Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