by Kevin Craig
He is saying goodbye to everything. I rest my hand on his shoulder and continue to walk beside him, ready to hold him if he needs me. He carried all of us here on his back. He rescued me when I fell and he rescued me when my abuelita passed away. The least I can do is be a hand on his shoulder now.
I look over, and Shania now has an arm entwined with Bastien’s opposite arm. We can do this.
As we walk under a copse of trees, something makes me look up. When I do, I see four small balloons caught way up in the higher branches of one of the trees. One orange, one white, and two baby blue. All bunched together. I wonder about their story, but decide to keep them to myself. Nobody else around me looks up, so the balloons are my secret to carry.
Everything extraordinary has now become a sign that my abuelita is with me. Maybe it was she who made me look up? They are her balloons.
The city begins to open up before us as the pilgrims spread out and move in ever-growing clumps of bodies. Streets with sidewalks and buildings on either side: we have hit the city proper. The dirt pathways and trails are now behind us. Cars are everywhere, and streetlights and electrical wires. It almost feels like culture shock after the mountains, trees, and fields.
My heart pounds. I don’t know what will happen when we get to the cathedral. There’s a war in my brain telling my feet to speed up, telling them to slow down. The end of Bastien. The beginning of a life without Gran. The return to Moms. These things are all fighting against each other and punching my soul. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know who I will become.
I return my focus to Bastien. These last footsteps have to be for him, not for me.
The buildings become more condensed, more like a city. I hear Troy tell Kei the streets are beginning to look like the streets of Paris.
“Around this corner, my friends, the first real glimpse of the cathedral. Here we go.” Bastien takes a deep breath as we round the corner. “Merde,” he whispers to himself as the tears begin to fall.
“There,” Shania whispers as she puts a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. There it is.”
The goosebumps travel up and down my arms so quickly, I’m cold… even in this heat. When I look up, I see it for myself. Taller than all the buildings in the distance, a large, single spire reaches high into the sky. It looks slightly lost in smog or heat haze. But it is there. Larger than anything else around. Larger than all of us.
We walk on. The street narrows and becomes cobbled and on an even level with the sidewalk. We walk side by side, spreading out into the road since there are no passing cars.
It’s dizzying how many corners we turn as we go deeper and deeper into the city. I have lost sight of the cathedral spire, but so many people are walking now that there’s no longer a need for signs. We all just follow each other.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Shania says. She points above us to little wrought iron balconies over the storefronts we pass. Some are woven with plants and look so green against all the gray of the buildings.
An old woman dressed in black walks by. She’s all smiles. She steps aside repeatedly, waves and bows to pilgrims. When we come up alongside her, she whispers, “Buen Camino, peregrinos. You have made The Way. Bless you, bless you.”
“Buen Camino,” I reply, even though I know she is from here. As we pass, I hear her say the same thing to the next pilgrim, and the next, and the next.
The buildings become bigger, more ornate, with monuments and statuary all around. Each doorway is more elaborate and beautiful than the one before. There are saints everywhere, and it feels like I’m in a Catholic place, a Vatican City in Spain. I can see why my abuelita was so happy to hear I would be coming here.
We turn one last corner and we are in a small rounded archway that connects two buildings. There are doorways on either side. A woman plays this small instrument that looks and sounds like bagpipes, and I don’t remember when I first began to hear the melody.
Once we are through the arch, we walk on between the two buildings for several feet with the sky above us. Before we reach the place where the buildings end, Bastien turns to me. His eyes overflow with tears.
“We arrive at the foot of the resting place of St. James, my friends. The Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. Shania. Diego. I give you the Plaza del Obradoiro. The greatest plaza of all.”
Bastien has brought us to the edge of the opening, and a vast cobbled courtyard spreads out before us. I see a huge building across the open plaza from us. The bottom floor is lined with rounded arches. Atop the center of the building sits an enormous statue of a horse on its hind legs surrounded by warriors with arms raised. But I don’t see the cathedral.
