“We’ll tell her to keep it a secret,” Sonia replied. “She won’t tell anyone because we are ‘doing it for Cuba.’” Sonia smiled. “You know how she always wants us to feel proud of our heritage.”
“She’s got a point,” Tommy said, looking at Luisito.
“Okay. I will tell her tomorrow after dinner,” Luisito said.
“Tell her now,” Sonia said. “Your parents are in their room and she is watching a movie with Dad.”
“I wanted to tell her alone,” Luisito said.
“Oh, Dad fell asleep beside her,” Sonia said. “Mom had to put up the volume because of his snoring. Go, go now!”
Luisito got up from his bed to go talk to Rosie. A minute ago he had felt relief in sharing his secret with his cousins, but now he was afraid. Two people knew and he had to tell a third.
Luisito slowly tiptoed down the stairs. How would he tell her? What if she said no and told his parents? Is this what Abuela would want him to do?
25 VEINTICINCO
It was early morning in Havana and still pitch dark outside Abuela’s apartment. She had woken early, dressed quickly, and now sat in her rocking chair praying her morning rosary. Her thoughts wandered to her family in the United States. She hoped Luisito was able to carry out the mission. It was crucial that he delivered this message. But she feared that he would be dazzled with all the new and wonderful things the United States had to offer and wouldn’t be aware of the urgency of the message. It was awful how she couldn’t remind him in her letters. She had placed a few calls to the United States, but after she had spoken to Maricusa she hadn’t been able to communicate again. Abuela tried to concentrate on her prayers and ask the Blessed Mother to help her.
When she finished praying, Abuela walked out the door quietly. She knew the way out of the building with her eyes closed. As she opened the front door of the building, the knob almost fell off in her hand. What a shame! They had cared so much for this house. Now everything was falling apart and there were no parts for repairs.
It was a constant pain and struggle for her to remember how beautiful her country had once been. She closed the door and slowly walked the two blocks to Lola’s home. Lola, her neighbor and friend, used to be a beauty shop owner. She now secretly worked from her home, trimming ladies’ hair in exchange for whatever extra food or favors they could provide. There was something more important here than the haircut Abuela was about to get. She used this opportunity to exchange information with the other women or buy food from the black market. This was the only way to survive in Cuba.
She tapped on Lola’s window, and a curvy lady in her sixties opened the door. Abuela hurried in and gave her a kiss. Today Lola was wearing curlers in her hair. She greeted Abuela with a brush and comb in hand.
“Maria Elena, qué bueno verte,” Lola said. “It’s so nice to see you! Come on in.”
Inside the dim dining room two other people awaited them: Fefa Rodriguez, the farmer’s wife, and Mati Valdes, Abuela’s former housekeeper. It was odd how the three women of different upbringings and political beliefs had bonded in these times of trouble. Lola and Mati were active in the Communist Party, but Abuela never spoke to them about politics, nor did she know if they were truly believers or just participated to survive. The women knew one another from way back, and their friendship and respect for each other was stronger than anything else.
Fefa was not there just to have her hair cut either. She had a bag with mangos, potatoes, and bananas for Abuela. In order to survive, Fefa and her husband would separate some of the fruits and other crops they grew on their farm from what they had to hand over to the government. They would sell or barter them to the people they knew. This had to be done in a secure place at odd times so they wouldn’t be caught. It was forbidden to have any side businesses that the government didn’t control.
“Maria Elena, I brought you a few goodies,” Fefa said to Abuela, handing her a canvas bag with the food. She knew Abuela would later return the bag with money or some useful object.
Abuela had brought a piece of linen fabric, which she gave to Lola in exchange for a haircut. Lola washed Abuela’s hair in the kitchen sink and proceeded to trim her hair in front of the living room mirror. If anyone knocked on the door the house would resemble a normal apartment with no trace of a beauty shop. Even women like Mati, who had ties to the government, would keep the secret about the beauty shop. After all, the women needed a haircut, and they could get one at Lola’s house without waiting in any lines.
