Day 9

Chapter 7

Chapter 7Barcelona, Spain - August 1884I wish that I were a full-grown cathedral. Then, I would be tall enough to see over Gaudí's shoulder. I could glimpse the future in his hands—my future.

For I have been wondering what he plans to do with me, my father. What exactly I will become when I am finally grown. Whether it will be a good fit for my spirit.

I have so very many questions. I love him and I trust him, but I long to know the answers.

And there they are, on those big white sheets of paper. Gaudí holds them out in front of him for his audience to see—Bocabella and the other dignitaries, come for a look at the first designs. The first pictures of my tomorrow.

Their reactions make me want to see through their eyes even more. Whatever is on those sheets, it must not be ordinary.

Whether or not that's a good thing, I cannot tell...until an old man in black robes and black hat finally speaks. "This is a cathedral for our Lord?"

Gaudí scowls. "Who else?"

The old man sniffs. "It has a flavor of the infernal, does it not?"

"It is anything but infernal," says Gaudí. "Every inch of it is a tribute to the Holy Family. Every inch."

Another man in black, younger and fatter, squints and coughs alongside the first. "It reminds me of the Inquisition, somehow," he says slowly. "The jagged towers, the gruesome walls. A fortress of torture growling under bleak skies."

"As if it were alive, yes," says a third man, this one in purple robes. "Alive and turned inside-out."

"There, at least in part, you are right, Bishop." Gaudí ruffles the sheets in his hands. "For this is drawn from the Book of Life itself...source of all my designs. It shall live and breathe as all Nature does, in tribute to Creation's perfection."

"You're saying it will come to life?" said the Bishop. "I am not certain I would care to conduct Mass in the belly of a beast."

I cringe at his words...at all their words. I feel as if they are beating me down, insulting me, defeating me. Defeating Gaudí, too.

What has he done, I wonder. What has he drawn on those sheets of paper, anyway?

"A beast?" says Gaudí. "Hardly. More like a mountain. A mountain of souls, all pointing into Heaven."

"These towers are like horns." The old man in black pokes the sheets with his finger. "And this. Is it a gate or a maw?"

"This is like no cathedral I've ever seen," says the Bishop.

"That is precisely the point." Angrily, Gaudí crushes the sheets together in one hand. "This cathedral will be unique to Catalonia! It will affirm the glory of our people and our blessed bond with the Lord God!" He waves the crumpled designs in my direction. "Think of it not as a building, but a message...a message to God and the children of God around the world."

"A nightmare can also be a message," says the Bishop. "So can a lie."

"Are you certain of the language you are speaking?" says the old man in black.

"Absolutely." Gaudí says it fiercely and without hesitation. "Let no man challenge my faith and devotion!"

I am proud of him. Though I have yet to see his design, I am proud of him for defending it. For resisting those who belittle his vision and stand in his way.

Our way.

If only I could help him somehow. Wouldn't they come around if suddenly I spoke in his defense? Told them of the grace and greatness I know he will bestow upon us?

Or perhaps I would rather move than speak. One of my building blocks, hurled across the works, could silence all three unbelievers at once.

"Señor Gaudí." Bocabella has been standing back...but now, he is done watching and listening. "Perhaps we should pray on this. Consider what has been said here today."

Gaudí straightens. His eyes flash with rage. "I never stop praying. This." He waves the crumpled sheets. "This is the answer to my prayers."

The Bishop turns his back on Gaudí and speaks to the rest. "Our recommendation stands."

"What?" says Gaudí. "What recommendation?"

"The diocese does not dictate what I do." Bocabella sounds angry. "The Association of Saint Joseph is driving this work, and we are not beholden to the Church."

"You would not have asked us here," says the Bishop, "if you could do without our recommendation."

"What recommendation?" Gaudí storms around and plants himself in front of the Bishop.

"That a new director of works be retained," says the Bishop.

I can't believe what I've heard. To tell the truth, it never occurred to me until now that it was possible to separate us. To take an architect from his masterpiece.

A father from his child.

I start to panic. What will happen to me if he leaves? Can anyone else come close to realizing my potential? Expressing my spirit?

Or am I doomed to a stunted existence? Silent and common and dreamless...or stillborn. Is there a chance, if Gaudí leaves, that I will never be built at all?

