Adelaida’s footsteps startled Lourdes from her daydream. “Did you rest well?”
Lourdes smiled absently. Adelaida rambled on as she pulled up a chair and tried to find a small side table for her coffee. “I couldn’t sleep! I missed the sound of the air-conditioning unit in my bedroom. The sound of the waves is soothing, but it seems I have to have the whirring noise of that damned air-conditioner. Father’s right. It’s better to use a mosquito net and an electric fan.”
She had barely drawn a breath when she was on to her next topic. “Well, we better start making phone calls! I want to be sure that ours is the first big party of the season. Who do you think has arrived?”
They sat down, each one with their address books, and started to create a list. The sisters’ cocktail party was for everyone who was anyone in Varadero’s society. It was set for six-thirty and they knew how to do it right. The evening of the party, Lourdes and Adelaida mingled with the guests, while seeing to it that the maids passed trays full of croquettes and small sandwiches. Two bartenders from the Kawama Club served gin and tonics, whiskey sours, Cuba Libres, mojitos, Scotch and waters, daiquiris, and Dubonnets. The partygoers clustered under the shadow of the porch. The men wore Lacoste polos or guayaberas with white slacks; the women, silk beach pants. This scene was repeated every Friday and Saturday during the summer at different homes. The guests included the same group of friends who had known each other since primary school, who went to the same clubs, dated among themselves, prayed in the same churches, married within their circle, and gossiped about each other. The men discussed politics, the price of sugar, and when alone, their latest conquest or the newest crop of girls at the Conga Club.
When the party started, Don Miguel stood alone in a corner, looking out toward the sea. Before long, friends joined him to engage in small talk, finding or feigning interest in the most inconsequential or wearisome of topics, like the weather, the rate of growth in Varadero, their new apartment in Florida, the latest business deal, the failing health of an older friend, their last fishing trip, or a golf round at the small DuPont golf course. Don Miguel realized that the only people he now truly enjoyed spending time with was his family. The pressure to say the right things at the right time, to pay attention to the description of a friend’s pursuit of a business venture, his last purchase, or exploit was exhausting. He just didn’t care.
At that moment he realized he wanted to see Patricia again. Being with her was different. He was excited when he talked to her. She intrigued him because she didn’t have airs. She was interested in what he said, not as a social exercise, but really interested. She asked questions and smiled when he admitted that he didn’t have an answer to her question. How delicate she had been as she extended her hand to thank him for the night, slowly closing the door, keeping her eyes on him as he turned away.
Mike’s arrival jolted Don Miguel’s musing. He briskly greeted his father with a kiss, briefed him about the trip, and then excused himself to go to talk with Laureano, who was talking to Julio. Laureano was talking about the absence of honest political figures in the present political environment, while Julio’s position was that it really didn’t matter, because in Cuba a free political environment had never existed, so there could not be good political figures. Soon Mike found himself engrossed by Laureano’s discourse. He was startled as a smiling Maria Alicia tapped him on the shoulder. She wore a white linen dress, stunning in its simplicity.
“Hi, Mike,” she said. “You look tanned. Are you sure you haven’t been playing tennis every day instead of cow punching?” Her hair was cleanly pulled back, and she wore a simple silver necklace, but no makeup besides a swipe of vivid red lipstick. Her eyes glimmered with mischief.
“You . . . you look so beautiful,” Mike stammered. He noticed the way her white dress contrasted with her tanned skin and how her smile seemed to offer a world full of joy and sophistication. Adelaida stood next to Maria Alicia with a wide smile. His sister gave Mike a quick kiss. “Welcome back, hermanito,” and quickly left to greet other guests.
Mike asked Maria Alicia if she wanted her drink refreshed. “Sure, why not?” she said, and they walked to the bar. Then Mike noticed his father had been left standing alone. “Have you met my father?” he asked her.
“Yes, I have. I met your parents years ago at a party at my house. I’d love to say hello to him.”
They retraced their steps. “Father, this is Maria Alicia Suarez y Garcia.”
Don Miguel stood erect and waited for Maria Alicia to extend her hand in greeting.
