Tell Me Who I Am

  “How rude you are!”

  “No, I just want to say that I agree that the past should remain in the past.”

  “Let’s stop this useless conversation. My aunt will be waiting for you at midday tomorrow. Be on time.”

  Amelia Garayoa hung up without saying goodbye. She really didn’t like me.

  The next day I arrived on time, with a bunch of red roses. The housekeeper led me through to the library where Doña Laura was waiting for me.

  She was sitting down, with a book open on her knees.

  “So you’re here... Sit down,” she ordered, as she pointed to an armchair next to hers.

  “How is your sister?” I asked as I offered her the flowers. “I brought these flowers...”

  “My sister?” she said in a slightly confused voice.

  “Amelia María told me yesterday that Doña Melita had a cold...”

  “Oh yes! Of course, she has a cold, but she’s better, she hasn’t had a temperature since yesterday. We’re both very old, you know? And everything affects us... and there’s been a lot of flu this year. But she’s better. I’ll tell her you asked after her.”

  She waved to the housekeeper to get her to take the flowers, and asked her to bring coffee for the two of us.

  “So, what do you think about Edurne’s story?” she asked me without preambles.

  “Your cousin seems like a fairly flighty young woman, who was keen on becoming some kind of heroine,” I summed up.

  “Yes, there was a bit of that about her, but it’s not everything. My cousin Amelia was always a clever, anxious woman, but born in the wrong century; if she’d been born today, she would have become a well-known woman, she would have been able to display all her talents to their best advantage, but in those days...”

  “But running away with Pierre out of the belief that she should sacrifice herself for the revolution... It just seems a fairly childish excuse to me. She went with him because she fell in love, and she would have gone whatever, revolution or no revolution,” I concluded, in the face of Doña Laura’s shocked expression.

  “Young man, it seems to me that you have understood nothing. You seem fairly keen to judge Amelia. Maybe you don’t understand... or else you’re not the right person to write her story...”

  It was clear that I had put my foot in it. Who asked me to blurt out my opinion of my great-grandmother, just like that? I tried to sort out things as best as I could.

  “Don’t get me wrong! Sometimes journalists are just impulsive like this, we say things straight out, but I assure you that when the time comes to write the story I will be calm and kind, after all, she was my great-grandmother.”

  I was afraid that she would ask me to leave, but she said nothing. She waited for the housekeeper, who had just come in, to serve the coffee.

  “Well, you said you had a few questions to ask us. What else would you like to know?”

  “Really, it’s you who should tell me which threads I need to tug. I can see that it will be very difficult to get to my great-grandmother’s story without your help. I would also like you to tell me what happened when Santiago my great-grandfather got home.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for him. Santiago was a rough-hewn man who suffered, yes, from losing Amelia, but who knew how to control himself with great dignity.”

  “Well, I would like to know about this, because you were Amelia’s closest family.”

  “Alright, I’ll tell you something, but don’t take it for granted that it will be us who give you information; that’s not the agreement we made. Also, there are things that we couldn’t tell you even if we wanted to because we don’t know them. But we do know, as you say, which threads you need to tug. I have a couple more interviews arranged for you.”

  I settled myself in my chair, ready to listen to Doña Laura, who had fallen silent, as if she were trying to find the right place to begin...

  The day after Amelia’s flight, Edurne brought me the letter my cousin had written. It was a Sunday at the end of March 1936 and we were all at home. I have it here to show you. Amelia wrote that she had fallen in love with Pierre, that she could not bear the idea of his leaving and her not seeing him again, that she would rather die than lose him. She also begged me to explain to her parents and to Santiago her disappearance; she insisted that the true cause was not Pierre, but his revolutionary ideas. She begged everyone’s pardon and asked me to do all that I could to make sure that her son did not hate her; she also said that she would come back one day to find Javier. And she asked me to look after Edurne, because she was afraid that Santiago might dismiss her.

  You can imagine how worried I was when I read this letter. I felt abandoned, lost, even betrayed, because Amelia was my best friend as well as my cousin. We had shared everything, even our most trivial confidences, and were closer to each other than we were to our sisters.

  Edurne was terrified. She thought, and not without reason, that she might end up unemployed, that she would have to return to the farm. She sobbed and begged me to help her. I felt overwhelmed by the situation, because I was just eighteen, and in those days, you can imagine how little we knew about the world, and my cousin had fled, leaving me with a responsibility I was not prepared for. The first thing I did was to try to calm Edurne and to promise that nothing would happen to her, and I told her to go back to Amelia’s house, and if anyone asked for Amelia she was to say that she did not know where she had gone. Then I went to see my mother, who was in the kitchen giving instructions to the cook: We were to have guests that night.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  “Can’t it wait? Don’t imagine it’s easy organizing a meal for twelve guests.”

  “Mama, it’s very urgent, I need to speak with you,” I insisted.

  “How impatient you young people are! Grown-ups have to drop everything to attend to your whims. Alright, go to the small salon, and I will come straight away.”

  Even so, my mother took her time in coming to find me; by the time she did come, I had bitten all my nails.

  “What is it, Laura? I hope it’s not another of your sillinesses.”

