Vivo Movie Novelization

by Ximena Hastings

  Chapter One One of a Kind

  It was a beautiful day in Havana, Cuba. The ocean waves danced lightly on the shore, while the people of the city started waking. Locals began opening up their shops as tourists strolled the colorful streets.

  In the Plaza Vieja, an old man named Andrés started setting up his music stand with his kinkajou, Vivo. They had been playing music together ever since Vivo arrived in Havana several years ago. The two of them had grown to become best friends and musical partners.

  Andrés grabbed his harmonica and then turned to Vivo.

  “Are you ready?” Andrés asked Vivo.

  Vivo nodded, and then the two of them began to perform.

  As soon as they started playing, the streets of Havana came to life. Andrés and Vivo played maracas, drums, a guitar—they played it all! Vivo even joined Andrés in singing! As they continued to play, more and more people started gathering around the plaza. Andrés and Vivo had played music together so long, Vivo could even finish Andrés’s musical phrases. They didn’t have to understand each other’s language, because music was their language!

  “Eso, Vivo!” Andrés cheered, as Vivo danced and hit the drums. The crowd began to clap as well, joining in the fun. This was the best part of Vivo’s day. He couldn’t imagine a life without music, or a life without Andrés.

  “Bravo!” cried the audience when Andrés and Vivo finished playing.

  “Good show, Vivo!” Andrés said.

  Vivo chirped in agreement.

  Andrés put his arm around Vivo’s back and then the two of them sat to look at the audience. Andrés peeled a mango for Vivo, and the two of them ate peacefully side-by-side, enjoying the bustle of the plaza. People came and went, most of them accustomed to seeing the old man and his kinkajou together, some of them stopping by to take pictures or ask about their instruments.

  Vivo loved watching Andrés describe his instruments or play small tunes for kids. Andrés was the reason Vivo fell in love with music, after all. Andrés’s passion and true love of music was so inspiring to Vivo. Andrés was the best teacher, and there was no one else like him.

  The duo finished up their snack and then went off to the Malecón wall, where they’d have their next performance of the day.

  Vivo grinned. He couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the day had in store!

  Chapter Two The Letter

  While Andrés and Vivo were preparing for their next performance, a man suddenly ran up to them. “Oiga! Andrés! You have a letter!” the man, named Montoya, said. Montoya was Andrés and Vivo’s neighbor. He was a friendly man with a warm smile, who had a kind heart and a fierce spirit. He ran over to them and passed the letter along.

  “Gracias, amigo,” Andrés said, thanking him before opening the letter.

  As soon as he opened it, Andrés suddenly turned pale. He held his hand up to his chest and then sat against the wall.

  “Marta? But how can this be?” Andrés asked, in shock.

  Who is Marta? Vivo wondered to himself.

  Vivo hopped over to Andrés and tried to take a peek at the letter, but had no luck. Overhead, Vivo heard seagulls crying out and wondered if they felt how Andrés looked.

  Andrés began to read the letter aloud.

  Mi amor, Andrés…

  What words can I write in a letter after being separated for so many years? As I prepare for retirement, I have been flooded with memories of the beautiful music we made together. I don’t know if you can forgive my silence, but nothing would mean more to me than for us to sing together again. My farewell concert is next week at the Mambo Cabana in Miami on June 16th at 9:00. If you are there with your tres, I’ll know you feel the same. I hope it’s not too late.

  Amor, Marta

  Andrés looked up from reading, his eyes wide with surprise. But he was not as surprised as Vivo was. He had no idea Andrés used to play music with anyone else!

  “I can’t believe this. Marta Sandoval… writing to me after all these years,” Andrés said slowly.

  “Did you say Marta Sandoval?” a passerby asked.

  Soon, other people start crowding around and word quickly spread about Marta’s final show. Everyone was talking excitedly. Marta Sandoval was one of the most famous singers, and she rarely performed! The fact that this would be her last show sent everyone in a dizzying panic.

  “You have to go,” Mrs. Flores, the shopkeeper below Andrés’s apartment, urged.

