A Thunderous Whisper

by Christina Diaz Gonzalez

  “Ani, let’s take them outside again,” Julián said, staring out the window. “I’m tired of being inside.”

  I did a long, slow blink and glanced up at the gathering dark clouds. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said. “Looks like a storm is coming.”

  “Aw, c’mon,” Julián pleaded.

  It was all I could do to keep my eyes open, my mind finally wanting to shut down and escape everything that had happened in the last day. “Why don’t we all take a nap?” I suggested, getting off the chair and sitting on the floor, where some of the children were playing with old spools of thread.

  Through a yawn, one of the little girls, Mirentxu, replied, “But I’m not sleepy.”

  I looked at the three children, all younger than Julián, who were probably now orphans. Most still had slightly puffy eyes from sporadic bouts of crying and a night of not sleeping. I could only imagine what shape I was in.

  “How about if I tell a story?” I pulled over a little boy who had not said a word, even though he was definitely old enough to talk. “You’ve all heard of the jentillak, right? The magical people who live deep in the woods?”

  The quiet boy shrugged, but sat down on the floor next to me and leaned back on his arms … waiting. The others joined him, all sitting close to me.

  “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess—”

  “Princess?” Julián sighed before rolling his wheelchair back against the wall. “I thought you said this was about the jentillak.”

  “It is. Just close your eyes and listen.” I paused, waiting for him to do as I said. “I want all of you to imagine the story.”

  Carmita nestled her head into my lap, and I started again. “Once there was a beautiful princess who lived in a magical land surrounded by the sea, but she was never allowed to go too far into the water.”

  “My grandfather lives by the sea,” Mirentxu exclaimed, sitting up in excitement.

  “Shhh.” I gently covered her eyes with my hand before continuing.

  “You see, the princess wanted to explore new lands and have adventures, but just like everyone else on the island, she was trapped by an evil sea serpent that lived in the waves just past the horizon. Anyone who dared go out in a boat would get … eaten by the monster!”

  The children all flinched, so I quickly added, “But that rarely happened because no one ever left their island home.” The little shoulders around me relaxed again. “It was a beautiful place to live. It had rolling hills, and everyone always had enough food to eat because so many different plants grew there. They would have celebrations and parties every week. Keep your eyes closed, but can you imagine such a wonderful place?”

  I watched as the round faces beside me nodded. The children were all starting to curl up on the floor, and I stroked Carmita’s hair, her breathing already even.

  “So, one day, while walking along the shoreline and dreaming of traveling across the sea, the princess heard a tiny noise from under a large shell that was covered with seaweed. Curious to see what kind of animal might be trapped underneath, she slowly reached down and lifted the shell, and”—I dropped my voice to barely a whisper—“do you know what she saw?”

  The little boy, whose name no one knew because he hadn’t spoken, shook his head.

  “She saw a tiny winged fairy that sparkled like rays of sunlight glimmering on the ocean’s waves. The princess jumped back and started to run away because she had never seen a fairy before. But the fairy flew and caught up to her, saying, ‘Thank you, thank you. I’ve been trapped under that shell for days and thought that I would most certainly die there.’ The fairy then surprised the princess by giving her a most magical gift. Can you guess what that was?”

  Silence. None of the children said anything.

  I looked over at Julián, slumped sideways, his head propped against the back of his wheelchair.

  Slowly I moved Carmita to the floor and curled up next to her, closing my own eyes. The only remaining noise was coming from Mathias’s wood chopping outside.

  “Why don’t you keep going? You have a nice voice,” someone from across the room said.

  I opened my eyes to see the boy with bandaged eyes sitting up.

  “Gracias,” I whispered back.

  “Are the kids asleep?” he asked in a hushed voice.

  I nodded, not wanting to wake them up.

  “Are you still there?” he said a little louder.

  “Yes,” I whispered again, realizing that he couldn’t see me nod.

  “Oh, good. Do you mind keeping me company for a while?”

