by Diane Baumer
Brother Lucas laughed shyly as he listened to her. After having encountered so many atrocities along his young man’s life, flesh weakness was the least of his concerns.
“My mother abandoned me. For years, I’ve been imagining the circumstances that may have driven her to do something like that, yet none of them seems to reassure me. Every day I pray, hoping she found her place in the world.”
His eyes drifted into the score. The lyrics had been borrowed from a poem by Galician writer Rosalía de Castro:
From the cadenced roar of the waves
And the wail of the wind,
From the shimmering light
Flecked over woodland and cloud,
From the cries of passing birds
And the wild unknown perfumes
Stolen by zephyrs
From mountaintops and valleys,
There are realms where souls
Crushed by the weight of the world
Find refuge.
“Wonderful. Can we read it again?”
“As many times as you like! I started shuddering from the very first verse – ‘From the cadenced roar of the waves...’ How talented someone needs to be to choose those words…”
PART THREE:
The Detonation
50. Africa
The Advent was coming to an end. After several days in conscientious silence, the Franciscan friars began to work on their Christmas preparations. Brother Miguel, the youngest, watched the sky. His forecast was the same as in previous years – times of hope were on their way.
Brother Bartolo entered the distillery to search for his glasses. He needed to go to the station. A former brotherhood member was coming for a visit. Brother Benito, an agricultural and food engineer, had settled in sub-Saharan Africa some years ago – he had intended to prevent the voracious plutocracy from continuing to feed on starvation-stricken individuals. The friar had taught locals how to wisely exploit their scarce resources. Now, he would be running a training center in one Ethiopia’s most devastated areas.
At the train station, Brother Bartolo gave him a warm welcome.
“I’m happy to see you.”
“That’s because you are wearing your glasses,” Brother Benito said, fondly joking.
“I put them on just for you!”
“You're always the same!”
Upon his arrival at the monastery, the friars joyfully came out to greet him. They held Brother Benito in high esteem. He would always have a cheerful and positive spirit – in situations in which other people saw trouble, he would see a solution.
The custodian introduced him to the two newcomers, Brother Lucas and Cinnamon, who took his ball and put it at the guest’s feet.
“Oh, wow! Is this a welcome gift? Thank you!”
Cinnamon hastened to rescue it with his teeth. His gesture had been misunderstood. He only wanted to show the ball, not give it away.
“I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean to take it from you,” Brother Benito said jokingly before addressing the Mexican. “So you must be the musician. Brother Bartolo told me how good you are at the piano.”
Brother Lucas bent his head in embarrassment.
“He is just exaggerating. I just happen to press the keys and, every now and then, I hit the target miraculously.”
“Miraculously well. You're being modest, I think. What about the choir? I thought you had prepared some song for my arrival. I was looking forward to hearing you sing! Where are my favorite voices?”
“You need to wait until tomorrow. There is a surprise in store for you,” Brother Pedro replied.
“I like surprises!”
The next day, the whole monastery awoke in a merry atmosphere. For the friars, it was quite an event to sing at Lina’s house with Brother Lucas sitting at the piano. Sensing there was something exciting going on, Cinnamon decided to remain in close proximity to his friend so as not to be forgotten.
Since it was December twenty-first, there was no penitential fast. The text of the lauds announced solemnly, “Nolite timere, quinta enim die veniet ad vos Dominus noster.”52
Some relatives of the friars came to the house. Also Álvaro Ledesma, Rosario and her family, Belén, Sergio, and Germán Santos, Lina’s former manager. The man was curious to hear the Mexican’s talented voice.
Brother Lucas and the choir entered the study to rehearse. Germán Santos joined them.
Brother Bartolo suggested playing a soccer game with the kids. Cinnamon was up for it before anyone could even ask him.
Belén fetched some drinks. Sergio went after her.
“I broke up with Candela. I wanted you to know. I was wrong. I can’t understand what I was thinking of.”
“This is not the right time for this, please...”
She had to turn around to restrain her urge to seek comfort in the arms of the man she had shared an important part of her life with. Given the circumstances, rekindling his love for her would have been an act of selfishness. Her dizziness while paragliding had not been only due to vertigo. “Routine tests,” the doctor had said. Indeed – dying was part of such routine. So simple that it seemed hard to believe. How would she prevent Lina from blaming the curse? Misfortune just led the way for further misfortune. Murphy’s Law. Random cruelty.
It was curious. As I received the bad news, I actually felt more sorrow for her than for myself. I pictured her adding one of my rings to her dead box. I wouldn’t like her to do that or waste the rest of her life as she awaits a signal from me to ease her distress. I want my legacy to be a mirror in which she can see the reflection of the happy woman she deserves to be. I don’t want her to turn my memory into another torture device.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear the last thing you said,” she said, realizing that Sergio had spoken and was waiting for an answer.