“¡Qué calor hace!” Lola said, fanning herself with a newspaper. “I can’t believe it is still hot during the day in November!”
“You must miss your family very much,” Mati commented.
“Yes, you know how young people are,” Abuela said, pretending she had never known of her family’s plan to leave the island. “They have other ideas in their head, you know, like birdies flying around. ¡Están locos!”
“Yes, it was crazy to risk their lives like that,” Mati replied.
“Enough said about that. I am here alone and I have to get used to it,” Abuela said. Then, changing the subject she asked, “Did anyone hear the four o’clock novela yesterday on the radio?”
The conversation turned to the romance of Julieta and Rolando in the latest radio soap called Amor sin Barreras, Love without Barriers.
Mati went to the kitchen to get some water as the conversation continued in the dining room. Abuela excused herself and followed her. Mati met her halfway down the corridor.
“Señora, as cook in the house of the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Cuba, I hear many things. They speak freely in front of me. I am most trusted,” she said, giving herself an air of importance.
“Of course,” Abuela said, knowing Mati wanted to show her how important she was in her new job.
“As I was saying, my bosses think highly of me, and I hear them speak of many things,” Mati continued.
“I’m sure and … ?” Abuela said, trying to nudge some information from her.
“They are very worried, especially about the younger people. They are afraid that they will storm the foreign embassies just to leave the island,” she said.
“You’ve told me this before,” Abuela said. “Is it for sure?”
“Don’t say a word about this,” Mati said in a whisper, looking both ways as she spoke. “I think this will happen soon and the Cuban government is not going to stop them.”
“How is that?” Abuela said.
“I heard them say it was a good opportunity to get rid of troublemakers,” she said.
“Hmm,” Abuela said. “I guess it makes sense.”
“Oh, by the way, my employers gave this to me,” Mati said, handing Abuela writing paper from under her apron. “I kept one pack but I really don’t have much use for the others.”
It was a whole package of thin, yellow, lined Cuban paper, papel cebolla—onion skin, Abuela liked to say. It was just what she needed to write to her family.
“Gracias, Mati,” she said. Whether Mati still felt affection toward Abuela, or just wanted to show that she was important, Abuela was most grateful.
26 VEINTISEIS
Luisito walked downstairs slowly. He wondered if he was actually doing the right thing. But who better to trust than Rosie, who had been so kind to him and his parents? Downstairs he found José sleeping in the reclining chair and Rosie glued to the TV set.
“Tía Rosa, I need to talk to you,” Luisito said as he sat beside her.
“What’s the matter, Luisito? Are you hungry?” she asked. “We have plenty of leftovers in the refrigerator.”
“No, no, it’s not that,” Luisito said.
“A girl problem?” she said with a smile.
“No, not that either,” Luisito said, grinning. “It’s about Abuela.”
“Oh, my dear,” she said, reaching out to pat his hand, “I know how you must worry about your dear grandmother, but she is not as frail as she may look. We are working on gett
ing her papers so she can join us soon.”
“It’s not that,” Luisito said. “Please, don’t tell anyone. You promise?”
“Oh, my, Luisito,” she said now sitting up, “you have my attention. What is it?”
“Abuela needs me to get something done for Cuba. She is counting on me to accomplish something in Miami and I need your help,” he said. He told her the whole story, relieved that it was out in the open.
“Wow, your Abuela is really something!” Rosie said. “¡Increíble!”
“Why do you say it’s incredible?” Luisito said.
“She doesn’t ever give up. No matter her age or how many obstacles there are,” Rosie said. “She is a fighter!”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Luisito said. “Tommy and Sonia know, but no one else can find out.”
“Why can’t you ask your parents?” Rosie asked.
“Abuela told me not to tell anyone, and I think she was afraid that my parents would not let me get involved. They were always afraid in Cuba that it could be dangerous for me,” Luisito said.
“Are you afraid now, Luisito?” Rosie said.
