My Soul - Mi Alma (Ongoing)

13 Uncle Juan

When we came out in the courtyard, Juan was already there, chatting amicably with Maria, a man in his mid-sixties with a neat ponytail and a stubble beard. He was dressed in a white pirate shirt and snug black jeans. If I hadn't known this was Carlos's uncle, I could swear it was an aging Zorro standing in front of me.

Hey, what is the thing with the Alvarez men and their ponytails? I thought that was a fashion thing back in the 1980-es.

Carlos and his uncle hugged warmly – "so how many women's hearts have you crushed today, you old pirate?" Carlos poked his uncle; "I'm too old for that Carlito, you have to take over – I see you're already in business," Juan laughed. "Old shipmate, I'm too old for the woman I'm hanging out with tonight, but if Maria is in the kitchen, I'll have a go at her." The men laughed their heads off. Maria ran over to Juan "You old male chauvinist you broke my heart about a million times over the last 30 years" she laughed and put her chubby arms around Juan.

Juan studied me carefully. "You know," he said, "you look exactly like I pictured Susannah would look when she grew up. You're spectacularly beautiful."

Wait a minute! No one had ever called me spectacularly beautiful before. Good looking, sure, but spectacularly beautiful – wow. I mean triple wow. This man just made my day!

He asked about mama. I told him about the bay window – and he remembered that incidence well. She was 13, and he was seventeen – he stole her kisses, and then she found a knife and made the inscription to the window. It was such a cute puppy love, but just a few weeks later, she was gone, gone forever to the US. Who knows what would have happened if she had stayed, Juan smiled and winked at me.

We told him about the exhibition work, and that this wasn't just a walk down memory lane – I was in Spain for work. (Did I say that?)

As the head librarian at the University of Sevilla, Juan was more than helpful in tipping me off on pretty unknown sources that could help us curate this in a new and different way. The university library in Sevilla had several diaries and letters between the Duchess of Alba and Goya. Some of them I knew from my master's work, some were newly discovered. He promised me to go through everything the following week and scan them in and mail them to me.

"Yes!! Some good work is done on a beautiful Saturday night. Let's eat and have some wine!" Carlos said.

I made a mental note on going back to Sevilla and do more research later on in the project.

"So, tell me about the beautiful Susannah," Juan asked. What can I tell him about her?  "Mama is fine; I started, she still paints and works as a curator at Guggenheim, and still a bohemian compared to most other women we know, and I think she doesn't care. My dad and my husband think I'm taking after her with my lack of elegant dresses and fancy hairdos. I believe they have given up on both of us."

"Your husband?" Juan looked at me in surprise. "Yes, my husband, it's complicated. Carlos knows him." Juan snuck his arms around me, looked me deep in the eyes, and said  "Darling, I have had three complicated marriages, so don't worry, I won't tell him, a pirates promise " Juan said and placed a loud smacking kiss on my cheek. "Just enjoy your time with Carlos, but don't break his heart."

Break his heart! Did he know what went on for two years when Carlos was in New York almost a decade ago? Do they have any clue about who broke who's heart? 

Mama was on the phone. I had to answer. I looked at Juan and asked him to answer it for me, to surprise her.

"Hola! Juan – "¡Digame!" (talk to me) Susannah!!!"

They spoke for at least 15 minutes, and he handed me the phone. My mum was a bit taken back about the fact that I was together with her puppy love. But she seemed pretty cool about it. 

Juan got serious  "When I talked with your mum, I realized that you know very little about what happened to your family during the Franco dictatorship. Do you want to hear at least part of the story?"

I nodded, and he went on; "The Alvarez and the Bech families go way back, actually several generations. Your great grandfather and my father went to university together in Barcelona; and fought in the civil war together. My father went back to Sevilla after the civil war and took over the family jewelry business. Your great grandfather went to his home city of Barcelona and set up his medical practice. They were both active in the anti-fascist movement and they remained close friends for the rest of their lives.   

My older brother and your grandfather went to university together in Barcelona. My brother Sebastian stayed at the Bech residence during most of his time at the university.  Sebastian chose the easy way out, and started teaching history at the University here in Sevilla. I was born while my big brother was studying in Barcelona. We have the same dad but different mums, Juan explained. 

Your grandfather married early and wanted to go into journalism.  He soon became the editor of "La Prensa" the most influential of the newspapers that were critical to the Franco regime. There was strong censorship of all media at this time, and your grandfather had to walk a very fine line. He was arrested several times, but thanks to his international standing in the journalistic community, the police didn't dare to touch him for a long time. He was one of the few democratic voices the could be quoted internationally from inside Spain."

"Did your mother ever talk about Gabriel?" I shook my head, I knew she had an older brother that died before they went to the US but that was about all I knew. 

"Gabriel was shot during a demonstration, only 17 years old. He was my best friend we studied together here in Sevilla," Juan said. "Your family came down here to identify him, and they were all in deep grief. When my brother told your grandfather that the police was looking for him – he decided to take his family and emigrate to the US. He promised he would never look back nor come back, and I don't think he ever did. He got the job in The New York Times thanks to the work he had done here as a democratic voice and a reliable source."

I was deep in thoughts. A lot about my grandparents, and also about mama started to make sense. All the secrets, their unwillingness to talk about their lives before they came to the US. I knew about my grandfather's brother being executed as one of the last victims of the Franco regime in 1975. I knew Gabriel died young, but I didn't know how.  Why all this secrecy?

The grim truth about their lives here left me in tears. After a magical evening, I ended up in tears. I couldn't even realize how heartbroken mama and her parents must have been. Juan tried to comfort me. "Alma – I'm so sorry, I thought you knew the story. It wasn't until I talked with Susannah tonight that I realized the family history had been hidden under a tight lid for years.  But you know, people who experience cruelty as your grandparents have, tend not to talk about it." 

"Alma, your mama asked me to take you to Gabriel's grave, it's here in Sevilla. She never wanted to move it, because she couldn't bear to see it. So, will you do me the honor of coming with me to visit the grave tomorrow morning? You should take some photos for your mum. You know, your grandfather's family fought against the fascists, for two generations.  My father and your great grandfather fought together in the civil war in the late 1930-ies. Have you read Ernest Hemmingway's book "For whom the bells tolls", I nodded. "Reread it he ordered, and imagine it is your own family fighting alongside Hemmingway and many other international volunteers for the freedom of the Spanish people."

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