“I was just wondering where I could find the napkins… Are you okay?”
“Yes, it’s just sleep deprivation.”
How can a woman resist a caress from the man she loves? She had no choice but to slip away. There was not enough morphine in the world to soothe the enormous pain from an out-of-date joy.
In the hallway, she passed a friar who was walking blissfully and exclaiming exaggeratedly.
“How beautiful Christmas is! Aren’t you happy? Hope is in the air, isn’t it?” the high-spirited man said.
“Can you take this tray to the garden, please?” she asked urgently, as she handed it over to him and went to take shelter in the bathroom.
In the hall, Brother Benito and Doctor Ledesma were discussing the situation in Africa. The Ethiopian congregation was running a reception center for orphaned children in the area bordering Eritrea. Many had gone through mutilation.
The doctor’s heart, which had been dormant since Gebre’s death, resumed its blood-pumping to his brain.
“Would a reconstructive surgeon come in handy, even if he is an atheist?” he asked, patting the friar gently on the shoulder.
“I would be a godsend to us.”
Lina approached them to take their picture. The two men smiled – the friar was looking at the camera, yet the doctor was staring at her.
They all went into the study. Sergio sat next to Belén. Cinnamon rested at the feet of Lina, who had refused to leave him out.
Álvaro remained absent-minded as he contemplated her. Now that Lina is finally doing better, I need to travel... It’s really irritating! The one time I am in love, I fall for a woman I’ll have to leave for a time. He was surprised at his use of the word love. Was it really love? The only thing I know is I yearn for her company. I respect her, I dream of being by her side. Yes, I guess this could actually be love.
He turned to Belén and asked her to come closer.
“I’ll be staying in Africa for a while with one of the friars,” he muttered. The doctor could not
hide his excitement.
“Really? I am happy for you.”
“Take care of Lina, please.”
“I won’t be here,” she said, trying to get through the conversation without lying.
Belén wondered whether she would be going just too if she secretly died and did not distress anyone. Oh, I don't have the heart to tell my friend I'm sick.
“Does Lina know you are leaving?”
“I didn’t tell her yet.”
“Some goodbyes may actually be hellos.”
If you’re as marvelous as I think, take my friend to the room once we all are gone and convince her you’re worth it. You're a brave man. I wish you luck.
“The concert is about to begin.”
“I'm itching to listen to them.”
Brother Lucas confided in God before his hands played the instrumental part of the Cantique de Jean Racine. D-flat major. Tonic. Triplet accompaniment. Melody... Delight...
Then the choir entered. Some words echoed in the Mexican’s ears as though they were being highlighted in bold.
That all hell might flee at the sound of Your voice;
Dispel the languishing soul’s torpor.53
Brother Pedro said to himself that many voices like Brother Lucas’ would be needed to chase away the deadliest plague in the world – indifference. I hope I can find a way to help him solve the mess he’s in.
The custodian sighed regretfully. Soon it would be time to notify the young friar of his own relocation to Mexico. Keeping the secret felt as heavy as carrying it inside an iridium chest. I hope he understands. I can’t take him along against the Church. It’s better this way. It would be too risky.
Then, they performed a selection of pieces from A Ceremony of Carols, by composer Benjamin Britten.
Balulalow
I shall praise You forever,
With sweet songs of Your glory.
The knees of my heart I shall bow,
And sing that rich Balulalow.54
Brother Lucas wondered whether either of his parents would have cradled him in their arms while singing a lullaby to him prior to his abandonment. What would have become of my life if I had been raised by them? Would I still be a friar? Would I believe in Him?
They continued with “There is No Rose” and “The Little Babe.”
This little babe so few days old
Is come to rifle Satan’s fold.
Further painful questions kept bothering the Mexican. Why had they left him in a monastery? Why in one with friars? Why had Brother Simón assured he was not the son of any of them? Why, why, why…?
Belén sighed in relief as she heard Ave Maria, O Auctrix Vite, by composer Hildegard Von Bingen. Some womanly music, at last! Even if the author had been a nun… The delicacy of the composition coupled with the enthusiasm of those kind men enticed her to question whether they might be a hologram – the projection of collective imagination of those arbitrating between a naïve God and even more naïve men.
I could only understand the existence of a superior being if this was a creative artist, great and chaotic alike. That would clarify it all. By the way, why is Lina winking at me?
“What’s going on?” the physicist asked with a movement of her lips.
Lina signaled her to pay attention to what was about to happen.
As soon as the choir songs finished, Brother Lucas started performing, with the piano and his voice, three lieder Lina had composed for him. The selection of poems included some of Belén’s favorites.
As she heard them, the physician decided on her last wish, for which she would ask her friend. I don’t want her to capture my memory in a little box, but to turn it into music composed by her.
