Tell Me Who I Am by Julia Navarro
“Amelia, you have to come home, Mama will call your parents and we will all go to see them together, but you have to come alone. You have to understand that you are not welcome for the time being, perhaps at some point in the future... ,” Laura said, addressing this last sentence to Pierre.
Amelia seemed prepared to allow her cousin to convince her, but Pierre’s reaction prevented this.
“I will do whatever Amelia wants, but I must say that it was not easy for my family to accept my relationship with a married woman, and, much as I love my mother, I have made it clear to her that if I do have to choose between her and Amelia, then my choice will be Amelia.”
When she heard this, Amelia felt obliged to take his side.
“If you don’t want him to come with me, then I will not go,” she said in tears.
“But Amelia, you have to understand! Your father has had a heart attack, and if you appear with Pierre who knows what will happen to him? And you could hurt your mother as well... It’s better to take things slowly, let them see you and then you can convince them that they should receive Pierre. You can’t ask for your parents to accept a man who isn’t your husband, just like that; and you know that your father likes Santiago a lot...”
Pierre held Amelia and stroked her hair.
“All shall be well!” he said in an impassioned voice. “Don’t worry, all shall be well, but we have to show the whole world that our love is true.”
Amelia disengaged herself and dried her tears with Pierre’s handkerchief.
“Tell your parents that I will not go anywhere if it is not with him. I want to divorce Santiago and become Pierre’s wife. If you can willingly manage to help my parents receive me, I will be the happiest woman in the world; if you cannot, then I am happy that I have at least managed to see you and embrace you. I am sure that you will be able to convince them but if it is not to be... then at least promise me that you will never forget me, and will try to forgive me one day. Now, go home with Edurne and try to do what I have asked you.”
They embraced again, again in tears, and Laura promised that she would try to convince her parents.
“At least I hope that Papa will help us; he is more understanding than my mother. Neither she nor your mother are in favor of divorce, but I am sure that if they know that you are going to get married then they will soften their stance a little.”
Who could have known that when we got home it would be to find Don Armando in a highly agitated state, upset by the news that had just reached him from North Africa, where a group of soldiers had apparently rebelled.
The news was confused during the first few hours, and people said that there could have been an insurrection led by the generals Mola, Queipo de Llano, Sanjurjo, and Franco.
“Papa, I need to talk to you,” Laura said to Don Armando.
“I can’t talk now, I need to get over to Parliament, I am meeting a deputy there, I’m his lawyer; I want to know what’s going on.”
“Amelia is in Madrid.”
“Amelia? Your cousin?”
“Yes, your niece is here, Armando, and Laura has run off to see her. I was going to tell you but you gave me no time, you were so upset about this rebellion... ,” Doña Elena added.
The news upset Don Armando severely. This was the worst of all possible days to face a family drama. The country was falling to pieces and the family had to think about Amelia.
“We must tell her parents. Sort it out, Elena, we have to go to my brother’s house. Where is this madwoman?”
“In the La Carmela boardinghouse, with Pierre.”
“That scoundrel! Well, let’s go for her. Good God! She had to come today, didn’t she!”
“For goodness’ sake, Papa, the important thing is that she is here!” Melita, his oldest daughter, said.
“The important thing is that we don’t know if there’s a coup d’état going on, with all the terrible consequences it will bring. Well, let’s do what we have to do, let’s go and find her.”
“No, Papa, we can’t do it unless you are ready to accept Pierre,” Laura declared.
“Accept that scoundrel! Never!”
“Papa, Amelia says that she will only agree to come here or to her parents’ house if she comes with Pierre, and if not...”
“But how dare she set conditions? No, we will not receive that man, I will not open my house to him,” Doña Elena insisted.
“Explain yourself, Amelia,” Don Armando said extremely seriously.
“Either we receive the pair of them or Amelia will not come here or to her parents’ house, she was very clear about that. Papa, I beg you to accept Pierre, if you don’t then we will lose Amelia forever. Edurne has said that he is planning to take her to Buenos Aires. I think that if we go to her and pretend that we accept him, then we might be able to convince her to stay; if we don’t then we’ll lose her for good.”
Don Armando felt overwhelmed by events, political as much as familial.
“Listen, after what Amelia has done she cannot set any conditions. This house will always have its doors open for her, and I am sure that my brother would say the same if his daughter were ever to knock on his door. But she cannot insist that we accept a man who has brought so much scandal on the family. And I don’t dare go to your uncle’s house and upset him by giving him the dilemma that if he wants to see his daughter then it has to be with this Pierre. It would be cruel to him.”
“I know, Papa. I tried to reason with Amelia, but it was impossible. It’s... it’s like she’s lost her free will. Pierre has carried her away.”
“What are we going to do?” Doña Elena wanted to know.
