CURSE THE MOON

by Lee Jackson

  “No,” Atcho replied. “I just don’t think I deserve this type of recognition.”

  “Don’t fight it,” she said warmly. “A lot of people, including my husband, think you do.”

  The Speaker finished his comments, and amid enthusiastic applause, the president took the podium. After greeting appropriate dignitaries, Congress, and the American people, he looked directly into the TV cameras. With the twinkle in his eye and the familiar voice that made him famous and beloved, he addressed the American people directly.

  “In a few minutes, I’m going to talk about the federal budget, expound on concerns regarding defense, and explain a plan for social programs. But first, we’ve come to my favorite part of the evening.” He smiled as if enjoying his own private joke before sharing it with his listeners. The technique had endeared him to millions. “I always like to recognize ordinary citizens who, through acts of courage, or by extraordinary dedication, achieve a level of accomplishment distinguishing them as true American heroes.” He reviewed some names he had introduced in previous years, and then continued. “Most people watching this evening might not know of our exchange program bringing foreign cadets to study at our military service academies. The program has existed for several decades, and created many long-lasting friendships for our country.

  “Tonight, we are fortunate to have with us a man who first visited the United States as a participant of that program. His father attended West Point during the mid-thirties, and distinguished himself several years later as a member of our armed forces in the war against the Nazis. Years later, the son followed him to West Point.

  “After graduation from the Academy, the son returned home to Cuba, and within two years found himself leading freedom fighters against Fidel Castro’s communist tyranny. His daughter was kidnapped before the Bay of Pigs invasion, and returned to her aunt after he was reported killed in action.”

  For the next few minutes, the President extolled Atcho’s heroism. He spoke of his efforts to organize the resistance, related the episode with the tank, and reviewed the dark days of prison. This makes a good story, Atcho thought wryly. If only they knew the truth.

  “Since arriving in the United States,” the president continued, “he has lived in Washington and built a real estate management company that enjoys one of the best reputations in the area. And, last year, before the vice president, he took the oath to become an American citizen.”

  “His friends and family call him simply Atcho. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you a real American hero, Mr. Eduardo Xigues Rodriguez de Arciniega.” The president gestured in Atcho’s direction and the assembly erupted in applause.

  Bowing and smiling to a standing ovation, Atcho rose to his feet. Television cameras zoomed in, beaming his picture to the nation. Well, Govorov, he thought. You’ve had your way.

  The First Lady kissed his cheek and the roar of applause grew louder. Atcho turned to embrace Isabel. She tolerated his embrace, and though her kiss was dutiful, she was rigid. He was not surprised at his daughter’s lack of warmth. For reasons that were a mystery to her father, she had remained distant since her return from Germany four years ago.

  The audience sat back down, and the President launched into his speech. Atcho concentrated on looking as interested as the vice president and the Speaker appeared to be. When the speech was finished, while the crowd applauded, the First Lady’s Secret Service detail escorted her away.

  Minutes later, Atcho surveyed the great dome covering the rotunda of the Capitol building. The size of the structure and the elegant artwork of its massive arched sides awed him. A friendly crowd jostled him, stopping to shake his hand.

  Bob and Isabel stood near one of the columns in the rotunda talking to well-wishers. A short, stout man in his sixties spoke animatedly to Bob. Several times, he gestured toward Atcho, but before Atcho reached the trio the man hurried away. Atcho was sure he had met the man before, but could not remember where.

  Bob tugged his arm. “C’mon!” he said. “I told some friends we’d meet for drinks.”

  “Who was that man talking to you?” Atcho asked.

  “Oh, just some guy who wanted to say how much he admired you. He would have told you himself, but there were too many people around you.”

  Atcho accepted the answer dubiously, and followed Bob and Isabel through the crowd. They reached the car, parked in a nearby lot, and then negotiated through traffic. Thirty minutes later, they pulled in front of a fashionable hotel, and left the sedan with a valet.

  Atcho puzzled over the identity of the man he had seen speaking to Bob. As they walked through the hotel lobby, he was startled to see the man rise from a chair and move quickly into one of the meeting rooms lining a hall in front of them. He was surprised when Bob led through the same door into a dark room. Atcho heard rustling and felt the presence of unseen people.

  Suddenly, the lights came on, party horns blew, and a ring of faces beamed at him, while a chorus of voices yelled, “Surprise!”

