My Lost Cuba

by Celso Gonzalez-Falla

  He slowed down when he turned onto the dirt road to the batey. He had made the trip more times than he could remember, but now it was different. The farm was his future as the new steward, the torchbearer for his family’s way of life. As Mike pulled up at the entrance to the house, Mitzi, who was napping under the jeep, came out barking. Mike stepped out of the car, and she sidled close to his legs, waiting to be petted. Paulino appeared in the driveway with a bewildered expression on his face.

  “Hey, man, you didn’t send a telegram. We didn’t know you were coming!” Then his face changed. “Man, that is a nice car!”

  The screen door on the porch slammed shut. Mike looked up and saw Cuca standing there, squinting past the light of the setting sun.

  “Hi! How’s Don Miguel?” she asked.

  “He’s feeling better. Thanks for asking.” Mike went inside, carrying his suitcase and new guayaberas as Mitzi trailed him.

  “Well, Doctor, what would you like for dinner?” Paulino joked.

  “Just corn flakes and a banana. Please tell Ricardo that I have to talk to him.”

  Mike took a shower to wash off the road dust and went to the kitchen, where Ricardo was talking to Cuca. “Come with me,” Mike said.

  Mike and Ricardo talked for a long time in Don Miguel’s office. Paulino found an unusual amount of work to do right outside the room. He cleaned trophies, dusted the piano, reorganized, straightened, swept, and mopped. Yet every time Paulino drew close enough to hear, Mike and Ricardo halted the conversation. Finally, tired and frustrated, he left. Mike and Ricardo continued the meeting past ten o’clock.

  Mike woke up early, had his coffee, and then sent Monito to fetch his father.

  Manolo showed up at the batey at nine o’clock. By that point Mike and Manuel were deciding which calves to take to the Santi Spiritus cattle show. Manolo arrived on his horse and tied it at the corral. He wore a clean guayabera, and his neatly-laced boots were covered with dried mud.

  “Good morning, Mike. My son told me that you had to see me.”

  “Yes, thanks for coming. Let me finish with Manuel and we’ll take a ride to check out the pastures.”

  They drove in the jeep and stopped at the first gate of the alley. A windmill rhythmically moved its pump; the water flowed into the holding tank in spurts. Mike took a long look at Manolo, who bit harder on his cigar. A bull watched the car and seemed to stare at them before moving on. Finally, Manolo got out of the jeep and opened the gate, and as Manolo closed the gate after them, Mike said, “Manolo, I want us to understand each other well. Father told Ricardo to buy Guinea seeds to plant in the Ceiba pasture. You told Ricardo that they weren’t needed, and didn’t allow the purchase.” He went on, listing another strike against him. “I gave written instructions of what pastures needed to be cleared. You changed the order.” Mike paused a beat to emphasize that this couldn’t be tolerated. “You may have a better idea, and may know how do to something better, but you have to talk to me before you change an order I give to you or to the employees.”

  Manolo continued munching on his unlit cigar.

  “I’m the one who’s responsible for the operations of the farm. I’m in charge now. You need to talk to me.”

  Manolo looked at Mike with a mixture of pity and disdain. “Your father has always left me alone to do what I thought was best. The farm has operated well for many years. He was happy with my work.”

  “Well, that’s my father. I’m who I am. I don’t want to have a misunderstanding with you. I respect you. You need to tell me if you have a problem with what I’ve said. I’ll hear you out. With the information you give me, and with what I find out, I’ll make the decision. We should work well together.” They continued the drive around the pastures, not talking to each other.

  The next morning Manolo arrived at the batey at six o’clock. Mike was talking to Arturo at the milking shed. He approached them and nodded slightly at his boss. “Mike, we need to talk,” he said. They left for the office. He sat across Mike’s desk and took off his hat, revealing a bronze forehead, a milky white scalp, and thin hair. He took the cigar he was smoking out of his mouth and looked Mike in the eye. “Mike, I’ve worked for your father for many years. He respects my judgment. You don’t. I can’t work with you. We think too differently.”

