I met Andrea yesterday. That is the name of the young woman that Mr. Miquel, hours before he passed away last week, told me that she had the same divinatory powers as hers and that she works in the cafeteria of La Gallera de Alzira. I went to meet her yesterday moved by a curiosity encouraged by the last words of the wise man from Alzira shortly before she died. Although I also recognized a certain selfishness, that of being able to continue counting on someone capable of offering me electoral forecasts with one hundred percent reliability. I remembered that the former butcher told me that this woman had a unique intuition, an ability to see the future that he, who never failed her predictions, had not achieved in his 88-year life.
I went first thing in the morning. There were hardly any customers: four old men playing cards at a table and a man in his forties leaning against the bar drinking coffee. It was easy to locate the young woman that Mr. Miquel had described to me and that I was able to see at her funeral. I decided to go straight to the point, without looking for excuses.
-My name is Salvador Enguix and I was a friend of Mr. Miquel’s. I need to talk with you.
She, whose name I still didn’t know, was putting cans of beer in the freezer attached to the bar. She stopped her activity and looked at me with a tired expression.
-My name is Andrea. I know who you are and why you’ve come but I’m working. If you want, we’ll meet when I’m done at the Velazquez.
El Velazquez is more than a bar, it is an institution in Alzira, with decades of history. It is located in a privileged place, between Sants Patrons avenue and the pedestrian access to the Town Hall square on Calderón de la Barca street. Meeting point and passage for hundreds of people every day. It has a lower room, like a semi-basement, ideal for holding conversations away from the terrace and the main area. She arrived on time, accompanied by another young woman.
-Her name is Ellen.
I would have preferred that we were alone. But I understood that if he had brought her it was because he trusted her. I told him that I wanted to know if it was true that he had powers similar to or even superior to those of Mr. Miquel.
-He hit electoral forecasts, I also predict situations.
-And what does that mean?
Maite spoke of the consequences of the electoral results, that she was able to see future governments, who would form them, if there would be pacts and even the executive decisions that would define the management of an administration. She added that the difference between Mr. Miquel and her was the “evolution” in her abilities, that ultimately she could see a future that the deceased old man did not reach.
-Can you, for example, know if Pedro Sánchez will be president of the Government again or if there will be new elections? Can you guess if Carlos Mazón will end up absorbing Vox and when?
-I know. That is what most amazed Mr. Miquel since we met.
His answer surprised me. Mr. Miquel told me about her, assuring that he met her as a waitress shortly before falling ill, that he saw her twice and that he never spoke to her; he didn’t even know her name, he assured me as her life was already slipping away.
-He lied to you. He knew me since I was born. I am her granddaughter.
I tried to quickly remember the story of Mr. Miquel. I knew that his wife, whom I barely treated, had died of cancer 25 years ago, and that he had no children. He knew of the existence of his sister, who was still alive and who resided in Carcaixent. He could say little more about the family life of a man who stopped being a butcher decades ago and who lived in his house in the Sant Joan neighborhood among memories and books, which he only abandoned to take long walks around the region or to meet with your friends.
-Mr. Miquel not only had a woman in his life. My grandmother was best friends with him since they were children, but he married Maria. Years later, my grandmother got married too, but she was unhappy from the first day, but in those days women couldn’t decide. She also wanted to be a mother, but her husband, my grandfather, was a guy incapable of making a woman happy. I don’t know many more details, because she was always very reserved. I discovered everything about three years ago, when my grandfather died and my mother told me that her real father was Mr. Miquel.
Maite paused, looked at Elena, and I went back to give more details at my insistence.
-Since I was little I knew that my grandfather was not my grandfather, I always felt it, I had clear and sharp images of Mr. Miquel that appeared in dreams, but I never said anything to my mother. When she opened up to me, I understood. One day I went to the ex-butcher’s house and he opened the door saying that he had been waiting for my visit for years.
-What I don’t understand is why he didn’t tell me anything, I had been visiting him for years and I thought he trusted me.
-He appreciated you, but I think he was clear that this story was very personal and that you should discover it for yourself.
Despite her age, Andrea seemed much more adult in the way she narrated these events and in expressing her emotions while detailing them.
-He could have told me at least that if he was going to look for you it was because you were his granddaughter.
The young waitress began to narrate how she and Mr. Miquel discussed the electoral forecasts and other situations, even more vulgar, that were going to take place in the following weeks, months and even years; from political events to natural tragedies. The old man, he said, admired Maite’s ability to define her predictions; he was much better than him because, in addition, he could, on occasions, read people’s thoughts. What also made me extremely curious was to know why a woman with these abilities worked as a waitress in Alzira.
-I am helping my cousin, who has taken over the management of the La Gallera bar. But I am studying finance at the Polytechnic of Valencia. I want to dedicate myself to managing investments and moving money in the stock market.
Can you see what is going to happen in the stock markets?
We’ll talk about that another day.
The certainty with which she said it made me understand that she was capable of that and much more, and that soon this young woman, with her powers, could become a successful woman. But I had other goals.
-Well, I hope that from now on I can contact you before an electoral battle so that you can tell me what the result will be.
I told her what she already knew, that my talks with Mr. Miquel helped me to write texts that I published in La Vanguardia.
-But he wouldn’t let you give the predictions, the waitress reminded me.
-No, and look that I insisted for years. In return, he told me enigmatic stories that were difficult for me and my readers to understand. Are you going to do the same?
Andrea smiled for the first time, and so did Elena, who at that moment took her left hand with her right hand.
-Do you want to know if Pedro Sánchez will be sworn in as Prime Minister or if there will be new elections? Would you like to know what will happen in Valencian politics in four years?
I stayed silent. Andrea knew it was a rhetorical question. She kept smiling.