“My father knows you well,” she said to him. “He’s always said that you have the best horses. It’s a pity that he doesn’t ride, but prefers boats. My parents will be coming later. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you.”
“I grew up with your father, El Gordo. We went to the same school. Even then he was interested in boats and fishing. How’s your mother? She, like you, is a gorgeous lady. She was a very good friend of Adelaida’s.”
Don Miguel offered Maria Alicia a seat and proceeded to do most of the talking. Mike looked on, surprised by his father’s sudden energy. After a while Laureano, tired of preaching in the desert, joined them, while Maria Alicia continued to laugh at Don Miguel’s jokes and stories.
El Gordo finally arrived with his wife and invited Mike’s entire family to spend the next day on his new boat. The party wound up at nine o’clock, at which point the wives asked their husbands to take them to the International Hotel to dance and gamble. Mike invited Maria Alicia along, and she accepted after getting her mother’s permission to go.
At the casino, Julio was lucky at blackjack, while Maria Alicia and Mike tried their luck at the roulette wheel. They danced and drank, and when the casino closed at two o’clock in the morning, they reluctantly left and slowly drove back to their homes.
Mike escorted Maria Alicia to her house. The walls were of the limestone prevalent in the nearby hills, giving the house a clean, textured exterior, a reminder that at one time the whole area was part of the sea. In front, a large blue-tiled swimming pool was bordered by a great veranda. Maria Alicia’s father, who had sugar mills and plantations, had built the house after the end of World War II, when the island floated on money, and the traditional way to spend it, after buying jewelry for your wife and mistress, was to lavish it on a home.
Maria Alicia asked Mike to sit with her by the pool. It was a moonless night with a gentle breeze; the only sound was the soft, rhythmic beat of the waves. They spoke in hushed voices about everything and nothing, and after an hour, they walked to the beach, barefoot, letting the waves wash over their feet. She spoke about her sisters, about the excitement in her father’s eyes when he described his new boat. Mike talked about the land, about animals, horses, and Mitzi sleeping under his bed and following him around, about the sound of the drums during the night, the simple life of the guajiros, his studies, his sometimes feeling out of place in the north, how he missed the tropical sun, the flowers, the smell of the newly-cut pastures, the sound of the wind rustling through the cane fields. She talked about her studies, how she wanted to be independent and able to decide what she wanted to be, and about her disagreements with her mother, who accused her of not caring about housekeeping, cooking, or French lessons at the Alliance Française. They laughed at how their parents would like to shape and control their lives. They walked until the morning light colored the water.
Maria Alicia challenged Mike to a race back to her house and took off. As Mike raced after her, he stumbled in the sand. Maria Alicia laughed, seeing him covered with sand, his blue guayabera wet all over and his hair falling over his eyes. She wet her hand and cleaned the sand from his face, moved his hair away from his eyes, and slowly gave him a small, gentle kiss. They quietly walked hand in hand back to the house.
By eight o’clock, El Gordo Suarez had his yacht ready, the ice chest full of soft drinks and beer. He waited at the dock, smoking his first cigar. Maria Alicia and Maria, her mot
her, arrived with two hampers full of sandwiches. Don Miguel’s group arrived a little bit later. “Welcome aboard,” El Gordo said. “It’s great that you could come. It was a fantastic party you girls hosted last night. You know how to throw one!” He indicated the boat as he instructed them, “You know the rules—Unless you have rubber soles, the shoes go in the basket. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes. The weather report calls for a gorgeous day.”
Maria went inside the galley as Maria Alicia and Mike headed for the bow and sat with their backs against the windshield. Julio climbed to the flying bridge to stand next to El Gordo, who revved the engines and gave Rigoberto orders to cast off. Rigoberto was their family gardener who doubled as a deckhand. Fifteen minutes later, the yacht was out at sea, and the color of the water became a deeper blue, indicating a clean and fast Gulf current, flowing at full force in the middle of the ocean. Flocks of seagulls and other birds flew in scattered directions, and occasionally one dove into the water. El Gordo slowed the boat, and Rigoberto prepared the tools for Gulf Stream deep-sea fishing, attaching the rigged ballyhoos to the lines. Rigoberto extended the outriggers and dropped a red and white teaser in the water. When the lines were out, Rigoberto shouted to El Gordo that they were ready to fish. El Gordo, a mild person during the week, transformed himself into a Latin version of Captain Bligh. Julio, who had spent the first part of the trip selling himself to Maria Alicia’s father as a great stockbroker, abandoned the would-be client for a fighting chair. Don Miguel went to the bridge and took a seat next to El Gordo.