  Other people nodded in agreement.

  “You can perform together one last time!” another person agreed.

  “I’m too old. I can’t go to Miami,” Andrés said in resignation.

  “Of course, you can, amigo,” Montoya replied. “We’ll all chip in. We’re going to send you to Miami!”

  The crowd gathered around Andrés and Vivo started to clap and cheer. Then they started to chip in whatever money they could.

  Andrés shook his head, but slowly, he seemed to be warming up to the idea. Imagine a trip to the Mambo Cabana to see Marta after all these years, Andrés thought. I never dreamed this day would happen.

  No one noticed as Vivo jumped and shrieked behind Andrés, still trying to figure out who Marta was and why Andrés had to leave in order to see her.

  Chapter Three Marta

  Later that afternoon, Andrés was too shaken to speak. It wasn’t until that evening that Andrés pulled out a dusty old box from his closet. He blew the dust away and set it down carefully on the floor. The box was covered in small stickers with different venue names on them. Vivo had never seen it before, but clearly, this box had a lot of history.

  “Marta,” Andrés whispered, tracing the letter M on the box.

  Then Andrés took a deep breath and opened it. Dust flew everywhere, but inside, the items looked pristine. There were dozens of record albums with Andrés’s face on them, and there was someone else’s face on the albums too… Marta. There was a poster announcing their first concert at the Tropicana. Vivo had never seen Andrés smile so widely in any picture or in real life! There were what seemed like hundreds of newspaper clippings with their pictures, and glowing reviews about the great duo of Andrés and Marta. But mostly there were pictures of the two of them together. Andrés looked so happy in all of them, and he also looked very much in love.

  Vivo picked up one of the album covers.

  Andrés smiled sadly. “Marta was the toast of Havana. No one in Cuba could sing like she did. Everyone fell head over heels in love with her… including me. But I never told her how I felt,” Andrés said, looking at the album cover with Vivo. “I wanted to keep things professional. I was just the musician playing piano, after all. She was always the real star.”

  Andrés picked up another picture and then gazed off into the distance, remembering a memory of the two of them together.

  “One night, I decided my moment had come. I had finally gathered up the courage to tell Marta I loved her. But then a promoter from the United States interrupted us, offering Marta a chance of a lifetime—to perform at the Mambo Cabana in Miami. It was her dream come true,” Andrés said, sighing sadly. “I knew I would be stopping her if I told her how I felt. So, I let her go. I let her go, Vivo.”

  Andrés placed the picture against his chest and hung his head. Then he walked over to his balcony and looked out over Havana. The city was still buzzing at that time of night. It had a soft glow, and there was music in the air. Inside the apartment, though, it was cold and dark. It felt empty.

  Andrés turned back inside and pulled out his tres, his three-stringed guitar. He began playing a song.

  Vivo watched Andrés intently, still mesmerized by all the items in the box. One by one, he picked them up, wondering how much of his friend’s lif
e he had missed. How much he hadn’t asked about. Vivo had so many questions, but he knew he had to give his friend some space. He listened as Andrés continued to play the song. Vivo was amazed at how very musically talented his best friend was.

  When Andrés had finished playing the song, he looked over at Vivo.

  “When Marta left, my love grew. I didn’t know any other way to express it, so I wrote her a song. She would never hear this song and it’s been too painful to play. Until now,” Andrés said.

  Andrés looked at the handwritten song longingly. On the top of the envelope it read, Para mi amor, Marta.

  For my love? Vivo thought. Wow. This Marta must have been pretty special!

  Suddenly, Andrés’s mood changed. He leapt up on his feet and clapped his hands together, determined.

  “This is it, Vivo. We have a second chance!” Andrés exclaimed.

  “Second what now?” Vivo chirped.

  Andrés didn’t understand Vivo’s noises and sounds, but he continued anyway.

  “We are going to the Mambo Cabana! We are going to play this song for Marta so she will finally know that I love her. It’s the only way!” Andrés said, pulling out his suitcase.

  “Oh… wow… you’re serious!” Vivo said.

