The Peacock 85

 

"His name was Cosme?"

"His name was Cosme," Carl says.

"But that was my name.  Today, it was my name, anyway."  I am back in that place again, that realm where anything could and probably will happen.  I am trembling.  This is really too much.

"How are you, right now, Christopher?"

"Frightened.  Really scared.  The illness has returned.  I feel so ashamed."

"There is nothing to be ashamed about," Carl says, cradling the battered old journal in his hands.  "This isn't illness, Christopher.  This is your gift."

"I hope you're right.  Only, what does this mean?"

"I think it means, that it is a very good thing that you are here. We need you here."

"Have you read Cosme's journal?"

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

"It´s written in Spanish.  All of it."

"It's written in Spanish."

"That is what I said, Christopher.  That is exactly what I said."

"Well, you know what that means." 

"Tomorrow, let's make an appointment with Jesús.  We are going to need his help."

"Yes, we are."

"Hey, Carl, can I ask you something please?"

"Ask away."

"I know it's late.  It's what, ten thirty, already.  But please, can you stay a bit longer, please. I feel dreadfully afraid right now of being left alone."

"That sits well with me.  Listen, how about Kenny's journal."

"Would you like me to start reading it to you?"

"Yes.  please."