaЧитать онлайн книгу.
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.
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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