Something wild happened to me today

Chapter 27

Sunday, April 8th, 2007, 9:48 PM

Empty bachelor fridge

I’m back.

It was a little over two hours ago that I dropped Sara off in Barcelona, and I already miss her. After saying goodbye, I came home a bit sad. When I got there, I unpacked my backpack, I put in a load of laundry and took a shower that left me feeling like new.

Now, relaxed, and seeing it all with a certain perspective, I can say that I had a fucking great vacation. It’s a shame it’s over.

“Welcome to the wonderful gray world of routine, monotony, and empty bachelor fridges.”

I’m not having dinner today, but knowing that I’ll see her again on Friday makes it easier to bear.

In the end, the three or four days turned into six, and Sara and I had all the time in the world to get to know each other well—besides checking out cathedrals, medieval quarters, charming cities, museums…--. All of my expectations were met, so I couldn’t be any happier. It was one of the best trips I’ve ever made, and we didn’t have to leave Spain. Besides, I managed to not think about work at all, or—almost—about the strange stuff happening to me lately.

I say “almost” because something happened on the second afternoon of our trip. We were in Cuenca, watching the Procession of Silence[1] go by, when it all suddenly came back to me. Everything around me stopped and all the colors turned grayscale, just like what happened at the Plaza Catalunya station last week. The rolling drums, the voices, the steps, all of the sounds turned off, too. Sara was next to me, paralyzed, open-mouthed, watching me without seeing me. It—whatever it was—had stopped her mid-sentence. I looked around: the procession, the more than one thousand members of the brotherhood, including those bearing the religious icons on their shoulders, were immobile, just like the hundreds of spectators piled on top of one another on the sidewalks along the street. I was the only one who could still move.

I got off of the sidewalk and walked through the middle of the street, trying to find something without really knowing what I was looking for. Then, an enormous Nazarene, situated in front of the float, came back to life and moved toward me slowly. A wave of cold blasted me, and I could feel a familiar terror paralyze me. The air smelled of rancid incense, like a church that had been closed off for a long time.

The Nazarene continued moving toward me, and, with very slow movements, took off his gray hood. It was Black Dog, smiling and once again showing me those white, perfect teeth; a predator’s teeth. He stopped a few feet away and moved his head to greet me, all while smiling. His voice resounded in my head, but his lips remained motionless.

“Now I know who you are. And I know how you did what you did to our brothers. And it wasn’t right, but we’ll talk about it when you return. Now enjoy your trip, Daniel.”

He moved away and disappeared behind the float, amongst the crowd, and then everything went back to normal. I was once again next to Sara, and she could finish her sentence, as if nothing had happened. I hid my unease as best I could and tried to put the experience off until later.

That very same night, when Sara fell asleep, I started obsessing over what had happened. I could hardly get to sleep, but I managed to boil the two encounters with Black Dog down to two possibilities: the first was that I was going crazy for real, the second was that there were other people with powers, and this six-foot-something black guy was one of them. Before drifting off, now in the wee hours of the morning, I remember having thought sarcastically, “Too bad he’s one of the bad guys.”

After that, the rest of the trip was great. Not one migraine, and my nose only bled once, slightly, and she wasn’t there then, so I didn’t have to make up any excuses. It seems that travelling sits well with me.

Tomorrow, I’m going to take advantage and laze around and recuperate from the trip—which was exhausting—and I’ll call Rafa to see how he is doing. I haven’t heard anything from him since last Thursday, but at least when I called him, he seemed to be fine. He had taken all of his stuff from Marta’s apartment, and said he didn’t miss her at all. I can’t believe it, but if saying so helps him out…

I wonder what Sara’s doing right now?

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[1] Translator’s note: The processions in Spain form part of the Catholic tradition, wherein the faithful bear statues of saints and the Virgin on ornate floats to the rhythm of a drum while dressed as Nazarenes.