Her wait lasted three long years. Meanwhile, thanks to Madame Dufort, she got a job teaching music at a music school. The owner, Monsieur Girardot, hired her to look after the smallest children. The pay wasn’t very good, because, as he said, “you have no qualifications.”
It wasn’t until June 1949 that they had news from Eulogio.
Fernando would never forget that moment. It was about eight o’clock in the evening, and he had just come home to find Catalina packing a suitcase. She was going to go to Boston the next day. Marvin and Farida lived there. At least, this was what she had read in the Herald Tribune, which had reported that Marvin was going to give a course on poetry at Harvard, and that the university was overwhelmed by the number of students who wished to study with him. Catalina had seen an opportunity in this, and Fernando had not been strong enough to resist.
Adela was helping her mother fold her clothes and put them carefully in the suitcase. She kept on asking what America was like, and why her father lived there.
Catalina answered her in monosyllables, thinking about what would happen if Marvin avoided her once again and she had to come back to Paris. Maybe they wouldn’t let her carry on teaching at the music school. But she knew that whatever happened, Fernando would help her. He had paid for her trip to Boston, in spite of their arguments about it, because he didn’t want her to take Adela. He thought that if things went badly, then the child would suffer. Adela was nearly ten years old. She was aware enough to know what was going on, and the trip to Boston would interrupt her schoolwork. But Catalina ignored these arguments. If the Herald Tribune said that Marvin was in Boston, then she would go to Boston.
She was just about to close the suitcase when the telephone rang. Fernando hurried to answer.
As he listened to the person on the other end of the line, his face showed first joy, and then concern, and finally anguish. When he hung up, he sat down and tried to pull himself together.
“What is it? Who was it? What did they say?” Catalina asked worriedly.
“It was Benjamin Wilson … they’ve found Eulogio.”
“Wonderful!” she said happily.
“No … no … he’s not well …”
“Is he sick?” she said, worried at what the answer might be.
“He’s lost his mind. That’s what they told Wilson, and that’s why it’s taken so long to find him.”
Catalina said nothing. She didn’t know what to think or what to say.
Adela was quiet as well, aware that something serious was happening.
“I didn’t know that the Wilsons were in Paris again; I thought they were in Alexandria,” she said.
“Neither did I. I think they must just have arrived. They’ve arranged to see me tomorrow at seven. I won’t be able to take you to the airport.”
“No, of course not … maybe I shouldn’t go … maybe it’s better for me to stay and come with you to find Eulogio.”
“No … you should go to Boston. I’ll look after Eulogio.”
“Eulogio is more important. Marvin can wait,” she said sincerely.
“I’ll call you, and tell you what happens. But you have to go to Boston. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t. It’s a real opportunity.”
“Yes, we’ve spent all our savings on the tickets, even though it might all be useless,” Catalina said.
“No, it won’t. it was hard for me to accept, but I understand that you want Marvin at least to acknowledge Adela.”
At six-thirty in the morning on June 10, 1949, Fernando said goodbye to Catalina and Adela. He had asked Monsieur Dufort to be kind enough to take them to the airport, or at least to find someone he trusted to do so.
When he arrived at the rue Rosiers it was already seven o’clock, and the doorwoman was cleaning the doorway. She was not surprised to see him, given that Fernando often came early to the bookshop before opening it up to the public. He liked to work in the quiet of the back room where the publishing house was. But that day he didn’t go into the bookshop, but rather went up to the Wilsons’ apartment.
Sara opened the door. She was already dressed and had her makeup on. She invited him to come through into the living room. Benjamin, who was sitting down reading the paper, got up to shake him by the hand.
A maid appeared with a tray with coffee on it. Fernando was nervous and wanted to know the news.
“Zahra has found your friend Eulogio. It wasn’t easy. He was working in a German factory and … well, he made friends with a man who was …” Benjamin seemed unable to find the right word.
“Homosexual, like him,” Sara said easily.
“They weren’t the only ones. There were other men like him in the factory. Of course, they hid who they were. It was almost as dangerous to be a homosexual in Germany as it was to be a Jew. The man that Eulogio befriended was a Frenchman, René Roche. An engineer and a communist. They worked in a factory near Weimar. They had been deported in the same group of forced laborers that France had sent to Germany. The conditions at the factory were essentially slavery. Eulogio didn’t know anything about René Roche, but René saw that he was a homosexual and tried to help him as much as he could. Once, when Eulogio fainted, René took over his shift. We don’t know exactly what happened … but apparently someone reported them for being homosexuals in the factory where they worked, and they were given a harsher punishment. They were sent to Buchenwald. They worked for Gustoff, a munitions company, there. Lots of German factories relied on forced labor. And the factories that were supplied by laborers from Buchenwald were the most important. And conditions in Buchenwald were essentially slavery. In this place, near to Weimar, the place where Goethe lived, the SS became the lords and masters of thousands of human beings. Buchenwald was not just a camp.”
Benjamin paused for a moment and drank a sip of coffee to allow what he was saying to sink in.
“In Buchenwald, when they decided that a worker was no longer useful, they killed him in the gas chambers, just as they did with the Jews. Thousands of people died in the Bernber and Sonnestein chambers. Your friend Eulogio got a lung infection, but René Roche advised him to hide it, because if they found out about it, they might get rid of him. But the worst of it was not having to work while sick, without enough to eat and being unable to rest. The doctors at Buchenwald were keen experimenters. They infected the prisoners with all kinds of viruses. Many of them were given typhus deliberately. But this wasn’t the worst either. Don’t forget this name: Carl Værnet.”
