Why don’t you go home? I’m sure you’ve had a long day.” “So have you,” Norberto said. “A long day and a long night.” Adolfo was silent. Did Norberto suspect?
“I was reading just now that in the same way as God is beneficial, good is beneficial,” Norberto said with a smile. “So let me be good. Let me do this for you.” He went to the stove and lit the flame with a wooden match. He shook the match out and removed the lid from the pot.
Adolfo smiled cautiously. “All right, mi hermano,” he said.
“Be good. Even though if you ask anyone in town, you are already good enough for the two of us. Sitting with the sick, reading to the blind, watching children at the church when both parents are away-“” “That’s my job,” Norberto said.
Adolfo shook his head. “You’re too modest.
You’d do those things even if the priesthood weren’t your calling.” The smell of Iamb filled the room as the stew began to warm. The deep popping of the bubbles sounded very cozy. They reminded Adolfo of when he and Norberto were boys and they ate whatever their mother had left for them on the stove. When they were together like this, it didn’t seem so very long ago. Yet so much had happened to Spain… and to them.
Adolfo kept his movements unhurried. Even though he didn’t have time for this now, he didn’t want to give Norberto a reason to worry about him.
Norberto looked over at his brother as he stirred the stew. The priest appeared wan and tired in the yellow light of the bare overhead bulb. His shoulders were more and more rounded every year. Adolfo had long ago decided that doing good must be a draining experience.
Taking on the sorrows and pain of others without being able to pour out your own-except to God. That required the kind of constitution Adolfo did not have. It also required a kind of faith Adolfo did not have.
If you were suffering on earth you took action on earth.
You didn’t ask God for the strength to endure. You asked God for the strength to make things right.
“Tell me, Adolfo,” Norberto asked without turning. “What you said a moment ago-was it true?” “I’m sorry?” Adolfo said. “Was what true?” “Do I need to be good enough for you and me?” Adolfo shrugged. “No. Not as far as I’m concerned.” ” “What about as far as God is concerned?” Norberto asked. “Would He say that you are good?” Adolfo draped his wet socks over the line. “I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to ask Him.” “Unfortunately, He doesn’t always answer me, Dolfo.” Norberto turned now. “That’s why I’m asking you.” Adolfo wiped his hands on his pants. “There is nothing on my conscience, if that’s what you mean.” “Nothing?” “No. Why are you really asking me this? Should I be worried about something?” Norberto took a mug from the shelf and ladled stew into it. He brought it over to the table and pointed.
“Eat.” Adolfo walked over. He picked up the stew and sipped it. “Hot. And very good.” As he sipped more he continued to watch his brother. Norberto was acting strangely.
“Did you catch anything tonight?” Norberto asked.
“Quite a bit,” Adolfo replied.
“You don’t smell of fish,” Norberto said.
Adolfo chewed on a thick chunk of lamb. He pointed to the clothesline. “I changed.” “Your clothes don’t smell of fish either,” Norberto said. He looked down.
Suddenly, Adolfo realized what was wrong. He was the fisherman but Norberto was doing the fishing.
“What brought this on?” he asked.
“The police telephoned a while ago.” “And?” “They told me about that terrible explosion on a yacht,” Norberto said. “They thought I might be needed to give the last sacraments. I came here so I could be closer to the wharf.” “But you weren’t,” Adolfo said confidently. “No one could have survived that explosion.” Norberto looked at him. “Do you know that for certain because you saw the blast? Or is there another reason?” Adolfo looked at him. He didn’t like where this conversation was heading. He put the mug down and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “I really must get going.” “Where?” “I’m meeting friends tonight.” Norberto stepped over to his brother. He put his hands on Adolfo’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. Adolfo was very aware that his face was closed to his brother, A blank mask.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?” Norberto asked.
“About what?” “About-anything,” Norberto replied uneasily.
“About anything? Sure. I love you, Berto.” “That isn’t what I meant.” “I know,” Adolfo said. “And I know you, Norberto. What’s troubling you? Or should I help you? You want to know what I was doing tonight? Is that what this is about?” “You’ve already said you were fishing,” Norberto said.
“Why shouldn’t I believe you?” “Because you knew exactly what the explosion was and yet you pretended not to,” Adolfo said. “You didn’t come here to be closer to the sea, Berto. You came here because you wanted to see if I was home.
All right. I wasn’t. You also know that I wasn’t fishing.” Norberto said nothing. He removed his hands from Adolfo’s shoulders. His arms fell heavily.
“You’ve always been able to see inside me,” Adolfo said. “To know what I was thinking, feeling.
When I was a teenager I’d come back from a night of whoring or cockfights and lie to you. I’d tell you I was playing soccer or watching a movie. But you always looked in my eyes and saw the truth, even though you said nothing.” “You were a boy then, Dolfo. Your activities were a part of growing up. Now you’re a man-was “That’s right, Norberto,” Adolfo interrupted.
“I’m a man. One who barely has time for cockfighting, let alone whoring. So you see, brother, there’s nothing to worry about.” Norberto stepped closer. “I’m looking in your eyes again now. And I believe there is something to worry about.” “It’s my worry, not yours.” “That isn’t true,” Norberto said. “We’re brothers. We share pain, we share secrets, we share love. We always have. I want you to talk to me, Dolfo. Please.” “About what? My activities? My beliefs?
My dreams?” “All of it. Sit down. Tell me.” “I don’t have time,” Adolfo said.
” “Where your soul is concerned you must make the time.” Adolfo regarded his brother for a moment. “I see.
And if I did have time would you be listening to me as a brother or as a priest?” “As Norberto,” the priest replied gently. “I can’t separate who I am from what I am.” “Which means you would be my living conscience,” Adolfo said.
“I fear that that position may be open,” Norberto replied.
Adolfo looked at him a few seconds longer.
Then he turned away. “You really want to know what I was doing tonight?” “Yes. I do.” “Then I’ll tell you,” Adolfo said. “I’ll tell you because if anything happens I want you to know why I have done what I’ve done.” He turned back and spoke in a low voice lest the neighbors hear through the thin walls. “The Catalonian men on the boat that sank, Ramirez and the rest of them, planned and carried out the execution of an American diplomat in Madrid. In my pocket I have their taped conversation about the murder.” The cassette rattled as he patted it through his sweater. “The tape is in effect a confession, Norberto. My commander, the General, was right about these men. They were the leaders of a group that is attempting to bankrupt our nation in order to take it over. They killed the diplomat to make sure that the United States does not become involved in their conquest of Spain.” “Politics do not interest me,” Norberto said quietly, “you know that.” “Perhaps they should,” Adolfo replied. “The only help that ever reaches the poor of this parish comes from God and that doesn’t put food on the table. It isn’t right.” “No, it isn’t,” the young priest agreed. “But ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.” his “That’s true in your profession, not mine,” Adolfo said angrily.
He went to go but Norberto grasped his arm. He held it firmly. “I want you to tell me, Adolfo. What part did you have in the killing?” “What part did I have?” Adolfo said quietly.
“I did it,” he blurted out. “I’m the one who destroyed the yacht.” Norberto recoiled as though he’d been slapped.
“Millions of our people would have suffered had those monsters lived,” Adolfo said.
Norberto made the sign of the cross on his forehead. “But they were men, Adolfo. Not monsters.” “They were ruthless, unfeeling things,” Adolfo snapped. He didn’t expect his brother to understand what he had done. Norberto was a Jesuit, a member of the Society of Jesus.