The parish of San Justo was preparing to celebrate another Easter flowers decorating the altar , where an image of the crucifixion of Christ copaba the eyes of all repentant believers. Not that there were many in the past years the church was a haven for the elderly fear of death, children of another era in which the Church had extended its power and influence in many ways, not forgetting even the violent and the end of the dictatorship saw its hegemony languish , for his stubborn desire to uphold a tradition that many young people saw as outdated and contradictory to the society of the late twentieth century. In the front rows, as almost every morning was Virtues, knees, hands clasped together, head down, asking God to help her in her particular way of thorns. Beside him, his son in a wheelchair since birth diagnosed multiple sclerosis watched the scene with his head lying on the shoulder and stare, as if he did not understand or refuse to understand, as if something had short-circuited his brain child was thus denied the possibility of establishing ties with their current environment . For Virtues, though not publicly acknowledged, his son was a punishment from God, a punishment for her unspeakable sins, test, or penance that reminded him of the existence of a hell to avoid. The pastor of St. Just, an exile of Russian communism, which had embraced the faith with righteousness and the hardness of the whole Stalin in his cassock, had advised him years ago and hissing like a snake, which was every day to pray to the lord , because it was like: infinitely infinitely sssabio poderosssso, sssabrá reconossser to lossss sssuyoss on the day of juissssio. Since that day, Virtues not a single day missing the appointment.
chronicles the neighborhood, which is counted in the courtyards, full of gossip and hearsay, that the priest had lived and Virtues an affair behind the backs of Pius, the husband of Virtues, a man shy and quiet, which left little house and sometimes cared for the children of your neighbors, enjoying time with them that had been seized with the illness of his son.
Virtues That afternoon he left the Church pushing the wheelchair a little earlier than usual. Mechanically turned down the street and down Menéndez Pelayo Balmes street toward his house, concentrating on remembering the recipe for apple pie to prepare one to the pastor. Almost never spoke to anyone trying to avoid any conversation with their neighbors, especially with its neighbors, more prone, she said, to let your imagination by revealing the chronicles of the neighborhood. While reciting from memory the ingredients of the cake, Fatima and Maria, two of its neighboring block of a coffee came the surprise:
-Virtues, how's life? Watch has cloth living in the same building we see so little.
-Salgo little, you know. I stole my little long.
"Oh, if we are nothing.
"Life is so, if you have to touch you. It is God who tests us.
"Well, God often and often proves ... It seems to me that no one deserves something like that.
"We must have faith, Mary, you have to have faith. If it were not for the faith, my life would be meaningless.
-Say yes, Virtues. By the way, to see when you come with us for a coffee.
"Let's see if I can, yes. I will tell you something. Not now, it seems it will rain.
"Yes, it begins to sparkle. Come pretty, take care. And give hints of Pius.
"It will give them. Go with God.
Virtues quickened his pace to get home. He greeted the doorman and said to him as it usually rains every year at Easter. Boarded the elevator to the third floor and came to the door of his home. Inserted the key and opened the door. All seemed quiet. No voice, no noise. He closed the door carefully, thinking that her husband was asleep, and when entering the room she saw her husband with his pants down, caressing the head of Judith, the daughter of seven years of his neighbors, who had the penis Pio mouth. Virtues said nothing, his son either. Pius and she looked horrified. Judith, who knew that they were seeing, because if I had known I would have thought that that game that had happened to his caregiver had no effect (because it was a game that was based on the deepest secret) wanted to mourn, as always playing that. For her it was a game that did not understand or like it, except for the attraction of the forbidden, for the enjoyment of doing something that nobody could ever find out this secret made her feel special, unique, something that no one possesses else had, it was all she drew from that game, because even it was for Pius, inductor and sexual tormentor, who enjoyed abusing an animal that little girl come to your way the birth of this child that destiny had brought them. Virtues chair pushed his son to the kitchen and there quietly began preparing the ingredients of apple pie. Prepared eggs, flour, sugar and mixed until a smooth paste, then peeled and cut apples into slices, arranged everything on a tray and slid into the oven. Her husband, who had accompanied the girl to his house, walked into the kitchen to look serious. Virtues, he noticed his presence, was unfazed.
- Well? He asked. - Are not you going to say anything?
She was silent. What he saw was something horrible, the worst thing that could make a human being, was a crime before God and Man, in which the victim, as always seems to happen when adults decide to position themselves in cruelty, was a girl, whose only desire was to be valued, be valued, to feel like someone special. What could she do? Did you report your husband? It was what I had to do, denounce and put an end once and for all that abuse to innocence. But if he did, if he condemned, would be alone with her sick child, one with all the obligations of a life. Sola, and more importantly, no money ...
Virtues took the cake from the oven and allowed to cool, the next day took it to the pastor, who also did not comment anything about what happened that afternoon. Her husband had locked himself in his office to develop the photos they had stolen some children in the park. Two hours later, at ten o'clock, both are put to bed like every night. No word, no touch, no minor or incidental contact. As she prayed his last prayer of the day, Pius was deeply asleep. He sensed that his wife did not denounce. His only concern was who would play when its smaller neighbor said one day: No. But that doubt, he believed, was still far away. Remaining games for years and the building was full of children.
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