The door to the drawing room opened and a woman came in. Fernando felt something like a sudden blow in the pit of his stomach. He got up and walked over to her.
“Zahra …” he said.
She looked at him without any particular emotion. Sara stared at her expectantly, and Benjamin waved that she should take up the story.
“No, Fernando, don’t forget that name, Carl Værnet. Although his real name is Carl Peder Jensen. He’s Danish. He was the son of a horse trader; he studied medicine, then specialized in endocrinology and became friends with Knud Sand, an endocrinologist who supported the idea of castrating homosexuals. Carl Værnet dedicated himself keenly to experiments that might ‘cure’ homosexuality. He was one of Hitler’s favorite scientists, and as such, enjoyed all the privileges one might imagine. For a time, he lived in Prague, dealing with homosexual prisoners who were brought to him to experiment on. Then he went to Buchenwald. He had been appointed a major in the SS, and he carried out his experiments under the auspices of the camp commander. Don’t forget this name either: Karl Otto Koch. A monster. A demon in human form. In the infirmary in Buchenwald, they carried out experiments that ended the lives of hundreds of people. The doctors experimented, and the camp commander, Karl Otto Koch, benefited from these experiments. He loved objects made from human skin. He had a lampshade of the stuff. His wife, Ilse, an equally evil person, had a bag that he had given her, made from human skin as well. Erich Wagner – don’t forget this name either – was the doctor whose specialty was removing the skin from prisoners. The camp commander was keen on tattoos, so he would find out which prisoners had tattoos that he liked. Dr. Wagner would inject them with phenol and flay their skin to get an extra tattoo for Koch’s collection. But I’m digressing. Why should you care about any of this?”
Zahra got out a cigarette and lit it. Fernando was feeling nauseous and it was hard for him to carry on listening to this story. He couldn’t believe that what Zahra was telling him was the truth. No human would be capable of such monstrous behavior. He felt his hands trembling and accepted the cigarette that Sara put between his lips.
“Carl Værnet experimented on the homosexuals he had under his control in Buchenwald, and submitted them to terrible tortures. He castrated some of them, and sterilized others, and in the worst cases, he injected hormones into the groin or else transplanted monkey testicles into them. Most of the men who were subjected to these practices didn’t survive, and those who did … Well, Eulogio was one of Carl Værnet’s victims … he survived, but his mind was broken.”
Fernando clenched his fists. He felt a wave of repulsion and anger.
“Where is he?” he asked, and there was incredulity, pain and anger in his voice.
“He’s in the hospital. We arrived late last night. It wasn’t easy to find him … I’ve been on his trail for months … But it’s almost impossible to find a man with no identity, a man who doesn’t know who he is …”
“So you found him,” Fernando muttered.
“Yes, I’ve been living in Germany for months now, going from one side to the other, visiting camps, going through the files that each camp commander put together, visiting the survivors …”
Zahra pushed a strand of hair back from her forehead, as though she needed to wipe away the image of what she had seen. Fernando could see how she had changed, how life had made itself known in the little wrinkles on her forehead and the bitter expression in which her face rested. And he thought that she would never recover from what she had seen in her journey through the remains of Germany.
“We’ll go and see him. But you need to be aware that he might not recognize you, that he might not speak … Who knows where his mind is …” Sara said, holding Fernando’s hand.
“And Anatole? Does he know that …?”
“I’ve called him and told him what has happened. He’ll come from Lyon this afternoon. But we must be realistic. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Anatole Lombard to take care of Eulogio. He’s a young man, and although they did have a relationship, who knows if it was important enough for him now to decide that he should look after Eulogio indefinitely.” Benjamin spoke coldly, and it was this coldness that so irritated Fernando.
“Eulogio has me … I’d never ask anyone else to take care of him. But …. Well, maybe it would do him good to see Anatole … he was very important for him …”
“I think that the best thing would be for his mother to take care of him. No one can look after a child better than his mother,” Sara said, speaking calmly to make sure that Fernando took in what she was saying.
“Piedad? How’s she going to do that?” he asked in confusion.
“We wanted to ask you before we did anything. We think that the easiest thing would be for her to come to Paris and take him back to Spain with her. Of course we’ll help her … she can’t travel alone with Eulogio in his state … we’ll find a nurse, someone who can take the train with them to Madrid …” Sara looked directly at Fernando.
“Piedad … the poor woman! She doesn’t deserve to suffer so much!” he said, talking to himself.
Benjamin’s car was waiting for them at the door. The Rosent bookshop would be closed that day.
When they arrived at the Hôpital Pitié Salpêtrière, the Wilsons and Zahra walked firmly to the stairs. They seemed to know where they were going.
They came to a room where a nurse came out to talk to them. Benjamin didn’t give her a chance to turn them away: they were here to see a Spanish patient, Eulogio Jiménez. He had been brought there the night before, and he had a permission slip from Dr. Courtois that allowed him to go and see him whenever necessary. He provided the slip.
The nurse spoke to another nurse, an older woman who appeared to be in charge of the room. Then she let them in.
Eulogio was in bed, and Fernando protested angrily when he saw that he was tied up. Leather straps kept him in place.
