Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna

      I would get up at that point and it would be over. He already knew that there was no way I would continue and he would leave me until the next time he would see me wander around bored

      “Right! Shall we play another little game?” he would say trying to keep me somewhat entertained.

      Grandma and Mom would go for a walk on the beach, with their feet in the water, whenever the waves let them. Grandma said that it was very good for the circulation, that she noticed how her varicose veins would stop giving her grief when she did it. I had no idea how they could handle that cold water.

      Grandpa was the brave one in the family, because there were days when he was the only one who dared to get in there. After taking a little dip, as he called it, he would take a few quick runs up and down to dry himself off when he got out, and then he would sit on his blanket, that old blanket that Grandma had given him just for the beach, which he brought, “So as not to be soiled with sand,” as he put it. He spread his blanket across the sand under the shadow of the canopy over his head, which had managed to create some decent shade, and which sometimes also sheltered us from a good downpour, those which fall in the summer without any warning.

      It consisted of four poles of about five feet in length, and a large square tarpaulin with some ropes. When we got there, we all helped him assemble it. We used the “Canopy,” which was his name for it, to eat peacefully in the shade, so as not to get sunburned. I didn’t really understand why we were going to the beach to get some sun and then having to get underneath the canopy, but I admit that it was great for the twins, and for the little one, since they could quietly have their nap under there.

      Grandpa would read his newspaper, as he did every day. He said that, although he was on vacation, he had to be informed of the news that was making its way around the world. When he saw me there bored, not knowing what to do, nor with whom to spend time, sitting alone trying to entertain myself playing with the sand, he would watch me as he used to do, lowering his head a little and peering at me over his glasses. Looking serious he called to me.

      “Manu, can you come here for a moment? I need you, can you help me?”

      I went to see what he wanted and he took me by the arm so that I would bend down and he would make me sit next to him on the blanket. He would tell me softly so that no one would hear him:

      “Come on Manu, let’s see if you can beat your father this time, and you can become the champion.”

      Looking at that cold water, which I did not want to get into, I reluctantly got up, shook off the sand that had stuck to my legs and lazily went over to my father’s side. I spoke to him so quietly that he could barely hear me:

      “Well, what do you think about playing a little? But you know, you have to let me win.”

      “Whaaat? I can’t hear you, speak up, what did you say?” said my father.

      “How about we play? If you’d like,” I repeated louder.

      “Son, I’m going to see if you ever let the boy win,” Grandpa told my father when he heard me.

      I was glad that Grandpa supported me:

      “Did you hear that Dad? Let’s see if you listen to your father. What can I say, just as you tell me that I have to obey you, because you’re my father, you also have to do it, because you’re his son,” and without further ado we started to play.

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      I jumped out of bed, how could I have forgotten? I ran down the hallway, thank goodness there was no one in the bathroom. I got into the bathtub, but since I was half-asleep, I almost fell. After a quick shower, now a little more alert, I returned to my bedroom thinking that I didn’t have time for breakfast. I would be late, and as it was the first day, it would not go down well if I was the last to show up, what would the others think?

      I saw the clothes placed there on the chair and I put them on in a rush. Thank goodness I had gotten them ready last night before going to bed, thinking that it would be the most convenient way to prepare. I’d never been in such a situation before and I was sure that if I hadn’t prepared, I would not have found anything appropriate to wear with all the scrambling around this morning and I would have screwed it up.

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      Sitting quietly, waiting for that hot cup of coffee that I had left on the table to cool down, the memories of that distant day came to mind in droves, as if they wanted to come out all at once. How long ago all that was, and how many things had happened since then.

      Looking absentmindedly at the coffee again, I let myself be carried away by those thoughts that flowed into my mind, the time that had passed since those days, when the only thing I thought about, like all my peers, was the weekend and how much fun it would be, without any other worries. It was good to study yes, but that was not very important at that time, because as a kid, studies are only part of the games.

      Finally, I went to high school, and things changed. I had to take everything more seriously.

      “Manu this is different, you can’t treat it like a game, you have to study hard to pass. Here they don’t give grades away, and if you have to re-take any subject in September, you’ll spend all summer studying, punished without going out,” my father told me very seriously that day.

      I knew my father, and I knew that when he said something, he meant it, so I made it my purpose to never miss a class and to behave myself. With that, I thought I would be fighting half the battle and with a little more effort, I would have the school year completed successfully. That was preferable to killing myself studying.

      Of course, such actions performed as a young man so as not to lift a finger are so thoughtless. How ignorant I was that the better prepared you are, the easier it will be to move forward in life.

      “You can’t get lost time back.” I never really knew what that meant, but my grandfather was convinced that sayings contained truths and he used them all the time.

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      I took the cup of coffee; it was cool enough not to burn me. I had to get on with the task that had been imposed upon me, it was essential that I pick up the paper trail. Slowly, I took a sip while looking at the table, at that note that I had received in such a strange way. I mean I was used to strange things, but I had never had an envelope slid under my door before, who could it have been?

      I had to verify the information, I couldn’t trust anything or anyone. From experience, I had already figured out that someone, I’m not sure who, was determined to get me to drop all of this and let it go, and what was happening in reality was that I was becoming increasingly interested in it. I had to get to the bottom of the matter and discover the truth.

      Walking briskly, I went over to the library, it had just opened. I had watched from the place where I was sitting drinking my coffee, indeed I had chosen that location for that reason. From there, I had a perfect view of the door to the place where I could find the long-awaited answer. Why with as many libraries as there might be, would they have chosen this one?

      As I am very curious, I was sure that at some point I would have the answer to that question, but right now it was not essential. Finding the document was the important thing, but now I was realizing:

      How would the anonymous author of the sealed letter know that I was looking for that document? How strange! I didn’t think I had mentioned it to anyone, all this seemed too coincidental.

      I left the heavy door of the library behind me, but not before admiring it first. What a piece of work it was! What an artist it was who had constructed it! Even with the time that must have passed since then, everyone could admire the beautiful figures that were created by the hands of the craftsman. People might not know who he was, but his work was visible, within the reach of all eyes. Would he have thought at the time he was creating it about the amount of people who would admire it and about the amount of time that his work would endure? Would he have thought