Chapter V
The Mission
"Let's see if I get this straight, son". Padre Felipe took off his fragile eyeglasses and placed them on the desk, which was packed with papers and books: "You're asking my permission to meet Josefina here at la Mission. Is that correct?"
Diego nodded: "Precisely."
"Uhum. And with what purpose? And please don't try to tell me you two want to discuss literature, I'm too old to be taken for a fool."
"Believe me, I wouldn't try to lie to you, not after you took my confession at 10 years old, about stealing candy from the kitchen or about what really happened with that porcelain vase in the living room."
"Ah, with Alejandro's temper, even I would have lied."
It was a hot day. The noon sun came in through the picture window and washed over the wooden globe, which had several chipped off names and countries.
"Father" said Diego, now with a serious expression: "There are many señoritas I've had the fortune of meeting, sometimes at my father's request and all of them lovely, that's for sure. But Josefina is… different. There's something about her that I don't want to just let go."
"I see. However, I'm sure that could be frowned upon by some people, since she doesn't belong to a, let's say, renowned family."
"I know, but trust me, I couldn't care less. I'm interested in her, not her lineage."
"..."
"I assure you, father, my intentions are completely honorable."
"And what would those intentions be?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
Father Felipe leaned back on his armchair, still studying Diego's face. He recalled how, when he was only 12 or 13 years old, he'd confessed to him that he'd cheated in a horse race. That is: he cheated to help another boy win, with the sole purpose of giving this kid's father a small contentment, since he was ill and close to passing away.
"I've known you for a long time, Diego; you and your family, I had the privilege of knowing your mother, God rest her soul. Because of this and because I know you're a man of your word, you have my blessing. You may meet here and talk about books or whatever you want-"
"I appreciate-"
"-as long as you keep on mind that this is the house of the Lord and that you always treat this girl with respect and appropriateness."
"Pay no mind, father, that's how it'll be."
"I'm sure of it."
"And thank you."
At the chapel's tower, Pepe made the bells chime: two o'clock in the afternoon.
(...)
Josefina could already see the Mission's gate when the bells announced it was two in the afternoon. The anticipation made her jolt, take a couple more steps, then hide behind a tree.
Breathe. Breathe. Take it easy, it's just Diego.
'Just' Diego? 'Just', and I can't stress that enough, 'just' Diego?!
You know what I mean.
I don't. Enlighten me.
You're such a bone head. It's obvious: even if you are prone to get uncontrollably nervous before him, remember how you talked that day at the Mission and then at the tavern. He makes you feel that everything is alright, that you don't have to prove anything to him or pretend to be something you're not. That he enjoys your company.
You think?
Well of course. Otherwise, he wouldn't have asked you to come here to this date.
Date? This is a date! Is this a date?
Let's not start that again. Just shut up, shut us up, and go.
After taking a deep breath, she came out of her hideout and continued approaching the Mission, walking in a daydream, taking a good look at every little thing around
grass, flower, stone, gate
to make sure they were real, to be certain she wasn't asleep and would wake up all of a sudden.
ground, dirt, tree, fountain, Diego
Oh.
"Señorita." As soon as he saw her appear in the central patio, he went to meet her and kissed her right hand.
What should I do?
For starters, not thinking.
She gave him a wide smile, just the way it came out: there was no way of hiding it.
"How are you, don Diego?"
Still looking at her in the eye, he let go of her hand at last:
"I'm way better now, but please don't call me don. Just Diego, would you?"
"Only if you call me Josefina, as well."
"It's settled, then."
He offered her his arm. She screamed on the inside.
They went to sit on a bench right underneath the shadow of a huge tree, not a very common one for that area of California.
"Now, at the tavern, I do have to call you don. I don't think don Theo would like me to address clients informally."
"I understand. Have you been working there for a long time?"
"Ever since my aunt died, a couple years ago."
"I'm sorry about doña Caridad. I remember her from when I was a kid, don Pedro too. And then one day, you were there."
"You remember that? Me, back then?"
"Of course. I went to pick something up and instead of don Pedro or doña Caridad, it was you there, right at the door."
"And when you spoke to me, I ran away."
"Do you remember that?"
If I remember that?
"I remember."
"I never knew where you came from, though. Another city?"
"Monterrey. I lived there with my father until he died and I was suddenly all alone-"
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"-so I came to live with my aunt and uncle. Feels like it was so long ago, but it's not really that much."
"Time is not a constant thing, I believe. At points it drags on forever. And other times, it's as if-"
"It slips through our fingers."
"Now, for example."
"Now?"
"Now. See, I know this moment will end at some point. But I don't want it to."
Say it.