Lina looked around. She wanted to etch on her memory the privilege which the genie of good wishes had bestowed on her for a few hours – enjoying the ones she loved without being afraid of losing them.
I wish life was always that simple…
The lively composition stirred the listeners’ feelings until it eventually razed the walls which had been protecting them from their fears. Modulations became confused in an attempt to take everyone out of their comfort zone. The delicate dynamics detached the inebriated souls from the flesh. As they merged into the music, they transcended to an otherworldly dimension of floating feelings – although they thought they were free, they were unaware that they were being led by the almighty reason of a composer playing the part of a demiurge.
Lina wondered why a certain sound combination would approach her fingertips to ecstasy while a similar one would not. She smiled at the thought of the answer. It’s like finding the combination that opens the safe.
The concert ended with an overwhelming silence, as if those present had left at the last harmonic and abandoned their bodies there. As they returned from their mental impasse, they found themselves happy to share the sensations experienced. Congratulations, hugs, applause, barking... Now, it was hard to think that not even their breaths had been audible a few minutes before. Lina was fervently encouraged to continue to compose. Everybody was begging for more.
Lina searched for Belén. She needed to give her friend a hug. How fortunate she was now, freed from the black cloud which for years had furiously hung over her and her loved ones. Maybe the curse, sensing she was intimidated and weak, had been unleashing its fury unrestrainedly. Indeed, that made sense. Lina Maldonado swore she would never again allow herself to be daunted by fear. Having so many good people around, what bad thing could possibly happen?
Then, for the first time in her life, she told Belén that she loved her.
“What’s the matter?” Lina asked, noticing her friend was tense.
Belén was not able to say a word. The gladiator had been defeated by the beast and was dying as he wobbled. Lina, my friend – how could I keep you from blaming yourself for saying those words when I die?
Where did she gather all the strength needed for avoid falling? Once again, the reason was love.
“If I was struck by lightning right now, I would go to a better place, happy you said that. Promise you’ll never regret it.”
Lina squeezed her harder.
“Hush! We will grow old together, and I will tell you I love you every time we see each other. I love you, I love you, thank you for your patience... Come on, cheer up! I know you’ll be okay. By the way, did you like the music I composed for your favorite poems?”
“You should definitely keep composing. Firstly, it would be unforgivable to waste your talent and, secondly, because we don’t really need another century of male supremacy.”
Germán Santos joined the conversation.
“If you wrote more pieces for that friar, we could go on a tour with him singing. I’m still speechless. The Deutsche Grammophon guys will want to record it as soon as they listen to it. If you aren’t recovered enough to accompany him on the piano, we will get someone else. He plays nicely; however, he needs more practice. Now, the compositions need to be yours. The audience misses you. If they can’t physically have you onstage, at least give them your soul through the friar’s voice.”
“I’m not sure if...”
“Trust me.”
“Listen to him,” Belén added.
“I don’t think he will accept.”
Appalled at the idea of appearing before an audience, Brother Lucas refused straightforwardly. He was a nobody! In addition, he just wanted to return to his country and try to assist people.
Lina could not help thinking of the void he would leave on the day of his departure. What about Cinnamon? she wondered, looking at him sadly. Won’t he pay me any more visits? The dog, as though it had understood what her expression meant, brushed her leg with its snout.
“How can you understand me so well?”
Álvaro approached to caress him.
“T
ake care of your friend, huh, smart dog? I’m not going to be here...”
When he let Lina know about his plans to go to Africa for a while, she could not repress her deepest feelings.
“Now you will save a thousand children for...” she murmured movingly.
He nodded.
“I’m leaving for Madrid tomorrow. I need to get my visa and some paperwork done. We will fly to Ethiopia right after the Christmas break. I will be back for the trial.”
“I hope everything will be clarified.”
“Sergio has been of great help. Somebody appears to be lying, and that’s not me.”
“He will uncover the truth. Once Comares has smelled trouble brewing, he won’t stop until he finds the source.”
She noticed that Sergio and Belén were really close. Is it just me, or is he looking at her with loving eyes? It would be wonderful if they decided not to divorce…
When the time came for goodbyes, Doctor Ledesma allowed everyone to come on a one-by-one basis and stay on their own with Lina. The pianist felt her heart beating so intensely that she even wondered whether she was being pushed toward Álvaro. Why is this happening to me? I still have to recover from the accident, from François... I can’t make things any more difficult in my life. I don’t feel like being attracted to this man. Absolutely no way! It’s a good thing he is going to be far away.
Álvaro caressed her arms tenderly.
“Look after yourself. And keep up the rehab, huh? If there’s any problem, promise you’ll call my colleague.”
She shuddered. How could some flesh-dissecting cold hands be caressing her so delightfully?
What do I think this is? He’s my doctor. I’m not supposed to get aroused at the touch of his fingers.