A Coffee to the Past

by Stefania Gil

  The scars were another thing could not erase from his memory. There were not parts of his body that were not marked with a scar.

  He could only think of the cruelest torture.

  His little girl smiled at him, making him concentrate on his current surrounding.

  Carlota was setting the table.

  “Look, Juan Carlos,” said his sister-in-law, approaching him with four flat plates, “things have changed so much that today I can carry the water and without a doubt you have to help set the table because it is not a women's thing.”

  Edward laughed when he saw the immortal's confusion.

  He was standing in a corner of the kitchen, waiting for the 'women' to set the table. It was then he understood why Juan Carlos looked baffled, while Edward helped the girls.

  “Brother,” he said, “come so I can teach you. She's right, we also help with housework today.”

  ***

  “Yes, you'd better learn,” Isabel said, looking him in the eye.

  “I'll do my best, miss.”

  “Oh, my God! Stop calling me Miss.”

  “What are the ladies called today?”

  Isabel saw her sister’s expression.

  “Juan Carlos, ladies are scarce nowadays.” The man looked very confused. “My sister is not a 'Miss'.”

  Both women laughed.

  “Who were you calling 'ladies' in your day?”

  “Young ladies of good manners. The decent ones. Those who were virgins,” he interrupted. “Oh! I understand. So you're a widow?”

  Isabel was silent. She remembered Luke and for a moment she felt lost because yes, that was what she felt like: a widow.

  “No, Juan.” Her sister caught his eye. “Isabel is not a widow, but today, women do not keep their virginity for the man they are going to marry. Today it is natural to have an active sex life, with the partner of their choice. We do not need to be married or engaged to have sex.”

  Juan Carlos opened his eyes in surprise and then relaxed his expression.

  “In our time, that rule was not completely fulfilled; sometimes the young girls gave themselves to their fiancées before getting married but always in top secret. Women who had an active life, as you have said, were only those who were paid for sex. I always thought they were much happier than the others.”

  Isabel saw him smile. He was handsome.

  She poured some wine into her glass and then did the same with the rest of the family, except the little girl, who she served natural orange juice.

  “Thank you,” he said, and then continued with his opinion. I always saw them singing, happy, especially after having a 'good night' as they say. Then I saw my mother so serious, so demure...” He sighed. “My Cecilia was different; it was like she was from a different time.”

  “Were you married?” Isabel interrupted, impeding her sister who had shown signs of wanting to talk.

  It was surprising to her, how come he had not told them about his wife last night?

  Didn’t he miss her?

  He gave her a look full of memories and sadness.

  Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut and not stir up the poor man's past.

  “I lost her.”

  “Oh I'm sorry!” Said Isabel, and then her sister and brother-in-law corroborated.

  The thing she didn’t understand was Isabel wanted to know how he lost her although she didn’t dare ask.

  “The night she would give birth to our first child.”

  She had to stop wanting to know more about him because his life was a tragedy and she would end up completely depressed between his immortality and her pain for having lost Luke.

  She saw her sister put a hand to her breast.

  “Do not worry,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I loved her deeply and could never forget how happy she made me, but life continued and I had to overcome her death and that of our son.”

  An uncomfortable silence seized the place for a few seconds.

  “Well, how about we eat away the nostalgic memories and then keep talking about this?” Carlota was good at getting people to focus on something else when they were sad.

  Carlota cooked and Edward began to serve her oven roasted chicken as Isabel refilled everyone’s glass.

  She watched Juan Carlos for a few minutes, he noticed that she was watching him, but was not intimidated. She was curious to see how he ate.

  She imagined him eating like a savage, as they did on those TV series when they represented the men and women of that time.

  She was not mistaken because Juan intended to take the entire chicken thigh in his hand, but seeing no one else did, the immortal paid close attention, especially to Edward and then began to imitate him.

  Isabel smiled and at that moment he looked up fixing his gaze with hers.

  ***

  What a fascinating woman! Juan Carlos thought as she held his gaze with a subtle smile drawn on her lips.

  She was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. Although he would like to see her without so much color on her face. Surely she was a dazzling natural beauty.

  He had no idea how people ate and their customs might not be the same as in modern times, as their saviors said. Since leaving the house this morning, he decided to imitate Edward in times when he did not know what to do.

  Less when it came to helping women with the tasks they were assigned to. It would take a long time to understand that new way of life because he was not very accustomed to it. He never saw his father helping his mother set the table or taking care of babies as Edward did.

  That was not seen in his times and the truth was, although it would take time to adapt to everything, what he discovered so far it was very pleasing.

  He saw Edward enjoying his daughter and taking care of her with such eagerness that he called the men of his time fools to lose those moments with their children.

  As well as the knowing looks Carlota and her husband exchanged when they were in the kitchen and setting the table; reminded him of the discreet but seductive looks his dear Cecilia gave him when they were in public.

  He even liked knowing that women were no longer considered good or bad depending on whether they were virgins or not.

