by Kevin Craig
“Oh, yes. Magic. And the pizza in the plaza, Diego. I am an old man, but I would walk from Toulouse where I live for that pizza, my friend. But others on The Way, they have told me they have seen Ponferrada from the hills near O Cebreiro. Somewhere, somewhere.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It is, it is. And how about you, my friend. How are you this day?”
We stand apart from the others, and I’m glad to be alone with him. I feel I can be more myself. It’s easy to cry with Bastien and not feel stupid or bad about it. He still has an arm around my shoulder and he squeezes a bit tighter when he sees the tears come to my eyes.
“I’m okay,” I lie. He ruffles my hair with his free hand.
“You will be. You carry your abuelita to the cathedral of Santiago. Here.” He taps his heart. “She will be proud of nieto Diego. So proud. But, this you know.”
He fills me and empties me all at once. I turn my head into his shoulder, and he allows me to have a little cry.
When I’m done, I see that the others have grouped together just beyond the monument and that they are patiently waiting for us. The looks on their faces make me less uncomfortable about crying. These guys are pretty cool.
I wrestle my backpack onto my shoulders, and then we rejoin them and prepare to set out on the day’s final leg.
“One hundred and fifty miles or so to go,” Gil says. “We’re almost to Santiago.”
“Not quite,” Greg says. “But I dig your enthusiasm.”
As I make my way over to Shania to maybe walk with her, Greg takes it as his sign to stop mothering me. He moves on ahead to catch up with Troy, of all people. Not sure they really dig each other.
“Hey, you,” Shania says.
“Hey, yourself,” I say. We smile at each other and it’s nice to be back with her. It’s been a while.
“You okay? I mean, I know you’re not okay. But are you okay?”
“Sure, yeah.” I shrug, and we begin to walk, falling in behind Claire and Manny. “I’m just really tired. Not sure what I’m doing this for anymore, Shan.”
“I hear you.” She reaches for my hand and takes it in hers. This girl who was a storm of chaos and anger when we met a lifetime ago. I’ve been wanting her hand in mine for a few days now. It feels nice. We walk in silence, just the two of us, and nobody interrupts us.
Even when our hands become slippery with sweat, we both keep holding on.
Pretty soon, we come to a mile marker that says O Cebreiro, K.151. It stands in front of a short stone wall that looks a thousand years old; every nook and cranny of it is filled with moss. Even the downward-facing scallop shell on the mile marker is filled with moss. Everything about the town looks old and damp. And beautiful.
“Made it,” Shania says. She raises her free hand, and I high five her. Now we’re facing each other and all hands are touching. I take this opportunity to hug her. When I do, she’s rigid at first, like she didn’t know I was going to do it. Like she didn’t want it. I didn’t even know I was going to do it. But she softens into it. I want to kiss her. Instead, we let go.
Everyone else kept walking. They stopped at an ancient church. It’s not like the thousands of other churches we’ve seen that all look alike. Its shape is different. Surrounding it are more of those stone houses with hay-thatched roofs. Some of them are even round. Every road in the village is made up of cobbles and rocks. One of the oldest towns so far, for sure.
As we join the others, Bastien is front and center being the tour guide.
“Inside this Santa Maria, there was the blood and the flesh. The Madonna who blessed the sacrament, maybe,” Bastien says.
“Hey, Diego,” Manny says, waving me closer to the front. “My boy here is Catholic. Listen to this, Diego.”
I come up beside Manny, but not because I believe anything Bastien is telling us. Just because. Because of my gran, I listen. Shania follows me.
“We go inside, yes?” Bastien says. He almost whispers this, like a prayer. “We go inside.”
We all follow him as he makes his way inside.
“It happened that a snowstorm came in 1300 and the priest was no longer interested in the faith. When he thought no one would come because of how bad the storm, he got angry and… stomp stomp stomp.”
We’re all inside looking around the church. It’s tiny and it’s big, all at once. A man stands off to the side, in a little booth. He has an ink pad and a stamp and he waves us all over.
