"I think it's a story about loneliness." whispers a voice that sounds like the end of a holiday in the sun. "It makes me sad, especially at the beginning."
Another one assures him that all the best stories have sad beginnings.
The boy's mother refuses to look at him. He knows why that is… sometimes when he walks down the street the neighbors like to gossip about his parents:
Look at that poor boy. They say his mother has lost her mind. The grief did it to her.
No, she lost it years ago. Don't you know? That's why her husband left her.
I thought he was dead.
No, he ran away. And that's why she hates her son. Because he has his father's eyes and she fears he may have his heart too.
Feuilly doesn't walk away. He lets these women look into his eyes, trying to make them see that he's not his father's son. He won't walk away. He stays and listens to his broken-hearted mother cry herself to sleep every night. Most nights, he joins her and cries too.
One day the boy walks into a church to ask for a piece of bread. It's quiet and he fears that everyone praying can hear his stomach rumbling. As he searches for the Bishop he comes across a statue of a woman with open arms. There's something about her face that makes him feel at peace. It takes him a moment to recognize it as kindness. He stands on the tip of his toes and reaches out to touch her fingers.
"Have you come to ask something of your mother, my son?"
He turns to see the old Bishop approaching. "My mother?" he repeats and looks at the statue again.
"She is mother and protector to us all." The man smiles and kisses her upturned palm. "Have you ever tried talking to her?"
That day the boy named Feuilly learns to pray. After that, he comes to visit his blessed mother as often as he can. It doesn't stop him from feeling lonely, but it helps soothe him somehow. He grows older and figures out that this is what faith is; not knowing for sure if someone in Heaven above is listening but feeling that it's nice to think they are, and that they care.
The last time he visits his only friend is on the day he is to leave France and go to find work in America. He prays to his mother, asking for her blessing and protection… and that he keep the soul of his earthly mother safe too. He visits that other mother's grave as well, says goodbye and leaves her a white lily. He doesn't feel her presence or her comfort at all. Not that he ever did.
When Feuilly arrives in America he naively believes that the land of opportunity will be welcoming to poor immigrants such as him. The great nation that was built on the backs of men from all different corners of the world… Feuilly is proud to call it his new home at first.
Work is hard to find, even though he's put more effort into learning English than anything he's ever done in his life. In the end, it's the French accent he can't get rid of that denounces him as foreign. He's a stranger… unwelcomed. You'd think he'd be used to feeling unwanted, but he's not.
Looking back, the moment that changed everything didn't feel at all significant when it happened.
"They usually don't." The steady voice of a philosopher adds before he's silenced by his companions.
That morning, Feuilly had woken up and prepared himself for work, eaten a bowl of soup left over from his dinner last night, and trudged down the still-dark streets to the factory. There he had mindlessly performed his work and kept to himself, as always.
What happens next changes Feuilly's life again. A group of older men begin picking on a young boy that looks a few years younger than Feuilly. Normally Feuilly keeps his eyes on the ground and hopes they don't turn their attention to him, but this time is different. When one of the men shoves the young boy and sends him flying towards a power loom, Feuilly holds his breath. The boy falls at an arm's length away from the machinery, but that is too close. Feuilly's walks to the nearest offender and punches him in the mouth. The moment is glorious, until Feuilly himself receives a blow in the stomach. Soon a brawl has broken out.
In the end Feuilly is thrown out of the factory along with the young boy and another immigrant worker- an angry Spanish man that the witnesses claim joined in the fight after seeing Feuilly's act of indignation. Unsurprisingly, none of the Americans lose their jobs. As Feuilly wonders what he should do next, the two other men approach him.
"You hit me in the nose!" The Spaniard looks irritated but then his face breaks into a smile. "I forgive you. Perdonare." He points to Feuilly's arm and gestures that he approves of the other man's strength.
"Thank you." The boy shakes Feuilly's hand. "I thank you. And forgive me. Sorry. "
Feuilly smiles and assures him that he bears him no ill. It's not the boy's fault, after all. It very well could have been Feuilly that the men targeted.
"Dinner!" The Spaniard throws an arm around the other two. "Come to my house. Come with me."
And because it's not as if Feuilly can afford to pass up a free meal, he follows.
That night he learns that the loud Spaniard is named Bernando, a fitting name for a bear of a man. He lives with his cousin Joaquin, who smiles even more than Bernardo, even when his cousin teases him about his books. Bernardo laughs and calls them a waste of space, but no one misses the way he beams when his cousin admits he wants to be a doctor. Feuilly can't help but like the joker and the dreamer. The younger man is named Mariusz. Mariusz tells the others that he is originally from Poland and that he came to the United States to find the father he had always believed to be dead until he found a box of letters his aunt had hidden from him. Unfortunately, his father passed away two months before Mariusz could track him down. Something inside Feuilly stirs with compassion for the fellow fatherless man, and he silently asks the blessed mother to keep a close eye on this boy.
