Angels - the Judith's secret

by Wudson Silva

  Yeah, certain things in this world only happen to me!

  Only I know how much my back hurts for sleeping inside the Variant, out of town, on the dirt road that the mayor insists in not reforming, and waiting for the bus, that never leaves on time. Not to mention my regret about going out to help the detective and facing myself with the priest’s body, who suddenly had committed suicide. But that is ok; it could be worse.

  Clóvis woke up and got off the car to stretch himself. Certainly his back was aching. I, also, didn’t want to stay seated in the uncomfortable seat of the Variant, and I took the chance to adjust my body. He took the chance and thanked for my presence at the church, saying that the idea was genius, but rejected the fact that I had taken Gabriel to fulfill a dream that was mine. “Your dreams must be fulfilled by you!”, he said. But I didn’t think it would look good for a forty-five year-old big belly grown man to be running around the church. This would look ridiculous.

  The sun was still shy; the fog was covering the swamp and the wind was blowing cold, but the cold air didn’t disturb me. I breathed, stretched my arms, and watched the birds singing in the trees around us.

  He got the backpack out of the Variant and remained waiting for the bus. He'd made his decision to leave and didn’t care about the hell in which the city was in.

  — Why do you need to leave exactly today?

  — Because I said I was going to leave on Monday, remember?

  — You have to give a lot of explanations about Lázaro’s death. There are reporters all around looking for you and it is likely that the army is also here!

  — Don’t overreact! — he smiled.

  The noise of the bus echoed through the mountains. I wasn’t happy about the detective leaving the city to rot. He is a professional and shouldn’t leave the case right when people needed most his help.

  Suddenly, I felt the urge of stopping and think about many things at the same time, and this made a pain rise in my chest, as if my soul was feeling sick, lonely. Clóvis was apprehensive, looking around me.

  — Finally, we are alone! — he said. — It is a bad feeling, but sometimes it happens.

  I noticed that he was surprised when looking over the Variant’s ceiling; a smile showed up in his face, because his eyes should be looking at something really good. I turned to understand what he was looking at, but all I could see was the car.

  Before the bus got there, I asked about what he had seen when my mother had died, on the top of the ambulance.

  Clóvis said that he had seen Marta and understood the value of life when he realized that she underappreciated her own body due to the vice. She could have lived more and suffered less. Before leaving, she asked Clóvis to open my mind, so that I didn’t go through the same path she did.

  — Your mother was forgiven — the detective explained. —Right at that last instant, she admitted all mistakes and redeemed herself in time. The curious thing is that at no time she referred to you by your name, but she called you Zinho.

  — Zinho?

  My memory travelled back in time, about forty years, when I was a child and had a fight with her asking her to not call me like that anymore. Marta really stopped calling me Zinho, but it was unbelievable that she never forgot it.

  My crying got stuck in my throat, while my childhood memories took back a few moments of joy I had with my mother. I wanted to know more about what she had talked about with the detective, but the bus was getting closer.

  — Stay, Clóvis, there is a bunch of things you have to do in town. It will not help you run away like this. They will be looking for you until they find…

  — My priority is the case of the iconoclast, Isaias, if I stay, I will not solve this problem as planned.

  Finally, the bus showed up on the curve and the detective waved. He took a recorder he had in his jacket and ejected the tape.

  — I took this recorder from your daughter; tell her it was very useful and give her a hug from me. The tape is for the Chief of Police, Jonas, who must be crazy looking for you.

  — Did you recorded Father Lázaro’s last words?

  — Yes. It revealed almost everything. Changing the subject, I tried to talk to João, the bar owner. I went there yesterday, after I left the church, but the waiters told me he had gone to the mass and they didn’t know when he was going back.

  — And what did you want with João?

  — Tell him not to wait for Abel to pay for the cracked glass counter.

  — It was Abel who broke it?

  — Yes. He should have been drunk and hit that glass so strongly that the result is obvious. He was lucky that the glass did not break entirely. João is waiting for him to go back to the bar and pay for fixing it, but for what I’ve seen, Abel will not be in that bar ever again.

  — So, this explains why the two of them stared so hard at each other on Wednesday.

  The bus stopped spreading a thick smoke from the exhaust pipe that involved us. Clóvis hugged me saying goodbye and raised the thumb to the ceiling of my car; certainly there was an angel there. He got in the bus and sat down in the first row.

