Dr. Juan Moisés De La Serna
Fatima: The Final Secret

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?

<<<<< >>>>>

Now, driving on my own, sitting at the wheel, traveling kilometer after kilometer, I did feel older, but what had it brought to my life? I don’t think it brought me any gains, it had only brought me problems. Well, it’s not that I can complain, but, for example, when it was my father who was driving when we were going to the beach, him behind the wheel, my grandfather by his side and the rest of us behind them, my grandmother with Carmen in her lap, Mom with Chelito, me in between the two of them and the two twins in the back of the car, sitting there very quietly, we all had confidence in Dad to get us there and that there was no danger, and we would even fall asleep. Well not everyone, I don’t think Carmen ever did, but I’m not sure, because I certainly did, right from the start of the journey until I heard my mother say:

“Manu, wake up, we’re here.”

What good times those were! Now, despite being tired, falling asleep was not an option. Who would keep me awake? Ah! and more importantly, who would be driving? That’s when I remembered what my father had told me:

“Manu, as soon as you notice that you’re getting tired, stop and get out to stretch your legs, don’t fall asleep at the wheel.”

“Dad!” I replied, “I’m not a little kid who falls asleep anywhere.”

“Listen son! Things are different in the car, with the gentle noise of the engine you can get drowsy and fall asleep without even realizing it.”

“Don’t worry Dad, I’ll be very careful,” I said and he smiled at me, I knew he would.

“Look, I’ve made you a map with the route you have to take,” my father said, showing me a piece of paper he had placed on the table.

“You what now?” I asked. “I already know where I have to go, relax.”

“No! Listen to me, because the journey is so long, I’ve marked where you need stop, so that both you and the car can get some rest,” he insisted.

“The car also gets tired?” asked Carlitos, who was listening very closely to what Dad was telling me, sitting there beside him.

“Yes son!” Dad answered, looking at him. “The car is a machine that has its own needs and if it’s not taken care of, it breaks down and it’s no longer good for anything.”

“Yes, you have to give it gas,” said my brother.

“What? Do you think I don’t know that?” I replied quickly.

“Yes, but on top of gas, there are lots of other things that you have to do to look after it; the mechanics, making sure that everything is good to go, that the air in the tires is alright and so on. You can’t just do whatever you want and you have to rest the engine, because if you don’t, it might overheat,” said my father very seriously. “You, Manu, follow these instructions and you’ll see that you won’t have any problems on your journey.”

“I will Dad, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it, you’ll see.” “I don’t want to disappoint you, you know that, and if I don’t do it well, I know you won’t let me take the car again.”

“Hmm! That’s why you’d do it? No son, you have to do it for your own safety, so that nothing happens to you. You have to be aware that you’re putting your life in your hands and you can end it, and the lives of others on the road, with a single mistake.”

“Dad, calm yourself, everything will be fine, trust me!” I told him.

“If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t leave you with it. Do you think I want anything to happen to you? No son, never.”

Now that I was thinking about this, I was realizing that I had just passed the signpost for one of the points that my father had indicated to me. I searched for a place to park and stopped there. We had to rest, both the car and I. I would take the opportunity to go for a short walk to stretch my legs and to eat a sandwich that my mother had prepared for me. Fortunately, it had been a while since the rain had stopped falling.

I looked at the papers my father had prepared for me. I hadn’t realized when he gave them to me what was written down at the side. It read: “First stop, Padrón. Think about whether you want to continue son. I’m sure you’re tired, if you turn around now, we’ll say nothing more about it, give it some proper thought son.”

I smiled. I saw that my father thought it was just an impulse, and that I would get tired quickly. I think he still hadn’t realized how stubborn I am when I set out to do something. I had thought out this trip very, very carefully and what it meant, and before deciding to take it, I had been thinking about all of the downsides. When I made the decision, it was already firm and I was not going to back down, so I ate the sandwich and I prepared to continue on with the next stretch of road in one go. I’ll see if I can get to Pontevedra, but my back was already telling me that I’d been sitting for a long time already, so I told myself: “Stick at it and don’t complain, there’s still a long way to go.”

Back on the road, the day was glorious, the countryside was green, and I was becoming increasingly confident behind the wheel. In the distance, I saw people working the fields and I thought, “How can they endure hours and hours like that under the sun or in the rain? I complain about my work as a student, I really don’t appreciate how lucky I am,” and I sent thanks to my parents in a thought, because if they had decided differently for me, now I would be…, I don’t know, working somewhere, in a factory, at sea on a fishing boat, or maybe in the field, for all I know.