"Me neither."
Apart from the time she went to fall right in his arms, at the library, they'd never been this close, sitting right next to the other. The impression that she was dreaming, that she was imagining his dark hair that was always well combed, except for a single rebellious lock that tenaciously attempted to fall over his forehead; his eyes, his mouth, even his nose, his presence, all of him, made her feel disoriented for a moment. But no: he was real. This instant was real and with God as her witness, she didn't want it to ever finish either.
A ball made of cloth came flying from the bushes. Hurrying his way to pick it up, there was a boy.
"Good afternoon!"
"Good afternoon, Pepe, how are you doing?"
"Good, señor. Señorita. Señor, would you play with me? Just a moment. Please?"
"Hey, I know how to play too."
"Even better. Think fast, señorita!"
Josefina caught the ball in the air.
"Nice catch, señorita" Diego conceded, as he placed himself a bit further.
"Let's see if you can top it, señor."
(...)
During the following days, all she could think about was how amazing it'd felt to walk arm in arm with him, even if it was only a ten meters stroll. And then, him asking about her life, wanting to know about her… she had to recognize Pepe's sudden appearance was a bit unexpected for a second, but they both made the most of it and a while later, since the child didn't seem to be ready to leave any time soon (had father Felipe sent him?) Diego told him a knights in armor story. The kid was engrossed, listening, with a sparkle of amazement in his eyes, all the while Josefina loved that man even more with each word about dragons, damsels in distress and faraway battles.
"Why are you smiling, girl?"
"Mm? No, for no reason, I'm sorry."
An old widow was staying at the tavern's inn while she visited Los Angeles for a few days. Josefina would bring dinner to the lady's room and, at her request, would keep her company for about an hour each night.
"I've seen that face before. Way too many times."
"What do you mean?"
"Sweetie, you are in love. Very much in love and you know it."
Josefina opened her mouth to deny it, but didn't find the will for it:
"Well… yes."
The lady laughed out loud:
"See? There are three things in this life you cannot hide: the sun, the moon and love."
All of a sudden, there was yelling. Noise, a commotion. A gunshot?
"For the love of God, what is that?"
"I'll go see. Stay here and don't open."
Josefina went out and locked the door behind her back, in case some bandits were attacking the tavern. Instead, what she found in the corridor left her shook: the Comandante Monasterio and Zorro were foil in hand, none of them ready to give in. She shrunk against the wall and stayed right there, immobile, as the last customers ran away down there, probably spooked by the firing.
In the middle of the combat, el Zorro had his back to her most of the time, but in spite of this, she could have sworn that he was grinning, all the while putting his life at stake.
Is it possible? He's as tall as Diego.
Finally, the outlaw managed to disarm Monasterio who, as if it wasn't enough, stumbled and went tumbling down the stairs.
Then, when a troop of soldiers popped up at the tavern's door, Zorro ran in the blink of an eye to the main balcony's door.
The metal lock wouldn't cave in to his blade.
Josefina didn't think it through twice. Actually, not even once.
She always carried the bunch of keys attached to her white knitted shawl, as not to lose it or leave it somewhere. They were the keys to the main door, to the storeroom, the kitchen, the inn's rooms. The balcony.
"Zorro!" She wrapped the keys in the shawl and tossed them to him, same way she had thrown Pepe's ball several days before. "It's the large one."
The soldiers were this close to reaching the second floor, when the balcony's door was finally open.
A reverence, as if thanking her, and he was gone.
"Lancers! You and you, down the balcony, you three go down the back door and the rest of you…"
Josefina heard no more.
It was all a déja vu inside her head. She didn't hear his voice this time, what she wouldn't have given for hearing him say just one word, and be able to take away from her mind, once and for all, the stupid idea that Diego and Zorro could be one and the same.
The keys! What will you tell don Theo?
One and the same…
(...)
Note: guys, I use the words "sword" and "foil" indistinctively, I know there are differences but I don't know about that so pardon my ignorance in the matter. Another important thing: I must recognize translating this has been harder than I expected. The thing is: when I wrote this (originally in Spanish), I put feelings, emotions, ideas and images into words. As I translate, I put words into words: words in Spanish into words in English, and I feel that the feelings and emotions are left aside a bit. It's not the same, feeling what Josefina feels at seeing Diego and writing down the words as they come to mind. However, I'm trying! I try to read a sentence, then, I try not to translate word by word, but to translate the idea or the feeling; not always easy but I'm doing my best. Wish me luck! Some things do get lost in translation, for example, in this chapter, Diego asks her to call him "tú" (informal "you") instead of "usted" (formal "you") and other little things like that. Thanks for reading!