  Atcho looked around in amazement. Most of the faces seemed familiar, but there were many he did not recognize. Then, his gaze rested on someone he could not forget. It was Francisco, the fellow prisoner he had befriended on the Isle of Pines and through whose family he had kept track of Isabel for a time. Before he could approach the man, a voice made him turn around.

  “Remember me?” It was the man who had hurried out of the hotel lobby.

  “Burly?” Atcho gasped in disbelief.

  Burly stepped forward, grinning. “That’s right, you snot-nosed kid!”

  Remembering Jaguey Grande, Atcho grinned. “What is all this?” he asked, glancing about.

  “A reception in your honor,” Burly replied. “Look around. A lot of people came out to see you! These are former 2506 Brigade members, leaders of the resistance group that met with us in Jaguey Grande, and people you knew in prison. We even tracked down the secretary who helped you call Isabel from Havana.”

  Atcho’s heart skipped as he caught sight of Sofia Stahl standing nearby. She flushed, but maintained composure. As on the first day they met, her soft smile radiated friendliness.

  He walked over to her. “I never thanked you properly,” Atcho stammered.

  “Yes, you did.” Sofia held out her hand.

  Atcho grasped it, and studied her brilliant green eyes. A tingling sensation swept through him. Embarrassed, he turned to regard the rest of the group. A distinguished man of medium height approached. “You won’t recognize my face,” he said. “We were together for a short time in the middle of the night. But, you might remember me anyway. I am Rafael Poncé. We met in the swamp when you delivered the tank to me.”

  Atcho regarded him enthusiastically and pumped his hand. “Of course I remember you, and your Jeep driver. Whatever became of him?”

  “You mean Toothless?” Rafael laughed. “He said you called him that! He’s right here, and he remembers you, too!” Atcho looked in the direction Rafael pointed.

  A very old man sat in a wheelchair. His deep wrinkles could not mask the eyes shining brightly from behind their folds, nor a smile that broke across his face. Atcho went to lean over beside the wheelchair, and placed an arm around Toothless’ shoulder. The old man clasped Atcho’s hand weakly. “I knew it was you,” he rasped gleefully. “I knew you were Atcho.” His face became serious. “But I never told anyone.” He grinned again, and pointed at his mouth, “And look,” he beamed, “I have teeth!”

  Recalling the man’s compassion when telling about Juan’s death, a lump formed in Atcho’s throat, and his eyes misted. As emotion overtook him, he lowered to one knee and hugged Toothless. Mercifully, Burly broke the tension. “Bar’s open!” he announced. A band broke into soft rhythms of Latin music.

  Atcho stood up. “It’s good to see you, Viéjo,” he said. The old man nodded contentedly.

  “We’re proud of you,” Burly said. “The way you handled yourself in battle, how you bore up in captivity, and what you’ve made of your
self since your release. We figured that if the president of the United States could honor you publicly, we could do it privately.”

  “Thank you,” Atcho whispered.

  Bob approached and embraced him. “I’m glad you’re my father-in-law,” he said quietly. “You’re a wonderful example of how to live life.”

  A wave of pride swept over Atcho. He acknowledged Bob, and then looked around for Isabel. She was standing by the bar, drink in hand, watching with a strange expression. Other well-wishers closed around Atcho, clapping him on the back and shaking his hand. He accepted their compliments, and then watched as they moved onto the dance floor.

  “You were right, you know.” Burly stood next to him.

  “What about?”

  “President Kennedy’s support for the Bay of Pigs,” Burly replied. “He was clear that he would not support the invasion. Privately, because of probable impact on world peace, he never liked the idea.”

  “I know,” Atcho said. “I studied the record thoroughly after arriving in the U.S. Khrushchev threatened retaliation in Berlin if the United States actively participated in the action. Mr. Kennedy issued instructions that American personnel were not even to land in Cuba.”

  Burly nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, Atcho. I feel I personally helped mislead your people.”

  Atcho grasped Burly’s shoulder affectionately. “If others in the CIA had cared as much as you, resources and planning might have been better, or the whole thing might have been called off earlier. My understanding is that one top man decided to go through with the operation, lawful authority be damned. He even had instructions issued to 2506 Brigade leaders in Guatemala to arrest their American trainers if a presidential order were received to cancel the invasion.”