“Come, come. This way,” Bastien says. I see Troy and Kei in the center of the plaza. They are hugging each other. Gil and Meagan are just behind them. I didn’t see them pass us.
Bastien takes my arm and drags me farther into the plaza. I’ve been so busy taking everything in, I didn’t realize we have been walking alongside the cathedral the whole time. It was almost within touching distance as we walked through the archway. It was the building on the left.
Bastien swings us around, and the cathedral comes into view and swallows up the presence of everything else around it. It becomes the only thing here. With Bastien on one side, and Shania on the other, I stand before it immobile. I cannot open my mouth to speak. I am mesmerized.
“We made it,” Shania says. It’s like a gasp escaping her lips. There is no excitement, just fact. No, there is also awe. “We made it.”
She sits down on the cobbles and stares up into the face of the cathedral.
Bastien puts both hands over his face and begins to cry. And soon he is bawling inconsolably. “My lovely girls. My girls. Mes filles. Ma chère, ma chère, ma chère. We have made it. I take you now to the altar.” He slowly slips to his knees.
Shania looks to me and then moves closer to Bastien and puts an arm around him.
I bend down to join them.
“Bastien,” I begin. I will not cry. I will not cry. “Thank you. For everything. For this beautiful life you gave us. Thank you for my abuelita and my mother. My mother thanks you for taking care of me.”
He removes his hands from his face and spreads his arms wide. He takes both Shania and me into an embrace, and we stay that way forever.
“Mes petits criminels doux,” Bastien whispers into my ear. “My sweet little criminals.”
“You made it, Bastien. You did it.” I can stand it no longer. The swelling in my heart breaks free. But I am not the only one crying. Neither are the three of us. Everywhere I look, there are peregrinos hugging and crying and shouting and laughing.
“My son, my son,” Bastien says as he releases us from his embrace. “You all have shown me the way. Thank you.”
And it’s ridiculous that this man thanks us. He has given us everything he had left inside of him. Everything.
As we scramble to our feet, the rest of the group swarms about us.
“And you were there, and you were there, and you were there!” Manny says. We all stand with the cathedral before us. Manny jumps about, circling us and shouting his mantra over and over to anyone who will listen.
“What’s he talking about now?” Shania says.
“The Wizard of Oz,” Troy says. He rolls his eyes, but they are filled with laughter. “Manny swears we just arrived in Oz and that the Camino is the yellow brick road. Everywhere he looks, he sees someone else he’s seen somewhere along the way.”
“Diego! From Toronto,” someone says, tapping my shoulder. “Hello.”
“Bill from Australia,” I say. I laugh because Bill has just proven Manny’s theory. Bill opens his arms, and we hug.
“Welcome to Santiago de Compostela, my friend,” Bill says.
“Same to you.” I turn away, distracted again by Manny. When I turn back, Bill is wandering, a
rms spread wide, toward someone else he recognizes.
After taking in the festive chaos of the plaza for a few minutes, I begin to feel overwhelmed. What awaits me back home now feels much closer, much more real.
“Diego. You look, how you say, heavy,” Bastien says. “Yes. Very heavy. Come. We go.” He points to the cathedral. “Just you and I. We go. Yes?”
“Sure, Bastien.” I follow him as he begins to make his way to the steps leading up to the cathedral.
“Hey. Where’re you going?” Claire asks. I turn to tell her, but Bastien beats me to it.
“We go inside. Just Diego and me for now.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure,” Claire says. I can tell by the look on her face she gets it. The others look on. They are all happy to let us have a private moment. “Okay. We’ll wait here. We’ll watch your backpacks.”
“Thanks, Claire,” I say before I turn back to Bastien, and we walk away.
Chapter 44 — Shania Reynolds
Friday, July 12th – Day 14 – Santiago de Compostela and Claire
After Diego leaves with Bastien, we sit around and chill. There’s so much to take in, here in the plaza. Might as well finish off this journal. I used to hate doing this, but it’s okay. Maybe I’ll keep one when I go home.
