Broken Paradise

by Cecilia Samartin

  José folded his thick forearms and shook his head slowly. “I began to hate myself. Every time I smiled and agreed, it felt as though I was swallowing my own bile. I turned down dinner invitations and came to know other writers who weren’t afraid of the truth. They were using their writings to educate people and light a fire under those shackled by the day to day challenge of survival. We felt we’d become like Castro’s poorly kept pets, chained to the fence out back and fed on the crumbs from the master’s table.”

  “Together we wanted to urinate and defecate all over the polished floors and fine carpets of Castro’s new hotels that were popping up along the beaches. We wanted to bark and howl like wolves when he insulted the people with his droning, meaningless spectacles of absolute and thoughtless power. We did this by writing articles, brief and to the point. Just as I’d misled the people with my writings before, now I intended to tell them the truth.”

  “They took some of us from our houses at night, and others boldly by daylight. Tony was in the cell next to mine. He was a man of amazing strength, a natural leader, and because of that I knew they’d never let him out. He talked to me when I decided to take my own life before Castro took it from me. But Tony spoke of God and what we’d do when we got out of prison and how we had to keep ourselves strong. I used to tease him when he talked like this and ask him what kind of a revolutionary believes in God. Tony always said that even in the early days he was only a revolutionary from the neck up. From the neck down he’d always been a good Catholic boy.” José shuddered in the warm air and looked out at the open sea all around. “I owe him my life.”

  Lucinda’s small voice came from the far corner of the boat. “Did Papi miss us, Mr. Gómez?”

  “Every day he told me how much he missed you and your mother. He’d been planning to escape since the day he was imprisoned. Nobody knew it except for me and he persuaded me to join him. Our plan was to wait until we were assigned to work near an area of dense vegetation where we could slip away and get lost in the jungle. The guards were disorganized and lazy and we had a good chance if they didn’t notice our absence for an hour or more. It was almost a year before the perfect opportunity came. We were to repair a road up in Matanzas, and Tony said he knew the area well. The group of men assigned was large, there was well over a hundred of us, and the road bordered the jungle.”

  “We didn’t have time to think about it too much. When they slowed down so we could climb down from the back of the truck without falling over each other, I took my place in line and Tony motioned I should go first. I stepped back into a ditch in the road. The guard assigned to our detail was the laziest of all. I was sure I’d be able to make it into the trees before he noticed I was gone, but I wasn’t so lucky. He saw me and was raising his gun to shoot when Tony was on top of him in an instant, and I ran as fast as I could into the jungle. I ran for hours and hid inside the hollow of a tree for three days and prayed like I’d never prayed before. Then I hitched a ride into Havana and found some friends who took me in. For two years, I’ve been hiding.”

  “What happened to Papi?”

  “Any aggression toward a guard is punishable by swift execution.” Manuel paused and considered his audience before speaking more gently. “I have no doubt your Papi met his death with honor and that his last thoughts were of you and your Mami.”

  Lucinda nodded and her sweet child’s voice spoke with a depth of knowing much more appropriate to an older and wiser person. “Mami always said Papi would find a way to take care of us. And now you’re here to take care of Tía Nora and me because Papi can’t be.”

  “You better believe I’ll take care of you. And you’ll live in freedom just like your Papi wanted you to,” José said, clearly moved.

  As if to toast to his resolution, José poured out an even ration of water for the three of us, and I sipped mine tentatively as if it were the finest champagne. I felt euphoric. Was it the expanse of stars over our heads? Was it the sugar in the orange still dancing on my tongue? I had no doubt we’d make it to freedom with little difficulty. We were miles from the Cuban shore by now. Beba would have called Jeremy and he would be expecting us home. He’d be wondering why I hadn’t called, but within a day or two I’d be calling from somewhere in Miami to tell him that we were safe and that we love him so very much.

  Lucinda was dozing, her head resting on her arm. It was only slightly chilly and I pulled the blanket that shielded us from the sun in the day up over her shoulders. Would Jeremy have remembered to prepare her room? How wonderful it would be to lay safe in his arms knowing that Lucinda was safe and sound with us in her own little room. It would be a yellow room, the color of the sun. I’d find her a good school right away, and the family would fall in love with her instantly as everybody always did. Of course, we’d have to adopt her as soon as possible.

  José wasn’t sleepy and his eyes shone as they searched the waters around us. He was watching out for huge ships and tankers that moved with silent speed through the water. The same ships that could rescue us in the day might destroy us by night.

  “What’s your real name?” I asked him after a long silence.

  “Manuel Alarcón. And yours?”

  “Nora García-McLaughlin.”

  “Ah, married to an American, are you?”

  I nodded and smiled at the thought of Jeremy, Tío Heremi, as Lucinda called him.

  “He’s a good man. I love him very much.”

  “He’ll be waiting for you then.”

  “Yes.” I thought of Jeremy’s easy smile and kind hazel eyes. Even after we were married I couldn’t look at him too long without feeling a hot blush spread all over me.

  José asked no more questions. He was a practical and focused man, and he scanned the ocean with a disciplined eye as he wound and unwound the fishing line around his finger.