  “It’s true that you and I differ. I also disagree with my father in some areas,” Mike responded.

  “It seems to me that you find my methods outdated. I don’t like tractors, herbicides, or fertilizers. I know how to take care of the cattle and how to make people work. I’m not going to change the way I do things, because what I do works. I don’t like the changes you plan to make. I’m going to present my resignation to your father.”

  “I’m sorry to hear this. Is that really the way you feel? I thought we could work together.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m going to move to my small farm near Trinidad. I believe that Monito will stay for a time.”

  Seeing that his foreman had made up his mind, Mike rose to his feet and shook Manolo’s hand. “Thanks for your time. I’ll talk to my father. When are you leaving?”

  “Soon.”

  “We’re going to miss you and all the great work you’ve done for us.”

  In truth, though, Mike was relieved. Manolo had been a good mayoral, but it was easier for Mike to take the helm without him. Mike walked to the show barn and ran into Chirra, who was cleaning a horse stall. Chirra wasted no time filling Mike in on the farm gossip: How Paulino and Manuel were going every night to see the Gomez girls; how Paulino was selling beers and fried hamburgers at the baseball games; how Fernando had become a successful chulo. Mike nodded as they walked, but still kept his eye on the animals, assessing them.

  The next day, Mike went to the pueblo, picked up provisions at the warehouse, and walked over to the telephone company. Rita was not at her usual station. Adela waved at Mike.

  “Hi, Adela! How are you doing?”

  “Great! Is your father back?”

  “No, but I’m back for a while.”

  “Please tell him I said hello.”

  “I will.”

  Mike quickly made his business calls, and then tried to sound casual as he asked about Rita.

  “She has the late shift. She’ll be here in about three hours. Do you want to leave a message?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Mike was torn. Would he feel differently about Rita after being in Havana? He stayed in town and killed time. He ran errands, bought the paper, walked to the bank, even though he knew it had closed at three, and had his boots polished. He finally drove to Rita’s house and knocked on the door. Rita’s mother answered.

  “Hi Mike, Rita’s taking a nap. She works tonight. Please come in, come in. I’ll brew some coffee. Please, please sit down.”

  He sat on the same sofa where they had kissed. Mike glanced at her photos. The portraits were colored in pastels that muted the beauty of her face and the golden color of her hair. Rita’s mother returned after a few minutes. “Please stay. She’s getting dressed. Poor thing, she always works late now. The hours are horrible. You know, she’s the youngest of the group and she gets the worst shifts. I’m positive that they’re jealous of her. She’s so intelligent and works so hard.”

  Mike nodded. He should have known he would be in for this onslaught.

  Her mother continued. “Please tell me what’s happening in Havana. I’ve seen your pictures in the newspapers at all those fancy parties. Are the women as pretty as they seem?”

  “Some are very pretty,” he said.

  “How long will you be here? Oh my! I forgot all about your coffee. The water should be boiling by now. I’ll be right back.” She leapt up and dashed off toward the kitchen.

  Rita appeared fifteen minutes later with a carefully made-up face. Mike rose to greet her. She advanced slowly, nervously waiting for his reaction. He felt awkward and didn’t know if he should kiss her, so he stood, waiting for a sign from her.
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br />   “Hello, Mike. It’s good to see you looking so well. Please, sit down. It’s so good to see you.”

  Rita’s mother brought in a cup of coffee and left immediately, saying, “I need to start supper.”

  Rita extended her hand, which Mike promptly took. They awkwardly shook hands and sat silent for a moment.

  Mike cleared his throat and spoke first. “I was in Havana and didn’t expect to come back so soon. Yesterday, my father and I decided on the spot that I should make this trip. I didn’t call you beforehand because I wasn’t sure what time I was going to arrive.”

  “You could have called. You always did before, ” Rita said.

  “I’m going to be spending a lot of time at the farm,” he informed her. “I’m moving back after I make a trip back to the United States.”

  Rita smiled broadly and her posture suddenly straightened. “I understand, bébé! It’s just that if you had called first, I could have made arrangements at work so that I could spend time with you. I’m going to have to leave for work soon.” She stopped, aware that she was babbling in her happiness. “Well, at least you remembered where I live,” she laughed.

