Havana Sunrise

by Kymberly Hunt

  Whatever the case was, he now seemed to need a drink just to wake up in the morning and another to go to sleep at night. He didn’t even want to think about the waking hours in between when he indulged more than ever. It’s okay, he constantly told himself. As long as it doesn’t get completely out of control. He only needed it to help him deal with the invasive public and to go on with his business until Nicole was nothing but a fleeting memory.

  He tried to devote all of his energy to his music, but the end results were less than satisfying. The recording sessions seemed long and arduous, the back-up singers were always off-key, the musicians weren’t in sync and his own voice lacked its usual depth.

  Everything seemed pointless. Other women were eager to fill the void, but they were now a source of irritation too.

  Late one night he returned home from Los Angeles and stepped on a note that had been slipped under the door. Realizing what it was, he picked it up and read: I hope that we are still friends. For a brief second his heart beat faster. Could it be that Nicole had reconsidered? He read on. If you feel like talking about anything, no matter what, I’ll always be there to listen. It was signed, Gretchen.

  “Oh, man,” he said aloud, and then laughed. Were his woes so obvious that even the maid was trying to placate him? He tore up the note and tossed it in the trash. “Sorry, Gretchen, we won’t go there again.”

  He went to the bar, started to pour a drink, but thought better of it. Instead he went up the winding stairs and stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, and recalled his first encounter with Gretchen years ago.

  Elena had hired her as a maid and most of her services were rendered to the Torres family exclusively, but every Monday she would empty the trash, water the plants and clean and dust the furniture in his apartment. On a rare moment when he’d been home and bored, he’d found himself sitting out on the deck, reading a magazine and observing the morose looking six foot-plus blond with the tight braid wound around her head as she watered the plants. Despite her looking and acting like an elderly woman, he could tell that she was actually fairly young. Her eccentricities had made him curious, so he’d inquired about her life.

  Her response had startled him. Instead of the few mumbled perfunctory responses he’d anticipated, she’d almost too eagerly launched into her life story. As a young child she had lost both parents in an accident in Germany, and had been sent to the United States to live with relatives who didn’t really want her. The story, somewhat similar to his own, encouraged him to share with her a tiny bit about his early life and they had bonded.

  Gretchen had rewarded him by misinterpreting his casual interest, thinking that he wanted more. He still remembered that awkward night when he’d returned from a show and found her in his room, sitting on his bed wearing a robe. Her long golden hair was cascading down her waist, and she brandished a wine glass in eager anticipation as she waited. His response had not been what she wanted. He’d had to tell her the truth, that he was not interested in her in any kind of physical way and that he was sorry if he’d said or done anything that led her to believe that was the case.

  He knew he hadn’t done anything to lead her on and he’d tried to turn her down as sensitively as possible, but she’d been humiliated anyway and in the end she had apologized stiffly and immediately left. Ever since that day they’d never shared anything more than a hello and a good morning. She came to clean his apartment only when he was away.

  Now she had written him a note.

  He placed both hands over his eyes. If anything, it was a wake-up call. His drinking and associated behavior had to be getting out of control if Gretchen felt sorry for him. Probably the whole housekeeping staff knew a great deal about all of their lives. He wondered if they returned to their own homes and laughed at the rich and stupid people who employed them.

  * * *

  After breaking up with Julian, Nicole’s carefully constructed world fell apart as Trey became incorrigible. Almost every day she received calls from his teachers, reporting on his disruptive behavior: Trey is not paying attention in class, Trey hit another child, Trey keeps walking out of the classroom without permission. The list went on. She talked to him endlessly, took away privileges and on one occasion even resorted to what she never wanted to do, which was spank him. Nothing worked. He simply looked at her with reproachful eyes and indicated that he would do better, but the next day the calls would start again.

  As time went on, she was so stressed out and depressed that she was seriously thinking about quitting her job, taking Trey and moving back to Chicago. She was thinking about that now as she drove him to Allyson’s shop after another long meeting with one of his teachers. For the fifth day she would be arriving late again at work.

  Trey stared silently out the window, hugging the cased guitar against his chest, a tiny, but dominating figure in his baggy overalls and navy blue T-shirt. A six-year-old boy is controlling me, Nicole thought. Is that pathetic or what? She was going to have to do something about it, though, because she did not know how long the staff at the hospital would continue putting up with her tardiness.

  Allyson’s salon was even busier than usual. All three hairdressers, including Allyson herself, were working. At least five other clients were sitting around gossiping, reading magazines and waiting.

  “You’re running late again,” Allyson said, looking up as Nicole shuttled Trey to the back room.

  “Don’t remind me.” Nicole kissed Trey, who rewarded her with a surly look and then pulled away and switched on the television.

  In truth, Nicole wanted to shake her little brat until his teeth rattled, but she chalked the thought up as one of those less-than-inspired parenting moments, and stepped back out into the salon area.

  “Was my baby bad again?” Allyson asked, wrapping a woman’s thick, unnaturally red tresses around a huge roller.

