Tell Me Who I Am by Julia Navarro
I called my mother, ready for the habitual scolding, and found her sarcastic and distant.
“Ah, Guillermo, so it’s you. Glad to hear from you.”
“Come on, Mom! You don’t sound that happy to hear from me, to know I’m well.”
“Well, I suppose you’re well, and you’re a big boy now, so if you’re going to call me then it’s enough for you to call me at Christmas and on my birthday, but if you’re going to do that then you’d have to remember when they are, and as you’re so snowed under with work, I imagine that might be difficult...”
There was the problem! I’d forgotten her birthday! My mother wasn’t going to forgive me for this, it was one of the three immoveable feasts in her calendar: meals together for her birthday, for my birthday, and for Christmas. She didn’t care about the rest of the year, but these were the sacred dates.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but you can’t imagine how busy I’ve been investigating your grandmother.”
“I’ve told you that I don’t care what that woman did, and don’t apologize, there’s no need for you to apologize, you’re free to call, or not call, whoever you want whenever you want.”
“I’d thought about coming to Madrid and taking you out to dinner,” I said, improvising.
“Really? How considerate!”
“Look, I’ll be in Madrid tomorrow and I’ll come get you at nine in the evening. Think about where would be nice for you to go.”
9
When I got to my apartment it felt good to be home again. I thought about how comforting I found those four walls with their Ikea furniture. I had spent so much time going from one place to another in search of Amelia Garayoa that I had barely spent any time at all at home. It only took me one glance to see that the apartment needed an urgent cleaning, and I promised myself that one of the things I would have to do was convince my mother to send her cleaner along. With the understanding, of course, that I would pay.
I had a shower and then fell into my bed. How much I had missed it! I went to sleep straight away. My guardian angel decided to wake me up in time for me to go to find my mother, because if I had stood her up this time, then she would have been capable of refusing to talk to me for the rest of her life. I woke up with a start and looked at my watch. Eight thirty! I jumped up and rushed to the shower again. At nine on the dot, my hair still wet, I rang her doorbell.
“You look terrible,” she said by way of greeting, without even giving me a kiss.
“Really? Well, I think you look lovely.”
“Yes, well, you look terrible. Do you know what irons are for? I’m sure you do, because you’re one of the clever ones.”
I was annoyed at my mother’s irony, and all the more so because she was right, and the shirt I was wearing was rumpled and my jeans needed a wash.
“I haven’t had a chance to unpack, really. But I’m here, that’s the important thing, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
“Water! For the love of God, bring me some water!” my mother shouted.
“What? What’s wrong?” I asked in alarm.
“I’m having palpitations. At the cheek of you.”
“You really scared me!”
We went to the restaurant that she had chosen. The conversation took on the same tone throughout the whole evening. I regretted having invited her to dinner with me. What is more, my mother decided, just to give my fragile economic situation a further kicking, to have champagne with the meal, and ordered a bottle of Bollinger as if it were a bottle of Coke.
I called Doña Laura the next morning, to ask her if she would like me to come round and tell her about my investigations up to that point.
“I would prefer it if you delivered the manuscript when you have the whole thing ready and typed up.”
“It was just so that you could see how I am getting on. Let me tell you that Amelia Garayoa’s life is worthy of a novel.”
“Well, well, when you know everything, write it all down and bring it to me. That’s what we agreed, no?”
“Of course, Doña Laura, and that’s what I’ll do.”
“Do you need anything else?”
“No, I think I’m alright for the time being. Professor Soler is being a great help. I offered to tell him everything I was finding out, but he told me that he didn’t want to know anything apart from what was absolutely necessary for him to help me.”
“And that’s as it should be. Pablo is a good friend of the family, but he is not family, and there are things... Well, things that he doesn’t need to know, that nobody needs to know.”
“I need to call him now, because I need him to tell me if Amelia was in Madrid at the beginning of September 1940.”
“If you want to, you can talk with Edurne, she can help you.”
“And what about you, Doña Laura, don’t you remember anything about that time?”
“Of course I do! But I don’t want it to be my memory that tells you how to proceed, but the neutral memory of the people who were with us at the time.”
“And Edurne, will she remember? It seems to take a lot out of the poor woman to have to remember these things.”
“That’s only natural, old people don’t like it when we rummage in their memories. Edurne is very modest and loyal, and it isn’t easy for her to tell things about the family to a stranger.”
“I’m a part of the family, don’t forget that Amelia was my great-grandmother. You are a kind of great-great-aunt to me.”
“Don’t talk nonsense! I think you should speak to Edurne. If you like, you could come round to the house tomorrow early in the morning, which is when her head is the clearest.”
I don’t know why Doña Laura insisted that Edurne speak with me. The poor woman couldn’t hide her discomfort at having to tell a stranger intimate aspects of the life of the family to which she had dedicated her whole life.
When I reached the Garayoa house, the housekeeper told me that Edurne was waiting to speak to me, but that I should go to see the ladies first in the salon.
