Broken Paradise

by Cecilia Samartin

  She stared straight ahead at the empty road as if in a trance. Her soda was getting warm, and the condensation of the glass moistened her fingers. “Is it so obvious?”

  “It’s obvious that you’re very sick.”

  She nodded, still not looking at me. “I’ve known for a few months now.”

  “And you haven’t seen a doctor?”

  “A doctor can’t do anything for me now. Nothing that will do me any good.”

  Alicia finished her soda with long slow swallows, the muscles in her thin neck rolling with every gulp.

  “Are you just going to wait around to die? You have to do something. We have to find a way to get you out of here now. Tonight!” My empty glass slipped out of my hands and rolled into the gutter. “Damn it, Alicia. You should’ve left on the freighter with Lucinda when you had a chance.”

  “I couldn’t leave Tony.”

  Alicia stood up and I followed her. She was walking down the street, calm and slow, with me weeping like a baby next to her. It had cooled off a bit and some people were venturing out of their crumbling houses. By now I was hysterical as I begged Alicia to do as I said. People threw me incurious glances. They’d seen despair grow into hysteria as often as they’d seen the dawn grow into the glaring scorch of midday. There was nothing unusual in my emotional display, and it did little to move Alicia. She nodded and patted my shoulder as we walked, much as she would do to a child crying over an ice cream.

  I stopped and sat down on the curb with my head in my arms. I stared at the dust covering my feet, my tears streaking water trails down to my ankles.

  Alicia sat next to me with a sigh. I was tempted to tell her that Lucinda knew everything. That in trying to protect her precious child she was actually torturing her.

  She whispered in my ear as she had when we were children and she wanted me to follow her in some childish antic. “I’m not afraid to die, you know.” I turned to see her peeking at me through my arms. “I knew the risk I was taking, but I was so crazy to make money I didn’t care. I always considered myself to be lucky, but I guess this time my luck ran out.”

  “Are you sure you have it? It could be something else…”

  Alicia shook her head resolutely. “Berta and I have seen it too many times. Many people we know, and many more we don’t, have been sent away. We’re not sure where they go, only that they never return. Alicia stretched her thin legs out in front of her so they were poking out into the narrow street. I remembered how her legs had looked at fifteen, shapely and strong, the legs of an excellent swimmer.

  “Perhaps there are treatments….”

  “Not here, not for me. The only thing that matters is that my Tony and Lucinda are safe. The rest will take care of itself as it always does.” She placed her hand on my knee. “Let’s go or Ricardo will be gone, and I’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

  He waited at the end of the path leading to the side entrance of the prison, his greasy face contorted as he tried to make out who I was against the glare of the sun. He cocked his head to one side and rested his right hand on his pistol. In his left hand, he held a white envelope that flashed like a mirror. As we got closer I could see his heavily pock-marked face and that his eyebrows joined in the middle to form a perfect V. His smile revealed yellow teeth and thick swollen gums speckled with tobacco.

  Alicia greeted him like a sister with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek. She was genuinely happy to see him and presented me as the cousin from the United States she’d been telling him about. We shook hands, and I handed the bag of provisions to Alicia who promptly turned it over to Ricardo.

  “I brought him an extra roll of toilet paper this time,” she said, happily eyeing the letter that was still in Ricardo’s hand, but he was busy inspecting the bag and his eyes widened when he saw the soap I put in. Irish Spring.

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Here you are,” he said, handing her the letter. “He finished it this morning.”

  Alicia took the letter and tucked it inside her blouse. “How is he this week? Have you heard any news?”

  He wrenched his head out of the bag. “I hear rumors all the time, but who knows? They might let him out tomorrow or maybe next year.” He shoved his head back into the bag.

  “There’s a letter for Tony at the bottom,” Alicia said.

  Ricardo peered at us both. Sweat was creeping into his eyes, causing him to blink nervously. With the bag slung over one arm, he took several steps back toward the shade of the guardhouse. He pointed to me with his thick hairy finger. “How long you staying?”

