Lost and Found on the Camino de Santiago part 14
Lost and Found on the Camino de Santiago part 14
As they walk in and out of towns with medieval history, Miguel and Anna begin to talk on a deeper level and to share the pain that led them to the Camino.
We bought cookies, apples, bananas, and nectarines. Sandra bought some flexible plastic bandages for her blisters. Anna, with a guidebook in her hands, asked for a shoe store. The slits I had made in her sneakers had not solved her foot problem.
“Not here,” said the pharmacy clerk. “En Logroño.”
“It’s only ten kilometers,” I told Anna, placing my hand on her shoulder from behind to reassure her. “They won’t be like today’s ten kilometers.”
“It’s fine,” she responded to the clerk.
We walked out to do some sightseeing. Some of Viana’s core dates back to the time of the Romans, and fortunately, it has held onto its old beauty despite the scourge of wars, other human undoing and the wearing away by the weather. People reveled in its charms as they competed for chairs and tables at most of the outdoor cafés and restaurants. We walked into the Church of the Assumption of St. Mary. Completed in 1329, it felt more like cathedral than a town church. Its entryway was newer. Begun in 1549, it was a magnificent half dome, which depicts scenes from Jesus’ passion and resurrection. Inside the church, three naves rose above us.
“All this beauty...”
“Yes,” I answered, looking right at her.
“Yes,” she smiled. “But beauty is not entirely as simple as it seems.”
She opened the guidebook and explained some of Viana’s turbulent past. Cesare Borgia, the son of Pope Alexander VI (one of the church’s most corrupt leaders), came to Viana to avoid the Neapolitan police in 1506 and was killed in battle in an area near Viana called the Field of Truth the following year. Alas, Sandra, who wanted to return to the refuge to eat sandwiches and chips, cut the history lesson short. Anna and I wanted something hot and freshly prepared. Sandra left us.
“Amici, amici!”
It was Michele. And next to him was La Bailarina.
“Ciao, come stai?” I responded.
“Fine, fine. Have you eaten?”
“No, aún no,” I answered in Spanish.
La Bailarina—I never did get her name—was all smiles as she sipped some wine. Her cheeks were a dark, sun-burned pink. He invited us over, but I refused.
“Ho fame,” I said, touching my stomach. “Grazie.”
Michele looked at Anna, hoping she would convince me to stay, but she did not say a word.
“Capisco, bene. Buon apetito,” he said.
“Grazie,” I said.
“Prego, prego,” Michele said waving from the table. I shook my head as we walked away. Anna noticed, but gave a short preamble attempting to soften the inquiry.
“So, Miguel, why are you walking? Why are you here? Oh, and why did you shake your head when we left Michele?”
“What?”
“Yes, why did you shake your head?”
“He just seems to appear out of nowhere anywhere I’ve been on the Camino since the first day.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, it’s just that he’s Italian.”
“You don’t like Italians?” she asked, perplexed. “You speak the language.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that he reminds me of why I’m here, of what I’m trying to forget.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I thought maybe he got on your nerves.”
“That’s OK, you didn’t know.”
We found a small restaurant. Her lips tightened. She wanted to ask more probing questions and her mouth opened as if she were about to say something, but no words came forward—then the food interrupted her. It was lentil soup followed by churrasco, potatoes and a small salad. The waitress poured the wine. It was dark save some light streaming in through the doorway. It was quiet, too quiet. She was afraid to ask, so she opened up instead.
“I’m walking because I need to change the way I am, and I need to heal from some hurt in my past.”
Her words surprised me, but I didn’t immediately respond. The waitress stopped by again to check on the wine. She filled our glasses, emptying the bottle in the process and added, “¡Qué silencio! I hope the wine helps you talk.”
“I was just saying that I need to heal and be stronger…” she said, her voice trailing off.
“Why?”
“My father and my mother did not have a good relationship and it affected us all. His heart is in the right place, but I fear that something happened to him when he was young.”
“His? I thought it was both your parents.”
“Well it was, but he is the more difficult one.”
She paused, drank some wine, and then looked around the restaurant, wanting to ensure that there was privacy. There was only one other couple in the dining room.
“My father, my father. He kept us from having a real life.”
“What?”
“Yes, I don’t know what happened to him to be that way. I don’t know what was wrong with him.”
“Was?”
“I haven’t seen him since I moved to San Francisco.”
“Why?”
“I’ve only returned to Brazil twice.” Her voice softened and she looked down.
She sipped some water. “I do miss it and him, even though…” She paused, held her breath and looked toward the door. I took her hand.
She pulled away when the waitress came by.
“What are you hoping for here?” Anna asked.
She then took my hand and held it for a long time waiting for me to speak.
“I want to make peace with the past too. I’m tired of being sad all the time.”
The waitress returned with our change.
“Can we have some more wine?” I asked. “We want to take it outside.”
“You can order it at the bar.”
We walked out to the empty street and took the table farthest from the door.
“Do you think you’ll see him again?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know. I hope.”
“I’m here because I have to let go too, and forgive myself. I have to make peace with decisions I made, to get past this sadness that’s been haunting me for most of this past year.”
She took my hand, though I didn’t want to share much more than she did.
I said, “You see, I lost someone. A girl I really loved… I lost her. She left me and I can’t blame her. I, I had never connected with anyone like that, had never told anyone all the things I told her. And no one had shared so much love with me either.”
“Really?”
“She loved me, really loved me, and believed in me. She said she had never met anyone like me. I let her go. I pushed her away, and sabotaged it, and afterwards, I felt so alone. It was as if that lost opportunity took all my life with it. I didn’t think it was worth living anymore.”
“Miguel? Did you think about suicide?”
I had only told one other person about this.
“I bought pills and planned to drink them with a bottle of vodka. I was already drinking heavily. I don’t know how I made it through. I just didn’t know what to do. I felt enormous walls all around me and had no way to break them down or climb over them. Even though my parents reached out to me, especially my dad, I didn’t know what to do.”
Anna wiped a tear from her face and closed her eyes.
“Let’s walk,” she said. “We need more privacy.”
“I thought my life would always be cursed by sadness. You know I was so busy and having to keep up with schoolwork, stories, interviews, everything, but the sadness remained like a deep ocean that swallowed everything. I stopped running and swimming, and I started drinking. I retreated from my friends and everyone.”
She caressed my fingers.
I thought about telling her everything. About the call from Lupe, about the angel, about all that led me here, but decided not to. It was still too early on this walk to share that. What will she say? It’s not time. Not yet. Not yet. Anna clutched my hand more tightly, then looked into my eyes then closed hers while she took both my hands, kissed them and placed them against her cheek. She lowered them and we continued walking.
“I’m here to let go of all that despair that I’m still carrying around, all the regret and guilt, disappointment and sadness. I haven’t let go of all of it,” I said.
“So, you had not even considered coming to the Camino before?”
“Never, never. Not until about a month ago.”
“Just a month.”
“Just about, but when someone mentioned it to me, I immediately knew I had to do it. It was an inquietud. Do you know what that means? No? I wish I knew Portuguese. It was just something I carried and that sprouted as I walked through Prague or explored other cities on weekends. I had to do it. There were signs that led me here.”
“So, you believe in signs?”
“Yes.”
Anna said, “I believe in signs, too, and I do believe we’re all led here, but right now—with this pace, I don’t know if I’m doing it the right way. I’m also walking at this pace to keep up with you, to not lose you, but I know that I will have to rest and you’ll have to continue.”
“I love that we’re together.”
She kissed my hands and my cheek. “Yes, me too. Let’s see where the road leads.”
We kissed.