by Faith O'Shea
“Allie, over here.”
She glanced up to see Jelani waving at her from a seat by the window. She’d completely zoned, hadn’t been watching the gate numbers as she walked along the concourse.
She gave the lawyer a false smile and a wave back. Jelani walked toward her, her stride brisk and confident.
“Are you ready for our adventure?”
“Not sure.”
“What do you mean? Aren’t you curious about where your husband’s from?”
She was, actually, although she’d never admit it.
“I’m not sure how much I’ll get to see if we’re busy with visas and exit interviews.”
“If it’s nothing else, it’ll be a reprieve from the grind.”
Jelani wouldn’t understand that this was work for her. The pretense, or rather the outright lie, was going to take a lot of energy. Her friend’s smile dipped.
“I forgot. You’ve just come from a funeral. No wonder you’re a bit somber. We’ll have a drink on the plane, and you can forget all your woes.”
She wasn’t sure about that. Her woes would be waiting to catch up with her at the other end of the trip.
When she glanced back up, Jelani was smiling, looking so upbeat that she decided she was not going to be Debbie Downer. She’d spent the last few hours mixing and mingling, measuring the mood, seeing who might need handholding, who was taking Farina’s death in stride. She’d have to get right back to it when she returned, make some calls to those hit the hardest, who might have trouble in the aftermath. There’d been shock that she was leaving them so soon after the tragedy. And she’d gotten the third degree. Where was she going? For how long? Her response had been in line with the truth. She was taking a couple of days’ personal time. Leatherman had joked about her coming back with another player. Seb had countered, “Let’s hope it’s not a left fielder.”
Letting her thoughts stray to the trip, not the mission, she was infused with a new energy and suddenly excitement flooded through her.
When she reached the check-in, she handed over her passport, got her boarding pass, and the tourist card she’d need for admission to Cuba. It was soon after that first class was called to board. She usually flew coach, didn’t have the kind of money to warrant this kind of luxury, and the front office didn’t splurge on her travel, she did it so often. It was Mateo who’d insisted on it.
As long as we are married, I will cover these kinds of costs. Besides, you are taking this trip for my benefit, not your own, and I will be responsible for whatever…consideration…you pay out.
She had argued with him, but to no affect. It was his call to Jelani’s assistant that took it out of her hands, and as she took her seat she had to admit it offered just what she needed right now.
A bit of pampering.
Their drinks arrived before take-off, and as she sipped the dark red wine, she let herself relax into the moment. She didn’t stay there for long, though. As soon as they were air borne, Jelani talked non-stop about her son, how she and her husband were already working on number two, and asked, “Are you going to wait to start a family?”
Her stomach clenched.
A family?
She’d given that very little thought, wasn’t sure she wanted to take time away from her career for children. She’d worked hard to get where she was. Her hours weren’t her own and she didn’t know how she’d balance it all. When she glanced at Jelani, she realized it could be done if you loved the man and you wanted to create new life with him. She closed her eyes to the vision of a seven-year-old, playing baseball, one with obsidian eyes and a shock of dark hair.
Sighing, she said, “We’re still getting to know each other, so I think it’s a good idea to put it off, at least for a while.”
“From my experience when love comes at you like a steam roller, you know all you need to.”
Allie licked her lips. “No fears about getting crushed?”
Jelani’s brow wrinkled. “I guess that could have happened if it hadn’t been two-sided. Are you unsure about Mateo’s feelings?”
No. She knew exactly where he stood. He wanted to make this marriage work which put him on the one-way street. She still couldn’t comprehend why. For all his ramblings about universal flow and synchronicity, she knew there had to be something more to it than that.
Jelani was waiting for her answer, but she was still stumbling around, trying to explain it to herself.
“Things have moved pretty fast for him. I could just be a part of the mad rush to get here. There’s a lot he hasn’t experienced yet.”
“If the way he looks at you is any indication, I wouldn’t worry too much.”
She stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t noticed? There’s a visceral pulse of longing there.”
Oh, God.
It hadn’t been her imagination. She’d glimpsed the heat but thought it had more to do with lust than love. They’d been close to falling into bed together but had stopped short of their goal when priorities shifted. It had to be a holdover from unfulfilled passion. She felt the same kind of stirrings, the same magnetic attraction. She wanted nothing more than to strip him down and fondle all that maleness.
She squirmed trying to ease the spasm that throbbed deep within her. She could feel an orgasm ready to explode just at the thought of him. If she’d been alone, she would have pressed her need home. It wouldn’t have taken much, just a bit of pressure against her seat. She might have to give in and bed him. Maybe then the longing would be erased. Maybe then she could revert back to a more rational version of herself.
Yeah, right. And maybe the moon is made out of green cheese.
Jelani patted her hand that had become part of the armrest, she was gripping it so hard.
“Love doesn’t make any sense. It comes out of the blue sometimes. I couldn’t stand Alec, but the physical chemistry between us was nuts. Only when I gave in, got to know him did I realize I couldn’t live without him.”