  “I know you’re excited, too, chiquito,” Andrés said, smiling.

  “No! You’ve got me all wrong! I’m not excited!” Vivo said loudly. Andrés looked at him, confused. “We’re plaza musicians. Just two small-town guys. We can’t play in Miami!”

  Vivo was so upset he had to leave the room. He climbed out on the balcony and reached for the drain pipe to climb up to the roof. He often went there when he wanted to be alone.

  Vivo continued grumbling to himself. He could tell Marta was important to Andrés, but he just couldn’t understand why they had to leave their home to see her.

  What is he thinking?! Vivo said to himself. We can’t just go all the way to Miami! It’s been, like, sixty years! What difference will one little song make now?

  Vivo looked down at the plaza where he and Andrés met. It was empty now, but the memories came flooding back to Vivo.

  There was the time Vivo climbed down a tree to hear Andrés play music, the time Andrés gave Vivo his first instrument and Vivo somehow knew exactly what to do. And then there was the first time they played together. It was like magic. Vivo knew then that even though he was not from Havana, this was his home. And Andrés had agreed. He had taken Vivo in as his own and cared for him. He always looked out for him.…

  Vivo sighed heavily. He couldn’t understand why Andrés would want to give all that up to go to Miami, but he knew he had to look out for his friend’s best interests, too. He had to support him, even if that meant going to Miami.

  Vivo climbed back down off the roof and went into the apartment, where Andrés was sitting in his armchair, sleeping. Vivo walked over quietly and removed his glasses before placing a warm blanket on his friend.

  In the corner, the suitcase lay open and empty.

  Well, that suitcase isn’t going to pack itself, Vivo thought. He walked over to the closet and started to pack for their journey. If his best friend wanted to go to Miami to fulfill his dreams, then that’s what the two of them would do.

  Chapter Four Adiós

  The next morning, Vivo awoke to a bright ray of sunlight that warmed his belly. He rubbed his eyes and stretched his legs. He was ready to help his friend get to Marta! Vivo hopped down off his bed and opened the balcony doors, shining more light into the room. Already, the plaza outside was bustling with noise and music.

  I’ll miss Havana, Vivo thought. But today is the day! And it’s a beautiful day to travel!

  Vivo walked over to Andrés, who still looked like he was sleeping. Andrés had fallen asleep holding the song he played the night before.

  “Good morning, amigo! Look, I’m sorry about last night, but you shouldn’t be sleeping anymore. We have to get going!” Vivo said.

  But Andrés didn’t move.

  Vivo tugged on Andrés’s pant leg, but Andrés still didn’t wake up.

  Suddenly, Vivo froze. There was a strange look on Andrés’s face. He looked peaceful, but too peaceful.

  “Andrés?” Vivo asked. He touched Andrés’s hand gently, and then recoiled quickly. Andrés’s hand was very cold.

  Suddenly, Vivo realized that Andrés had passed away in his sleep. Vivo didn’t know what to do.

  Just then, Andrés’s hand dropped Marta’s song, sending it flying into the air coming in from the balcony windows.

  “Oh no!” Vivo shouted.

  But it was too late. A gust of wind picked up the song written on the piece of paper, sending it out the window!

  Vivo leaped into action, chasing the piece of paper as it soared in the sky. He jumped from each rooftop until it made its way down the street. Vivo ran down to the sidewalk, never taking his eyes off the piece of paper. At every corner, someone threatened to get in his way—tourists snapping photographs of palm trees, shop owners calling out their daily specials, locals preparing fish on counters—but somehow, Vivo managed to dodge them all.

  Finally, just when Vivo was starting to lose energy, he caught up to the flying paper! It landed on the plaza floor, just steps away from Vivo and Andrés’s performance spot.

  Vivo clutched the song and held it close to him. He could not believe he would never see his friend Andrés again. What was Vivo going to do without his best friend?

  “Adiós, my friend,” Vivo said sadly, looking up toward the sky.

  Chapter Five The Vigil

  The next few days were difficult for Vivo. He spent most of that time playing Andrés’s favorite songs and instruments, in honor of him.