  Nicole rolled her eyes. “To say the least. I’ll tell you about it tonight. Gotta go before I’m fired.”

  “I’ll talk to him,” Allyson said sympathetically.

  It won’t do any good, Nicole thought, rushing out the door. She sat in the car for two minutes trying to calm down. “Get a grip,” she murmured to herself. Last year, Trey’s behavior had been almost as bad and neither of them knew anything about Julian, so all of this could not be attributed to him. Still, there was no denying that he had been the catalyst in setting off whatever was smoldering in the child’s mind right now.

  Julian. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about how much she missed his enticingly masculine presence and how much she hated to admit it. Of course Trey was hurting. He was just a baby and he didn’t understand. They both needed to get away. If Trey could hold out a little longer, until the Christmas holiday when she had three weeks off, they’d fly out to Chicago and recuperate.

  * * *

  Trey clutched the guitar tightly and stood in the doorway of the room, watching. The ladies were all talking loud and laughing. Aunt Ally was washing some fat lady’s hair. They did not see him standing there. Quickly, Trey sprinted past them and rushed to the door leading outside. He glanced back. No had one noticed. He opened the door and ran outside. He didn’t stop running until he was a few blocks away, standing at the bus stop with other people.

  He had ridden on the bus not too long ago with his mother and she had pointed out the road that went to Julian’s place. Trey was sure he remembered it. He also remembered that all he had to do was give the driver the money and it was okay not to say anything, because no one did. One price paid for all the stops.

  Trey jingled the lunch money he’d saved in his pocket. It would be enough for the bus. He felt happy because so far his plan was working, but he was kind of scared. What if the bus driver said something to him? He didn’t want to think about that. There was also the fact that Mommy would be mad when she found out, but Julian would understand. He had missed too many guitar lessons and he was not going to let it happen again.

  The bus stopped and he g
ot on so quickly that he almost tripped. The guitar banged up against one of the seats. The driver looked at him kind of funny, but he took the money and didn’t say anything. Trey ran down the aisle and found an empty seat way in the back. He sat down near the window and pressed his face up against the glass. He had to watch carefully so he didn’t miss the stop. It seemed to take forever until finally he started to see the ocean. He couldn’t reach the bell and he had to stand up on the seat in order to press it. The bus stopped.

  Lugging the guitar, Trey stepped off at the entrance of the bridge road.

  “Do you know where you’re going, son?” the driver asked.

  Scared, Trey nodded and began to run down the private road. It was very long. He kept running. There were no cars here. He could even run right in the middle of the road if he wanted to, but he didn’t do that. At the end of the road there was an old man who looked like Santa Claus wearing a police uniform and sitting inside a little building. He was sleeping. Trey sneaked past him.

  He could see a lot of big, castle-like houses, but he didn’t care about those. He wanted Julian’s and he remembered that it was near the end of the street. He ran some more.

  * * *

  Julian had a dinner date with Lydia. The persistent girl had invited him a few times and he’d finally agreed. After all, she was certainly no worse than any other woman, and he no longer had any reason to decline. He’d be at her place for roughly an hour and then he had to go to Orlando on business.

  The dinner date fell on the day that he used to give Trey guitar lessons. He had the feeling that he probably missed it more than the boy did. Nicole had probably gotten him another instructor. The thought bothered him because he had enjoyed his bond with the child and had foolishly hoped that he would be around long enough to hear Trey break his three-year silence. It had never occurred to him that Trey would never talk. In his mind it had always been a matter of time, time that he no longer had because Nicole and her son were out of his life.

  He stepped out of the house and was about to open the car door when he heard a shout, and saw the security guard chasing after a little kid who was running straight toward him—a very familiar little kid, carrying a big guitar case.

  “Trey!”

  Trey dropped the guitar as Julian swooped him up in his arms and held him. The little boy was breathing rapidly and trying hard not to cry.

  “It’s okay, Carlos,” Julian said. “I know this boy.”

  Carlos shook his head in bewilderment. “That’s one fast little kid. Don’t know how he managed to get over the wall.”

  “Over the wall?”

  “That’s right he…”

  “Never mind,” Julian interrupted. Trey was crying now. “I’ll take care of him.”

  Carlos shrugged and went off to return to his post. Julian turned his complete attention back to Trey.

  “Trey, what on earth are you doing here?”

  Trey sobbed louder and Julian hugged him tighter. “It’s okay, I missed you too. Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.” He put him back down and Trey reclaimed the guitar. As they went up the stairs, Julian looked hard at him.

  “Your mother and your aunt don’t know where you are, do they?”

  It was a rhetorical question. Of course they didn’t. Trey hung his head and avoided eye contact. Julian took the guitar from him and opened the door. They both went inside, and he tried to piece together in his head what had happened. It was quite possible that Allyson had been so busy with customers that she didn’t even know that Trey was missing. He frowned at the boy.

  “What you did was very bad, but right now I want you to go to the bathroom and wash your face. When you come back we’re going to have a long talk.”