  I looked at him sitting next to the cold fireplace. His head was wrapped with white gauze that stretched across his eyes and covered most of his light brown hair. Even though I couldn’t see his whole face, he looked somewhat familiar. I had the sinking feeling that he was one of the older boys who went to my school.

  “¿Por favor?” he asked.

  I stood and moved closer to him. “Are you in a lot of pain? Should I go get someone?”

  “No. I’m a little groggy. Must be the stuff they’ve been giving me.” He tilted his head slightly toward me. “Am I in a hospital?”

  “No, you’re at the Garza farmhouse. It’s about a fifteen-minute walk up the mountain.” I looked around the room at the sleeping children. “There are a few injured people here and some children they found in the field farther down the mountain. Is that where you were?”

  The boy nodded. “Can you go get my mother? We were running toward the mountains when a bomb exploded in front of us.”

  “I don’t know where she is. I think—”

  “Wait, you haven’t seen her? She’s not here?” His voice started to get louder as he threw off the wool blanket that covered his legs. “Mamá!” he called out in a loud voice, his hands fumbling to remove the bandage around his head.

  “Shh!” I covered his mouth with my hand and stopped him from untying the bandage. “There are a couple of women in the bedroom. She’s probably there. If not, she was taken with some of the others who—”

  “Can you check?” he asked. “She has short dark brown hair, and she’s a few inches shorter than me. And she’s really thin.” I could hear the panic rising in his voice as he tried to whisper. “Tell her I’m here. That Diego is here.”

  “Okay,” I said, touching his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Just leave your bandages alone.”

  Walking past Julián’s room, I headed toward the back bedroom, which had been kept closed so that the children wouldn’t run in. I opened the door and saw two bodies on the floor covered by bedsheets. I fixed my gaze on the people in the beds, not wanting to think about the people under the flowered sheets and if I might know them.

  The bed by the window held an old woman, much older than Señora Garza, who had wooden splints wrapped around her legs. In the other bed, a thin, pretty woman with short hair lay quietly sleeping. It didn’t seem as if she was even hurt, although I couldn’t imagine anyone just resting knowing everything that was going on.

  “If I’d known you were feeling better, I would have brought you in to be with her. But remember, está inconsciente,” Señora Garza said from behind me.

  I turned to see her leading the boy, who, when standing, was several inches taller than me, probably as tall as Mathias.

  “She’s unconscious?” I asked.

  Señora Garza nodded and brought the boy to the edge of the bed, turning him around so he could sit by his mother.

  “They were both unconscious when Garza found them. A bomb had left a huge crater just a couple of feet from where they were.” She tapped the boy’s hand. “Son bien dichosos,” she said.

  “Yeah, lucky. Right,” he answered, thrusting his hand forward and then tapping his way up to find his mother’s face. His touch changed once he felt her nose, and soon he was caressing her cheek. “Despiértate, Mami,” he said, gently stroking her hair. “Please, please … wake up.”

  Señora Garza pressed my arm
and whispered, “Call me if anything changes. I’ll be outside.”

  I nodded as she left the room. The old woman in the other bed stared at me for a moment before turning to face out the window. She was awake, but obviously didn’t want to talk.

  “Is someone still there?” Diego held his mother’s hand and turned his head toward me.

  “I’m here. Should I go?” I asked, not wanting to intrude.

  “No. Can you tell me how she looks? Is she hurt?” he asked.

  I stared at the woman. She had a small cut on the bridge of her nose, and her clothes were torn and dirty … but otherwise she seemed normal.

  “She just looks like she’s sleeping,” I said, drawing closer to the bed.

  “That’s good,” he muttered. “Is anyone else in here with us? I hear breathing.”

  The old woman in the other bed groaned as she tried in vain to roll on her side, the splints forcing her to stay still.

  “Um, yeah,” I said. “There’s someone who—”

  “My name is Diego, and this is my mother, Marielena,” Diego called out.