  “Are you married?” I asked.

  “No.” he answered, without removing his eyes from the sea.

  “Why not?”

  He pressed his lips, the first sign of anxiety I’d seen cross his face. “Perhaps one day I’ll have the time and the energy to find a wife.”

  “Do you want her to be Cuban?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.” And it didn’t seem that he wanted to think of it now. “I always imagined she would be, but right now I’d settle for an American wife.”

  We talked for some time, although I did most of the talking. I told him of Alicia and how we’d grown up together and the promise I’d made to her before she died. We watched the stars rotate slowly through the night and I told him about how difficult it was to leave Cuba, and of my early struggles in the United States and with the American way of life. He agreed with me that the romance of Cuba was hard to resist, but that it had died for all Cubans, even those who remained in their homeland. Now all we had were memories and stories to keep the romance alive and that would have to be enough.

  We talked with long spaces in-between until the faint and delicate light of morning began to glow upon the horizon. “This is the direction we must go,” Manuel said. “Towards the rising sun. We’re doing well.”

  He repositioned the oars with the blankets draped over them as I dozed with Lucinda next to me. How could I feel so relaxed and positive about my life when we were out in the middle of the ocean with only a couple of days worth of water and just a little more food? Was I going crazy? And then I realized that it was probably the relief of having escaped and knowing that no matter what happened now, nobody was chasing us or trying to take Lucinda away. Perhaps death was just as close as the creaking boards beneath us, but we were free and it was a beautiful feeling.

  I told Manuel this and he stopped his work for an instant and stood up carefully in the dinghy so as not to rock it. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled into the fresh morning air. “One day Cuba will be free and returned to the people who love her most, and Castro’s lies will choke him like a noose around his neck!”

  I stood up next him. “
And when they bury him in the ground we’ll dance on his grave!”

  Lucinda awoke and yelled above us both, catching us unawares. “He’s a son of a bitch!”

  We laughed so hard that the boat rocked and we almost lost the oars. Then we observed the silent, undulating sea, unperturbed by our declarations.

  “I guess you’re right,” Manuel said. “No matter what happens now, we’re free.”

  36

  MANUEL MANAGED TO CATCH SEVERAL MORE FISH DURING THE next two days and the flesh dried quickly in the hot sun so we had plenty of food, but we were down to three oranges and our fresh water was running low. We decided to reduce the ration to only a quarter cup three times a day. If another day passed without spotting a ship we’d drink only twice a day. It wasn’t that we hadn’t seen any ships because we had, but they were too far away to see our little dinghy that, with the glare of sun on the water, probably looked like another piece of driftwood. If they’d been looking for us it might’ve been different, but they weren’t and we grew hoarse from yelling at these metal giants and weary from waving our arms when they passed.

  We made a flag from the blanket and one of the oars when the last ship came into view, but as we began to wave the blanket came loose and it fell into the sea. We spent most of the time the ship was in view trying to fish it back out of the water. This wasn’t just our flag, but our blanket at night and our protection from the sun in the day. It was hard to imagine surviving without it. Manuel was not discouraged. He was certain that before long another ship would pass shortly, and we’d secure our flag to avoid a similar accident.

  On the third day, not even one ship was sighted and an ominous wave of desperation hit us all. Manuel didn’t say it, but I knew he feared that we’d passed the channel where most of the ships passed. We began to worry that we were off course and drifting aimlessly. Every horrible outcome took shape in our minds, and we hardly spoke to each other for the next day and a half. The only thing that was exchanged between us was pieces of dried fish meat and cups of very little water. Manuel had further reduced the rations so we were barely able to moisten our lips. I noticed that he refused to take any water during the last round, and he’d suffered severe sunburns on his arms and neck because there wasn’t room for him under the blanket.

  Without thinking about it, I stripped off my shirt so he could wrap it around his neck and face. I was past any self-consciousness I would’ve normally felt. I was past worrying about anything but survival.

  The only thing that hadn’t turned on us was the weather. The sea remained mild in the day and night. Occasional swells gradually lifted our little boat before bringing us down, like a gentle mother placing her babe in its crib to sleep. One day when the sea was the stillest it had ever been and the only thing moving was the sweat rolling down my torso, I took off my shorts and slipped into the water. The ocean was cool and still and marvelous. I was smiling and refreshed when Manuel helped me back into the boat. He was angry, afraid even.

  “You shouldn’t have gone in. There are sharks all over these waters.”

  “I didn’t see any sharks.”

  “They see you.”

  I filled an empty bottle with ocean water and rinsed Lucinda’s hair and the rest of her with cool water. She closed her eyes and smiled. She’d stopped asking about the United States and about Tío Heremi, but now she asked if it was true that everyone in the United States had hot water for a bath. I assured her everyone did and that most people took showers every day and sometimes more than once if they felt like it.

  Manuel had stopped rowing in the day or night and we drifted with the tides. Most of the time he didn’t answer if we asked him a question unless it required only a one word response.

  “Would you like a piece of fish?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think we’re still in the right current?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to pour some water over you to cool you off?”

  “No.”

  “Do your shoulders hurt?”