“No,” Luisito said, very confident. “Abuela taught me that if you are sure you are doing the right thing you don’t need to be afraid.”
“Yes, but …” Rosie started to say.
“Abuela says the Bible is full of quotes telling us not to be afraid,” Luisito added.
“Abuela taught you a lot about the Bible, didn’t she?”
“Not really. She taught me mostly with her example,” Luisito said. “My parents didn’t want her to have a Bible around the house or say things to me that I would repeat to others and get in trouble.”
Rosie let out a big sigh of resignation. “Let me think more about how I can get you to Miami. Don’t worry, we won’t let Abuela down.”
“It’s for Cuba,” Luisito said, smiling.
“That’s right!” Rosie said. Luisito gave her a kiss, glanced at José, who was still sound asleep, and ran upstairs, feeling much better.
¡Ay, mi Dios querido! Rosie said to herself. My dear God, how am I going to get Luisito to Miami without telling his parents the whole story? I’m going to have to do a lot of praying so you can show me the way!
The next morning was Sunday. Luisito woke up early, eager to go to Mass. He felt happier and almost lighter, as if a big weight had been taken from his shoulders.
The family headed to church together. Luisito understood the Mass much better each time he went. His favorite part of the Mass was when the priest elevated the Holy Eucharist and the bell rang.
On the way to Mass, he looked at some of the neighbors’ cars parked in front of the house. They were probably sleeping in. Imagine being allowed to go to Mass and just not wanting to go, he thought. How different from Cuba! So many people there wanted to go but felt it was too dangerous.
“Tommy, why do you suppose Steve and Allen don’t go to Mass? Are they Catholic?” Luisito asked.
“Yeah, but they are lazy. They go once in a while,” Tommy said.
“But I learned in the catechism classes I’m now going to that it is a sin not to go to Mass on Sunday. It breaks one of the Ten Commandments,” Luisito said.
“Maybe they don’t know that,” Tommy said. “Steve says he can always pray at home.”
“But he doesn’t receive the Holy Eucharist,” Luisito quickly answered.
“Yep, that is true,” Tommy said.
Luisito couldn’t wait to make his first Holy Communion. He was going to classes and was planning on receiving first Penance and first Communion by Easter of next year.
After Mass, they all went to buy some of the doughnuts that the Boy Scouts were selling in the church parking lot. As Luisito was munching on his glazed doughnut, he felt a tap on his shoulders.
“Hi, Lewis!” Sherry said, smiling.
“Hi!” said Luisito. “I was looking for you before Mass but I didn’t see you. Are you coming to the championship basketball game tomorrow?”
“Of course!” Sherry said.
They chatted for a few minutes about the game.
Then Luisito saw Sherry stare at someone in the crowd.
“What is it?” Luisito said.
“Nothing,” Sherry said, turning around to see if anyone was posing behind them. No one was there. “I thought I saw a man take a picture of us … anyway, what was I saying?”
Luisito and Tommy just looked at each other.
27 VEINTISIETE
Luisito walked into the school gym the night of the district championship game. The gym was packed with parents, teachers, students, and relatives—especially Luisito’s. Three long rows of family: cousins, great-aunts and -uncles, and his parents were there to cheer him on. They had the same large cameras around their necks that they had worn on the day he had arrived at the airport. Luisito could distinguish their hearty laughs in the din of the crowd. Some of his younger cousins had made maracas out of coffee cans. They rattled them as they cheered.
School spirit was at its best in the gym for the championship. Luisito paused to take it all in. The wood floors looked recently polished. There were large, colorful banners with the blue-and-gold school colors everywhere. As he looked around the gym, for the first time since he had arrived in the United States, Luisito felt he belonged. He was part of something.
They were playing against the undefeated Oakwood High School Tigers. Luisito watched the Tigers warm up. He snapped to attention when he saw Coach Jerry signal all his players to huddle.
“All right, mighty Lions, this year we have a chance to be district champions! Remember, it’s not just your skills but your determination that will get us that trophy. Now, do we want to win?” he shouted.