I don’t know, but I don’t imagine it was easy for them to decide that I should study. Yes, I know my father had done it, but with five children, the simplest thing for him to have done would have been to say, “Manu we need one more salary in this house, there are many mouths to feed,” but instead, he had said, “Study, so that in the future you can raise your own family with a higher standard of living, without problems, having a good job.”

I don’t understand much of what they tell me at times, I think because I don’t think too much about “Grown-up things,” as I call them, but now in the solitude of the car, where I had to make all the decisions, nobody could help me. I had to take a route that was not very good in some sections, but that forced me to be attentive, and if something unexpected happened, I had to make my own decision, I couldn’t check with anyone. I felt older, but I think deep down I wasn’t prepared to live a more grown-up life yet, everything was very complicated.

The car suddenly started making a weird noise. I didn’t take much notice at first, but after a while I started to worry about it.

“What could have happened to it? If he were here, Dad would know what was wrong right away,” I told myself. I stopped at the roadside for a short time, and I went down to take a look at the wheels to see if there were any flat tires. I didn’t see anything unusual and I got back into the car and continued along the road. The noise continued and I was getting nervous. I opened the window a little more to see what it was, and listened carefully. The noise had stopped, surely not, what could it have been?

I closed the window again, and still the sound was gone. Suddenly I realized, the window had been open just a tiny bit. I opened it just a fraction and the noise started again. What a relief! I’d finally located where that wretched and annoying sound had come from, it was the glass window vibrating when it wasn’t fully closed, so I calmed down and continued on the way to my destination, it was still a long way away.

When I was passing through Pontevedra, already having decided that I was going to continue on to Fatima, I still knew that I had a lot of open road ahead of me, but for me, getting as far as I had was already a joy in itself. I felt that I would be able to make it, I was already feeling more confident. I even started to go a little more swiftly, stepping on the gas a little more because before it felt like I was in competition with a turtle. Some of the trees by the side of the road had passed so slowly that I’m almost certain I wouldn’t have passed them any faster if I’d been walking.

“Manu, you’ll never arrive at this rate, it’s one thing to drive with caution and another to go so slowly that it’s going to be night time by the time you reach customs and you’ll find it closed,” I thought at one point.

My legs hurt, I couldn’t go any further, but I wanted to reach the point that my father had indicated. He had calculated the route and divided it into stages, so that I could rest every so often and he had warned me, saying:

“Every time you stop, look at the little fuel needle. You should never neglect it, if you don’t give the car a drink, it’ll leave you stranded and you won’t be able to continue.”

I made it an obsession. I looked and looked at the little needle, and since I didn’t see it change, I wondered, “What if it’s broken and it leaves me high and dry in the middle of nowhere? Even though I have some names here, I don’t know how far I am from any town.”

Finally, I saw a sign that filled me with joy: “Spanish Border.” Why would it say that? Everyone passing this way on this side of the border already knows they’re on Spanish soil, it’s obvious that it’s the border of Spain. At last I had reached it, I was about to enter Portugal. I assumed that they would also announce that we were at the “Border of Portugal” on their side, and I thought, “What now? Nothing Manu, just go ahead.” When I handed my papers to the border guard, he looked at me and asked me if I was going alone.

As the question surprised me, I must have had a strange expression on my face or something, because he immediately asked me:

“Is der someting wrong frien?”

But since I didn’t understand him very well, I had to ask him to repeat himself, and I asked him:

“Where are you from? You’re not Galician are you?”

He laughed and told me he was Andalusian:

“No, not Galician.”

“From where?” I asked, out of courtesy, aware of how many hours they spend there alone.

“From a real’ small town called Roquetas del Mar in da province of Almeria,” he replied.

I tried to remember, because at that moment I couldn’t quite recall where it was, but it seemed to me that it was in the South so I said:

“You’re kind of far from home.”

“Der’s a funny side to what dey command,” he said in his peculiar accent.

“And what’s that?” I asked him.

“Well, for dat reason, sendin’ me to the other side of the country, der’s nowhere furder away, what dya tink?” he said looking annoyed.

“You’ll not be able to see your family often then,” I said, because I didn’t know what else I could talk to him about.

“What are ye sayin’ man? I’ve been here for two years witout bein’ able to go down, what dya tink ‘o’ dat?”

“What do you mean by go down?” I asked surprised. I wasn’t really getting any of what he was saying.

“Well, jus’ dat, if we’re up here, my land will be down der, come on, I tell ya!”

“I still couldn’t quite understand him with that strange accent, but looking like a prankster, he laughed, and repeated:

“Up and down, it soun’s loike a game for chilren. So, wher are ye goin’? Is it that you’re not satisfoid wit’ Spain and yer off to anoder country? Surely ye don’ know my part of Spain,” he said to me. He seemed to want to keep talking.

“No, you’re right,” I replied.