  — I disagree! — I yelled due to the noise of the engine.

  — Disagree with what? — questioned out the window.

  — About my mother. She didn’t go to heaven because she redeemed her sins but because of her love. Details are important, Clóvis, and Marta, even committing a lot of mistakes, had love in her heart. She was redeemed because of this love.

  The detective gulped. He seemed ashamed of, despite being wise, not understanding what he was talking about. He only waved and left.

  Poor Clóvis.

  Despite of being a Translator of Angels, he will never get anything if he doesn't know how to predict. The prediction reaches men’s mind, while the celestial language of angels escapes our understanding. He will never be useful if his words are not related to a revelation, science, teaching or prophecy. If his mind is not expressed in intelligible words, who can understand it?

  Now I know why he is afraid of looking into the mirror and finding out that his knowledge is limited; that he is only part of a whole; consequently he has a superficial relationship, apart from the others, like an arm that gets loose from the body, judging himself as superior to the rest, inhibiting his love for another and its importance to the whole. His faith may be stronger than any sword, and his hope may last more than rocks. However, while he doesn't find out that between faith, hope and love, love is the most important thing, his struggle will be in vain.

  Love is moved for a reason, and no human being has ever been able to describe its mysteries. Love is benign, is patient, it doesn't rejoice on injustice, but it rejoices on the truth. Therefore, translating the celestial language doesn't give the capacity to a person to help anyone or the whole world. Even if he speaks the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, it would be like the smoke coming from the exhaust pipe of this bus that pollutes the roads as it rides — will be consumed by the air — I am nothing.

  I think I’ve read this somewhere.

  When riding through that abandoned road, I almost hit a black car coming from the town. Its speed of the vehicle was incompatible to the terrain; and I’ve never seen someone in such a hurry; it was so fast that it could have hit the back of the bus.

  After that, I drove back to the church square.

  There was so many people in the middle of the street that I was forced to wait them get out of the way of my car. The place was infested by rubberneckers, police officers and reporters.

  The Chief of Police Jonas saw when I arrived and ran towards me, hanging on my car window and wanting to know what had happened.

  — Good morning, Chief!

  — Good morning my ass! Where is the detective?

  — Oh!… Clóvis? — I said cynically. — Got up on the bus and left.

  — Everyone of his division where he works is here looking for him, and they are not pleased.

  I felt like saying �
��so what?”, but I realized that the reporters and rubberneckers opened up to two high class characters to get near me, and women with golden hair, of about forty years old, accompanied by an evil looking man, wearing shirt and tie, staring at me.

  — You must be Isaías — the woman said.

  — You got that right.

  — You are the one that accompanied detective Clóvis in this case, right?

  — Exactly. What a great work we did!

  — A tragedy, that is what you did! — she snarled. — Where is the detective Clóvis?

  — He'd just left in the bus.

  — You are kidding me — she said. — Get off the car and follow us!

  The man opened my car door and made me follow him with a single look. I had no choice other than follow them inside the church, where only authorized people could get in. I noticed that Lázaro’s body was still in the same place, because there were some people behind the big table discussing and looking to the floor. David, the prison guard, was outside controlling the entrance of the experts.

  When we were far away from the ears of the others and away from the reporters, the grumpy woman stared at me again.

  — I am Noêmia, inspector of the homicides division. This is detective César. I will be straight to the point: tell me where Clóvis is, and I promise you will remain here in this God forsaken place, without anyone after you.

  — Well, as I said before, he left to the capital.

  — That is bullshit!

  — Look, inspector, we had a hard week, believe me. I spent almost the whole night awake due to this suicide.

  — Why aren’t you resting, then?

  — Because I have to give a tape to the Chief of Police.

  — Give him what?

  I took the tape from my pocket and showed it to her. Her look of disgust demonstrated that Noêmia saw me as some caveman, so archaic I was.

  — Believe me, inspector, Clóvis went away because he has a battle against a so called icono… icono… icono…

  — Iconoclast, you ignorant! — Noêmia said angry. — There is no battle between them. I almost died because of the mess he made, and here you are talking to me about a battle? You are definitely lying!

