A while ago María Elena told me Betito has not been home since school let out. It seems he has something cooking with Henry and his other friends; I wouldn’t be surprised if they too were planning for Sunday, together with the university students. I will speak with him tomorrow morning early. With so much commotion, Doña Chayito’s appeal for prudence and secrecy will surely be to no avail.
Saturday April 22
An intense day, as if there had been electricity in the air. Seems like everybody and his brother knows about the march, though almost nobody speaks about it openly. Around mid-morning I ran into Mingo at the Americana drugstore. Irmita is doing very poorly; I promised to stop by to see her in the afternoon. Standing at the counter, while the pharmacist was filling our prescriptions, I was dying to ask Mingo if he had heard about the march, but I refrained. When we got outside, he beat me to it and told me under his breath that the university students were planning a protest against their classmates’ arrest, that the situation is very tense; he then told me the good news that yesterday the government finally gave Serafín safe passage to leave the country for exile in Guatemala, apparently the Americans applied strong pressure on them to grant him authorization, and on Monday he will leave under the protection of the Guatemalan consul. We agreed we’d continue our conversation when I stopped by his house in the afternoon.
Then I went to my parents’ house for a while. Father, Uncle Charlie, and Güicho Sol were drinking coffee on the patio; I joined them. I wanted to know if Father had heard about the march tomorrow. I didn’t even have to ask: Uncle Charlie spoke about the need to organize other forms of protest to remove the Nazi warlock, he said the university students are preparing a strike, and it would be best to support them, their idea is that everybody will join the strike until the general understands that nobody in this whole country wants him; Güicho disagreed with him, he said the warlock understands only the language of force, and what’s called for is another military uprising but this time led by officers who aren’t as stupid and cowardly as those who let the general prevail, and if such officers don’t appear the only choice will be for American troops to invade. My uncle insisted that the idea of a strike is not unreasonable, but Güicho replied that with a strike one runs not only the risk of it being infiltrated by communists but also of them taking over. Then Uncle Charlie asked what time it was. I told him it was ten to eleven. He asked me to please move my watch ahead ten minutes, he was desperate for a shot of whiskey, and he had made a solemn vow not to have his first drink until after eleven in the morning. That meant that I should stand up and go to the kitchen for the ice bucket, mineral water, and booze, because they were going to discuss men’s subjects, which would be inappropriate for me.
Don Leo was loitering about the kitchen, so I asked him to drive me to the Figueroas’ place. Mother asked if something was going on; I told her I just wanted to pick up the furniture catalogue Carlota still hadn’t returned, it would only take me a minute. I asked Juani to bring the drinks to the men on the patio. On the way to the Figueroas’, Don Leo brought me up-to-date on the war in Italy; he said the American troops are advancing relentlessly and soon they will liberate his village, he fears for his nephews who supported Mussolini and who will now take a beating, though he right away began to rant and rave against them, as he always does; he also predicted the Americans would occupy Rome within a few weeks. I noticed several policemen lurking around Carlota’s house, then I remembered that several government ministers live along these few blocks of Arce Street, including Dr. Ávila. Carlota was very anxious when she greeted me. She confirmed that the university students’ march to protest the arrests and executions will be held tomorrow morning, but she couldn’t tell me if they would also leave from El Calvario Church, as I suspect they will, because Fabito comes home only to sleep, he spends all his time plotting against the general and doesn’t tell Carlota anything, and that’s why she scolds him every chance she gets for devoting all his time to politics instead of concentrating on his medical studies. I asked Carlota if she will join the march to demand that they spare Dr. Romero’s life, for he is a good friend of the family; she answered that those are men’s problems and she hates politics, it brings nothing but misfortune, and she cannot imagine running through the streets with the police chasing after her, she would die of fear. Then I recommended she be prepared because Fabito could be arrested at any moment, and she would have to come to terms with the situation, as my neighbors and so many others have had to. Carlota made a face of despair, then whimpered that hopefully God would spare her from undergoing such a trial.
I returned to my parents’ house believing that the march tomorrow would be much larger than what I had thought and that of all of us, perhaps only Doña Chayito is aware of this. My belief turned into a certainty after I conversed with Mingo this afternoon: he told me all the journalists know about the protest march and if the journalists know, so do the general’s secret police; he told me he wouldn’t be surprised if by morning El Calvario Church and the entire downtown area is occupied by National Guard troops. Mingo was quite uneasy. And for good reason: Irmita is doing worse than I thought: she’s having difficulty breathing, she has terrible back pain, and she’s very pale. She does not have tuberculosis, the doctors already told her, though they still haven’t been able to give her a diagnosis. God willing it isn’t cancer.
I admitted to my parents that I intend to participate in the march. Mother is very worried, she tried to dissuade me, and she asked me to prohibit Betito from joining the protests; Father warned me to be careful, he told me about continued rumors of unrest within the army and about the Nazi warlock getting crazier than ever. I promised them I would do everything possible to convince Betito to stay home, but I also told them they must understand how difficult it is to reign in the enthusiasm of a fifteen-year-old boy whose father is in jail and whose older brother is a fugitive, fleeing from a death sentence. And that’s exactly what happened at dinner when I told Betito that it would be best for him to remain at home, not to take any risks — he responded very decisively that he would not let me go alone, he would stay by my side; I did not feel I had the moral authority to order him to do anything else.
A little while ago, after cleaning the stove and turning off the kitchen lights, while we were listening to the radio theater, María Elena insisted she would also accompany me to church and on the march. I made it clear to her that it was not her duty, and that it might be dangerous, but she said she was doing it out of her own free will, because it simply isn’t right that Pericles is in jail and that they want to execute Clemen.
***
A few minutes ago, just after I put away this notebook, Father called to tell me that this afternoon, under the cloak of secrecy, the war council has been reconvened and assigned the task of trying another group of coup participants; he couldn’t give me names, but he said they were military officers captured since the previous war council. “There will most likely be a new round of executions tomorrow morning,” Father said with rage and sorrow. I asked him, my heart in my throat, if Clemen might be among those captured. He told me he is certain he is not, because he was told they were all military officers, and Tonito Rodríguez would be their defense lawyer. I am appalled, my nerves are frayed. How can one sleep after hearing such news.? And what will happen at the march if there are new executions?