  “No.”

  “Will it be long now?”

  “No.”

  I started to whisper to Lucinda without realizing it because I had the impression that speaking in a normal tone of voice was beginning to irritate Manuel. Sometimes he grimaced in pain while he slept. At others he laughed out loud. He continued to refuse water and to say that he was no longer thirsty. There was no arguing with him.

  That night I put two rations (the two that he had refused) in the cup that was already brown and stained. He slept with his mouth open and snored as loudly as a bear. Ever so slowly, I poured a thin stream of water a little at a time so that he couldn’t possibly choke. His mouth was hot and dry and absorbed the water immediately. Then I took the last orange and split it between Lucinda and myself, giving most of it to Lucinda who ate it without a word. Except for one dried fish, she knew as well as I, that this was the last food we had. We both knew Manuel would probably not fish again. In the last two days, he’d changed radically from a sober, self-assured man into a petulant, moody little boy. And there was a dryness creeping into his eyes, causing him to look rather like a lizard and I suspected I looked very much the same. Nevertheless, I wished I’d paid better attention to how he’d fished on that first day. What had he used for bait? How did he prepare the hook? He wouldn’t answer these questions in his present mood.

  I took the fishing pole that lay next to his sleeping form and inspected it closely. The only thing we had for bait was our last remaining food source. Would a piece of dry fish attract anything? I consulted with Lucinda in hushed whispers, and she agreed that it was worth a try. I took a fairly large piece of dried fish from the bag behind the seat and pierced it with the hook. Slowly and carefully, I lowered it into the water as I’d seen Manuel do that first day. I waited with my back against the opposite side of the boat.

  Manuel woke up an hour or so into my fishing and he stared at me with glassy eyes as though he couldn’t be sure if he was dreaming. It seemed the water I poured into his mouth had revived him a bit. That and the cool night air. Lucinda could hear he was awake; I knew by the way she repositioned her body slightly to face him.

  His voice was hoarse. “What did you use for bait?”

  “A piece of dry fish. That’s all that’s left.”

  “I’m sorry. I have no strength to help you.” He lay back down with eyes gaping open at the darkening sky. “I believe I may have failed you, Nora. You and Lucinda.”

  I moved the pole back and forth and up and down as I’d seen him do before. The bait was supposed to look lively. Our dried piece of fish should be looking spry and happy to be alive in the tropical sea if another bigger fish was ever going to go for it.

  “I know Tony would forgive me because he was that kind of man.” He went on with a droning voice and I realized that he didn’t care if anyone was going to answer him or not, he just needed to hear himself talk, but I didn’t want Lucinda to hear his fatalism. She had buried her head in her knees for most of the day and hardly spoken a word. Her head was up now and she was listening intently just when I would’ve wanted her to be asleep.

  “Don’t talk like that, Manuel. It’s not over yet.” I said.

  “Tony always said the same thing. He’d always talk me out of these hopeless moments. There was something about the way he talked that always made me listen. I used to tell him that he’d make an excellent preacher when he got out.”

  “Tony would want you to be strong and not lose hope. If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for his daughter. She needs you, Manuel, we both do.”

  “I know, but it should’ve been Tony here, not me. I can take fair knowledge of that to my grave.”

  I jerked hard on the pole. “Lucinda can hear you.”

  “She might as well know the truth,” he droned on. “I’ve always heard that before a person dies, there’s a certain premonition, a sense that it’s coming. If that’s true then…”

  �
�Shut up! Do you understand me?” I hit the pole hard against the side of the boat, making a sharp flat noise that would go nowhere in the thick humid air. We might as well have been in a padded cell. Manuel was silent and slowly turned on his side. I was worried that I had made him angry, and I didn’t know what he was capable of in a rage. What if he went insane? Would I have the strength and the will to push him overboard if he threatened Lucinda’s and my safety?

  He crossed his ankles and rolled up into a fetal position under the seat. I saw him watching us under the moonlight and caught the glint of one eyeball. It closed when I looked and opened when I turned back to my fishing. I could pretend I didn’t notice he was staring at me and he’d stop, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of turning to look because he reminded me of a rat waiting underneath the cupboard for the right moment to make his move, whatever that move might be.

  “There’s something in the water, Tía.” Lucinda’s voice caused me to jump and almost lose the fishing pole. “I hear it, and it’s swimming all around us.”

  I pulled in the pole and sat up straight to look around. The water was still calm and rolling away from us in gentle swirls, but I saw nothing, only a sliver of moonlight and the cloud cover almost obliterated that.

  Lucinda sat up straight as well, her expression electrified and almost twitching with concentration. “There it is again.”

  “I don’t hear anything, honey. Maybe it’s your imagination.” But just as I said this I heard a soft rap on the bottom of the boat very quickly followed by another.

  “They’re everywhere,” Lucinda said turning her head side to side as if she were equipped with some kind of radar. I stared into the ocean once again, and this time I saw it. There were shapes in the water that rose and fell in the shadows of the sea. They could be anything I wanted them to be: the Miami skyline, a huge air craft carrier, or a little pleasure craft close enough to touch with my fishing pole.