“What’s this! Take them off at once!” He didn’t wait for anyone to help, but immediately went to undo the straps himself.
“Stop it!” the nurse tried to make him stop.
“My friend isn’t an animal … I’m not going to let him be treated like this … I’ll take him with me at once … This is terrible!”
The nurse couldn’t manage to stop Fernando, but another nurse had gone to fetch Dr. Courtois, who came in and spoke angrily to Fernando.
“How dare you! Leave at once, and I’ll give them orders not to let you back in.”
Benjamin Wilson put his hand on the doctor’s arm and spoke to him in a firm voice.
“I’m sorry, Doctor, but you have to understand that we were surprised to see our friend tied up. You said yourself last night when you examined him that he wasn’t any danger to himself or to others … And Miss Nadouri here traveled with him and a nurse from Germany without him causing any problems. And so we’ll be taking him now. You must have a diagnostic chart for him, and you can tell us what we need to do.”
Benjamin Wilson had not spoken in order to convince Dr. Courtois, but rather to make it clear to him that they would do what they wanted to do.
Dr. Courtois looked at Benjamin Wilson with what might have been a shrug, ordering the nurse to get Eulogio ready to leave. Then he asked them to come with him to his office and handed the medical report over to Benjamin Wilson. Wilson looked at it and then looked up at the doctor.
“Yes, what you’re seeing here is final. He’ll never be well again. His mind has sunk into itself in order to allow him to survive. We don’t know if he recognizes anyone, or if he even hears them … He can’t speak at the moment.”
“And in the future?” Fernando asked, feeling an unbearable pain in his chest.
“We know very little about the human brain. But in my opinion … well, you can read it in the report, but I don’t think that Monsieur Eulogio Jiménez will ever be the man we knew again. Could he improve? I couldn’t say one way or the other. Maybe a calm environment, surrounded by people who love him … but it’s a long shot,” the doctor said.
“Well, he recognized me,” Fernando said.
The Wilsons and Dr. Courtois looked at him with sympathy and disbelief, but they didn’t answer.
“I know that he recognized me,” Fernando insisted.
One hour later, accompanied by Paulette Bisset, the nurse who was pushing Eulogio’s wheelchair, they left the hospital. Fernando put his hand on Eulogio’s shoulder and walked alongside the chair. Zahra and the Wilsons followed them in silence. It wasn’t easy to get Eulogio into the car, and it was even harder to fit them all into the car after him, so Benjamin Wilson took control of the situation and offered to take a taxi with Sara.
“We haven’t even said where we’re going to take him …”
“We’ll take him to my apartment. Catalina isn’t there … she’s gone off on a trip and won’t be back for a few days.”
“If I’m not mistaken, the apartment has two bedrooms …” Sara said questioningly.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Fernando.
“Well, Nurse Bisset can stay with you until Eulogio’s mother gets to Paris,” Zahra said.
“Let’s talk about this when we get home,” Fernando said shortly.
Catalina had left the house tidy. A bouquet of woodland flowers waited in a vase on the living room table with a note for Fernando. He put it in his pocket to read when he was alone.
Eulogio allowed himself to be moved around. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed calm. His eyes were vague and lost.
“Shall we put him in bed, or can he sit upright?” Fernando asked the nurse.
“Well, I think that he can stay up, except when he makes signs that he wants to lie down. Maybe we can sit him next to the indow.”
And that’s what they did. Fernando told the nurse that she could sleep in Catalina’s room. They would put Adela’s bed in his room, and he would sleep there with Eulogio.
Sara and Benjamin arrived shortly afterwards. They had to decide what to do with Eulogio. Sara spoke first.
“The easiest thing is for his mother to take care of him. It’s what she would want. You can’t look after him, and as for this friend from Lyon, Anatole Lombard … we can’t ask him to take on the responsibility of looking after Eulogio, even if he asks for it. It has to be his mother who decides what’s best for him.”
“As soon as I get to my office, I’ll call Madrid and get them to find his mother. They can tell her what’s happened and offer her a train ticket to Paris,” Benjamin said.
“No, you can’t tell her what Eulogio’s situation is. Tell her that he’s sick and needs her help, but no more details. Imagine how upset she’ll be until she has a chance to see him. I … I’d prefer it if I could talk to her before she saw him,” Fernando knew that it would be a hard blow for Piedad to see her son in his condition.
“Well, if we’re all agreed, then I’ll get things moving straight away to bring Doña Piedad across as soon as possible,” Benjamin Wilson said.
“And don’t worry about the bookshop. Stay with Eulogio until his mother arrives. I’ll look after it. It’ll be like going back to my youth,” Sara said with a little smile.
Zahra remained silent. She listened carefully to what was said, but she knew that it was not her business even to opine about what should happen to Eulogio. But when the Wilsons had left, she stayed in the apartment.
“I’ll give you a hand,” she said, as an explanation for why she stayed.
“Thank you, but I think that I can sort everything out with Miss Bisset.”
“Of course …” Zahra seemed to hesitate before speaking again.
The nurse interrupted them, saying that it was lunchtime and the patient needed to eat. Zahra offered to cook and Fernando did not object. There was a pot of vegetable soup in the fridge, as well as some meat.
To begin with, Eulogio did not want to eat. He refused to open his mouth, but Fernando sat at his side and patiently managed to make him swallow a couple of spoonfuls of the soup. It wasn’t much, but at least he got something in his stomach.