Doña Laura and Doña Melita were there. I thought that Doña Melita did not look that well, she seemed tired.
“Is it very hard for you to put the story together?” she asked me in a faint little voice.
“It’s not easy, Doña Melita, but don’t worry, I think that at the very least I will manage to get the most important details of my great-grandmother’s life organized.”
Doña Laura shifted uncomfortably on the sofa and told me not to waste any more time.
“Not just because of the expense, but because we are too old to wait much longer.”
“Don’t worry, I am as keen as you are to finish the investigation as soon as possible. I have left my job as a journalist and my mother is about to stop talking to me.”
“Your mother is still alive?” Doña Melita asked, and this surprised me, as I had already explained what my family circumstances were.
“Yes, luckily enough my mother is still alive,” I said, disconcerted.
“Right. Well, you are very lucky, I lost my mother when I was very young.”
“Enough chatting,” Doña Laura interrupted. “Guillermo is here to work, so he should go off to the library and talk to Edurne.”
Edurne was sitting in an armchair and appeared to have dozed off. She jerked herself upright when she heard me enter.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine, fine,” she said in a dazed voice.
“I don’t want to bother you, but maybe you remember about a visit Amelia made to Madrid in September 1940. I think that she was on her way to Rome, but that she came to see her family first.”
“Amelia was always coming and going, and there were lots of times when she wouldn’t say where she was coming from or where she was going.”
“But do you remember what happened that time? It was September of 1940 and I think she came by herself, without the journalist, without Albert James. Her previous visit was when she discovered that Águeda was pregnan
“Oh now I remember! Poor Amelia, what a shock! Águeda had taken Javier to the entrance to the Retiro so that Amelia could see him, but she opened her overcoat and we could see that she was fat, fat and pregnant...”
“Yes, I know all that, but I want to know what happened the next time Amelia came to visit.”
Edurne began to speak, her voice tired.
We weren’t expecting her, she came without telling us. This was something that became a custom with her. We never knew when she was going to come. Antonietta was better, thanks to the money that Amelia sent, which let Don Armando buy medicine... well, medicine and food, because Antonietta needed to eat well. The money Amelia sent wasn’t enough for luxuries, but it was enough to buy food. You could find good stuff on the black market back then, but it cost a fortune.
I think that Amelia came in the evening, yes, yes it was at night, because I was making the dinner in the kitchen and it was Jesús who opened the door.
“Mama, Mama, come quickly! It’s cousin Amelia!”
We all rushed out into the hall and there she was, hugging Jesús.
“But how handsome you are! You’ve grown a lot and you’re much less pale.”
Jesús was getting better as well. He had always been a sickly child and he had gotten sick during the war. But over those months he had gotten better. The medicine, and the food above all, were working miracles.
Antonietta hugged her sister and there was no way to pry them apart.
Laura began to cry and it was hard for Don Armando to hold back his tears as well. We all wanted to hug her and kiss her. It was Doña Elena who showed her practical side and put all this hugging and tears in order, making us move into the salon. She sent Pablo to take Amelia’s suitcase to Amelia’s room, and asked me to go and finish making supper and to set one more place at the table.
Amelia was very affectionate with us all, she kissed me and Pablo.
Jesús and Pablo were good friends, and now that Jesús was better, Doña Elena had put Pablo’s bed in his room, because she said that now he was growing it wasn’t right for him to carry on sharing my room.
We ate rice with tomato and slices of fried streaky bacon that evening. I had bought the bacon that afternoon from a black marketer who had set his cap at me.
Rufino, for that was his name, had sent me word that they had fresh bacon, so Doña Elena sent me to buy some... Where was I? Yes... now I remember... Amelia said that she was not going to stay very long, just for two or three days because she had to go and work. She was Albert James’s assistant, he was an American journalist who apparently was in New York but who had sent Amelia to Rome to prepare for a report he was doing, I don’t know about what, but it was lucky that she had to go to Rome because it meant she could pass through Madrid on the way.
“How did you come here from London?” Don Armando asked.
“I came through Lisbon; it’s the safest way.”
“The English don’t seem to worry too much about Franco,” Don Armando said.
“The English can’t fight against Hitler and against Franco, they need to topple Germany first and then everything will follow after.”
“Are you sure? England is still issuing Franco the navicerts that allow him to import fuel and wheat; it’s not much, but it is still something.”
“You’ll see how everything will change once we get rid of Hitler.”
We told her all the family news. Antonietta said that she would like to work but that Doña Elena would not let her.
“She won’t even let me help in the kitchen,” Antonietta complained.
“Of course not! You’re not better yet,” Doña Elena said angrily.
“Aunt is right. The best help that you could give the family is to get completely better,” Amelia said.
“The doctor told us that we need to take special care of her because she could still have a relapse,” Don Armando added.
“And what about you, Laura, are you still at the school?”
“Yes, I’m going to start teaching French this term. The nuns are very kind to me. There’s a new mother superior, it’s not Sister Encarnación anymore, she died of pneumonia and has been replaced by Sister María de las Virtudes, who was our piano teacher, don’t you remember?”