Gil and Meagan sit off to the side, probably going over the ups and downs of the program. They’re both taking notes. But Manny and Greg? They’re jumping around, talking with everyone, whether they met them on the walk or not. They’re so excited, it’s ridiculous. It’s Claire I’m watching. She’s sitting cross-legged on the cobbles, staring blankly up at the cathedral. She does not look very celebratory. I think it’s time we have a talk. No doubt she’s thinking about not wanting to go home.
She thinks it’ll be the same. But before the Camino Club, she didn’t have backup. You don’t walk the Camino de Santiago with a bunch of strangers without becoming friends for life. Someone needs to remind Claire she has a support network now. Bright side? I’m sitting in front of the most beautiful cathedral in the world and my new best friends are all nearby. The bright side today is The Camino Club. I can’t believe there’s life after the Camino. I can’t wait to begin it with my new friends.
“Hey, Claire,” I say after I put my journal away in my backpack for the very last time. She looks over and smiles. “Whatcha doing? Let’s walk around. Come on.”
“You know, Shania.” She gets up to join me. “I’m just thinking about Zoe. And how nothing’s changed, and it’s still going to be a nightmare back home. I don’t want to go. I’m starting to panic. I really don’t want to go.”
She’s worse off than I thought. She’s chewing on her fingernails, and it’s obvious how agitated she is. She looks like she’s about to bolt into the streets of Compostela and disappear forever.
“Whoa, whoa,” I say. We make our way through the throng and walk the outskirts of the plaza, where there’s more room. “No. No, Claire. You’re wrong. It’s different. A lot different. I know we didn’t hit it off right away, but we did this together. We’re all here for you. It’s not like we’re going to go home and never see each other again. Come on. You know that as much as I do.”
“I was thinking about that too.” She finally stops eating her nails. “Wait a minute. I see what’s going on here. This is like that scene in The Breakfast Club, isn’t it? You know, where Molly Ringwald’s character takes Ally Sheedy’s goth character away from the group, gives her a pep talk, and then makes her pretty by scraping off the goth and making her look normal and pretty?”
“Again, I did not see the movie,” I say. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”
“I keep forgetting that,” Claire says. She laughs. “Thank God. Because in the next scene I would be hooking up with the jock. I guess that would be Manny? I know it’s an old movie, Shania, but still. I can’t believe you haven’t seen it. It’s on TV all the time.”
“I don’t really watch regular TV. I’m more Netflix,” I say. “Anyway. You do realize we’re friends for life now, don’t you? Like it or not, you’re stuck with us. And not just Greg, either. All of us. The six of us are going to be a package deal from now on.”
“Greg turned out to be such a nice guy, Shan. I can’t even believe it. The biggest asshole turns out to be the most sensitive cool guy in a whole group of sensitive cool guys. I feel sorry for him, though. He’s having a hard time missing his little brother. And worrying about him.”
“Well,” I say, “Maybe we can be there for him too. We should plan something for after we get back. Just to check up on each other. I know Troy’ll need it. He’s gonna miss Kei like crazy. And Diego? His gran. Her funeral. We’re all gonna need each other. Except maybe Manny and me. Looks like we’re the lucky ones.”
“Ha. Yeah.”
“I know,” I say. I stop and turn to her. “I have the perfect idea. Maybe you can all come to my place and we can watch The Breakfast Club together. You can bring Zoe if you want. You could meet Flibber.”
“That sounds awesome. I like that idea.”
“Good. We’ll talk to the guys about it later.”
“Thanks, Shania. Really.”
I grab her shoulder and make sure she’s looking at me. “You’re not going to be alone, Claire. Okay? I promise. It’ll get better.”
“It already is. I mean, look at this place. Can you believe we actually made it?”
We look around at the chaos of arriving peregrinos and see celebration wherever we look. It’s pretty spectacular.
“Can you believe that guy over there is with us?” she continues. “I mean, look at him.”