  Rubbing his eyes and smearing the dirt on his face, Trey trudged off down the hall. When Julian heard the bathroom door shut he picked up the telephone. He dialed the number and got the answering machine. Idiot, he thought. Of course she wasn’t at home. She would be at work. He called the hospital.

  They paged her and Nicole answered. “Hello.”

  “Nicole this…”

  Her coldest, most mechanical voice interrupted him. “Julian, I have asked you over and over again not to call me”

  Resentment and anger boiled up within him as he sensed she was about to hang up. “Excuse me, Miss Perfect, I actually do have other things to do with my time, but I just thought you’d like to know that your son is here with me…at my place.”

  “What?” She sounded as if she had been struck by lightning. “What are you talking about? Trey’s with my sister at her shop.”

  “Well, I guess he has a clone, because a little boy who looks exactly like Trey is at my house with his guitar. Unless you want me to keep him, I think you better get over here and pick him up.” He stopped and let some of the anger dissipate. He was surprised at himself for being so sarcastic. Normally he would volunteer to take him to her.

  Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “I…I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

  “He’s a little tired, but he’s perfectly all right, so don’t rush,” Julian said.

  Nicole put the receiver down. She could not believe what he had told her. How could it be? How could Trey have gotten all the way over to his place? Was it part of an elaborate scheme of Allyson’s to get her and Julian back together again? She picked up the phone and dialed the shop.

  “Allyson, what’s Trey doing?”

  “He’s in the room watching television. Why?” She sounded genuinely puzzled by the question.

  Oh please let this be a warped joke Julian is playing, Nicole thought. “Are you sure? Go check.”

  She heard her sister mutter something as she put the receiver down to go check. Voices echoed in the background. Allyson returned and her tone of voice completely changed. “Oh, my God. He’s not. I’m…”

  “Don’t worry! I know where he is!” Nicole snapped, banging the phone down.

  * * *

  Julian walked outside holding tightly to Trey’s hand as Nicole’s car pulled into the driveway. He had given the child an intense lecture on obedience, and Trey was a little upset that things had not gone the way he’d intended. He watched Nicole get out of the car, looking even more upset than her son. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform, and her once pinned up hair was now hanging long, straight and wind-blown. Her green eyes shimmered like beacons, attractive even in her agitation.

  “Trey,” she exclaimed, relief and apprehension evident in her voice.

  Julian let go of him, urging him forward. Trey’s hesitation vanished when he realized that there were tears in his mother’s eyes. He ran to her. She hugged him tightly.

  “Oh, Trey, how could you? How did you get here?”

  “I believe he came on the bus,” Julian said. “Pretty amazing when you think about it.”

  Nicole looked up at him. The man before her was impossible to ignore even if he never said a word. He looked as stunning as ever in a close fitting, black V-necked sweater and black pants. His eyes searched hers like a shark circling, looking for a weak spot. If she actually made consistent eye contact with him, she knew he would find it, because all her spots were weak. If she continued to stand there, hugging Trey under his giant shadow, she would forget everything that had happened and melt in his arms.

  “Thanks for taking such good care of my son,” she said. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Don’t give me that thank you, sorry crap. I’m not a stranger, he thought angrily. “So, I guess this is it,” he said, stepping forward. Nicole released Trey and he knelt down to the boy’s level. “You make sure you remember what I told you. Don’t you ever do this to your mother again.”

  Trey nodded glumly, biting his lip. He knew that Julian had to know that it was because of the monster that he was doing bad things. He had to know that he couldn’t fight the monster without his help, but now it seemed like he didn’t even care anymore. He was letting everything be up to Mommy, who
couldn’t even see the monster. Trey blinked back tears and slowly turned away. He got into the car.

  Julian picked up the abandoned guitar. “Hey, don’t forget…”

  Trey slammed the door and stared straight ahead.

  “Trey!” Nicole shouted, shocked by his behavior.

  “It’s all right,” Julian said.

  “I’m sorry,” Nicole apologized.

  “No problem. I understand him perfectly.” He caught her arm as she was about to get into the driver’s seat. “It’s his mother I don’t understand.”

  Nicole pulled her arm away. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  “You’re the one who’s making it hard.” He didn’t want to say too much in Trey’s presence, but it was difficult not to. “I don’t see why we can’t just talk this whole thing out.”

  Because if we do, I’ll probably surrender, throw away what little self esteem I have left, and become putty in your hands, she thought. “There is nothing to talk about. I’m a grown woman, but I still don’t understand the concept of bigotry. I don’t want to understand it.”

  “I’m not the bigot.”

  “You condone it. That’s almost as bad.”

  She closed the car door and started the engine, rolling the window down slightly. “Thanks again for taking care of Trey. I really appreciate it. And don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Bye.”

  The car pulled off. Julian clenched his fists in his pockets and turned away. For a moment, he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be doing, and then it dawned on him that he was very late for his dinner date with Lydia. He glanced at his watch. There was no point in going there now because he had to be in Orlando in two hours. He picked up the abandoned guitar and returned to the house. There was enough time to raid the bar for another drink, though.