“Yes, yes! She was very kind to us, a good woman.”
“They say that none of the nuns speak French as well as I do, so I will teach French this term, and when Antonietta is fully recovered, then I might be able to convince Sister María to let her give piano lessons... but she needs to recover fully before that can happen...”
“That would be wonderful! See, Antonietta, that you will be able to work? But you have to get better, I forbid you from doing anything until my aunt and uncle tell me that you are fully recovered.”
Don Armando told them about his office, his new job as an articled clerk.
“I need to put up with a lot of things, but I don’t complain, because what I earn is what allows us to stay on our feet. I have been marked down as a ‘red,’ so I am not allowed to defend cases in the courts, but I am at least working with what I know, preparing the cases that others will defend.”
“They exploit him, he brings back work every day, and he doesn’t even get Sundays or Saturdays off,” Doña Elena complained.
“Yes, but I have a job, which is a lot, given that they were going to shoot me a few months ago. Amelia saved my life and I have a job, which is more than I could have dreamt of when I was in prison. We do well, with your help, Amelia.”
“Do you know anything about Lola?” Amelia asked, looking at Pablo.
“No, we haven’t heard a word. Pablo goes to see his grandmother in the hospital, but she gets worse every day. His father writes to him from time to time, but there’s not a trace of Lola,” Laura explained.
“The boys go to school,” Don Armando added. “They’re bright and get good marks. Jesús is very good at math and Pablo is good at Latin and history, so they help each other. They’re like brothers, sometimes they even fight like brothers.”
“But why would we ever fight?” Jesús protested.
“Alright, all I will say is that every now and then I hear shouts coming from your room,” Don Armando continued.
“But that’s not fighting! Don’t worry, Amelia, I get on well with Pablo, I don’t know what I’d do without him in a house that’s so full of women, and bossy women at that... ,” Jesús replied with a laugh.
“I... well... I’m very grateful that you let me stay here... , ,” Pablo whispered.
“Oh, don’t be silly! Don’t thank us, you’re another member of the family,” Don Armando said.
Amelia spent two days with her family. She went to speak to Antonietta’s doctor, and asked Laura to go with her to say hello to Sister María de las Virtudes, whom she gave a small donation for her to “buy flowers for Our Lady’s chapel,” and also, as we had all feared, she insisted on seeing Javier.
Doña Elena resisted sending me to go and roam around outside Santiago’s house, but Amelia insisted so much that eventually she gave in.
“After what happened the last time, Águeda might refuse to let you see the child,” Doña Elena said.
“He is my son and I need to see him. Can’t you understand, Aunt? I can’t be in Madrid and do nothing to see him. If only you knew how much I’ve regretted abandoning him...”
Amelia told Laura that she suffered from nightmares, and that on many nights she woke up crying because she had seen a woman running away with Javier in her arms.
One day I sat down at the corner of Don Santiago’s house, waiting for Águeda to make an appearance, and this was how I spent the whole day. It was well dark by the time I got back home. All I had seen had been Don Santiago coming out early in the morning, and coming back home in the afternoon, but never a sign of Águeda or Javier.
Doña Elena grew nervous and said that the best thing was to leave it for some other time, but Amelia insisted; she could not spend mu
“But Elena, what’s going on?” Don Armando was alarmed by his wife’s tears.
“Come on, don’t cry, I didn’t want to upset you,” Amelia apologized.
Laura hugged her mother without knowing how to console her. When Doña Elena calmed down she sat for a while in silence.
“But you are so stubborn, Amelia! I didn’t want to tell you anything because I didn’t want you to suffer, but you insisted and insisted...”
“What, what’s happened? Has anything happened to my son?” Amelia asked in alarm.
“No, Javier is well, he’s with your in-laws.”
“With Don Manuel and Doña Blanca? But why?”
“Because Águeda has had a daughter, a week ago, and it was a difficult birth and she’s in the hospital. Santiago has taken Javier to be with his grandparents until Águeda is in a fit state to go back home with the child. I didn’t want to tell you so as not to upset you.”
Amelia did not cry. She trembled and made a great effort to control herself, swallowing her tears, and succeeded in not crying. When she could speak, in a tiny faint voice, she asked her aunt:
“How long have you known?”
“I’ve told you, for a week; I met a friend of mine and the first thing she said to me was that Águeda had had a daughter and that they were going to call her Paloma. She told me that it was a difficult birth and that Águeda was crying for nearly two days until the baby was born. Santiago never left her side. She also told me that ever since Águeda had got pregnant, Santiago had employed another maid to deal with the domestic chores, and that Águeda had become the lady of the house. She doesn’t wear an apron anymore, and although Santiago still hasn’t introduced her to his friends, there is no doubt that they are living together.”
“I cannot blame him. I have no right,” Amelia murmured.
“You’re right, however hard it is, you cannot blame him. Santiago is a man... a young man, he can’t wait for you,” Don Armando said.