  “Mama, Amelia has gone.”

  “Your sister? Of course she’s gone, she went to see her friend Elise.”

  “No, not my sister Melita; my cousin.”

  “If you haven’t found her at home she must have gone to her parents’ house or maybe to see that Lola...”

  “She’s gone for good.”

  My mother fell silent, trying to process what she had just heard.

  “But what are you saying? What ridiculous story is this? I know that she’s cross with Santiago because of his last trip... The truth is that Santiago should be more considerate and not just go off without telling anyone... but Amelia knows what her husband is like...”

  “Mama, Amelia has left Santiago.”

  “But what are you saying? Stop being ridiculous!”

  My mother had flushed red. It was difficult for her to take in what she was hearing.

  “She has gone because... because she believes in the revolution, and she is going to sacrifice herself for a better world.”

  “Good Lord! I cannot believe that Lola has brainwashed your poor cousin to such an extent! Look, tell me where she is, I’ll call your father, we have to go and find her immediately... I suppose she will have gone to see that Lola.”

  “She has gone to France.”

  “To France? What? Tell me what has happened, how can you say that Amelia has gone to France?”

  My father came into the room, alerted by my mother’s cries. He was startled to see her walking from side to side and gesticulating wildly.

  “But what’s going on here? Elena, what’s happening? Are you unwell? Wait; I hope you haven’t upset your mother, Laura, especially not tonight. We have guests!”

  “Papa, Amelia has gone to France. She has left Santiago and her family, even though she says that one day she will come back for Javier.”

  I told him
everything, without beating around the bush.

  My father was silent, and looked at me fixedly, as if he did not understand what he was hearing. My mother had broken into inconsolable tears.

  In fits and starts I told them the story of Amelia’s flight, trying not to betray her, never mentioning Pierre.

  My father could not believe that his niece, flighty as she might be, had gone to France to pursue the cause of revolution.

  “But which revolution?” my father insisted.

  “You know, the revolution. You know that the Communists want to promote the revolution all over the world... ,” I replied without very much conviction.

  My father asked me questions for more than an hour without letting up, while my mother talked and talked about Lola’s influence.

  “We must call Juan and Teresa. How upset they will be! And you, Laura, show me that letter Amelia wrote you,” my father ordered.

  I lied to them. I swore that, in the heat of the moment, I had torn it to pieces. I could not give it to them, because in it Amelia told the truth, which was that she had fallen in love with Pierre.

  “I don’t believe you!” my father said, insisting that I give him the letter.

  “I swear that I tore it to pieces without thinking,” I protested, in tears.

  Uncle Juan and Aunt Teresa arrived at my house barely half an hour later. My father had insisted that it was urgent that they come. It was a great torment for him to have to tell his brother that their daughter had run away.

  My father asked me to tell them everything I knew, and I told them what I could, crying all the while.

  Aunt Teresa fainted and my mother had to look after her, which allowed my father, Uncle Juan, and me to hide ourselves away in my father’s study, where both of them told me to tell them all I knew.

  I did not allow them to twist my arm, and I insisted that the revolution was the prime cause of my cousin Amelia’s flight.

  “Alright,” Uncle Juan agreed, “in that case we will go to the house of this Lola, who has been the cause of Amelia’s getting all these extremist ideas into her head. She will know where she is, and I don’t think that Amelia will have had time to get to France; in any case, she will have to tell us where to find her. But first we will go to Amelia’s house and make sure that the servants don’t find out what is happening. I hope that Edurne has kept her mouth shut.”

  While my mother looked after Aunt Teresa, I went to Amelia’s house with my father and my uncle. But this was not our lucky day, and when we got to Amelia’s house we found that Santiago had made a surprise return that morning.

  Santiago was speaking with Edurne, or rather, Santiago was speaking and Edurne was crying.

  She was surprised to see us, and I started to shake. To stand up in front of my uncle and aunt and my parents was one thing, but to stand up to Santiago...

  Uncle Juan was just as nervous. It was not going to be easy for him to tell Santiago that his wife had run away.

  “What happened?” Santiago asked icily.

  “Can we speak in private?” Uncle Juan asked.

  “Of course. Come with me to my office, and you, Edurne... We’ll speak later.”

  We followed him to his office, with me praying under my breath, asking God to perform a miracle and make Amelia suddenly appear. But that day God did not listen to me.

  Santiago asked us to sit down, but Uncle Juan was so nervous that he stayed standing.

  “I am so sorry for what I am going to tell you... I am distraught... and I am sure I don’t understand it, but...”

  “Don Juan, the sooner you tell me why you have come, the better,” Santiago cut him off.

  “Yes... of course... I’m sorry for what’s happened... but I have to tell you that Amelia has run away.”

  I grasped my father’s hand as if to take shelter, because there was boundless rage on Santiago’s face.

  “She’s run away? Where? Why?” Santiago tried to control himself, but it was clear that he was about to explode.

  “We don’t know... Well, we do... Apparently she has gone to France.”

  “To France? What madness is this?” Santiago’s voice was raised.

  “Amelia wrote to Laura to explain herself,” my father managed to say.