  Soon after, a vigil was held in honor of Andrés. Vivo saw the usual group of friends Andrés had, but also a lot of new faces. They all gathered around the Plaza Vieja. Some people hugged as others wiped tears away.

  Montoya was standing in front of a palm tree, holding a piece of paper. As more people started to gather around, Montoya cleared his throat, ready to speak.

  Vivo clambered up a tree to listen.

  “Havana lost a good friend in Andrés Hernandez. His music filled our city and our hearts,” Montoya said. “Señora? Would you like to say a few words?” Montoya gestured to a woman with shiny black hair in a long black dress. She nodded and walked forward in front of the crowd.

  “Gracias,” the woman said, thanking him. “I am Rosa Hernandez. Andrés was my late husband’s uncle. My daughter Gabriela and I came all the way from Florida to be here today, to honor him. He meant a lot to my husband, and to our family. I am sad this is our first trip to Cuba.”

  Rosa patted her eyes as tears started to gather. Vivo felt emotional, too.

  “Psst!” a girl whispered up to Vivo. She was short in stature, with wild purple hair and stacks of bracelets covering her arms. She wore large, bright pink glasses, and all her clothes were very mismatched.

  Vivo looked over at her incredulously, shocked anyone would try to interrupt this moment.

  “That’s my mom,” the girl continued. “My name is Gabi. And you’re Vivo, right?”

  Vivo nodded, and then quickly turned his head back to Rosa, hoping Gabi would get the hint that he was trying to listen.

  “My husband’s connection to Cuba was never broken,” Rosa continued. “In fact, Tío Andrés inspired my husband to play music. And to teach music to our daughter. I guess you could say they had an unbreakable bond.”

  “Unbreakable bonds,” Gabi said to Vivo. “That’s what we got. We’re family, right?”

  Vivo looked at Gabi, slanting his eyes.

  Gabi saw him looking back at her and took that to mean he was on the same page.

  “See?! You get it! I have an idea.… Why don’t you come live with me in Florida?!” Gabi suggested loudly.

  Vivo continued gaping at Gabi, who clearly was unaware that other people were starting to notice her talking.

  “
Look, I have my backpack with me! Just hop in and you can come home with us tomorrow. Come on!” Gabi pointed at her colorful backpack. She reached over to help him in, prompting Vivo to chirp angrily at her and run into the shadows of the plaza, where he could hide.

  “Wait! Vivo! Where are you going?” Gabi whispered loudly.

  Finally, Rosa looked over at Gabi and shook her head. Gabi’s cheeks flushed and she stayed quiet, but still studied the plaza, searching for Vivo.

  “Gabriela and I want to thank all of you for receiving us with open arms. Gracias,” Rosa finished.

  Then Rosa walked toward a picture of Andrés and laid a flower by it, before going over to Gabi and hugging her closely.

  One by one, the mourners started to gather around the picture frame, leaving their own flowers or memories of Andrés by its side. Montoya played one of Andrés’s songs, and people listened, crying and hugging each other.

  It was almost dark before Vivo saw the last of the group turn away, leaving behind flickering candlelight.

  Vivo walked over to Andrés’s picture and sat in front of it. He looked around, teary-eyed, still not believing that his best friend was gone. And though it hurt Vivo to do it, he decided to sing one more song in honor of his friend and musical partner.

  This is for you, Andrés, Vivo thought.

  Vivo sang and sang, until his heart felt like it would burst. Soon enough, light started descending onto the plaza. The night had turned into morning. Vivo watched as people walked around the plaza, starting their mornings like it was a perfectly normal day, even though Vivo felt far from normal.

  Just then, Marta’s song fell out! Vivo picked it up quickly, not wanting to nearly lose it a second time. Suddenly, he had an idea. He felt determined for the first time in a long time. He knew what he had to do.

  Chapter Six The Idea

  Vivo was sitting on the Malecón wall, watching Gabi nearby, who was attempting to play the harmonica. Rosa was packing up their suitcases, making sure everything was in order before she and Gabi returned to Florida.