By ten o’clock they still had not gotten a bite. The bright sun and the cloudless sky made the day blazingly hot. The girls sunned on the foredeck. The water was placid; no white caps disturbed the slowly rolling waves. El Gordo looked for signs of fish as Rigoberto stood on the bow of the boat, looking for birds or the bill of a sailfish or a marlin.
El Gordo turned to Don Miguel. “You know, this is the life. I work all week and worry. I worry about this. I worry about that. I worry about everything. How I am doing on my sugar contracts? Should I sell short? Should I borrow money and buy more land? Can I buy a plantation for its quota? Will it be better to replant the sugarcane? Yet when I set foot on my boat, my anxieties disappear.”
Don Miguel agreed with a smile. “Well said. Just as you have your boat, I have my horses. When I ride, I’m in control. The horse turns and moves just because he senses that I’ve slightly changed and moved my body. When we go deep into the farm and I don’t hear the sound of a motor, only the singing of birds or a cow calling for its calf, and the sun is shining on my face and I feel the gentle breeze, that’s when I’m fully alive.”
El Gordo nodded as he continued to scout the sea, looking for birds. “I feel my tension draining away when I’m getting ready to leave the office for the boathouse. I’m a different man. If I want to fish, I fish! If want to go to the Keys, in a few hours I can be at Cayo Sal. Best of all, I forget. I forget that I lack control and I’m subject to other persons’ wishes and commands. They say, ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that. The law says—Be careful, Lobo is shorting the market. The unions will not allow you to use herbicides. Get dressed. We have a black tie affair tonight. Be nice to him. He’s a friend of your mother’s.’ ” By this point the two men were smiling together. “Here, it’s different. It’s just Rigoberto, the sea, and me. I love it!”
“I can’t afford a boat, they cost too much. But I do love the sea.” Don Miguel laughed. “That’s why I have friends with boats!”
They both laughed. “Miguelito, you can buy me and sell me three times over, and you would never know the difference. I was talking to your son-in-law Julio and he—”
Suddenly one of the lines tore from the clip of the outrigger, and Rigoberto ran aft. “One hit on the port line!” The line started to run at a high speed from the reel. Rigoberto took the rod in his hand and gave it a strong pull. The rod twisted as he hooked the fish. Julio took the rod as Rigoberto strapped the leather fighting-belt on him. The sailfish jumped in the distance, and the fight began.
“Easy, take it easy. The boat will help you. You don’t have to do all the work,” El Gordo said as he followed the direction of the line and backed the boat in so that Julio could retrieve more line. Rigoberto told him to increase the brake pressure on the reel so the sailfish would have more resistance. Julio pulled back on the rod, helped with his back, and as the rod went down, he reeled in line. Julio’s strong arms were capable of handling the work of pulling the rod back and forth. Lourdes stood behind him, cheering him on.
“Julio, you have a good one. Bring it in!”
In the meantime, Rigoberto asked Mike to help him bring in the other lines to avoid any entanglement.
Julio’s face showed the fight’s exertion and he swore at the fish under his breath, “I’m going to get you. I’m going to get you.” His arms began to tire. The sailfish flew one more time; the beauty of its blue, white, and silver colors glistened above the deep blue water. As the fish was brought nearer to the boat, the group saw its bill breaking the surface. Rigoberto took the end of the steel leader and pulled the fish up, and with the bat, hit it on the head. The fish flipped and convulsed, its wide mouth open, gasping for water, and before it died, the colors of its skin shone most brilliantly. Rigoberto lifted the sailfish by its bill and dropped it in the starboard cooler, then cleaned the blood off the deck with buckets of salt water. El Gordo was jubilant as they raised a sailfish flag on the port outrigger.