  Alicia answered before I had a chance to. “She’ll be leaving next week, so I might send Berta with next week’s package.”

  He nodded his approval upon hearing this, and waved us off.

  Alicia walked back home with renewed vigor. She was delighted to have a letter from Tony over her heart, pounding new life into her, but the meeting with Ricardo was holding me back from my usual pace.

  “Do you think Tony gets the things you send him?” I asked.

  Alicia smiled. “You must think I’m pretty stupid, don’t you?”

  “I would never think that.”

  She laughed and patted the letter to her heart. “I know Tony gets some of the things because he’s written me so, though I’m sure Ricardo keeps the best for himself. But even if he kept it all I wouldn’t care because I know that, if nothing else, he keeps an eye on Tony for me.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that Ricardo might never want Tony to leave so he can keep getting his packages?”

  Alicia stopped in her tracks. “I never thought of that.” Then a smile shot across her face. “What if I offer him a reward when Tony is released?”

  “I didn’t mean you should do that…”

  “Of course. It’s a splendid idea. If what you say is true, then my Tony will be out very soon. And I have the money, Nora. I’ll give Ricardo his reward. I’ve given him everything else.”

  When we arrived home, Alicia closed the curtain of the only window, went directly to the couch and pulled it back. In the wall behind the couch was a small hole stuffed with wadded napkins and tissues, discolored yellow from the constant moisture in the air. She quickly picked out the paper and shoved her hand inside. After very little probing she retrieved a small metal box. Beckoning for me to come closer, she opened it. It was filled with banknotes, mostly American, but some Canadian and German as well. She insisted I count them, and I estimated there was close to five thousand dollars.

  “I told you I could afford it,” she said proudly. “Aside from Lucinda, you’re the only person who knows about this money.”

  “How about Berta?”

  Alicia shook her head, looking a little ashamed. “It’s not that I distrust her, but I’ve seen desperation do things to people. I can’t take any chances with this money.”

  Carefully, she put the box back in its place and restuffed the hole. I helped her push the couch back against the wall, and she promptly collapsed onto it.

  By the time I finished helping Lucinda prepare a supper of cheese and crackers, Alicia had fallen asleep. We ate quickly, and I covered her with a light blanket before tiptoeing out into the balmy evening.

  The music from the hotels reached us soon enough as we walked arm in arm along the malecón. Lucinda skipped next to me when she wasn’t shuffling her feet to the rhythms. The mist of the ocean reached over the wall like a soft wave of wonder and enveloped us. My feet began to follow Lucinda’s and soon we were dancing together by the light of dim street lamps that illuminated the mist like tiny crystals suspended in air. From a distance we could see the arched windows of the Intercontinental Hotel, with guests dancing on the polished floor to the same music.

  I pictured Alicia arriving to work at a place like this, turning the eye of every man in the room as always, tolerating their disgusting caresses for the hope of escape.

  “What’s wrong, Tía Nora?” Lucinda was tugging on my arm. Without realizing it, I’d stopped da
ncing.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I guess I’m a little tired too.”

  We strolled back with our backs to the lights along the malecón. Soon we heard only the crashing of the waves and the occasional cry of a seagull.

  “Tía Nora?”

  “Yes, my love.”

  “Is Mami going to die?” She asked the question so lightly that it almost floated off on the breeze coming in from the sea.

  I struggled to find an answer that would be honest, but not cruel. “We all have to die sometime.”

  “I know. That’s what Mami told me when Tía Panchita died, but Tía Panchita was old and Mami isn’t old yet, and she wants to go to the United States even more than I do.”

  My throat tightened with sadness as I tried to find my voice. “Why do you want to go there?” I asked.

  “Because Mami says hope died in Cuba a long time ago. She always says it’s possible to live without soap and toothpaste, but you can’t live without hope.”