Eulogio’s eyes were fixed on the wall and he moved his head from side to side without making any noise. The nurse spoke calmly to him, and the sound of her voice seemed to tranquilize him.
Zahra helped Fernando get the rooms ready, and took advantage of the couple of minutes they had alone together.
“I know this isn’t the right time, but do you remember that I told you that one day I would ask you to help me finish off Ludger Wimmer?”
Fernando had to search his memory … Ludger Wimmer. And then he remembered that he had been Zahra’s father’s business partner, the man who had accused her of murder and who had gotten her locked up in the psychiatric institution where he had raped her.
He had blocked this memory from his mind because of the harsh feelings it provoked in him. It was enough to see the faces of Roque and Saturnino Pérez, the murderers of his father, without being haunted by even more unfortunates.
But here Zahra was, reminding him of his promise to kill this man.
She had searched Germany from top to bottom looking for Eulogio, and she had found him, his body alive and his mind dead. Now it was his turn to hold up his end of the bargain.
“Yes, I remember,” he admitted.
“I didn’t find him while I was in Germany. I only found out that he disappeared as soon as the war was over. Maybe he left even before Berlin fell. He was clever enough to know that he had left too many witnesses to his fraternization with the Nazi high command, and that the Rosy-Fingered Dawn was a hive of depravity for the SA and the SS. He had too many friends among the murderers. He owed them favors, and they owed him. Anyone might have pointed the finger at him. And so he disappeared. But I will find him.”
“He might have died,” Fernando said.
“No. He’s alive.”
“How do you know?” Fernando said, annoyed that her absolute affirmation left no space to be questioned.
“I know he’s alive, Fernando.”
“And where do you think he is?”
“I’ve got a lead … When I leave Paris, I’ll follow it. I need to find someone else as well. A job for our friend Benjamin Wilson. Lots of people have disappeared.”
“Yes, I suppose business must be booming for Benjamin Wilson,” Fernando said bitterly.
“I know that you don’t like Benjamin … you can’t forgive him for getting you involved in his affairs … but you mustn’t judge him. He’s a good man and he helps other people.”
“And gets paid for it.”
“Yes, of course, but not always. There are people who have come to see him, desperate people who had no money, and he has never turned them away: he’s taken on the case and done what he could.”
“Well, if you say so …”
“I do say so. Who do you think paid for the hunt for Eulogio? Haven’t you asked? Well, it was him. And he did it for you, without expecting anything in return. Why should he care about Eulogio? He barely knows him. Sara told him how worried you were, and … well, he’s spent a year looking for your friend. I won’t lie, he’s looked for other people at the same time, but every time that he thought there was a clue to where Eulogio might be, however unlikely or expensive it was, I followed it up because Benjamin Wilson supported me. Yes, Fernando, we look for people, but it’s not just a business, as you still haven’t managed to understand.”
Fernando felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to say anything to Zahra, but he still didn’t trust Benjamin Wilson. He had been manipulated by this man and had not forgiven him. He had carried a gun and fired it because of him. No, he could never forget the journey to Prague, when they risked their lives trying to rescue that girl … what was her name? Jana? Yes, Jana Brossler. They risked their lives to save hers.
“I don’t want to argue with you,” Fernando added.
“Why would we argue? Of course the truth is sometimes uncomfortable. All I’m doing is saying that you should be grateful to Benjamin Wilson.”
Fernando grew tense and looked at Zahra; she held his gaze defiantly.
“What do I have to thank him for? That he took advantage of me? That he sent me on an absurd mission into the desert where I risked my life? That he made your friends believe I was your devoted slave? Should I thank him for sending us to Prague to look for that girl? Tell me, please, there’s a lot I need to thank him for …”
Zahra looked disappointed, and that hurt him.
“Marvin Brian told Sara and Benjamin Wilson the story of your father and asked them to hire you. Well, Farida asked them. Sara was moved to find out that you were the son of an editor, a man of letters shot by Franco’s forces, and she didn’t hesitate to help you, because her husband wanted to help you as well. The Wilsons looked after you during your time in Alexandria. Do you think that the only person who could give piano lessons in the whole city was Catalina? The Wilsons have made you into who you are, an editor, which is what you and your father both dreamed you would become. Even when you stood up to Benjamin and told him you wouldn’t go to hunt for more people for him, he didn’t abandon you. When you wanted to leave Alexandria and come to Paris, they helped you, recommending you to the Duforts, your current landlords, and they helped you take your first few steps. The Wilsons put the Rosent bookshop into your hands, trusting you with it, trusting that you would edit books of poetry for them. You owe them a lot, Fernando. You owe them everything you are today.”
He didn’t argue with her. He didn’t care what she said. He was too upset about Eulogio to feel anything else. And although he couldn’t help trembling with emotion whenever she was close to him, he would have preferred Catalina to be with him at that moment. Catalina would have understood.
The sun had not yet risen that morning, but June was nearly at an end. The leaden sky promised rain, and the breeze did not smell of springtime, but rather brought shivers of cold.
Fernando had arrived early to the station, and was nervously walking from one side of the platform to the other.
The train came in slowly, grayish smoke spiraling up from its smokestack. He stood very still, watching the doors open. Tired-looking travelers with sleep-reddened eyes started to drag their suitcases over the platform, scanning the crowd for the friends and relatives who might be waiting for them. He waited, eyes skimming over him, and started to get worried. Suddenly, he saw her. She was standing by the train, nervous and impatient, looking around until finally she saw him and relief flooded her face. He walked quickly over to her.