Fuck. If that was supposed to make her feel better, Jelani had failed. She’d pretty much told her that sex with Mateo could lead her even deeper into the quagmire. Her emotions shifted like the patterns of a kaleidoscope, need to want, to hope and tenderness, dejection and despair, her heart tethered to them all by the image of one man.
“Love also has many definitions. I’m not sure mine translates well.”
“No matter what it is, if it works for you, you’ll be fine.”
Jelani’s phone rang, pulling her away from the conversation. It sounded as if Alec was on the other end of the connection, and Allie could hear the sublime happiness in her voice when she answered.
She turned her head and leaned it against the window, closing her eyes to block out the dark clouds that cluttered the sky.
The six-hour flight was smooth and without incident. She listened as the wheels eased down, felt the plane touch the surface and glide across the tarmac. The airfield was open to the elements, palm trees swaying like hula dancers along the perimeter as if they were planted as welcoming committee. She could hear the steps rumbling toward the door of the plane, saw one of the flight attendants opening the hatch, felt the commotion as passengers stood getting ready to disembark, passports and tourist cards clutched in their hands.
The pilot had come out to thank them for traveling Jet Blue and wished them a sun-kissed time.
She smiled politely and followed Jelani down the steps, her flip-flops slapping the asphalt, the heat warming her from the soles of her feet to the tip of her head. It was a welcome change from the cold of the last month in New England.
Jelani apparently agreed. “I love the sun. I’ll use just about any excuse to get me some.”
In stunned surprise Allie said, “You mean we didn’t have to fly here?”
Jelani shifted her luggage from one hand to the other, shifting moods as well. More seriously, she said, “I truly believe this is the best way to secure Mariposa’s visa, but it’s always nice when
there’s a side benefit. Come on. I can’t wait to get my first glimpse of this place.”
The debarkation line moved slowly as passports were stamped and tourist cards checked. They were asked a few curt questions about who they were meeting with and where they were staying. There was a nod by the agent, and when they were finally released, they headed right for the door. Just outside, a row of classic American cars sat along the curbside, waiting to pick up a fare. A driver jumped out of the first one in line, which was the color of mustard, grabbed their bags and welcomed them. The grille was rusted, but otherwise it was in pristine condition.
“Buenos noches, senoritas.”
Jelani answered him in his mother tongue before climbing into the roomy back seat. One of the few words Allie understood in the babble of Spanish was the name of the hotel they were staying at.
The vintage Chevy drove like a dream, and she knew it had taken a lot to keep it in such good shape. As it glided down the main street, it was like she’d been carried inside a painting, the buildings a montage of pastels, pinks, blues, and yellows, creating a festive mood. With the windows down, they became part of the musical street scene, bongos in syncopated rhythm, the guitars expressive, proving that music pervaded the culture. Her heart thrummed in tune with it. It was a vibrant city, the energy high, the pedestrians walking, a swing to their hips. This was where Mateo had come from. Had he walked down these streets? Stopped at one of the open markets? Danced to the salsa beat openly and with abandon?
Suddenly, she couldn’t contain her excitement. This was a world she’d only viewed through the prism of American opinion, and she was more than ready to gain a new perspective.
As they pulled up to the hotel, she couldn’t believe the historical appeal. It was a pale yellow in color with a mint-green trim that looked charming, but it was massive, sitting along two streets and almost a half a block long. Balconies hung from each window, the brick façade clean and bright. She knew poverty lived just down the street and the hotel staff would probably return to it every night after work. It took some of the gloss off it, but she didn’t have time to think more about the discrepancies. Just inside the door of the lobby, a woman stood as if waiting. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, highlighting her cheekbones and showcasing large gold hoop earrings. It was the eyes that gave her away as Mariposa Arteaga. They were the same obsidian as Mateo, and like the son, her bearing was proud. Her teeth flashed in a brilliant smile when she reached out to embrace her.
“You are Alicia. It is so good to meet my son’s wife. I know you didn’t expect me until tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait.”
The openness of her delight surprised Alicia. Mariposa had thought nothing of invading her personal space and exchanging hugs and kisses. She hadn’t meant to, but she’d stiffened, causing Mariposa to ease back and away from her.
“You’ll have to forgive me my forwardness. We live out in the open, in doorways, on the street, and you are not used to this. But Mateo has told me so little and I want to know so much.”
Allie reached out and took her hand, embarrassed by her initial reticence.
“Please there’s nothing to forgive. It’s nice to meet you.” She scanned the area, the old busts, antique fixtures, centuries-old architectural elements. “I thought I was prepared for this, but I’m still taking it all in.”
It wasn’t like anywhere she’d traveled before. She felt like she’d taken a step back in time, the old cars and phone kiosks, relics of her past.
“It is so different?”
“Yes. I’d have to go to the southwest to find this kind of Spanish influence. Boston has its own unique culture but it’s nothing like this.”
“I am looking forward to seeing it myself. Mateo seems to like it very much.”