  27

  I SLIPPED OUT IN THE EARLY MORNING TO CALL JEREMY. HE’D BE in a dead sleep, but I couldn’t take the chance he wouldn’t be home. During our last phone call he said he missed me so much he was almost driven to writing poetry, and that I should spare the world this tragedy and get home soon. I pictured him in our king-size bed, sleeping with one arm under his head and the other clutching the pillow where I should be. He wouldn’t like my phone call; in fact, he’d hate it.

  “You’re staying how long?”

  “I’m not really sure. All I know is I can’t leave Lucinda like this to take care of Alicia by herself. And I’m afraid they’re going to take her away and lock her up somewhere. If they find out Alicia is sick, God knows what they’ll do to her. It’s crazy, Jeremy. It’s crazy what they do. And…”

  “OK. Calm down, sweetheart. Let’s just think about this for a minute.”

  My heart was racing as I waited for a solution to spring from the silence on the other end of the phone. The sun had risen from the sea and a brilliant ray of intense heat was burning the top of my ankles, and it wasn’t even 7:00 yet. The phone was sweaty in my hand. “Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m just thinking…What if you come home as you planned, and then go back when it seems that Alicia is…When it seems that she needs your help more than she does now?”

  A sob exploded from the back of my throat. “I want to be with you more than anything, but I can’t leave them. Please understand. I’m all they have. I can’t let them take Alicia. I can’t let them take Lucinda.”

  As I spoke, a line was forming behind me and I was reminded that this was the only working phone for several blocks.

  “Please, Nora, call me tomorrow or as soon as you can. We have to talk about this.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I hung up and turned around to find a group of tattered Cubans watching me through the fog of a poor night’s sleep in stifling heat. They studied my new sandals and clean clothes. My slim watch flashed in the sun, and I could sense them wondering what this foreigner with plenty of money for a hotel room with its own phone was doing using the public one. Why wasn’t I frolicking on the best beaches with my oversized beach towel and a chilled fruit salad waiting for my breakfast? Why wasn’t I smiling like all the other tourists they saw stumbling about the streets after a night out, throwing change at the street musicians like they were skinny little birds? Instead, I stood before them whimpering like a child.

  An older black woman approached me. She’d been waiting in line with the others, and I could see that she was going to scold me for taking so much time. I began to search my purse for something I might give her. I’d left my money at the house, but even a pack of tissue paper or a stick of gum would be better than nothing. I produced a pen and a roll of mints and held them out for her, but she made no move for them. She was gazing at my face and looking me up and down and shaking her head in disbelief. I waited for her reprimand and hung my head to see her bare feet and bony ankles, swollen and flea bitten.

  “If I weren’t looking at you with my own eyes I wouldn’t believe it.” The golden voice flowed like honey into my ears; warm sweet honey that makes everything taste better and makes all the cares of the world float away on a soft current.

  I looked up and stared into the crinkled black face and black shiny eyes that were already alive with tears. I clasped the large rough hands held out to me and buried my head into her shoulder as her arms came around me and patted my back reassuringly as they had so many years ago.

  “Oh, Beba,” I cried. “Where have you been?”

  “Right here, child. I’ve been right here all the time.”

  Beba lived only a few short blocks from Alicia’s house in a small one-room apartment that overlooked a narrow alley. She was on the third floor and as we climbed up past the second floor the heat became suffocating. Because of the continuous heat and humidity, mold stained the inner corridors, an earthy blend of green, brown, and rust, like the moss that grows in the deepest regions of the jungle; it was the color common to most old buildings that hadn’t been painted since the revolution. Finding Beba was a miracle I didn’t dare hope for since we’d left, although I still thought of her when I felt most alone and afraid. How many times I’d imagined myself with her at the sink, slicing onions and humming one of her exotic African tunes, I did not know. By the time we reached the third floor, I felt a calmness I hadn’t felt since I was a child.