“Piedad!” he called, raising his hand.
He gave her a fierce hug and she let herself sink into the embrace as though it was a preview of the one she would get from her son.
“How are you? How was the trip?” he asked.
“How wonderful to see you … And my son?” she said.
“I’ll take you to see him straight away,” Fernando said, avoiding the question.
“I don’t understand anything … A man came to the house and …”
Fernando wouldn’t let her continue. He picked up her suitcase in one hand and took her by the arm with the other, guiding her through the station.
“Come on … Come on … we need to talk. I know you are very tired and want to see Eulogio, but we need to talk first.”
She nodded, but couldn’t help feeling an oppressive weight on her heart.
They left the station and went to a nearby cafe. Fernando ordered two coffees and a couple of croissants.
“You must be hungry.”
“I’m tired, but I’m worried more than anything else. Why don’t you take me to Eulogio? What’s happened to him?”
“What did they tell you in Madrid?” he asked.
“I told you already: a man came to my house. He said that he was calling on behalf of some friends, and that he would help me to get a passport to go to Paris to see my son. You can imagine how shocked I was. I didn’t know who this man was. If he hadn’t given me your letter, I think I would have thrown him out of the house. But you told me to trust him and to follow his instructions. And so I did. He gave me a train ticket and … well, he must have been important, because it only took them five days to issue me a passport. You told me in the letter that Eulogio needed me and that I had to come to Paris. I told your mother and … well, she wanted to come with me. She insisted, thinking that she’d find you here as well. She told Asunción too. She couldn’t think about coming, because she has to look after Ernesto, but she gave me a letter for Catalina. Is she with you?”
“No, no she isn’t … but that’s not important at the moment. Look, I want to tell you about how Eulogio is before you see him.”
He didn’t spare her any details about Eulogio’s state, although he didn’t talk about fleeing to Alexandria and their life there. He spoke about Eulogio’s work in France, his business with the Resistance, how he had been sent to Germany and how he had suffered in the camps.
Piedad listened to him in silence, without holding her tears back. She felt in her own flesh the pain her son had experienced.
“We were able to find him thanks to some friends. In the camps, the Nazi doctors experimented on certain prisoners. They were able to do what they wanted with them. Their lives were worthless.”
“Experiment?” Piedad gave a start. “You told me they took him to a labor camp, a munitions factory …”
“Yes, and there … there were other prisoners, who were …”
“Who were …?”
“I don’t know how to tell you … Eulogio … Eulogio …”
“For God’s sake, Fernando, tell me now!”
“While he was in Lyon, Eulogio fell in love. It was an intense love, generous, complete. He … well … he felt free to unleash all his emotions, his tastes, his personal truth.”
“Why won’t you tell me clearly what’s going on?”
“He fell in love with a man. I’m sorry.” Fernando looked down to the table in embarrassment.
Piedad passed her hand over her face and sighed before she spoke.
“So, he finally accepted it,” she said in a whisper.
“What do you mean?” Fernando said in confusion.
“You think I don’t know what was upsetting my son? You think you can really trick a mother? Eulogio was fighting against himself and …. He never forgave me for telling him when he was a teenager to always be open about what he felt, never to live in shame. But he … well, he denied to me what I had seen about him, and from that moment on, he never felt comfortable around me because I knew his secret … It was his most intimate secret and he didn’t want to share it with anyone, not even me, and that tormented him. My husband refused to accept it, and told me that this was just my imagination, and he got angry when I told him that our son was suffering. As you know, Eulogio loved his father above all things, and knew that his homosexuality would have been a disappointment to him. And so it was impossible for me to help him. You know why he never got on with Catalina, why he was so angry at her all the time?”
“Well, I guess they were different kinds of people,” he said, just to say something.
“No, it wasn’t a question of character. It was because Eulogio was in love with you. Catalina was his rival. He knew that you weren’t inclined the same way as he was and that if you found out what he felt, then you would surely break off your friendship. But even though he knew it was impossible, he couldn’t help himself and he disliked Catalina a great deal. And you ran off with her, and he ran off with you, in spite of her.”
Fernando felt that he was blushing. He couldn’t cope with what he was hearing. His sentiments were a mixture of pity and revulsion. Suddenly his friendship with Eulogio had taken on an unknown dimension. Piedad realized how uncomfortable he was and was scared that this revelation might lead him to turn his back on Eulogio.
“Who is this man he fell in love with? Was he loved back in return?”
Fernando couldn’t find the words to speak to Piedad. She had always known and the only thing that seemed to worry her was how her son had suffered.
But he didn’t blame her, he didn’t judge her.
“He’s French … he’s called Anatole Lombard, and as I told you, he lives in Lyon, but when I told him that Eulogio had been found, he didn’t hesitate and said he’d come at once. You’ll meet him now. That’s why I wanted to talk to you …”
“Tell me how Eulogio is,” she demanded.
“There was a doctor called Carl Værnet in Buchenwald, who was trying to cure homosexuality. The homosexual prisoners in the camp were subject to his experiments. Some of them had monkey testicles implanted into them, others were given hormones; people were castrated and sterilized …”
“Shut up!” she said, trying to hold back her tears.