At the end of the night, Bernardo invites them all back for dinner the next night. On the next night, he invites them all for dinner again. This continues and eventually Feuilly and Mariusz begin dropping off the food he buys at Bernado's flat. Before he knows it, Feuilly finds himself moving in and job-hunting with the other men. It's the first time in his life that he feels he has found a family.
"See? I told you! It is a story of brotherhood. Fraternidad." Someone laughs.
"Maybe..."
It is Bernardo that thinks of enlisting in the American army. By that time the friends aren't making enough money to put food on the table and will soon find themselves on the street because they can barely pay the rent. Joining the army sounds like a fine idea. Bernardo especially enjoys the thought.
"Mexico! Think of sunlight, mis amigos. Warmth. New York is too cold."
America is too cold, Feuilly mentally corrects his friend. He wonders if perhaps this way the cold Americans will realize that he and his friends aren't trash… that they are honest men, seeking work and willing to fight to the death for America. Maybe if he joins the war he will be welcomed. Maybe.
Another one speaks up. "It's about Revolution, about fighting injustices and fighting bravely. It's about giving a voice to the weak, even if the price is your own silence."
Everybody listens intently, as they always do when their leader speaks.
Feuilly quickly learns that once again he was wrong. The American army is no place for him or his adopted brothers, a group which has grown during the months spent in the Mexican-American War. Not that anyone calls it a war yet, but they all know that is what it is.
There's Francis, a smiling Irishman with brown curls and a laugh that sounds exactly like a sunny day. He bounces up to Mariusz one day and never quite leaves his side after that. He is the one that introduces the others to George, who offers cynical commentar, jokes, and occasional pearls of poetry. Bernardo adores him, of course. George is often joined by John, another Irishman. John knows about poetry and talks often of his lost love, which surprisingly turns out to be a subject Mariusz is very interested in, having left a sweetheart in Poland.
Francis also he also introduces them to Jon and Cleary, two other Irishmen. Cleary is full of knowledge and Feuilly is drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He also is always to make sure the others are safe. If Francis is the one that keeps them all together then it is Cleary that cares for them as a father would.
Jon is entirely different from anyone that Feuilly has ever encountered. When he'd first met the men he stood by silently and hadn't spoken a word as the others joked and laughed. Now that Feuilly knows him better he's come to understand that it's because Jon doesn't speak much. Not about trivial matters like the weather or past lovers, that is. But when it comes to things like truth and justice… then Jon becomes the world's greatest orator. Jon's usually-handsome face becomes fierce and terrifying when he is enraged. It's hard to see how he is such good friends with Cleary and Francis until the first time he sees Jon defending an unlucky Mexican-American soldier that doesn't know the White American soldiers don't take kindly to Catholicism. He was silly (or brave, Feuilly thinks) to pull out a rosary and the American soldiers take this as an open invitation to pretend they don't recognize the soldier as one of their own. They claim it's a joke, but Jon intervenes as they point their weapons at the young man and force him to beg for his life. As a punishment, Jon is "bucked and gagged" for hours. The first thing he does once he is released is ask about the other soldier before collapsing. From that moment on, Feuilly and the rest harbor the deepest respect for Jon.
It's Jon who first begins talking about deserting. Not in those words, of course… but he hints at it. Some nights he compares America to her mother England, implying that Mexico and Ireland are one and the same… oppressed by their neighbors, yearning to breathe free. The other Irishmen nod enthusiastically but Feuilly is hesitant. Once the Mexicans begin circulating pamphlets urging the immigrant soldiers to desert Jon's mind has been made up.
Feuilly approaches him the night before he intends on escaping.
"Are you sure, Jon?"
The campfire's light makes Jon's golden curls look as if they're surrounded by a halo as he smiles sadly "More than anything in my life, my amie. I am not about to die for a country that thinks I'm not good enough to vote."
Feuilly nods. "I'll pray for you."
"I'll wait for you and the others." Jon answers. "I know you'll follow."
He, Cleary, Francis, and Bernardo all swim across the Rio Grande that night and join the Mexican army. Sometimes Feuilly wonders if the men he's shooting at are his friends and can barely handle his self-disgust. He shakes off the feelings by reminding himself that Jon is the greatest artillerist and is more than capable of taking care of fighting back.
He's finally convinced to join that side after meeting a woman.
"There's always some woman." One cheers and another one groans.
He's only been stationed in a small Mexican town for a few days when he first sees her, a thin Mexican girl dressed in yellow. She's been staring at him for some time when he finally notices her and turns away when he smiles.