  He always thought differently but never showed it because it was not viewed well to think differently, especially with those issues involving sex and women.

  The chicken was juicy and the bread was very different from his time.

  “Alfonso was delighted with Juan.” Edward broke the silence of the diners.

  “I know a lot about planting. It was what my father, my brother and I did before falling into disgrace. I taught him some tricks.”

  “You didn’t tell him where Juan Carlos came from?”

  Edward shook his head.

  Juan Carlos felt a knot in his stomach.

  “If you don’t mind, I'd rather you keep my secret.”

  He looked them all in the eye. Carlota smiled at him with compassion.

  “Don’t worry, Juan. We could say you came from South America; after all, there are many Spaniards there. Although you have a very distinct accent –Carlota peered at her husband–, perhaps it’s best to say that he is from here and we have contacted Juan because some of his relatives are friends of ours in New York.”

  “Where is that located?”

  “The new continent,” Isabel added unimportantly.

  “I once heard something in relation to the new continent,” he replied.

  After asking where he was, Juan Carlos was no longer uncertain about his current location when he went with Edward that morning.

  The Alfonso’s estate was not far from The Alcalá Orange Grove, and on the way, Juan Carlos saw only fields. Of course he was surprised with how today’s roads were. No more than the shock of discovering Ed's car.

  He liked it. Ed told him that in a few weeks, when he was more adapted to his new life, he would teach him to drive it.

  Even if they gave him a good horse he would be happy.<
br />
  “I think we should go to the city to buy clothes,” Carlota said, looking at her husband.

  “That's fine,” Edward said. “But maybe the poor man wants to rest. Your night has not been easier than ours, and you must be exhausted,” Edward finished, meeting his eyes.

  “For me, there is no problem regarding rest.” The immortal smiled wryly. “I had all eternity, I have been resting for a long time.”

  There was a moment of uneasy silence between them.

  “Juan Carlos, do you know how to read and write?” Carlota broke the silence.

  “Yes, ma'am, although I don’t know if it will be the same now,” they all laughed. “Not everyone knew how to read and write. It was a privilege for some in those times. Especially for royalty and those who had a lot of money. The others, were destined to live without the education of letters because for us time was money and we had to help the family economically. We were lucky that my mother got the knowledge from her older sister and she made us study the letters to be better men.”

  She smiled at him.

  “There are so many things I want you to tell me about your time!” Said his angel and savior again.

  He dabbed his mouth and took a sip of wine.

  “Why do you want to know so much?”

  “She's a writer,” Isabel said. “She’s looking for information for her new novel.” Isabel paused at his expression. “She writes stories, tales, fiction. I do not know what they called it in your day.”

  “I see.” He observed Isabel, a smile playing on his lips. It was funny to see how this woman, despite annoying him, was looking for a way to explain things to him.

  He considered what she had said and became very afraid. It must have been conveyed on his face because Carlota calmed him by saying.

  “Don't worry Juan, I won’t reveal your identity. I promise.”

  He knew he could trust her and everyone in that house.

  “My fear is the inquisitors finding me again.”

  “There are no inquisitors, seriously, we told you last night, and this morning I ratified it,” Edward said, smiling. “Well, there are no public ones as you knew. Who knows if they are still hidden by the Catholic Church.”

  “People’s faith have changed a lot,” Isabel began. “Today people seek peace and God inside themselves, not in a church. The church has lost a lot of power. Now you can go against them freely and nothing will happen to you.”

  Juan felt something pressing against his chest.

  Was it anguish?

  “Do you feel okay?”

  “Yes, yes.” It was not anguish, it was emotion. “I believe I'm happy to have come out of that coffin at this time. Maybe things do happen for a reason. I stopped believing in God when I begged him with my entire soul, and all my faith, to please save me from the hands of those men who tortured me for so long. Then I asked him to kill me some fucking way because I was going crazy inside that stone box,” he snorted. “Looks like he heard me a little too late.”

  Isabel looked at him with pity.

  He smiled half-heartedly, and she averted her gaze.

  “I'm really sorry, truly,” Carlota replied, as sympathetic as she had been since seeing him for the first time.

  He sighed deeply.

  “But I'm here now.” He tried to smile with joy, “and I would love to see the changes in the city.”

  XIII

  Almost after a year of confinement, Juan Carlos still did not know what would happen to him.

  He had already been punished several times. No torture. Only punishments, for blaspheming the inquisitorial process and its officials.

  He spent several days gagged or tied to an iron fork that kept his head erect by force. On another occasion, he spent a few days in an isolation cell in the open, which would have been more pleasant if it had been another time of year, but in winter, and naked, the experience in that cell was rather unpleasant.

  After that, he was moved to a slightly better cell. He had a sleeping cot and a bucket where he could urinate and defecate. He was still naked and the dampness, in the middle of winter and underground, was seeping through his bones but he was surprised he didn’t catch pneumonia like anyone else would in those conditions.