“I’m sorry … I … Eulogio was a victim of these experiments. He survived where others did not … His body is here, but his mind is lost … he doesn’t speak, and the doctor says he doesn’t recognize anyone, he looks into space … and … he cries, he cries in silence every now and then. He purses his lips and clenches his fists and shudders and cries.”
“Take me to him now, please,” she begged.
The nurse opened the door to the apartment. Anatole was sitting next to Eulogio and reading to him out loud in French. Piedad stopped still and watched her son, and recognized Verlaine’s “Chanson d’automne”:
Les sanglots longs
Des violons
De l’automne
Blessent mon cœur
D’une langueur
Monotone.
Tout suffocant
Et blême, quand
Sonne l’heure,
Je me souviens
Des jours anciens
Et je pleure;
Et je m’en vais
Au vent mauvais
Qui m’emporte
Deçà, delà,
Pareil à la
Feuille morte.
Anatole Lombard raised his eyes to see Piedad. It seemed to Fernando that they were speaking to each other across the silence.
“Piedad, this is Anatole …”
He closed the book and got up, extending his hand to Piedad. She shook it quickly. Then she stepped aside and walked around to her son.
Piedad hugged Eulogio’s inert body. She stroked his hair and kissed him gently and whispered words that neither Fernando nor Anatole heard. Eulogio made no motion of protest, but his face showed no emotion. His mind was elsewhere.
The nurse came over and introduced herself.
“Madame, I’m Paulette Bisset, your son’s nurse.”
Piedad nodded, but didn’t stop stroking her son’s face. Tears ran down her cheeks and she made no effort to stop them. Suddenly Eulogio’s wandering gaze fixed on her. He made no gesture, no movement to show that he had recognized her. He still looked vague.
Fernando left the drawing room because he was unable to hold back his tears. Piedad’s painful silence was unbearable for him. He took a few seconds to pull himself together, then returned to the room.
“You should rest for a bit, or at least freshen up after your journey,” he said to Piedad.
“The only thing I want to do is hold my son, but you’re right, I’ve been traveling all day and need to tidy myself up a bit. But there’s no time to rest.”
She allowed Anatole to take her place and let Fernando guide her to the room where he slept with Eulogio.
“You can sleep here with Eulogio, and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
She didn’t argue. All she wanted was to be close to her son. Fernando had put her suitcase on the bed and she opened it, taking out a few garments.
She came back to the salon after about half an hour. The nurse was seated next to Eulogio, and Fernando and Anatole were talking in low voices.
“You look like a different woman, but you need to dry your hair,” Fernando said, just to say something.
Piedad’s hair was still wet, and she smiled briefly. She didn’t care whether she had dried herself properly. She felt light after the shower.
“Can we talk?” Anatole asked.
She nodded and sat down next to Fernando. She crossed her hands in her lap and waited.
“As you’ve heard already, I’m a good friend of Eulogio’s. I won’t say that my suffering is anything like yours, but believe me that I am very sad to see him in this state. I … I have loved him, I love him, and I am sorry that I don’t have in my hands the power to make him be as he once was. I suppose you’ll take him back to Spain, and if you’ll let me, I would love to come and visit him now and then … I am a teacher, so it would have to be in the school vacations … I’ll write to you in advance.”
Piedad listened to him carefully. She would have liked to feel some degree of sympathy for this attractive man with whom her son had fallen in love. But she blamed him for Eulogio’s bad luck. Why had they taken Eulogio instead of him? It was irrational, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself.
“Yes, write to me … I don’t suppose there’ll be any problem in your coming to visit,” she said noncomittally.
“I was waiting for you to come so I could meet you. I’m going back to Lyon today. I have been in Paris for a few days already. When they called me to say that they had found Eulogio I came at once, and here I’ve been, by his side. Although he doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“The doctors say that faced with all this unlimited suffering, his mind tried to leave his body and got lost somewhere,” Fernando tried to explain.
“Yes … you already told me that,” Piedad said.
“Maybe he will come back to us someday,” Anatole said.
She looked right at him, and her gaze was that of a wolf about to attack. How dare this man try to console her with a vain hope?
“Miracles do happen,” Anatole insisted.
“You’re lucky to be able to believe in them,” Piedad said disdainfully.
“Well … my train leaves early in the afternoon and I need to visit a friend first … I’ll be off …”
Anatole was on his feet, and Fernando got up quickly as well. Piedad got slowly to her feet. Without offering her hand to Anatole, she merely said, “I hope you have a good journey, Monsieur Lombard,” before turning back to look at her son. She took Eulogio’s hands in her own, and this seemed to comfort her. Anatole gave Eulogio a kiss on the forehead, and then left without saying another word.
Piedad insisted on meeting Zahra. She wanted to see the face of the woman who had rescued her son. Fernando had spoken about her without giving too many details about who she was or what she did. But Piedad didn’t care about the details. All she wanted to do was meet this woman.
Zahra came to see them two days after Piedad had arrived. On that June afternoon, Paris was drenched with rain.