“Edurne will go back to the boardinghouse and explain that if Amelia wants to come then it will have to be without that man. Then we will take her to her parents’ house,” Don Armando declared.
“And if she refuses?” Laura said in a very small voice.
“We will be in a very difficult situation. I will have to go see my brother and tell him what has happened, and I’m afraid that it will give him such a shock that it might affect his health.”
“Papa, why don’t you go see Amelia?” Laura begged.
“Me? No, it’s not right that I should see that man, who deserves only to be challenged to a duel for what he’s done.”
Just as they told me, I went back to the boardinghouse, but I couldn’t find Amelia or Pierre. The landlady told me that they had hurried out because a young man had come to the house to tell Pierre that there was a military uprising taking place in North Africa. The landlady told me that she was shocked by the news of the uprising, but even so she had no qualms in asking me what was going on between Amelia and Pierre, and why Amelia wouldn’t stop crying. I didn’t answer her, I only asked if she knew where they had gone or when they would come back, but she couldn’t tell me and so I went home.
That night Amelia telephoned Laura. Don Armando and Doña Elena had gone to Don Juan’s house and they had not yet returned. Laura tried to convince her cousin to see her family without Pierre being present, but it was no use. Amelia said that they would be going back to Barcelona the next afternoon and from there to France. She did not know if they would see each other again.
Edurne fell silent, looking into the distance, just as when we had spoken the last time. It was as if these memories hit her hard and she did not know how to control them.
“Is that everything?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s it. Amelia left. Doña Teresa and Antonietta went to La Carmela the next day, but she had already gone. It wasn’t easy for Doña Teresa to go to a boardinghouse, looking for her daughter, but she had decided that she needed to drag Amelia out of Pierre’s clutches; her love for her daughter was stronger than any social or familial convention. She didn’t tell Don Juan, she just made her decision and asked Antonietta to go with her, but they were too late. She cried a lot and blamed herself for not having acted sooner and gone earlier, or even the previous night. I suppose Pierre thought that
I took my leave of Edurne and thanked her sincerely for all that she had told me, saying that I hoped I would not have to bother her again. I was upset by all that I had heard, and asked myself what had happened next with Amelia. It was clear that I would have to talk to Pablo Soler again.
I met Amelia María and her Aunt Melita downstairs. All these Amelias!
“I’m just leaving,” I said, before Amelia María could make a face.
“Yes, I knew you were coming today.”
“And how are you?” I asked the old woman, who was walking extremely slowly, with a nurse and her great-niece helping her.
“I’m on my last legs, my dear, but I’ll hang on until I read your story,” she said with a smile. “I think I’m a bit better today, and the doctors say they can’t find anything; as if old age weren’t an illness, but it is, my dear Guillermo, it is. The worst of it is that you lose your memories.”
“Come on, Auntie, you need to rest. Help my aunt to the elevator,” Amelia María said to the nurse.
Amelia María stayed for a few moments watching her great-aunt get into the elevator with the nurse.
“Well, Guillermo, how’s your story getting along?”
“It’s full of surprises, I think my great-grandmother had a very exciting life.”
“Yes, I’m sure. What else?”
“Nothing special, your Aunt Laura is helping me a lot and giving me a lot of leads. What did the doctor say to Doña Melita?”
“She’s alright; her health is good, which is a miracle given her age. I hired a nurse a few days ago to be in the house and help the pair of them. I’m not happy to leave them alone when I go to work. If something does happen the nurse will know what to do.”
“That’s the right thing to do. Well, lovely to see you, Auntie.”
“What?”
“We are related, even if you’re not happy about it, and you must be something like my aunt several times removed, right?”
“You know what, Guillermo? You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
I liked to annoy her because she reminded me a lot of my Aunt Marta.
I went to my mother’s to eat the salad that I knew I would not be able to escape, then I went to the editor’s office at the online newspaper to pick up my modest check, and then I went straight to the airport. Pablo Soler had agreed to see me the next morning. He was a man who liked to get up early: the meeting, once again, was scheduled for eight a.m.
5
Charlotte opened the door and went with me to her husband’s office.
“I’ll make some coffee,” she said in a maternal voice.
A few minutes later the door opened and a maid came in with a tray on which stood a coffee pot, a jug of milk, and a plate of toast. Don Pablo served coffee for both of us, but he made no move to take a piece of toast, and so I did not either, even though I would have liked to have one, thickly spread with jam and butter.
“So, what did Doña Laura tell you?” he asked me.
“I couldn’t see her, she’s a bit out of sorts, but I spoke with Edurne, you know who she is.”
“Good old Edurne, of course. Doña Laura is very fond of her. I spoke to her last night and she says she’s feeling much better. As far as Edurne is concerned... she was an exceptional witness to everything that happened. Lola held her in very high regard, much higher than she did Amelia; she thought of her as an equal, a worker. Lola used to say that the Garayoas were being charitable, and that was why they treated Edurne well, but she herself supported the idea of social justice.”