  Also, he wasn’t surprised when he did not receive food or drink for several days.

  He begged them, not only because he was hungry but also because he suspected that if he did not plead for food and feign a little reluctance at the lack of food, he would immediately be taken to a torture room.

  At the hearings, the interrogations were fairly quiet. Juan Carlos never saw the witnesses who betrayed him and his brother because the statements were always made separately.

  At his first audience he had a knot in his stomach; he thought he would be taken to a large room where he would be tortured until he accepted that he was guilty of heresy. That day they took him out of the new cell; they cleaned him and dressed him in a white robe, then took him to the room where the audience would be held. Upon entering, Juan Carlos breathed deeply. For the first time, in many months, he felt a little calm.

  In the great hall, there were no torture machines or men with their heads covered by black hoods. That was good. However, the room was full of men who at first sight, Juan Carlos could deduce were not better than some of the worst criminals in his city’s history.

  You could see it on their faces. Greed, hatred and evil reflected in their eyes. It did not matter how expensive their clothes were, how educated or how much money they had. It was clear all they sought was to fatten their pockets or carry out their revenge. All in the name of the Holy Inquisition.

  Juan Carlos was not the son of rich people, but his parents taught him to always be well behaved, regardless of the situation he was in, as was the case now. So as soon as he entered the courtroom that afternoon, he greeted them politely.

  “Good morning,” he said. The night was the same. Juan Carlos couldn’t tell due to his cell having no windows to indicate the time, but at least he was being polite.

  The members of the court were not surprised by Juan Carlos’ education and made some ironic comments among themselves, which Juan Carlos could not help overhearing.

  “The devil always make you decent in court,” said the one who wore the most luxurious suit. He seemed to be the Inquisitor General.

  Juan Carlos glared at him. He thought of his mother, she had been a good woman, not the devil the man with the greasy neck and face was insinuating.

  Next to him, there were four other men. A second inquisitor, a qualifier, a sheriff, and a prosecutor. There were also five guards and a man standing next to Juan Carlos in the room.

  The man viewed him with a long face and a while later; Juan Carlos learned he was his lawyer. He already knew that these lawyers were appointed by the same Inquisitor General and did everything they were told. He heard the other prisoners say as much. So, Juan Carlos returned a hostile glare to the man.

  Only one face was familiar to the accused. The one of a tall and robust man who was supposed to be the sheriff. He was at the time Juan Carlos was detained and imprisoned.

  “Juan Carlos Requena,” said the Inquisitor General aloud. “You are accused of having agreed with the devil to circumvent the plague. How do you plea?”

  “Innocent,” he said serenely.

  “Are you sure?” Asked his alleged lawyer. Now he understood when he heard his cellmates say it was better to believe in the devil himself than the lawyer who was awarded his case. All that man wanted was for the accused to confess to a crime or act he was not guilty of.

  Juan Carlos glowered at him with hatred. He also noticed the qualifier, was watching him closely from his chair.

  The qualifier was in charge of determining if there was an offense against the faith by the conduct of the accused.

  “Answer, please,” said the second Inquisitor.

  Juan Carlos took time to look them one by one in the eyes. Finalizing the tour with the Inquisitor Ge
neral he answered:

  “I declare: Innocent.”

  The Inquisitor General and the Qualifier met for a moment, and when the Qualifier nodded, the Inquisitor General immediately gave the order they return Juan Carlos back to his cell until the next hearing.

  It was held several months later.

  In which, nothing different happened than the last.

  It happened in the third. After Juan Carlos declared himself innocent for the third time, the Inquisitor General ordered him to be taken to a torture room. The entire court agreed, after a doctor inspected Juan Carlos and declared his body to be in perfect condition to withstand the physical pain of torture.

  Juan Carlos's body was as firm and strong as it had been a year ago. Even though, he had been several weeks without food, the food being a miserable piece of bread, and that he hardly consumed liquid, his body looked very good and his skin was as fresh as ever.

  He could pretend he was weak from lack of food but he couldn’t help thinking his captors were very suspicious that he didn’t lose weight and that his body showed no signs of dehydration within a few weeks of being imprisoned.

  And so began the real hell for Juan Carlos.

  A frightening chill ran down his spine and weakened his legs, preventing them from continuing to bear his weight.

  He fell to the ground and began to shake. He could not control the trembling of his body as panic over took him completely. He tried to fight the guards carrying him to his cruel fate but any attempt to escape was interrupted by a tremor and the guards took advantage of every opportunity to hold him tighter.

  The guards pushed him with such force that, Juan Carlos, crashed against a wall. His hands were tied behind his back and his head was the first to hit the damp stone wall.

  He felt a terrible ache after the impact and hot liquid running down his forehead. He closed his eyes tightly his vision turning black from the blow. When he opened them, everything doubled, but he understood the falling drops of blood were his.

  His first wound had been opened.

  That began his suffering in that terrible torture room.

  ***