  Detective César observed David’s curiosity, who was at the door, but with his sharp ears on our conversation. Then, the detective called him to know which were the buses that left Rio Vermelho, and David replied that there were two; one to Belo Horizonte and another to the city of Cerro. So, Noêmia asked me in which bus Clóvis did got in, and I replied that it was the bus to Belo Horizonte.

  The blond dyed woman and César looked at each other wickedly and concluded that they would go to Cerro, despite of me insisting that he didn’t went there. They left without further explanation.

  I left the church and saw a bunch of people at the square that didn’t know what was going on. The police had closed the church prohibiting the entrance of rubberneckers. In the middle of the crowd people yelled: “Isaías, is the priest ok?”, while others only waved at me asking to get closer. Certainly they wanted to know the same thing. The catechists light some candles and placed them on the corners of the church. Others kneeled down and prayed.

  A chopper flew close to the palm trees and disappeared behind the church towers. I’ve never seen that so close to me; the noise was like in the movies.

  Worst of all is that I had to deliver the detective’s tape to the Chief of Police and put up with the endless inquiry of the entire police department. I noticed that Jonas and a team of the Civil Police was coming my way. So I had two ideas.

  I went down the stairs, went through the crowd without giving information to the rubberneckers that were trying to stop me and I got in my Variant. I pulled away, got in the alley where Judith used to live and turned right, which was not the way to my house. I speeded up and turned right again, getting in an alley that would leave me on the street that takes to the church square. But I got in another alley and followed towards the hotel. I went in an alley at the side of a sports court and ended up in a street that took to the bar. Even someone from the city couldn’t chase me with a maneuver such as this.

  I looked back and didn’t see anyone behind. I was happy; the first idea went ok.

  The second idea was a momentary inspiration and should be put into practice urgently, because if I would leave it for later I would lose my nerves.

  The fact that I would never have the presence of my mother made me value the absence of someone that was isolated for too long in a place that had already started its countdown for its own end. Maybe Clóvis was right when he told me that the meaning of life was death, because it is right now, when I lost someone, that I am feeling like valuing things that I still have.

  I parked in front of the rest home and took a deep breath. When I got in, I saw a man watering a tomato plant, despite of the rain in the previous night.

  — Good morning, dad!

  He pretended he didn’t listen to me and continued watering.

  — Look, dad, Matheus, your grandson, works as a waiter, but I believe he can be much more than this. I intend to reopen the store that was yours and turn it into a supermarket, leaving Matheus to manage it.

  — It is not going to work — he said, without at least thinking about it. — Besides, you do not have money to reopen the store.

  — Yes, I do. I can sell my house and my car, so I will have the money to any venture.

  — And where are you going to live?

  — On the top of the supermarket, I mean, at your house.

  — You will walk around without a car?

  — I walk on foot. Rio Vermelho is not that big.

  Mr. Jacinto pulled a face, shriveling his mouth, and tried to change subject:

  — What is going on in this town?

  — Father Lázaro committed suicide.

  He raised his eyebrows, but remained indifferent.

  — If you have everything, what do you need me for?

  — Matheus is very clever, but he will need someone with experience on his side.

  — So, I will have to leave this place?

  — Yes, you are. We will live together in your house and stay together to raise this venture. I invest my capital, Matheus his work and creativity and you, Sir, invest your experience.

  — This is not going to work.

  I explained the steps we should follow to fulfill this project. He paid attention, but shook his head negatively.

  — This is not going to work — repeated.

  — We only will know that if we try. I spoke to Matheus and I will return soon so that we may live together, as we never did before.

  He didn’t reply. Maybe he didn’t understand what was going on. The important thing is that I had the courage and got it off my chest; something that I never did before. It would be best to give him some time to think about that, and later on resume the conversation to something more detailed. So, I asked for his blessing and left him thinking about a new future

  I got in the car and pulled away toward the square. My intention was to deliver the tape to the Chief of Police. But, suddenly, I got curious and kept thinking about what the priest and the detective talked so much before the suicide. Would it be wrong to hear the tape before giving it away? I don’t think so, because no one will know if I don’t tell and, on the other side, if I give it away now, I will never know what really happened. The opportunity couldn’t be better.

  I parked in front of a vacant lot, looked around — there was no one — the houses were also closed. I put the tape on the car stereo and raised the volume nearly to the top. What I heard, at principle, was the noise of steps, several steps. Probably of Clóvis crossing the church room.

  *****