“Well, she was right,” I replied.
“Yes, that time, although Lola’s judgments were fairly arbitrary.”
“It wasn’t easy for her,” I suggested.
“No, it really wasn’t. But let’s get back to our business.”
I explained what Edurne had told me, and he listened to me carefully, and even, to my surprise, took notes. Then, after drinking the last sip of coffee, he took up his story where he had left it at our last meeting.
Pierre decided to return to Barcelona, where he wanted to make contact with one of his informants and then go immediately to France and meet up with Igor Krisov. The military upheaval put the government in a difficult position. Taking into account that he was an agent who traveled everywhere, but also that he had valuable contacts in Spain, Pierre did not know if his Moscow bosses would decide to suspend the planned trip to South America. The ship was to sail at the end of July and Pierre arrived in Barcelona on the nineteenth, on what would turn out to be the first day of the Civil War.
I remember as if it were yesterday the night that Lola and Josep took me to Doña Anita’s house for a meeting: There were Communists and guild leaders, journalists and union bosses, about twenty people all told.
Amelia gave me a loving hug. I remember her pallor and her reddened eyes. Doña Anita scolded her for having lost so much weight in so few days. Josep started to summarize the situation.
“People are worried because they think that the army might rise up here as well. It seems that the rebellion has had success in Galicia, in Castile, in Navarre, in Aragón, in a few Andalusian cities and in Asturias; they say that it is also finding success in the islands, the Balearics and the Canaries. But these are unconfirmed reports, everything is too confused. And everything points to the air force staying loyal to the Republic.”
“And Companys, what will he do?” Pierre wanted to know.
Marcial Lluch, a journalist who sympathized with the Unified Socialist Party of Catalonia and was also a friend of Pierre’s, answered.
“He will try to get the army on his side, he’s speaking with them, but as far as I know he’s not sure if he can trust even those who say they’ll stay loyal to the legal Republic.”
“And what are we doing?” Pierre asked Josep.
“Our people went to their offices asking for instructions. We don’t have much that we can use to defend ourselves, but we do have something. The CNT is better organized and they don’t seem to have problems getting weapons. But why doesn’t Lola tell you, she’s seen some of the fighting.”
Pierre looked at Lola with interest. He saw in her someone as hard as flint, the type of person the revolution needed. She did not hesitate.
She swallowed before starting to speak. She was someone who preferred action to words.
“In the morning a group of soldiers came from the Pedralbes barracks, and they had a big fight in University Square. Luckily the Assault Guards joined up with the militia, but we couldn’t stop them taking the Central Telegraph Office, the Army and Fleet Headquarters, and even getting as far as the Columbus Hotel. We were very badly armed.”
“And you were there?” Pierre asked in surprise.
“I went out into the street with a group of comrades.”
“General Llanos de la Encomienda has said that he is opposed to the uprising,” Marcial Lluch said.
“Yes, but he has no authority over the rebels,” Doña Anita asserted.
“But his attitude is a good sign for those who are still vacillating,” the journalist insisted. “The best thing is that the rebel troops were forced out of the university’s central building by midday; they were also thrown out of Plaza de Cataluña, and the Central Telegraph Office was recaptured.”
“They say that Buenaventura Durruti led the assault,” Doña Anita said.
“That’s right,” Marcial Lluch, the journalist, confirmed. “And he didn’t need anyone’s help, it was just him and the CNT militiamen. He’s got guts, alright. And the latest news is that the Military Command put out a white flag this evening at six. I think the militiamen wanted to shoot General Goded, but some higher-ups stopped them.”
They talked for hours, analyzing the situation and the decisions the Communist bosses had made.
Pierre was worried, as was Josep
Lola seemed like a different woman, sure of herself, relaxed, as if the fighting had allowed her true nature to come to the surface. She spoke forcefully, and everyone noticed that she had changed.
While we helped Doña Anita to serve a snack, I asked Amelia if she had seen her family in Madrid.
“I was with my cousin Laura, but my family doesn’t want to know anything about Pierre, and so I haven’t seen my parents or my aunt and uncle,” she replied, trying to hold back her tears.
“They are bourgeois and conventional, that should only have been expected. It’s one thing to say that you believe in freedom, and another very different thing to show it. Your family doesn’t want you to use your freedom as you want to use it,” Lola said.
“It’s not that, my father and my uncle are supporters of Azaña, but they think I made a mistake by leaving my son and my husband. My father always spoke to me about the responsibilities of freedom...”
“Responsible freedom! What’s that when it’s at home? You have to do what suits other people? You have signed up to be with a revolutionary, and he thinks that you have a lot to offer our cause. Maybe that’s true. In any case, you are privileged, because you can show that you’re not like the right-wing rabble, all those hypocrites who speak about the rights of others but refuse to lose their own privileges.”