  She told me to have a seat on one of two metal folding chairs and busied herself at the single burner by the window. Her hands trembled as she measured out the coffee and sugar for our café con leche. As she worked, she told me that for the past ten years she’d been living in this apartment, observing the neighbors that came and went like noisy spirits through her one window to the alley. She had a good job rolling cigars in a factory just outside Havana until three years ago when the factory closed down. But she added that her arthritis would’ve forced her to quit anyway, and now she got by on a measly pension and her monthly rations that amounted to barely five dollars a month.

  “I thought of your family often,” she said in a shaky voice that I didn’t want to hear.

  “We thought of you all the time, Beba. I know Mami tried to find you during the first few years after we left, but nobody knew where you were.”

  “People get lost here very easy,” she said with a sober shake of her head.

  She walked slowly across the small room with a cup in each hand, careful to give me the one that wasn’t chipped. I accepted it gratefully, knowing that the coffee and the sugar and milk were difficult to come by and greedily rationed. She didn’t skimp at all on the ingredients, however. The café con leche was thick and rich and perfectly balanced as I always remembered it to be when she made it. Tears welled in my eyes. This was the home I remembered; sitting with Beba and waiting for her to tell me what was on her mind as I’d always done. Her way was as direct and delicious as the hot cup of milk and coffee that I held in my hands. It cleared the head and the heart more efficiently than the strongest caffeine.

  “You’re a woman, Norita,” she said gazing at me with misty eyes. “A beautiful woman, like I knew you would be. How’s Martica?”

  “She’s married now and has two children. She gave us a hard time during her teenage years.”

  Beba laughed and slapped her knee. “And how about you? Did you give anyone a hard time?”

  “Oh, no. I was a very good girl all the time. You wouldn’t have recognized me.”

  Beba was thoughtful. “I imagined it the other way. Maybe something in that new country made you trade places? Maybe it confused you in your head a bit like it does when you hit strange weather? When it’s too hot like today I can’t think. I can’t think at all.” Beba sipped at her café con leche peering at me over the rim of her cup all the while.

  I told her about life in the United States, and about growing up the
re and Jeremy. I told her how Papi and Mami didn’t want me to come, but that all the years I’d been away I’d thought of little else. The morning passed like a tropical storm as I told her all these things, and she listened with the wise nod of her head and a flickering smile that was more sad than happy. Then she told me of her life as she stared out the window at the molding wall. She spoke mostly of her daughter who joined the military and was an avid Communist even in this day when so many had lost faith in the revolution.

  “We get along all right these days, but I didn’t speak to Hortensia for two years,” she said. “And I’m glad too, cause for a while there I was afraid she’d have me arrested. A lot of crazy kids all stirred up by that man betrayed their parents, let me tell you.” Beba waved a crooked finger in my direction, and I couldn’t help but smile. It amused me that she, like Mami, still referred to Castro as that man.

  “I should call him that dog.” Beba said when I mentioned this to her. “Even that’s too good for him. He’s shit on this country worse than any back street dog would do.”

  I told Beba about Alicia and Lucinda and she nodded gravely, not in the least bit surprised. “She’s right not to see the doctor. They’ll just send her away and God only knows what’ll happen to her child. I’ve seen it many times.”

  “Their only chance is for Tony to get out of prison soon.”

  Beba pushed her chair against the wall and leaned back, crossing her arms and locking her gaze onto me as she would when she’d caught me in a lie. “What makes her think he’s getting out?”

  “Alicia gets letters from him all the time, and she seems to think he has a chance. It’s the only hope that keeps her alive, Beba.” Just saying her name made me feel like I was ten years old again.

  “Could be,” Beba said pushing out her bottom jaw. “Maybe he’ll be one of the lucky ones. I hope so, for her sake.”

  I didn’t want to leave, but it was almost noon and I knew Alicia and Lucinda would wonder where I’d been all morning. I promised Beba to return soon and to bring her many things.