Half an hour later, Rigoberto noticed a spot where birds were diving into the water, calling it to El Gordo’s attention. He immediately increased speed. In a few minutes, the boat edged into the area where the birds fed. Rigoberto changed the leaders on the lines and used silver spoons instead of bait. El Gordo, who wanted some action, turned the controls over to Don Miguel and told Rigoberto to trade places with him. Huffing and puffing, he joined the rest of the men on the fishing deck.
In seconds, the first fish hit, and suddenly all of the four lines were whirring. The air filled with the sounds of the crickets and the excited voices of the men reeling medium-size bonitos and albacores on board. As soon as one was caught, the spoon went back into the water to catch another. The activity started to acquire a frenzied state, and smiles filled every face. There were repeated shouts of joy: “I got another one!” “Man, this one is bigger.” “I bet you I’ll catch ten in less than eight minutes.”
Maria Alicia, noticing that Don Miguel was alone on the bridge, went up to sit next to him. “This is great fun. We have to share that sailfish, so I’ll make sure that Mother invites you. She has a great recipe for escabeche. It takes such a long time, but it’s worth the wait. Do you like it?”
“Oh, I love it,” Don Miguel said.
After the frenzied fishing, Maria felt hot and tired and asked her husband to head back to Varadero. El Gordo was exhausted, too, and Maria Alicia took the helm. In less than half an hour, they saw the outlines of the International Hotel and the small DuPont castle. Maria Alicia loved the privacy of the beach east of the DuPont estate, so when she saw the tower of the DuPont’s estate, she steered in a northeasterly direction to find a deserted area of beach. The wind had picked up and she went as near to the shore as they could. Rigoberto dropped anchor and set a ladder on the lee side of the boat.
Maria Alicia was the first one to jump into the water, and Mike followed. They were both powerful swimmers and reached the beach at the same time, only to find they had to wait for the others.
The older people stayed in the boat. Rigoberto swam the short distance with one hand held above the water, carrying a hamper full of sandwiches. On a second trip, he brought beer and soft drinks. Mike’s sisters and their husbands followed, and the young couples had a picnic in a shaded grove.
After they ate, Mike and Maria Alicia started looking for hicacos, which grew there in abundance. She didn’t have a container, so Mike took off his wet polo shirt and used it to carry the fruit. She teased Mike abo
ut the color of his chest and arms. “Look at you. You’re a guajiro. Your belly is white, your chest is white, and you can see the outline of your shirt, while your face and arms are really tanned. We have to do something about it!” Mike laughed heartily in response.
Maria Alicia knew that she was in love. She sensed Mike’s generosity and how attentive he was to her needs. Mike felt the same magnetic attraction. He carried the fruit like a faithful servant as Maria Alicia continued her search. He had never met anyone like her before. She could discuss art, and at the same time, navigate a boat. She was extraordinarily feminine and strong, she teased and laughed, yet was serious and sensitive. At one time he had thought he was in love with Rita—but how could one ever know about these things?
He had talked about her with Laureano, who had never met Rita, but he had said to Mike, “There are other fish in the sea. Forget it. It won’t work. You’re now like a dog that has found a bitch in heat. You’re not thinking with your head.” Mike was offended, but now he wondered if Laureano was right. He was at the beach, sunburned, with a girl he could unreservedly love.
Their harvesting over, Mike and Maria Alicia swam back to the boat. He carried the hicacos bundled in his shirt, his hand held up high above the water. Yes, just like a servant.
They arrived at the dock around six o’clock. The last half hour everyone had dozed except Rigoberto, who handled the boat. After a full day together, the good-byes were short. El Gordo stayed to supervise Rigoberto as he cut, cleaned, and packaged the fish. Mike offered Maria Alicia a ride, which she declined, as she had come with her mother. Mike persisted, asking to see her that night, and Maria Alicia smiled and said, “OK, I hope you’re not too tired. I’ll wait for you. Eight-thirty?”
My Lost Cuba Page 23