KD Field

You can cut the tension with a knife between John and Javier. As they walk the Camino, things go from bad to worse.

They set out along the river, through the canopy of leafy trees, walking through old stone villages where the gravel path snaked up the hilly bank.

‘Did you walk with Tess here?’ asked John.

Javier held his breath. Gauging John’s mood was becoming a habit.

‘Yes. I met Tess the day before at a cafe. The same one where you and I stopped yesterday. If I remember correctly, she asked if she could share my table. It was then we discovered that our children were walking together. We both needed to get to Zubiri, so I suggested we go together.’ Javier remembered. ‘She seemed lonely. Pen had chosen not to walk with her.’

‘I know she was.’ agreed John, ‘She wanted to get closer to Pen on the trip, but Pen wasn’t cooperating at that stage.’

‘No, she wasn’t. In the albergue in Zubiri, I found a bottle of Tess’s cancer medication on the bathroom floor. She dropped it. I knew what it was for and put it back in her pack, but I didn’t confront her. It wasn’t my business, and I just met her. But I knew she was ill at this stage on the Camino.’

John remained silent as they walked for the next kilometer.

‘As a doctor, did you ever try to talk her into quitting? To go home and to start treatment sooner?’

Javier took a deep breath.

‘I was not her doctor. She said she didn’t need me to be. Something was driving her to walk the Camino. After thinking about it for over a decade, I’m unsure I ever really understood what that was, except perhaps Pen’s issues. But there was something more. I could feel it. It was a few days further from this point when she told me about her cancer. When she showed me the letter you had written to her. It was at that point I told her if she were my wife, I would insist she stay home and start treatment. That I couldn’t have let her come on this trek.’

John stopped in his tracks, squaring off with Javier. His words cut.

‘So, you think I should have forbidden this trip before she left? Did you know Tess at all? No one had that power over her. From the moment she mentioned it, she would do this thing come hell or high water. I wrote her that letter to give her my blessing. To ease her burdens somehow, I wanted her to know I was in her corner, no matter what.’

Javier blanched.

‘So, you couldn’t stop her, but you are telling me I should have, as a doctor, a relative stranger. I barely knew her back then, as you point out. I saw how much this meant to her, and I tried my best to help her accomplish her goal and be as healthy as possible while she was in Spain – to be her friend. When she became ill, I helped her. You know this. I would never have hurt her or encouraged Tess to do anything she didn’t want to do.’

Javier closed his eyes, struggling with the memory.

‘Anyway,’ Javier grumbled. ‘I had a different perspective then. Different than either of you. At that time, I had already lost my wife to cancer. I knew what that felt like. You didn’t. Not yet.’

The river ran past them as the sun peaked from behind the clouds. The two men stood in silence, almost daring each other to do or say something more. Each was looking for answers that would never come—the prison of if only is a lonely, solitary place was filled with regrets and recriminations. Neither man wanted to stay there.

‘We should get going.’ suggested John. The tense moment had passed.

‘Yes. We can change nothing by rehashing what we might have done. It is easier to see clearly with the benefit of hindsight. I wish Tess were here as much as you do.,’ said Javier.

John snorted.

‘I don’t think you have a clue how much I wish she were here.’ he said, his lips quivering, his cheeks red with anger. He marched ahead of Javier with no idea what lay ahead.

~From The Weight of Fearsome Things