The two women got along well from the start. Piedad gave Zahra a spontaneous hug, and Zahra let herself be caught up in her thankful embrace. Then they spoke openly, and Zahra told her various unknown details of the crimes the Nazis had committed, and the shame and guilt that they had inspired in the victors of the war, who seemed eager to cover up as soon as possible all that had happened. The Nuremberg trials were taking place, but Zahra was upset that not all the murderers of Hitler’s regime were on trial. “It’s been a kind of catharsis, but millions of people will go about their business without justice touching them in any way,” she said angrily. “The very man who tortured Eulogio, Carl Værnet, has disappeared, and really they just let him disappear. They took him to a camp in Denmark, but he escaped, or rather, they helped him escape.” And then, speaking in a lower voice, as though to herself, she added: “One of the biggest sources of shame is the fact that many of the experiments that the scientists and doctors who were working for Hitler carried out have aroused the interest of … well, of the victors. Many of them are being protected and granted a new identify. Maybe Værnet is one of them.”
Fernando heard Zahra speak in astonishment. He thought that she must be wrong: how could the people who had defeated Hitler “save” the monsters who had worked for him? No, that couldn’t be right. Zahra must be speculating because she was so filled with hatred towards these people.
Zahra carried on speaking, explaining to Piedad just how difficult it had been to find Eulogio, and how she had come across him in a mental asylum.
Fernando followed the conversation without daring to interrupt. There was a direct communication between them that he couldn’t touch.
Night had already fallen when Zahra said goodbye to Piedad. He insisted on walking her home, and she accepted.
They walked for a while without speaking. She let him put his arm around her shoulders, and each felt the heat of the other’s body.
“She’s a brave woman,” Zahra said.
“Piedad? Yes, yes she is. She’s suffered a lot.”
“When are they leaving?”
“The day after tomorrow. The nurse will go with them to Madrid and will stay with them for a few days. Piedad doesn’t want the nurse to go with them, but she insisted. It’s better for her not to be alone on the train. It’s a long journey, and who knows how Eulogio might react.”
“Well, I wish he would react … I brought him all the way from Germany, and he didn’t cause any problems at all. He’s not there, Fernando, he’s not there. He’s a body that you can pose as required.”
“The doctor said that you never know when it comes to illnesses of the mind. I won’t be happy if Piedad doesn’t have at least a little help on the journey.”
“And your mother?”
“Piedad brought me a letter. She wants to see me. She’s asking if she can come to Paris …”
“Will she come?”
“Although there’s nothing I want more in the world than to see my mother, I’d prefer it if she didn’t come.”
“You’re scared.”
“Scared? What do you mean? How can I be scared of my own mother?”
“You’re scared of explaining to her the real reason why you left.”
Zahra was right, and Fernando didn’t argue. No, he wouldn’t be able to look her in the eyes and tell her that he had killed those men. The ghosts of Roque and Saturnino Pérez still visited him. The passage of time had not erased their presence: father and son were ever more focused on tormenting him.
He loved his mother above all things and knew that if she were standing in front of him then he would not be able to lie to her, even though he knew the immense pain and disappointment it would cause her to know that her son was a murderer. How could she live with this knowledge? His mother believed in God, and if she had ceased to believe in earthly justice, she still had faith in divine justice; she was convinced that Roque and Saturnino Pérez would be judged for their crimes. But knowing that her son was responsible for their murders … no, that would ruin her. And so he preferred not to see her, because if he did, then he would be unable to lie to her.
“Your mother will understand,” Zahra insisted.
Fernando pursed his lips and said nothing.
They walked for a good long while, apparently wandering, until Zahra suddenly stopped in front of a little hotel in Montparnasse. She didn’t let go of his arm and he followed her. The room was large and comfortable. A suitcase was open on her bed with her clothes folded inside it. She closed it and put it on the floor.
“I’m leaving as well,” Zahra whispered.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Will you come back?”
“I’ll call you when I find Ludger Wimmer.”
Fernando woke up with a start. The light was starting to filter through the windows. He slid his hand across the bed and found no one there. He sprung out of bed, aware of Zahra’s absence. The suitcase was gone, as were the clothes that she had worn the day before, formerly discarded, item by item, on the floor of the room. He was annoyed with himself for not having realized that she had gone. How could it have happened? He felt a knot in his stomach, and he got dressed as quickly as possible.
The receptionist told him that the young lady had left little more than an hour ago, and that the room was paid for.
When he got back to his apartment, Piedad was combing Eulogio’s hair. He sat still and indifferent, and the nurse made coffee.
They sat down to breakfast and made small talk. Then Piedad said that she was going to pack her bags, because they were leaving the next day.
“What do you want me to say to your mother?” she asked him.
“That I’m well, and that not a minute goes by when I don’t think about her.”
“She’ll ask me if you’re going to come back …”
He sat in silence. It was difficult for him to lie to Piedad, but he had no other choice.
“I’m going to the United States. Catalina’s waiting for me there. I’m only in Paris because they told me that Eulogio had turned up,” he apologized.
“Right … but this apartment …”
“It belongs to some friends.”
“Is that Catalina’s daughter?” she asked, pointing to a frame with a photo in it, showing the three of them: Fernando, Adela, and Catalina.
He said nothing. Did Piedad know that Catalina had a daughter? She realized what he was thinking and smiled.
“Yes, I know that Catalina was pregnant and that’s why she left, and you and my son with her.”