  “Hmph,” the woman muttered, not bothering to look our way.

  “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” I whispered, sitting next to him on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh.” Diego moved his head from side to side as if his other senses were trying to fill him in on his surroundings. “Anyone else here?”

  My eyes fell on the two bodies covered by the flowered sheets. “Um, no, well … there are two … um … you know …”

  “Bodies? It’s okay.” His right hand reached out and accidentally touched my thigh. Immediately he pulled it back, his cheeks turning red.

  “S-s-sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to …”

  I nodded, words trapped inside me until I remembered he couldn’t see how flustered I was. “It’s okay,” I managed to get out.

  We sat there not saying anything for a few moments.

  “It was really bad out there, you know,” Diego said, rubbing his mother’s hand again. “We tried to escape by running toward the mountains, and that’s when we got hit. But the things I saw before that …” He shook his head. “I’ll never forget. Friends of mine … gone. Their bodies all mangled.”

  I looked down, my own memories bringing tears to my eyes, but I refused to give in to them. Mamá would never have tolerated such weakness. She used to say that things could always get worse, although I wasn’t sure that was the case anymore.

  Diego kept talking, unaware that I was barely paying attention. “Just be glad you weren’t there.” He cupped his mother’s hand around his lips and kissed her palm. “I was late to my jai alai match because of her. That’s the only reason I’m still here.”

  “Mm-hm,” I muttered, a single tear silently rolling off my cheek before my fingers quickly wiped it away. I would not cry.

  “All I remember is running across the field, pulling Mamá along, and then there was a high-pitched whistling noise and a flash of light. Then I heard more bombs and gunfire. I tried to move, find my mother, but I must’ve blacked out. After that, the next thing I knew, my head was being bandaged up and I was given some patxaran.”

  “They gave you liquor?” I asked.

  “To dull the pain, I guess … but it doesn’t hurt that much. What I remember hurts more.”

  “I know,” I said, mindlessly answering him.

  “No”—he shook his head—“you don’t know.” His voice had a harder edge to it now. “You have no idea living up here what it was like yesterday down in the city.”

  “Living here? What do you—”

  “Don’t get me wrong.” He placed his mother’s hand back on the bed. “I’m grateful to your parents for everything, but when I think of some of the things I saw … I … I want to throw up.”

  “What? You think the Garzas are my parents?”

  “Parents, grandparents, whatever. You just can’t understand what it was like in Guernica.” His voice started to get louder. “So tell them not to call me dichoso. No one who was there is lucky. The only lucky one here is you.”

  I stood up, knocking over the chair. “I understand plenty, and believe me, I wish my mother were lying here next to me in one piece and not—” I couldn’t finish the sentence. A tear ran down my cheek. I kicked the chair out of the way. “You’re un idiota!” I said as another tear rolled down my face, and I ran out of the room.

  “Wait!” Diego called out, but it was too late.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Walking outside, I felt a sudden cold wind whip through my hair. The day had turned dark, and I could smell the threat of rain in the air. A storm was blowing in from the sea … a big one.

  I wanted to go to the field and sit under my tree, but the rumble of thunder in the distance warned against it. Standing still, I tried my best to breathe in the familiar smells of the land, to gain control of the emotions rising up inside me. I could still hear Mathias chopping wood in the backyard, but I didn’t want to be with him.… I didn’t want to be with anyone.

  Drawing in a long, shaky breath, I saw what seemed like two raindrops hit my dust-covered black leather shoes. I glanced up at the sky, then realized that the drops were coming from me and not the sky. The two tears were quickly followed by two more, and then, like a flood breaking through a dam, I crumpled to the ground sobbing. Never had I felt so alone. I missed my mother.

  My mother. I covered my face and cried.

  “Graciela! Graciela!” I lifted my head to see Garza jump off his wagon, wrap the horse’s reins around a post, and rush toward the house.

  “Aquí. ¡Estoy aquí!” Señora Garza came running outside.