I turn to look where she’s pointing, and I see Manny dancing in a circle around Greg, Troy, Kei, and his sisters. He looks like a fool. But he’s our fool now. Beyond them, I spot Meagan and Gil. When they see me looking, they both wave.
“Our people,” I say. We both laugh.
“Come on. Let’s go join them.”
Chapter 45 — Troy Sinclair
Part of me wants to anchor Manny to the ground. He’s taking this Wizard of Oz thing a little too far. I’m afraid he might just take off into the stratosphere like the wizard did in the hot-air balloon at the end of the movie. Only, Manny’s so excited he doesn’t need the balloon. He is the balloon.
I look at Kei and see he’s mesmerized by Manny, watching his every move. His sisters, though, are oblivious. They’re squished in together holding Becky’s phone in front of their faces. They’re talking with their father, telling him Kei’s okay, and that they made it to the cathedral. To them, Manny is just more of the chaos and noise around them.
I get Kei’s attention. He gives me this oops face, like I caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Guess I’m not the only one who finds himself staring at Manny.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s go for a walk. I saw a few stores behind the cathedral.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for everyone else? Go see inside the church?” he says, once he pulls himself out of Manny’s orbit.
“Nah. They’re gonna be a while. We have time.”
“Okay,” he says. What I’m really thinking of is the row of stalls I saw on the way in. One of them sold cheap silver jewelry. I have an idea.
He grabs my hand and we head off.
“Watch our backpacks,” I say to Claire as she and Shania rejoin everyone.
“Sure thing,” she says.
Once we’re on the street with the stalls, I try to explain my plan to Kei in a way that doesn’t sound too scary.
“One of these stalls sells jewelry. I was thinking, you know, we could maybe get rings. Nothing serious. Just to remind us of each other. I know it’s kind of pointless and it’s probably a stupid idea, but maybe—”
“No. Stop talking, Troy. I think it’s a great idea. You don’t have to be like that. I like it. Let’s.”
“Over here.” I walk him to the stall I saw on the way in. There’s a bunch of black felt boxes with slots in them, and they’re all filled with silver rings. The cheap kind you can find at flea markets back home. As I check them out, I realize they’re mostly Camino-themed.
Kei pulls a scallop shell ring out of its slot and holds it up for me to see. “I love this one. Cool, right? Sometimes when I close my eyes, all I see are scallop shells.”
I laugh. “Yeah. Cute.”
I try on a ring with the Galician cross on it. The cross is red enamel, though, so it looks even cheaper than it is. Like something out of a bubble gum machine. Nope. Then I try one on with an arrow, but it’s yellow enamel. It looks just as cheap. Nope.
“This one!” Kei almost screeches. He holds up a silver ring with wavy shells going all the way around it. They’re carved in relief, and the indented spaces are all black. The shells really pop. I love it.
“Yes,” I say, victorious. Kei tries it on, but it swims on his finger.
“Shit,” he says. “Not even close.”
He puts it back, but I say, “Wait. Don’t give up so fast.” I pick it up and try it on. It fits me perfectly.
The stall owner is talking to a girl about a necklace. I look on impatiently, waiting for them to finish bartering. When they finally finish and she buys the necklace and moves on, I hold up the ring.
“Do you have this one in any other sizes?”
“I see, I see,” he says. He kneels and reaches for a large plastic tub under the table. He lifts it and digs inside. Eventually, he brings out a sandwich baggie that’s swimming in a million duplicates of the exact same ring. “Aha!”
“Wow,” I say. “I guess you do.”
I look at Kei, and he’s all smiles. We both are, because we know somewhere in that pile of rings is at least one that will fit his finger.
“Shall we?” I ask, almost a bit too ceremoniously.
“Yes,” he says. “To remember the Camino we shared.”
“Yeah, of course.” Obviously, neither of us wants to say anything more about the significance of matching rings. About the future. I don’t want to make it sound like this thing we have is more serious than it is. Even though I do. I swear, the closer we’ve gotten to Compostela, the more we’ve both tried to explain away the seriousness of what we’re becoming.