  Mike was thankful that Rita’s mother did not hear her call him “bébé.”

  “Well, I’m sorry too. Do you want me to take you? I have my car. I’d be happy to do it.”

  Rita cheerfully accepted. “Sure, why not? It’s too hot and humid to walk. I’ll meet you outside.”

  Rita left for the kitchen to say good-bye to her mother, who chided Rita, “Why don’t you eat dinner first? You don’t eat enough. Why are you leaving so early?”

  Rita quickly kissed her mother’s cheek and hurried outside, where Mike was waiting with the passenger door of his car open. Rita sat in the front seat, admiring its luxury. “Mike, you didn’t tell me that you have a new car. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, Father ordered it and gave it to me as a present. It was a surprise.”

  “Does your father want another daughter? I could use a car like this one. I love the color. White is such a good color for our climate. It doesn’t get too hot,” Rita said while stroking the seat, as if caressing a newborn puppy. When Mike didn’t respond, she pulled back, uncertain all over again where she stood with him. “You didn’t call for a long time, Mike, far longer than any time before. You used to call me every day. What has happened? What’s going on? Then you suddenly appear at my house today with a big smile on your face, as if nothing had changed.”

  Mike smelled the faint scent of her jasmine perfume, appreciated the sensual contours of her body. Yet the sad expression in her eyes made him lose the nerve to tell her that it was over, that he had had a great time, but that was all. At that moment, he intensely desired her. She was close, so beautiful, so soft, and so vulnerable.

  “I’m sorry, Rita. I’m not clear about what I want,” he told her. “I had to spend this time in Havana. I feel bad that I didn’t call you. I’m sorry.”

  Rita searched his eyes, but they told her nothing.

  “I have to make a trip to the Unites States to close up my apartment,” Mike said.

  “Yes, you told me already,” Rita replied.

  Mike immediately regretted not telling her the truth. The truth ultimately would be so much easier for both of them. He thought, “Okay, Rita, here’s the truth. I have another woman in my life. I’m having too much fun with this girl, and I don’t have time for a beautiful guajira I hardly got to know, who lives in a small town in the middle of the countryside.” Instead he said, “I’m sorry. Maybe I was too busy. I was worried about my work at the office. I’m also going out with different girls.”

  Rita crossed her arms and looked through the passenger window at the people walking on the street. After a few minutes, she turned to Mike. “Well, I’m sorry too, but I don’t want to be your second choice. I thought we had something very special.” Her voice became insistent. “I don’t do things halfway. You’re the only man in my life, you know. I haven’t even looked at another man. I love you, bébé.”

  She was angry with Mike, and knew she had gone too far. Her desire for him had betrayed her judgment. She longed to feel the burning passion when their naked bodies touched, the security of his arms around her, the soothing sensation of his hands gently rubbing her back, and the tenderness of his whispers caressing her ear. Yes, perhaps she had said too much, but she still wanted to say more. She wished she had the courage to say, “You know that I am yours. Unconditionally. I will have your children. I’m not afraid to work long hours, scrub your floors, cook your meals, ride your horses, and sweat with you in the corrals. You know it. You might be afraid. I am not.”

  Rita could not bring herself to say another word, though. She moved closer to Mike and tenderly looked into his face. Mike didn’t respond, and in his stony face she learned everything she needed to know.

  Mike stopped in front of the telephone company’s office. He got out of the car and opened the passenger door. He took Rita’s hand and tried to caress her fingers, but she ripped her hand away. As tears rose to her eyes, she turned and hurried into the exchange.

  Mike slowly drove back to the farm, feeling terrible. When he arrived, the sky was flooded with the setting sun. Paulino stood in the doorway, ready to unload Mike’s packages. Cuca, who was smoking a cigarette on the porch, asked Mike what he wanted to eat for dinner. “Just cereal,” he answered dully. Mike had lost his appetite.