More than ever, I wish I could do something to save us. I dare to offer a prayer I've never prayed to a God I've never known, casting for a miracle I don't expect to see.

And I get one. We get one.

A man strolls over to the group. An old man with white hair and a bushy white beard. He wears a dark gray suit and necktie, like the businessmen who hurry past on the street every day.

As I watch him approach, I wonder who he is. I wonder if he is God.

"What have we here?" His voice is friendly...but firm and strong. "An impromptu mass to consecrate our new cathedral?"

Gaudí's face is red. He starts to say something which will surely be angry.

Bocabella cuts him off. "Don Eusebi Güell. May I impose on your good will?"

Güell elbows him in the side. "Just remember, I already made my offering on Sunday."

Bocabella waves at the papers in Gaudí's fist. "Show him," he says.

Gaudí opens the sheets and holds them up for Güell to see. "The Sagrada Família," he says.

"What do you think?" says Bocabella.

Güell gives away nothing as he reviews the designs. He looks at each sheet for a long time, leaning close, sometimes tracing a finger over the drawings. When he gives the sign, Gaudí switches pages, removing the top sheet to reveal a new illustration.

Finally, he leans back. He takes a deep breath and releases it.

"Well?" says Bocabella. "As one of our foremost citizens, a leader in business and a faithful disciple of Our Lord Jesus Christ, what do you say? Shall we hire a new director of works?"

"These designs." Güell taps the sheets in Gaudí's hands. "They are quite unorthodox."

"Exactly," says the Bishop.

"There has been nothing like them before," says Güell. "Now what does that remind me of?" He rocks on his heels and rubs his bearded chin.

"Perdition?" says the Bishop. "The Great Beast?"

"No." Güell thinks a moment more, then snaps his fingers. "God's Creation itself. That's what this reminds me of."

Silently, I cheer his words. I see now that Don Eusebi Güell is on our side.

Maybe there's hope after all.

"Have another look." Güell pulls the Bishop by the sleeve, and the other clergymen move in close around them. "Can't you see what he's doing? He is fashioning new forms from the old order, just as Our Lord fashioned Creation from the void. It is something new and unexpected, just as Creation was when it first appeared. It will bring new life to the faith, inspire the faithful, attract new believers."

"Are you suggesting the Church as it now stands is not good enough?" says the old man in black.

"I would never say that." Güell grins behind his beard. "I am simply wondering if it might not be appropriate for the first wonder of the new century to be a tribute to God."

"Interesting," says the young, fat man in black. "The Church symbolically stakes its claim on the twentieth century."

"Don't forget Catalonia," says Güell. "Would you rather another nation lay claim to such a symbol of sovereign power and individuality?"

The old man in black sighs. "Perhaps you have a point."

"Of course I do." Güell throws an arm around Gaudí's shoulders. "I know salesmanship, gentlemen...and are we not all in sales in one form or another? This man's genius will make us rich in earthly and heavenly gain."

"Don Eusebi is your best customer." The Bishop glares at Gaudí. "How much of a discount will you give him in exchange for pushing this through?"

"Does this mean you will change your recommendation?" says Gaudí.

The Bishop waves off-handedly. "Go ahead. Build your monstrosity...if you can. May we all live to see it."

"Why do you say that?" says Gaudí.

The Bishop smiles before he leads the others away. "There is a reason Our Lord God Almighty only made one Creation."

Then, Gaudí and Güell are alone.

"Thank you for your help, my friend," says Gaudí.

Güell snorts. "This does not need my help." He grabs the top sheet from the stack of designs and holds it before him. "This is incredible. This is magic."

Suddenly, for the first time today, the sun peeks from behind a cloud, casting down its rays. The sheet in Güell's hands flares with sunlight, the paper bleaching bright white.

The ink showing through from the other side.

That is when I get a glimpse of my future. It is just a little glimpse, seen in reverse on paper rippling in the wind...but it is enough for now.

Feelings rush through me. A feeling of joy that Gaudí sees me as something grand and unique. A feeling of anticipation for the future...impatience, that I may become what he imagines as soon as possible. Relief, that we avoided missing this future forever.

And a feeling of love for the man who has had such visions. A man who is my father, inasmuch as a building of stone and mortar can have a father.

I wish that I could tell him. I wish that I could touch him.

I wonder if that is part of his design, too.