We form a little line, taking out our credencials. We take turns getting stamps as the man welcomes us to O Cebreiro and stamps our passports. He says Buen Camino to each and every one of us as the stamp comes down on the page. We thank him and then huddle around Bastien as he continues to speak.
“Madonna of the Sacred Miracle,” Bastien whispers, pointing out the statue. “A farmer walked through the storm, yes, and it made the priest bitter. That someone showed up, that someone should have so much faith in the dying church that he grows to despise.”
We move toward the altar. Greg stops and sits down and Meagan joins him. Everyone is quiet, following Bastien’s lead.
“The bread, they say, became flesh. And the wine, it was blood. Not only for the priest who had also lost his way, but also for the farmer who had come through the impossible snow. Two men healed. One in faith and one in warmth.”
He turns to us, smiling. He likes to be in the spotlight, but not because he likes the attention he receives. With Bastien, you can tell it’s because he likes the attention he gives.
“And the Madonna,” he whispers. We need to lean in to hear him. “The Madonna, she saw it all. Yes?”
Chapter 23 — Shania Reynolds
Thursday, July 4th – Day 6 – O Cebreiro, Troy Finds Love, and Diego – Oh, and Another Day of Double Entries.
I have to stop this or I’ll get a bad reputation. I’m writing in my journal a second time. Again. It’s not like we’re going to get bonus points for this or something. I’m so pathetic.
This town is awesome. Later we’re going to walk around a little. For now, we’re just chilling in our rooms waiting for supper. Every single one of us is writing in their journal. I’m guessing some are playing catch-up. I’m not mentioning any names, Claire and Greg. I haven’t seen either of them writing since day one, and their pens are going fast and furious. Court-mandated journaling. That’s pretty awesome.
I’m in love with Troy. He’s such a sweetie. The way he and that boy were back at the café. He can’t even sit still, knowing the kid’s coming here tonight. He might explode. He made all of us promise to be on our best behavior too. Or he would kill us. Twice, he said.
Bright side. I’ve been rushing to get to the bright side. I know it’s tragic what’s happened with Diego’s grandmother. But today I somehow found the courage to hold his hand. Not just a little, either. All the way from our last stop to O Cebreiro. Holding Diego’s hand is like holding onto fire. Only, it’s a fire that doesn’t burn your skin. It just makes it warm with a heat you never want to lose. That’s my bright side. Diego Nelson.
“Come on, Manny,” Greg says after he whips his journal across his bed. “Let’s break outta here. If we’re stealth-like, we might be able to get some wine downstairs before Gilbert and Meagan come back.”
They went for a walk around town. They said they would do it now and leave us to do it on our own after our group meeting. Cool of them.
“Nah,” Manny says, “Count me out. I’ll come down, but not into wine here. Nope.”
“Cool beans. More for me. You can be lookout.”
It will not end well, if Greg gets into the wine. I don’t want to be around when this one crashes.
“How about you, Diego?” Greg says as he and Manny head for the door. “Coming down?”
“No, I’m good. Just gonna rest for a bit. You go ahead.”
> “I’ll come,” Troy says. He slips his journal under his pillow and runs to catch-up. He’ll most likely go to keep an eye out for his new friend.
“Wait for me,” Claire says. She follows them downstairs, journal in hand. Yep, she’s playing catch-up. Definitely.
And just like that, Diego and I are all alone in this big room.
It surprises me when he sets his own journal down and comes to join me on my bed. He sits at the foot, but looks out at the room instead of up at me.
“Hey, you,” I say. I rest my foot on his lower back. He turns and offers me a small smile.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Just feel kind of funny. This afternoon was nice. Sorry my hand was so sweaty. It was really hot.”
“No big deal, Diego. I’m sure some of it was mine. You don’t have to apologize.”
“I like you, Shania,” he says. But the look on his face isn’t what it should be. He’s close to tears.
“Hey,” I say. “What’s wrong? I like you too, you big dummy. It was a little shaky at first, Diego, but I think that was more me than you.”