“Well before ye get goin’ somewhere else, maybe you should get to know our own place. Look, I’m not one for showin’ off, but there ain’t nothin’ like my Andalusia.”

And he kept talking and talking. Uncertain about how to get out of this, my gut was telling me, “He’s not going to tire of this and let me continue on my way.”

And he went on saying to me:

“Why dontya take the cer and make for Andalusia? You’ll see such lan’scapes and places that they don’ have der in Portugal.”

“Do you know Portugal?” I asked him.

“Not at all, mid-air!” he told me. “What for? I’m satisfoid enough wit’ Spain and I’d loike to get to know da whole ting, I was at anoder border post for five yers.”

“Where?” I asked trying to be polite.

“Well, it wer real’ different from dis, der was no way to rest der, trucks and cers were always passin’ by, and they never stop comin’ even at lunchtime.”

“But where was it?” I asked again.

“On da French boarder, Hendaye it were called, such a cute name,” he replied.

“But I’m sure it’s better here,” I said.

“Yes, true dat, I can certainly assure ye, and listen, I love it so much I’ve even married one ‘o’ ya,” the man was telling me.

“Really?” I said a little incredulous. “How did you manage that? Well, Galician girls are known far and wide, when it comes to sweetness, no one beats them, they have that reputation.”

“And dis one is, so I couldn’t let her get away,” he said to me very excitedly.

As it was clear that he wasn’t going to stop, because I think what was going on was that he was bored and had found a captive audience to listen to him, I said:

“Hey, how far is it from here to Lisbon?”

“You’re going there?” he asked me surprised. “Well a good ole long way, and why are ye going der?”

I was getting tired of people asking me that and I must have frowned at him.

He noticed and returned the documents to me, adding:

“Sorry for me lack ‘o’ tact. Bye. Be careful on da road now ye hear? And remember dat der in Portugal, dey fine ye for everyting, have a good day.”

“I’m sure they will if I do something wrong, but I don’t intend to. Thanks, I’ll be very careful,” and with that I left.

Already a little more confident, I continued until I arrived at Fatima, with nothing else in my head but the matter that had brought me there: to find something here that I was looking for.

<<<<< >>>>>

I had gotten up early. I didn’t need to touch the alarm clock. My body clock, as they call it, was accurate. When it reached five o’clock, I already had one eye open, although when it was a holiday or I was on vacation and didn’t have to do anything, I stayed in bed a little longer.

That never stopped me from being an early riser though, that has been my habit since my student days, when I would get up to spend some time reviewing the lessons we had in advance so I could attend having recently read them.

I have subsequently continued to do the same thing in life, because whenever I’ve had to do something, when I start it early, it seems that I get more out of the day. I also had the habit of taking a siesta after lunch, only for half an hour, but enough to rest and get up with new strength for everything that I had left to do that day.

Before leaving the guest house, I would have a fleeting breakfast, something I had learned how to do the day before. They told me that it didn’t matter that I was going out at such early hours, that they always left some cookies and a coffee pot with warm coffee prepared in case anyone ever needed it, as well as a jug of cold milk, in case they didn’t want to drink the coffee black.

They also let me know where I could find it, because it wasn’t in the dining room, since it was still closed at that time. It was down a hallway, toward the middle of it. There was a broad area there, it looked as if it had been built specifically for that purpose.

I headed for that hallway very early and I immediately saw the table all set up. It was round, the kind of table they call a Camilla table. It was covered with red fabric and a white tablecloth, with a brazier underneath it to keep everything warm. On top of it, in one corner, was the coffee pot and next to it, a jug of milk covered with a crocheted doily, those that I knew well from my grandmother’s house, work that she loved. There were little pieces she had made throughout her whole house. Well, they were in mine as well, because on every birthday she managed to bring a new one, for a coffee table or to throw over a chair, saying that the one we had was already very worn.

I took a glass from among those that were sitting there upside down on a tray and I poured myself a coffee, and then a little milk and two teaspoons of sugar, as was my habit. I never took a coffee without them, even though it made Chelito say that I was the greediest in the house. I took two cookies and drank my coffee, almost in a single mouthful. It went down so well, so warm, then I left nibbling at the cookies.

I went out into the street and saw no one there. It didn’t surprise me at that hour, everyone would be asleep. What’s more, the door could only be opened from the inside, so there was no need for anyone to be on duty, people could only leave, no one could enter.

I opened it very carefully so as not to make any noise. I didn’t want to disturb anyone, and I thought, “What if I want to get back inside, how would I manage that?” but I immediately dismissed the idea. “Such folly, this is exactly what I wanted, to see everything quiet at this time, with not a soul to bother me, because everyone will be sleeping and the place will be empty.”