Feuilly follows her all the way to the church, where she sits on a pew and stares ahead at a statue of the Virgin Mary. La Virgencita de Guadalupe, he's heard the Mexicans refer to her as. Feuilly greets his mother and quickly apologizes for not actually being here to see her.
The girl with the yellow skirts hisses something at him in Spanish. Feuilly replies with the only word in Spanish that he knows.
"Ingles?"
She shakes her head.
Feuilly sighs but is not giving up on introducing himself just yet.
"Feuilly" He points at his chest. "Feuilly."
The girl looks at him suspiciously before placing her hand on her own chest. "Azelma."
It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.
Feuilly repeats the word "Belle. Belle… Vous êtes belle."
And maybe she doesn't understand what he's saying, but she smiles anyways and goes back to staring at their Sacred Mother.
They pray silently after that, but both give thanks for the same thing.
As the months pass by Joaquin and Azelma both try to teach him Spanish words. Feuilly and Azelma meet at the church every day to pray and hold hands when the nuns are not looking. It's sweet and childish and it helps Feuilly forget he's fighting a war.
Azelma slowly reveals that this is an escape for her too. Her sister and mother were unfortunate enough to be on the streets during a riot. They were shot and killed by American soldiers and now Azelma lives alone with her father. She says nothing about him but Feuilly can tell by the way her hands tremble when she speaks of him that he is not a good man.
Feuilly kisses her shaking hands and promises he's going to get her out of here one day.
He knows very well that he shouldn't be falling in love with a Mexican girl, but it's too late for that now.
He finds himself praying more often now, wondering if he should have left with Jon and the others before he met her, before he put her at even more risk.
A part of him thinks he wouldn't have anyways, not when there was something tying him here before he even knew it.
And yet… it's not just Azelma that he's fallen in love with. It's the Mexicans themselves: the small street children that follow at his heels when he walks down the street, extending small hands and begging for money so that they can buy sweets. It's the old women sitting at their doorsteps on hot afternoons, gossiping like the talkative neighbors of his childhood. It's the desert and the Cacti and the blistering sun … all running through Azelma's veins. All of these things that he's come to love are in her blood.
How can he fight his beloved?
The second event that changes everything happens when he walks down a street on the way to see Azelma and an old man crosses himself upon seeing Feuilly, an American soldier. He recognizes the fear he's inspired and worse, he recognizes a fellow Catholic brother. The words the Bishop uttered so long ago ring in his ears.
"She is mother and protector to us all."
He arrives earlier to the church than Azelma and takes the time to pray that his mother may find favor in what he is about to do.
"Hola." Azelma whispers as she kneels down next to Feuilly.
"Vamonos" Feuilly pleads. "Ven conmigo. Vamonos."
Let's go. Run away with me.
For a moment he thinks she might not understand until she takes his hand in hers.
Yes. Let's go.
They manage to convince George, John, Joaquin, Mariusz, and the unlucky Mexican-American soldier known as Bartolomeo to join them. It's hard, escaping with so many people… but they manage. They're greeted by a bright green flag signaling they've found the Saint Patrick's Batallion. Los San Patricios. He's found his friends all right. Jon, or Juan as he calls himself now, greets him with open arms and makes sure that Azelma is taken to a safe town nearby as Feuilly stays to fight with his brothers.
It really isn't too bad now that he's used to the death and heat that is involved with war. Maybe he ought to feel bad about having grown accustomed to killing, but he doesn't have time to be moral on a battlefield. When he does get time to rest, he thinks of Azelma instead. Sweet Azelma, who is waiting for him patiently. He prays to Mary that she's okay.
The San Patricios are captured in 1847, after the war has been officially declared on Mexico. They are officially traitors in the eyes of the United States government and although there were thousands of American deserters as well, only the San Patricios are sentenced to a dishonorable death by hanging instead of going before a firing squad. Bernardo, Francis, Cleary, George, and Bartolomeo are among them. Not all are killed… some are spared for having joined the group before the war was declared. Mariusz, Jon, and Feuilly are among the lucky ones, as the American soldiers call them.
"You're lucky." Feuilly thinks to himself as the lash his bare back fifty times.
"You're lucky." He whispers before they brand his cheek with a hot iron shaped like the letter D, for deserter.
He doesn't feel lucky until he's back home… not France or America or even Mexico, but at Azelma's side. Feuilly is ashamed of his scar at first, afraid that she'll find it ugly. Instead she traces it with a gentle finger and kisses his mouth.
"D. You are daring. And my darling. " She kisses him again. "A dreamer...and deserving of descanso."
And truth be told, he does feel like he deserves rest.
He falls asleep in Azelma's arms for the first time that night.
"It's a story about love, then."
"They always are. In one way or another, every story is about love."
"So it's about love and brotherhood and loneliness and war? All of those things combined?"
"Yes. That's life."