  “Ah, is that so? Well, let us read this letter.” He looked straight at me and held out his hand for Amelia’s missive.

  “I don’t have it,” I muttered. “I tore it up in shock...”

  “Right! You think I’ll believe that?”

  “It’s the truth!” I realized that in spite of my insistence Santiago did not believe me.

  The truth is that I have always been a bad liar.

  “And what has Amelia asked you to tell us?” Santiago was still making an effort to control himself.

  “She has gone to France to help the revolution, they are better prepared there to spread the Soviet Revolution.”

  I said all this in a rush, I had learned my lesson.

  “Laura, who did Amelia go with?” Santiago’s tone was harsh and cutting.

  I bit my lip until I drew blood, and tears came to my eyes.

  “Answer him, daughter,” my father asked me.

  “I don’t know...”

  “Yes, yes, you know. You and Edurne know exactly what’s happening, when and with whom she left,” Santiago insisted.

  Don Juan and my father looked at each other in shock, while Santiago stared at me so fiercely that I hung my head in shame.

  “Laura, you are not helping Amelia by hiding the truth from us. Your cousin, acting on very bad advice, has made a mistake, but if you tell us anything then maybe there is still time to fix it,” my father insisted.

  “She’s gone to join in the revolution... ,” I repeated, almost sobbing.

  “Don’t talk nonsense!” Santiago interrupted me. “Do you take us for idiots? It was my fault for allowing Amelia to go to those Socialist Youth meetings with Lola. And it was my fault for thinking it funny that Edurne should take her militant beliefs so seriously. Amelia, a revolutionary? Yes, a revolutionary who travels with a maid, because a young lady shouldn’t even have to make her own bed.”

  “Amelia has not taken Edurne with her,” I protested, finding some degree of courage somewhere.

  “No, she didn’t go with her because she wasn’t allowed to. Edurne has told me that she wanted to go with her mistress, but Amelia said that she was not allowed to travel with anyone. Well, you’ve come to tell me what I already knew, that Amelia has run away. When I got home this morning I asked for my wife and nobody knew what to say to me, and Edurne burst into tears. She’s only managed to give me the same ridiculous story as you, Laura, that Amelia has gone to France to join the revolution.”

  Santiago suddenly appeared tired, as if all the anger that he was holding within himself had turned into resignation.

  “Santiago, we’re with you, ready to help however we can, but we’d like you to forgive my niece, she’s just a little girl without any bad intentions.” My father’s words seemed to stir up Santiago’s anger again.

  “Help me? How would you help me? Don’t fool yourself, Don Armando. If Amelia has gone, then she has gone... with another man.”

  “Impossible!” Uncle Juan stood offended in front of his son-in-law. “I will not allow this lack of respect toward my daughter. Amelia is a child, yes, she’s made a mistake, but to go off with another man? Never! I don’t want to blame you for anything, but your disappearing acts have not been the best way to have a well-cared-for marriage.”

  Santiago clenched his fists. I believe that if it had not been for his excellent manners, and above all because he was a man who knew how to control himself, he would have punched Uncle Juan.

  “I want to think that it is only a grand passion that could cause Amelia to abandon her son and me. Abandon Javier for the revolution? No, you don’t know Amelia. It may be true that she has never behaved like a caring mother with Javier, but I know that she loves him; as far as I am c
oncerned... I believe that she loves me too.”

  “We had thought about going to Lola’s house,” my father said. “I hope you will come with us.”

  “No, no, Don Armando, I will not go with you. I will not go looking for her. If she has left, then she will know why and she will have to face the consequences.”

  “But she is your wife!” Uncle Juan protested.

  “A wife who has abandoned me.”

  “But you have just returned from a journey, on which you left without saying goodbye!”

  Santiago shrugged his shoulders. It was entirely natural for him to come and go without explaining himself, as if it were a prerogative that he did not have to excuse.

  “We would like you to come with us to Lola’s house,” my father insisted.

  “I have already said no, Don Armando. And you, Laura...”

  He said nothing more, but he made me feel like a wicked woman.

  We felt terrible as we left Santiago’s house. We had not been able to speak to Edurne, and I was glad, because I do not know if we would have been able to keep our story straight had we both been interrogated at the same time.

  I showed them where Lola’s house was. We walked quickly to Calle Toledo until we reached the apartment that Lola shared with Josep and where she lived with her son Pablo.

  Lola lived in an attic that we reached via a dark staircase. I had been in this house only once before, accompanying my cousin. I did not like Lola much, and she did not like me, so we were cold toward each other, something that upset Amelia. She would have liked us to be friends, and especially for me to have accompanied her on her adventures with Lola.

  The doorbell did not work, so Uncle Juan beat on the door. Pablo opened it. The child had a cold, and it also looked like he had a temperature.

  “What do you want?”

  “Pablo, we’re looking for Amelia,” I managed to say before my uncle or my father could speak.

  “But Amelia has gone off with Pierre, they left last night on the train,” he replied.

  Uncle Juan turned pale when he heard what the child said.

  “May we come in?” he asked, pushing the child to one side and walking in.