I try to give him just the right smile, like I’m sorry but not sorry for being so testy. I did practically kick and scream my way into this trip. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“I just, I don’t know what I’m doing?” He looks into his lap. He’s making an effort to keep it together. I’m not sure he’s going to win. “I have nothing to go home to. My grandmother is gone.”
“Diego, no. You have everything to go home to. Your mom. She sounds amazing. You have her to go home to. Every step you take out there, you’re walking closer to seeing her again. And when you’re with her, you’ll be with your grandmother.”
He smiles. “Thank you for that.”
“Don’t mention it. We should go downstairs. Or I won’t be responsible for what I’ll do to you.” We both blush, and I can’t even believe the words came out of my mouth. I meant them innocently, but they grew bigger once they left me. Oops.
He sits silent on the edge of my bed and allows time for my moronic words to dissipate away to nothing.
“My grandmother couldn’t come to the airport. I said goodbye to her the day before I left. She had a doctor’s appointment when we had to be at the airport. I thought it was okay back then, but now I wish I got to see her one last time before I got on the plane.”
“Come on, Diego. Don’t beat yourself up. She loved you. You got to say goodbye to each other. I know she was happy you were walking the Camino, because you told me. Just because she wasn’t at the airport doesn’t mean anything. Hell, my dad just went to work the day I left. And my mom, she doesn’t even work. She just got up and went out to wherever she goes every day. A goodbye at the airport is not what it’s cracked up to be.”
“You never told me that.” I realize I’ve said too much. I wasn’t going to tell him about my parents. I guess I got lost in the moment. “Your parents didn’t take you to the airport? Are you shitting me, Shania?”
He sounds angry. He slides up to the top of the bed and sits at my side.
“Yeah,” I say. “Obviously not something I’m proud of. What do you think I jacked a car for? They just don’t notice me. They don’t see me. But it’s okay. I have Flibber and Dillon. For now, I guess that’s enough. Dillon’s an ass, but he’s my ass. I talked to him three times since we got here. And we text every day. Nothing from my parents.”
“Are you kidding me? That sucks, Shan.”
“Yeah, but I’m used to it. It’s not as big a deal as it sounds. Not when you don’t expect anything from them.” I wonder if he can tell I’m lying through my teeth, that every single day of my life I expect something from them that doesn’t come.
“Yes it is. It is a big deal. I would die if Moms did that to me. I can’t even… yeah… it wouldn’t happen.”
“Rub it in,” I say, pushing him from behind a little too hard. I was only joking, but I almost fling him off the bed. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean that.”
He turns and he’s smiling. We’re on my bed together. That fact hits me just as he leans closer.
“Nobody deserves to be treated like your parents treat you,” he says. “I don’t care what you did or why you did it. It doesn’t mean it’s okay to shut out your own daughter. They’re shits for doing that to you. You know that, right?”
“Yeah, sure I know that. I could write a book on that topic. Queen Shit and King and Emperor Shit. I guess that makes me a princess.”
“I like you,” he says.
“I like you too, Diego Nelson.”
“Can I kiss you right now?”
“Can you do me a favor and not ask if you can kiss me and just ki—”
Diego cuts my words off with his lips. They swallow mine, and he leans closer, and we’re kissing each other full tilt. I could get used to kissing him. His lips are so full, and he’s got this soft growth of black hair over his upper one, not quite a moustache, and it feels so good.
Diego puts his hands on my cheeks, and I’m lost in his grip. We kiss until my mouth hurts and the light outside the big bedroom windows begins to change. When we part, my lips feel puffed out to twice their size, and Diego’s look just as beat-up as mine feel.
And it’s so good. I hope the others don’t figure it out. Then again, who cares? I mean, we did hold hands today. They must know something’s up between us.
“We better go downstairs.” I laugh because we’re both breathing heavily, and, if I’m as flushed as Diego is, our flimsy cover will be totally blown. “Supper will be ready soon.”