She smiled, warming up to the woman now that she’d given herself permission to do so.
“All except for the weather, I think.”
Jelani suggested, “Why don’t we check in and then find someplace to eat. We can talk over dinner and you can get to know each other.”
“Yes, yes. I will bring you to the best place in the city.” She looked down at Alicia’s flip-flops and pointed.
Allie gave away her first genuine smile. “Mateo told me. I brought shoes.”
“Could you move out of the doorway? I can’t get through.”
A solidly built man, his voice gruff and demanding, all but pushed them out of the way when they were slow to understand his broken English.
Mariposa sputtered to his back, “Where are your manners?”
They took the hint and Jelani led them to the registration desk, where she attended to the business at hand, leaving Allie to answer the question posed.
“How is my son? Is he as good as he tells me?”
Allie read concern, or maybe it was fear. “He’s doing far better than I’d expected, actually. He has a good head on his shoulders.”
Mariposa’s worry lines disappeared, replaced with a look of relief.
“It is because he has you to guide him, I think.”
“Or maybe it’s because he had you to guide him before he got there.”
Wistfulness stole over Mariposa’s features. “He was always a good boy. A good son.”
Allie could believe that. She couldn’t imagine him going through that pre-teen stage where he rebelled, causing the kind of gray hair she’d given her parents. She’d been a little bit wild. In hindsight, she’d chalked it up to her mother’s re-entry into their lives when she was sixteen. There was a residue of anger that she’d stored while her mother was married to Jasper that exploded when that marriage failed and Ida moved back in. At least when Mateo’s father had left, he left for good. It was done, dealt with, accepted. Moving on was never an option for her. She still wasn’t convinced her mother was back for the duration.
When Jelani joined them, she handed over a card key. “Room 434.” She handed another to Mariposa. “I thought it easier if you stayed at the same hotel as us. You’re right next door in room 436. Do you have any luggage with you?”
“I made plans to stay in a casa particular, and that is where I left my things. I will have to retrieve them after we eat.” She looked at Allie to explain. “It is a private guesthouse. It allows for extra income for the family.”
“Mateo told me about them, said you converted your house to accommodate renters.”
“We were only able to legalize it when the laws were loosened up. We could have been fined for doing so before that. I took the risk because it was the only way to make sure Mateo had what he needed to play ball.”
“He told me he went to a state-sponsored sports academy. They didn’t provide for the athletes?”
“The state only provides for so much. There was one time he had two left-foot cleats. He had to trade some of his equipment to another player for a right one. It took me some time before I could afford to replace his sports cup. He not only had to protect his base, he had to protect his man parts.”
No wonder nothing unbalanced him. He’d had to play under some harsher conditions than she could have imagined.
“I don’t understand. People here look so cheerful and there’s such scarcity.”
Mariposa’s expression turned pinched.
“We were taught to be resolvers, encouraged to get by with what we have. For the good of the country. We survived, but I want something better for us, and you have provided that. I will be eternally grateful.”
Unease flowed through Alicia. She didn’t like this subterfuge, but she’d made a promise and meant to keep it.
Jelani suggested, “Let’s take up our bags, freshen up, and then we can find somewhere to eat.”
Allie asked, “Are you coming up with us?”
“No. I have heard Americans like their privacy. I will wait here.”
“You’ve heard right, but I don’t mind. It’ll give us a chance to talk, get to know each other.”
“I would like that. Mateo has told me so very little. A
s a mother, I want… I—”
“To judge for yourself?”
“No. Not judge. Mateo has a good eye for character. As a mother I want to know his heart is safe.”
Allie wished she could guarantee it was. They hadn’t gone into this for love but for expediency, so his heart should have been safe. Now, she wasn’t so sure. They’d fallen into a false sense of matrimonial bliss, choosing to be together whenever they could. She was even going home early to be with him. Was his heart in danger of being broken? She hoped not. He knew where she stood. Didn’t he? She shook off the thought that she’d been blurring the lines lately with her actions.
Mariposa’s expression was hopeful. Was getting to know her smart or would it create a bigger problem once the time came for the divorce?
As they crossed the tiled patio, she wondered how she’d gotten here.
Doesn’t matter. You promised to play a role so play it.
She linked her arm through her mother-in-law’s as they stepped into the elevator and Mariposa smiled generously. When she keyed the door open, she walked into a modern room with iron rod bed frame, mosaic tiled floors and a window that she knew would face the street. It was elegant and contemporary with a flat-screen TV and coffee machine. Mariposa went and opened the white-louvered door letting in the late-afternoon sun and the sounds of the bustling city below. There was no mistaking where she was. It wasn’t Boston, with the strait-laced, puritanical ethic. Men and women were, quite literally, dancing in the street.
She went to the open space, to stand beside Mariposa, who was chuckling. “We are a gregarious people. With nothing better to do, we congregate, interact, make friends with everyone we meet. It is the network we build that helps us get things done here. It is changing, but slowly.”