There was nothing we could do for Spain but looking how he slowly consumed and believe me, it wasn't pleasant. Not that I loved Spain passionately, but seeing him like that...
The trip at least helped us get in touch with the ex-colonies of the Spanish Empire. We shared our thoughts about that movement and some personal confidences. Nicaragua knew what was going on between Veneziano and his bodyguard. Well, the whole world knew about it at that point, but it was with her with whom I talked about the matter at length, at that time when I needed a distraction. She told me something that surprised me. What she said to me was so shocking that I asked her to come home and have a talk with Veneziano.
Even though she had unfinished business at home, Nicaragua stayed true to her promise and came to visit us a few days later. She seemed emaciated but did it.
"Nicaragua! Hi! What are you doing here?" my brother received her with a hug.
"I missed your beautiful country and, what can I say, I needed to relax a bit."
I only had to get rid of Fanelli now. I told her there were no tomatoes left and we had to buy more. Her contract said nothing about going shopping but didn't she want to marry my brother and go live with him? Then she had to get used to it!
"It's an emergency" I told her, staring her intensively.
"Alright."
"But I like them from a certain grocer."
"No problem, dear."
I told her about a little shop I knew in the other extreme of Rome. For a moment, seeing her face, I thought she would send me packing, but that fool wanted to be in good terms with me, so she obeyed without complaining.
"I'll go right away."
I had everything ready. Nicaragua was in charge of taking Veneziano somewhere private and I pretended I had to go to the bathroom, saying I had cramps. That way Veneziano wouldn't ask questions.
I had taken my brother's phone and took advantage of him not having a pattern lock or anything to call myself from it. I answered, placed his phone on the coffee table, hid it under some magazines careful not to block the microphone and locked myself up in the bathroom. There I clicked on the speaker of my phone.
"I Heard you have a girlfriend!"
"Yes! Her name is Carlotta! She is pretty, isn't she?"
"Yes, she is."
"I wanted to ask her to marry me in Eurovisión but since Romano told her already I asked her directly and she told me yes, and we are preparing everything."
"Really? Oh...Congrats!"
"Thanks! She introduced me to her parents last October, they are so nice! Her father is a ticket collector at the subway!"
"That's nice. Ahem...Listen, Veneciano, but are you sure of what you are doing?"
"Of course I am!"
"I mean...You know you are a nation and she...She is a human..."
"Yes, I noticed, but that doesn't matter."
"Well, it does matter, actually. Because...because you know people live much less than nations…"
"Not always."
"No, but most of the time they do. You will see her becoming an old lady and you will stay the same."
"I will be able to take care of her."
"There will come a day when she...when she will die, Italy."
"Sigh...I know...But we will have lots of years of happiness together. That's all that counts, doesn't it?"
"Well…"
"Carlotta says it's a good deal, and if she's okay with it…"
"Look, I'm going to tell you something: I once fell in love with someone from my place."
"Puerto Rico?"
"No, a human person."
"Oh! I didn't know!"
"His name was Pedro. I still keep his portrait, look."
"How handsome! And what a funny moustache!"
"Yes, it's true. Well...He loved me too. He said I was the most beautiful place in the whole world. But, you see, everyone was against our romance. They told me humans were only good for a fling now and then and that's it."
"That's nasty!"
"That's what I thought. I refused to believe them. I didn't love Pedro because he was handsome, he was very nice too. I wanted to spend my life with him. We tried to get married, but the Church didn't bless our unión. We tried to get the papal bull and he answered saying it wouldn't be posible because I wasn't even human. We were even told that was an abomination because it was as if...well, you know what those times were like: they still believed we were gods or something like that."
"So you lived in sin?"
"Well, yes. I had just become independent and my bosses didn't like me defying the norms of the time, but I loved him so much, you know? We hoped a baby from both of us would pressure them to accept us. If there was a child, we thought, who had divine blood...I mean, I had Heard Spain talk about the problems France had due to women who claimed to have received his seed. But we nations can't…"
"Right, we can't…"
"I didn't care our plan failed. What hurt me was not having something his and mine. But we had a very happy life together."
"How pretty."
"Yes...until time devoured his pretty boy face. I didn't care he became an old man, but I was still Young and lively and it was getting more and more difficult to him to follow me. His carácter also changed a Little. It is inevitable when your body consumes. In the end, in 1879, he died. I was by his side, taking his hand. Do you know what was the last thing he said? ...'Adelita, guapa'..."
"Don't cry, Nicaragua. Aren't you happy you met him after all?"
"Yes and no, Italy."
"What do you mean? I thought you loved him so much."
"Yes but it's been a hundred and forty one years and I still suffer when I remember it as if it just happened yesterday. We don't have the consolation humans have that one day they will part and see them in another place. Or...we have to way for too long for that to happen and by then...If it wasn't for this portrait, I would have forgotten what his face looked like long ago. I got some sentimental and unstable reputation that I still can't get rid of, all for some years of happiness...Do you understand what I mean?
"...I think so."
"..."
"But I still love her so much and I'm going to marry her, even if I have to go against the Pope and the whole world hates me. If we can't have our own children, we will adopt them. Even if they don't have my blood, that doesn't matter. I will be a good dad and tell them stories. When my wife is old I will do everything for her so her last years are the best. And when she dies...I will cry….yes, I will cry a lot, but things are different from the 19th century: there are cameras and videos and boomerangs. I won't forget her voice or her face. And the kids we adopt will grow up and have their own, and those kids with have their kids, and they will always have me, and I will be so happy because I will get to know them all and tell them stuff that happened long before they were born."
I covered my face with a hand, making an effort not to scream.
"...I see you have it very clear…"
"Yes, I do."
"...In that case I don't care what people say. I wish you the best."
"Thanks, Nicaragua. You are a good friend."
I hanged up. It was time to accept the truth. He loved her. He really loved her. And I couldn't convince her it was a bad idea.
What if I tried to change Fanelli's mind, show her his ugly…? Urgh, no, how silly of me. She loved us. She knew everything about us. The brightest and darkest things, even the most insignificant. And she didn't care. Veneziano was charming and she adored him.
I had to accept it. They were a couple against all odds.
...Bullshit. I was never going to accept it.
That defeat only made my mood sourer. Spain was dying, Veneziano was going to make a mistake and the movement was spreading like cáncer. I couldn't help doing things I shouldn't have done.