  The old man immediately took his wife by the hand. “Come,” he said, walking back to the wagon.

  “You know who showed up here? Wait.” She looked around. “You didn’t bring back a doctor?”

  Garza shook his head. “Graciela, the town is in ruins. There are so many people hurt.” He looked up as a thick raindrop hit his shoulder. “They can’t spare anyone. After the storm passes, I’ll take those with the worst injuries to one of the makeshift hospitals they’ve set up.” He reached into one of the baskets in the back of the wagon. “But first, look at this.”

  I watched as he pulled out a bundle wrapped in a blanket.

  “¡Ay, Dios mío!” Señora Garza clasped her hands before taking the bundle and cradling it in her arms. A tiny hand poked up. “But why did you bring him here?”

  Garza pointed to the baskets in the wagon. “Padre Iñaki asked me to care for these four. He’s trying to find their families, but they need a place to stay for now. He sent a few others to the Eguiguren farm too. I told him the names of the other children we have, and he’ll try to find their relatives as well.”

  The raindrops splattered against the ground, one drop landing on my forehead and then another on my hand. I barely noticed. The wagon felt like a magnet, lifting me off the ground and pulling me closer. Seconds later, I was standing next to the wagon, peering over the side.

  Garza gave me a strange look, then a flash of recognition crossed his face when he realized who I was.

  “Espérate, aren’t you … Mathias’s friend?”

  “Sí. I’m—”

  “Is Mathias …,” he asked just as Mathias came around the corner of the house, still carrying the ax.

  “Mathias!” he yelled, running toward him. “Mathias! I can’t believe … Are you … you look … ¿y tus padres?”

  Mathias looked away, not wanting to meet the old man’s eyes. He didn’t have to answer his question. The look on his face said what had happened to his parents.

  Garza stopped in his tracks and took off his beret, momentarily closing his eyes. “Maldita guerra,” he muttered.

  “We have to end this war … once and for all,” Mathias told him. “You’ll help me, right?”

  Garza put an arm around Mathias and walked back toward us as the fat raindrops continued to slowly fall. “The way thi
ngs are going for us, I fear the end will be here soon enough.”

  Mathias stopped. “Fear? Now’s not the time to be afraid. You fought with the French in the Great War. You weren’t afraid twenty years ago! You know there’s only one thing left to do.” His eyes met mine as he said, “I need to join the fight!”

  Garza sighed. “Ay, Mati, you don’t even know what you’d be getting yourself into. You’re so young.… War is not what you imagine it to be.”

  “Imagine?” Mathias pulled away from the old man. “I don’t need to imagine it.… I’ve seen it up close. It was there on my parents’ faces when they were lying under a pile of rubble.” His eyes darted from Garza to Garza’s wife, then to me. “If you won’t help me, then I’ll do it myself. You’ll see. I will make them pay!”

  He slammed the ax into the ground.

  “And if you won’t help me, then you can all go to hell!” he yelled as he stomped back to the house before any of us could react.

  I was frozen. I’d never seen so much hatred in someone’s eyes.

  “Mathias!” Señora Garza called out.

  Garza shook his head, looking over at his wife and me. “Leave him alone for now. He’s hurt and angry. I’ll talk to him later. Reason with him.”

  The loud crackling sound of lightning followed by the powerful boom of thunder startled me and the babies. Instantly, they all began to cry as the heavens opened up and shed their own tears.

  “Help me get them inside!” Señora Garza commanded, placing the baby she held into a basket and racing toward the house.

  “¡Apúrate!” Garza yelled over the now-pouring rain.

  I felt my hair begin to drip with water.

  “Niña”—he grabbed me by the shoulders—“it’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Now get the babies.” He picked up two of the baskets, one in each arm.

  Slowly, as if lead filled my entire body, I reached for the last basket, looking down at the tiny crying baby inside. It had a few small scrapes on its nose and cheek, but otherwise it looked … fine.