“Yes, we do!” they shouted.
“I can’t hear you!” Coach Jerry said.
“Yes, we do!” they shouted louder.
“Well, then, get out there” he said, and sent them out onto the court.
The game started slowly. The ball went back and forth as both teams played great defense. It was still 6–6 by the end of the first quarter.
“Let’s start making some shots!” shouted a group of parents.
“Defense! Defense!” shouted others from the packed bleachers.
By the end of the second quarter the Tigers led 20–12. The Lions fans became quieter, attentively watching every pass with hopes of catching up. In the third quarter, the Tigers started to get too confident, and the Lions started scoring. When the score was 24–23, with the Tigers still leading, one of the Lions stole the ball, zigzagged down the court, and made a three-point shot! Now the Lions were leading. But by the end of the third quarter, the score was tied again, 30–30.
As the fourth quarter started, the Lions players’ tiredness started to show in their slower running and clumsier passing. All of them had played the whole game so far. Coach Jerry signaled to Luisito.
“Lewis, you’re in!” he called. “Give Paul a rest.”
Luisito nervously trotted out onto the court. Both teams continued to play well, and when the buzzer rang, the score was tied and the game went into overtime. Luisito was certain that Coach Jerry was going to take him out and put Paul back in, but to his surprise Coach Jerry sent him back out onto the court.
Now it seemed no one could get the ball in the hoop. Luisito could feel his jersey glued to his back with sweat. His face was now bright red, and the once cold gym felt as warm as a day on a Miami beach.
There were only forty seconds on the clock when the referee called a foul against the Lions, and the Tigers made the two penalty shots.
“No more fouls!” Coach Jerry yelled at his players.
Now the Lions had the ball. Eric passed it to Ron, who dribbled in and made a layup, tying the score yet again. They went into defensive mode as the Tigers took off down the court. They moved too fast and went out of bounds, and the Lions had the ball again. Fifteen seconds left.
This time Eric passed the ball to
Luisito, but one of the Tigers pushed him and Luisito fell hard on the floor. The referee called a foul, and Luisito had the chance to make two shots. If he made them they would win the game. He felt the pressure almost suffocating him. He could hear faint gasps and Spanish comments from his relatives.
Luisito stood just behind the foul line. He was so nervous! A thousand thoughts swirled through his mind. You can do it if you just concentrate hard enough. But what will happen if I miss it? Will everyone hate me? They’re just starting to warm up to me … He heard shouts of: “Lewis, you can do it!” and “Bend those knees!” He looked toward his parents and saw Miguel cheering him on and his mother covering her face with her hands. He heard a woman’s voice calling, “¡Encomiendate a Dios, mi hijito!” It was surely one of his relatives reminding him to say a prayer.
He caught the ball and dribbled it twice. He didn’t know if this merited a mental prayer, but he said one anyway. “Dear God, I hope this goes in … for my team and for my sake. Please, God, hear my prayer and, if not, let me cope with whatever happens.”
Then he shot the ball high in the air and it bounced right off the rim of the basket. There were sighs from one side of the gym and cheers from the other.
The referee bounced the ball back to him and signaled that he had one more chance. He breathed deeply, dribbled just once, bent his knees, and shot the basketball. He didn’t even want to watch, so he shut his eyes. When he opened them the ball was spinning around and around the rim of the basket. Finally, it dropped in. Immediately a cheer roared from the crowd, and his teammates charged toward him with hugs and pats on the back. The buzzer rang. The Lions had won by just one point.
His parents and a long line of relatives ran onto the court to congratulate Luisito and each team player.
“Great job, Lewis!” Coach Jerry yelled as he jumped in the air with excitement.
The Lions stepped aside to have their picture taken with a big silver trophy. They let Luisito stand in the center holding the award.
As Luisito turned for more pictures, Sherry came up and gave him a big hug. “You were amazing, Lewis!” she said.
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