  Later, he went to the employees’ dining room, where he saw Manuel and Ricardo sitting at the table. Manuel wore a clean, pressed white shirt and black boots polished to a high gloss. Mike pretended surprise. “Manuel! Where’s the party? Or is it a wake? This can’t be your Sunday best, since you never go to Mass!”

  Manuel blushed. “Well, Mike, you know, I’ve started to see Julieta Gomez. I was waiting for you to arrive. I’d like permission to use the jeep tonight.”

  Mike sat on one of the taburetes and turned to Paulino. “And you, are you going with Manuel?”

  Paulino coughed. “Well, I’m through with my work for today. Manuel and I are visiting the Gomez sisters.”

  Mike smiled at his admission. Paulino had changed. He remembered the lanky student who was afraid of his own shadow, reciting poetry and telling jokes in the café as he bantered with all the customers. Now he was muscular and stood steady and confident, though his eyes still darted about as if they were trying to discover something new or find an unreachable answer.

  Mike’s hands slapped the table and said crisply, “Okay, this time you can use the jeep. But in the future you need to check with Ricardo. He’s in charge of the equipment. I can tell you that I don’t like the idea of farm property being used for personal reasons. Please, understand this is a privilege, and don’t abuse it.” Turning to Ricardo, Mike said, “We have work to do. Let’s leave these enamorados searching for their Dulcineas.”

  Manuel and Paulino left, but Paulino didn’t like the tone of Mike’s voice. Mike had never spoken to him that way, as a servant. He thought that they were friends. Why did he act that way? It was not like Mike. Was Mike nervous about his new responsibility? Was he afraid to be a boss?

  Manuel drove, but he was worried for his own reasons. So, Ricardo was the new mayoral. How was he going to be able to see Julieta every night if he had to get Ricardo’s permission to use the jeep? What would happen if Ricardo decided to use it? He remembered the advice Ricardo had given Paulino one day: “Get a horse.”

  After the meeting to discuss farm business with Ricardo, Mike walked into the garden and smoked a cigarette. He slowly walked along the gravel paths, thinking of both Maria Alicia and Rita, and then he returned to his office to write a letter.

  Dear Maria Alicia,

  It was a long trip. I’m still thinking about you. I still hear your laughter, see the twinkle in your eyes. I would like to close my eyes and when I open them, find you here, next to me.

  I have a lot of work to do. It’s not going to be easy. Manolo, the old mayo
ral, has resigned. He was too set in his ways. He knew me as a kid, and didn’t like the changes that I’m making. My uncle, Antolin, brought up Ricardo, the new mayoral, so he is like family. I have known him all my life. He and Fernando are the only employees we trust to drive the family.

  The house is empty. Mitzi, the dog I mentioned to you, is sleeping under my desk as I write. Paulino, whom I met at the university and who works for us as a canchanchán, is in love! Maybe it’s the hot weather or maybe its’ just time. It seems we are all falling in love.

  I’ll go to the post office tomorrow, so hopefully this letter will be placed on the next train to Havana.

  Let me hear from you.

  Love,

  Mike

  Mike spent the next day in Ciego de Ávila running errands and didn’t return to the farm until nightfall. He was driving on the dirt road leading to the house, and as he passed the creaky old wooden bridge, he caught sight of a brilliant glow from behind the bohíos of San Joaquin. He stopped and focused on the light. He saw great flares of fire jumping into the sky. A sugar field had caught fire. Mike knew it had to be on or near the Gomez sisters’ plantation.

  He began to honk his horn to alert everyone in the bohíos next to the road. The closest fire-fighting equipment was about fifteen kilometers away. He sped toward his farm’s batey. Nandito had already driven his red truck to the batey to get people and load what fire-fighting apparatus they had. Manuel nervously stood next to the red jeep, urging the vaqueros to get in the vehicles. Paulino and Arturo were running back from the warehouse to get machetes. Cuca was handing out red bandannas taken from the farm’s saddle room. Ricardo unlocked the liquor cabinet at the big house and removed two bottles of white rum. Cuca worried that the thatched palm roof of the big house might catch on fire, started soaking it with a water hose.