“Eulogio told you …”
“He didn’t need to tell me … he left without saying goodbye, just as you and Catalina did. But I had heard Eulogio and Marvin talking about her … and you and Eulogio were always so full of secrets … and then when Asunción told us that they were sending her to stay with some relatives … Lots of things have happened over these years, Fernando. The three of us, the three mothers, have joined forces. Isabel, Asunción and I have our three vanished children in common. We couldn’t talk to anyone, so we spoke among ourselves. And so we’ve spent a lot of time wondering where you might be. Your mother is very discreet and said nothing about Catalina’s pregnancy, but one afternoon Asunción couldn’t cope anymore and broke down and told me everything. When she got the first photograph of her granddaughter, she was so proud … Catalina has to come back to Spain. Her mother doesn’t care what the others might say. We’ve changed, Fernando, we’re no longer the same women you knew. The suffering and uncertainty caused by your disappearance, have made us strong. You’ll be surprised when you hear Asunción speak. She’s not the weak lady she was before, but a strong woman who will stand up to anyone who says anything out of place about her daughter.”
“Catalina won’t come back to Spain until Marvin marries her, or at least acknowledges his daughter,” Fernando explained.
“Ah, Marvin! He’s not the man for Catalina. She’s too lively for him, and …” Piedad stopped herself.
“Whatever the case may be, he’s Adela’s father.”
“And all these years you’ve been trying to get Marvin to acknowledge the child?”
“Yes, but he won’t even speak to her.”
“And what do you think?”
“Me? Well, I’ve tried to speak to Marvin, but as soon as I mention Catalina, he flies off the handle. And so I can’t do anything other than protect her.”
“Are you still in love with her?”
He was silent. He didn’t have an answer to this. He sometimes thought that the only woman he could truly love was Catalina, but then he saw Zahra and all his certainties began to tremble.
“I’ll never leave her,” was the most honest answer he could say.
“Right … And Zahra? I don’t want to stick my nose in, but … it’s clear that there’s something … I mean, I don’t think you’re indifferent to her.”
Fernando lit a cigarette. The conversation was making him nervous. He would have liked to have asked her to stop asking these questions, but he didn’t dare. Piedad had known him since he was a little boy, and her husband and his father had been friends, and now she and his mother were particularly close.
“Zahra is … a very important person for me. But Catalina is much more important.”
“I know that this conversation is upsetting for you, but I feel like I have to ask you, as your mother will ask me when I return and she’ll want to know what you’re really like, what your lives are like.”
“Tell her the truth, that I’m well and I miss her. I hope that she’s been getting the letters that I’ve sent over all these years …”
“Yes, the letters that appear mysteriously in our mailboxes. No postmark, no stamps … as though they fell from the sky. And they make your mother and Asunción even more worried, particularly Asunción, because she never stops asking herself where Catalina and her granddaughter might be.”
“And now you can tell them that we are well.”
“And you’re not coming back?”
“No …”
“Just because of Catalina?”
“Lots of things have happened in these years … I don’t want to come back to Spain, I couldn’t live under the suffocating Franco regime. I will always be the son of a red, a man who was shot by the regime. I have no future in Spain.”
“And your mother?”
“I hope we can see each other at some point in the future, but not in Spain.” He knew he was lying.
“Paris isn’t that far away …”
“We don’t live in Paris. I told you, Catalina is in the United States, and I’ll go to meet her when you and Eulogio are back in Madrid.”
“Do you at least have a letter for your mother?”
“Yes, it’s written, but it only says that I love her, that there’s not one minute that I don’t think about her.”
Piedad knew that he was lying. That this was not an apartment that a friend had let him use. The photos, the clothes in the wardrobes, the papers on the desk … no, this was not just somewhere they were passing through, but the place where Fernando and Catalina shared their lives.
The next day he took her to the station. He was nervous, and didn’t stop giving the nurse instructions. Piedad didn’t know this – she didn’t even know they existed – but the Wilsons had once again shown their generosity. They hadn’t only spent money looking for Eulogio, not stopping until they found him, but now they were paying Nurse Bisset’s wages and also the price of three first-class train tickets.
Piedad had said that she didn’t need the nurse to come with her, but Fernando had convinced her that she did.
The nurse led Eulogio by the arm. He walked slowly, looking into space, allowing himself to be led.
The passengers got into their carriages, and Fernando helped Piedad and Eulogio find their place and sit down. The nurse stayed with Eulogio, and Piedad came to say goodbye to Fernando.
“How are you going to manage when you get to Madrid? They’ve told me that you’re in a workshop, but you can’t leave Eulogio by himself.”
“I’ll sew things at home, it’s the only solution. I know enough about sewing to make a living at it. Maybe they’ll give me work at the workshop to take home with me. I won’t leave him alone for a moment. I have my son back, and my life means nothing more than caring for him now.”
“But what will happen to Eulogio in the future? You … Well, we’re all getting older, and he … he can’t be alone.”
“I know what you’re saying … you’re worrying what will become of him when I die.”
“No … I didn’t mean that …”
“Yes, you did mean that. You’re a good friend of my son, and although you haven’t told me much about it, I know you’ve gone through a lot together. I’ll tell you the truth, Fernando. The day I know I’m going to die, I’ll take him with me.”
Piedad looked at him defiantly, but Fernando held her gaze. There was nothing else to say, and he didn’t judge her for what she had just confessed to him.
They heard the whistle of the train and the voice of the conductor asking the passengers to take their seats. She got onto the train and didn’t look back. Fernando came to the train window to say goodbye to Eulogio. His friend was leaning against the window and Fernando wanted to believe that he was trying to say goodbye, but his gaze was still blank.