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...Manuel...

The driver woke me up when we arrived, I felt a little disoriented, but the driver's insistence for his money made me wake up quickly. I paid him and got out with my bag in hand. I crossed the fence that divided the courtyard from the sidewalk. After a long trip from Bahía Blanca, I was finally in Villa del Carmen. I was a little nervous, my legs were shaking and my hands were sweating. A few months ago I had finished my priesthood and here I was going to finish my formation, as a kind of residence. When the priest in charge thought I was ready, he would retire and give me his place. The parish was a bit shabby, the roof had lost some tiles and the bell tower, a little cage-shaped tower with a cross on the top, had hail marks on the walls. It had a courtyard at the entrance, where, in the corner on the left, stood the Virgin made of cement illuminated by celestial lights, standing on a pedestal filled with bouquets of flowers and melted candles. She returned a serene gaze, extending her arms in a welcoming gesture. At the bottom, under the shade of the bouquets, I could see a bronze plaque on which I could just barely make out the inscription "Our Lady of Mount Carmel, pray for us." I paused again at her white and light blue face, the white eyes seemed alive when looked at too long. It was as if she was scrutinizing my inner self trying to find my best kept secrets. As a kid I was afraid of that feeling. I remembered trying to get behind the statue in my grandmother's house, until she started reading the Bible to me, so I put my fear aside and came to the priesthood.

I grabbed my bag again, entered the crowded parish and settled in a corner at the back of the church. It was brighter than it looked from the outside, there were pictures of saints on the walls and, behind the Father, statues similar to the one outside, a Virgin on the right side and a crucified Jesus in the middle, just above the altar.

I waited patiently for the Mass to end. As the parish slowly emptied, I could see Father leaving through a side door while the altar boys were busy putting everything away. I approached once everyone had left, my footsteps echoed in the church, but the boys did not stop at me. I sat in the first pew and watched them go from one side to the other putting things away and cleaning up. In the silence of the temple, you could barely hear them walking. They reminded me of me when I first started attending church and catechism. A deep voice emerged from the side door dispelling the silence in the parish, shortly after, Father appeared, a man in his seventies, short and stout. He asked the altar boys to hurry up before looking at me with a smile.

—Manuel! I thought you were arriving next week. My name is Basilio, I don't know if Damián told you.

He held out his hand for me to shake.

—I got a ticket earlier. I forgot to warn you.

—It's all right, son, the room is ready, Sister Blanca prepared it yesterday. When the children leave, I'll take you.

He waved me to sit on one of the benches. The boys went out the side door and soon after, they left. I accompanied Basilio to the main gate to close it. We then closed the doors of the temple before guiding me to what was to be my room from now on. It was modest and looked like it had not been used for years. On one of the walls, just above the bed, was a picture of the sacred heart, the frame enclosing it missing the paint like the walls. Next to it, there was a wooden crucifix and, attached to the foot of the bed, a dresser. On the other wall, an old clock that had once been white, but now looked yellowish. Next to the bed was an old desk as well. A door on the same side caught my attention. Could it be another closet? I walked over and opened it, it was a bathroom of its own. I hadn't had one since before I entered the priesthood. I sat on the bed, opened my bag and took out a picture frame that contained a photo of my mother, my grandmother, my sister and me when I was only seven years old. I put it on top of a desk that doubled as a bedside table. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, I made an effort to get up and open it, I was a novice.

—Good evening, Father Manuel," his thin lips curved into a smile. Dinner is ready, I'll take you to the dining room.

I thanked her by walking out and closing behind me, as we walked down the hallway she introduced herself as Maria. I followed her into the dining room, a rectangular room with two pairs of long tables. Father Basilio beckoned me with his hand to sit with him. We were joined by six other nuns and the novice who had brought me. He introduced us while another pair served us food. Afterwards, he told me that the rest of the Sisters and some novices were cloistered. One of the nuns, Nieves, was doing most of the talking besides Basilio. She told of her work as a catechist for the kindergarten children and in charge of the choir at the parish school a block away. When we finished eating, I got up and went back to my room. I changed out of my clothes into my pajamas and reached for my cell phone before collapsing on the bed. I texted my sister to let our mother and grandmother know I was already at the parish. I told her quickly and tersely how the trip to the retreat had been, about the rest of the trip to Pilar and Villa del Carmen I couldn't tell her much, I had been dozing all the way, I couldn't see much because I was so tired. Shortly after, I said goodbye to her and I was ready to rest at last. The bed was not the most comfortable in the world, but I was sure I would have no problem falling asleep, it was better than sleeping in a bus or a car.

The next day, during breakfast, Father Basilio gave me a sheet of paper with a schedule, it was the one that had governed the parish for years. I looked at it a couple of times while I drank the coffee Blanca had served me. It had the schedules for meals, masses and activities.

The rest of the day was about following the schedule and Basilio in the parish. It was mandatory for me to see how they were organized from the beginning so that there would be no changes, but I knew that I would probably change something when I took over. At four o'clock the last activity of the day began. It was a meeting of missionaries, where Father gave them advice, read passages from the Bible and explained them to them. I sat on the side, from there I could see the attendants, they were boys and young men, all of them with their yellow and white handkerchief hooked around their necks with a pin of the Virgin, except one of them who was sitting among the novices at the back. He was a young boy, probably not more than twenty years old, he was not wearing the scarf and he had a notebook in which he was writing. He caught my attention. The other boys didn't have anything to write down, I even remembered the years I had been in the missionaries during my adolescence, we didn't write anything down either. When the meeting was over, most of them left except for the boy with the notebook, who approached Basilio while the novices and I arranged the chairs.

—Gabriel!

I heard Father exclaim before his voices were muffled by the noise of the chairs. I looked at him before going out into the hallway, he was holding his notebook open, I imagined he was asking him something.

—Maria —Her light blue eyes fell on me—. Why did that boy bring a notebook? As far as I remember, you never write things down at meetings.

She opened her mouth to answer me, but Nieves called her from the kitchen. Maria excused herself with the promise that she would tell me later and left, leaving me alone in the hallway. I decided to go back to my room and take a shower before the hour we had to spend at the oratory, the last mass of the day and dinner. I hoped Maria wouldn't forget to tell me about that boy, I knew that while we were eating, Basilio was going to keep filling me in on the neighborhood and the parish, so I would have to wait until we were unoccupied before we could talk. 

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