“Okay,” he says. “Maybe you should go first.”
I look at him, perplexed. “It doesn’t matter. We can go together.”
“No, we can’t. I can’t go yet.” He blushes and looks down at his crotch and brings my pillow over to cover his lap. “I’ll be right down. I just need a few seconds.”
“Huh? Oh.” Brainiac Shania finally clues in. “Sorry. Yeah. Ha ha. I’ll see you down there, then?”
“Yeah. I’m good. Save me a seat.” I look at the pillow in his lap and I laugh. He covers his face with his hands. “Thanks. I’m glad you’re not making me feel self-conscious about it or anything.”
“See you down there.” I get up and wriggle my way out from behind him. I get off the bed and give him one last kiss before I leave. I grab the pillow and run with it to the door. When I look back, he’s covering himself with his hands. I wave and throw him the pillow.
“Funny, Shania. Real funny.”
I take the stairs two at a time. My smile is going to crack my face in two. I could get used to this.
Chapter 24 — Troy Sinclair
Finally. I’ve been sitting on this wall forever. Every peregrino who came walking into town must have thought I lived here. Every time I said Buen Camino, they just smiled and thanked me instead of returning the greeting.
I see Kei’s sisters first. They’re walking alone. It looks like they’re both talking. I wonder who’s listening.
I jump off the wall, move over to the mile marker, and lean against it. It’s my attempt to look casual.
My heart skips a beat, because I expected Kei to be right behind them. When he isn’t, I panic. But I’m an idiot. Where else would he be? They wouldn’t be walking along like nothing’s wrong if something happened to him. Unless, of course, they were too busy talking to notice him falling off the side of the mountain.
Troy. You’re an ass. Still, I feel relief when he finally comes into view.
Now I realize I’m going to look desperate waiting for him. I’m about to run back to the albergue and sit in a corner with a look of indifference on my face. Too late. He sees me and waves his arms in the air. So much for making my escape. But his enthusiasm makes me feel awesome. And a little
less foolish about my own enthusiasm.
I wave my arms back just as his sisters take a breather and look in my direction. They see my wave and look behind them and see Kei returning the wave. They look at each other, and one says something. The other one bursts out laughing. Nice. Now I feel like an even bigger dweeb.
I rest my arms at my sides and wait for Kei to finish the climb.
His sisters arrive first.
“Hi, you must be Troy?” One of them asks, but I’m pretty sure she already knows the answer. “I’m Mia. This is Becky. We’re Kei’s sisters.”
“Nice to meet you. Yeah, I’m Troy. Guilty as charged.”
“He’s a little excited,” Becky says. “Straight ahead?”
“Yep. Just up that road. The big one with the chairs out front. And all the peregrinos,” I add, smiling.
“Thanks,” Mia says. “We’ll leave you to him. See if you can’t calm him down some. He’s a bit too excited. I hope you’re ready for the Kei energy.”
We all laugh as they continue on to the albergue and I wait for Kei to finish his climb.
“Hi,” he says. His forehead is covered in perspiration, and his hair is slightly less wild than it was earlier. It’s tamed in the heat. But even wilted, he’s no less hot.
“Hey,” I say as I extend a hand. “Let me take your pack for you. I’ve had time to rest.”
“That. Would be amazing.” He peels it off and hands it over. I sling it over one shoulder and, instead of heading for the albergue, I sit on the stone wall behind the mile marker. I let his backpack drop to the ground at my feet.
“Have a seat. We still have time before supper.”
“Sure. Mia will save me a bed. She’s anal about stuff like that. All about the details. Especially now.”
He sits down beside me and reaches for the water bottle in the side pocket of his backpack. “Want a drink?”
“Sure.” He hands me the bottle, and I take a deep chug. “Thanks.”
I hand it back, and he guzzles the last third of the bottle.
“Man, I needed that.” He swipes a hand across his forehead, and his hair just naturally starts to go in the opposite direction like it was trained that way. “So?”