  “That’s true,” Burly agreed. “But many operating in the field didn’t know the controversy existed. So far as we knew, the operation would be executed as planned.”

  “And the planning wasn’t very good,” Atcho said. “The other related tragedy was Kennedy’s agreement with Khrushchev a year later. After the Cuban missile crisis, Khrushchev pledged to pull missiles out of Cuba if the U.S. promised to stop supporting anti-Castro rebels. The United States became the de facto guarantor of Castro’s power.” He sighed. “Between you and me, I think Kennedy blinked.” They let the statements set. The weight of Cuba’s fate rested heavily on Atcho for a moment. He was glad Burly didn’t know every detail of the last few years.

  The two quietly observed the guests for a moment, and then Atcho continued. “Burly, I thought of you often over the years. I have only respect for you. Thanks for trying.” They shook hands and chatted awhile longer. After exchanging business cards, they parted to mingle.

  Rafael introduced his wife to Atcho. “I wish I had known you were interested in real estate,” he said. “I would have asked you to join my business in Miami!”

  “I didn’t actually go into real estate,” Atcho answered. “The business found me. A classmate offered a job here in Washington. Then I was able to buy another company.”

  “Well, your reputation is tremendous. From what I hear, you own or manage some prime pieces of property around the city.”

  “I’ve been lucky,” Atcho put on his most sincere smile and hoped the irony in his voice was not obvious. What would you think of me if you knew who financed my business?

  “Maybe we can joint venture a project sometime,” Rafael said. “I feel as though we are destined to do something together.”

  “I’d enjoy that,” Atcho said. “Stay in touch. If I hear of something, I’ll let you know. You do the same.” They exchanged business cards.

  Atcho looked around for Isabel. She was dancing with Bob and he thought how wonderful they looked together. Their affection for each other cast a magical aura. What a beautiful picture, Atcho thought nostalgically, thinking of romantic evenings he had spent with Isabel’s mother.

  “Mr. Xiques, it is so nice to see you again.” Atcho’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized Sofia’s voice.

  “Thank you for coming,” he replied, unable to think of anything else to say. He stared, taking in her lustrous hair and smooth skin. Then, he caught himself. “Would you like to dance?”

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  As they moved onto the floor, Atcho was entranced. Sofia wore an elegant black gown that shimmered in the soft light, silhouetting her lovely figure. They danced many times, and Atcho began to feel lighthearted in a way he had not known for many years. He wished the evening could go on and on.

  Feeling someone staring at him, he turned in time to meet Isabel’s eyes. She was standing by the bar again, holding a fresh drink, and looked away quickly. Bob was out of sight. “Sofia, have you ever met my daughter, Isabel?”

  “No, but I’d love to. She must be very special to have such a dedicated father.” They moved through the crowd.

  Isabel saw them coming and set her glass down. Her mouth formed a perfunctory smile.

  “Isabel. I’d like you to meet Sofia. She helped find you while I was in the Swiss Embassy in Havana.”

  Sofia smiled warmly. “Your father was very anxious to locate you.” She extended her hand.

  Isabel took it dutifully. “Thank you for your help.” She leaned on the bar and grasped her drink. “What do you think of our hero?” Sarcasm tinged her voice.

  Sofia glanced uneasily from Isabel to Atcho. “I think he’s someone to be very proud of,” she said quietly.

  Isabel snickered. “Maybe you’re right. Would you excuse me? I need fresh air.” Startled, Atcho watched her go. Then he faced Sofia.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She looked at him questioningly. “Is there a problem?”

  Atcho sighed. “She’s angry with me, but I don’t know why. She’s been aloof since she returned from Germany four years ago, but she’s never been deliberately rude before. Would you mind if I went to talk with her?”

  “Of course not. I know how you feel about your daughter.”

  Atcho pushed after Isabel, slowed by people who wished to speak to him. When he reached the edge of the crowd, Isabel was nowhere to be seen.

  Along a wall lined by full-length windows, a door stood open and a breeze ruffled the drapes. Atcho walked over and looked outside. Isabel stood on the other end of a terrace, her back to the door. The full moon looked down, expressionless.

  Atcho crossed the terrace quietly. When he was near Isabel, he heard her crying softly. “Isabel, what is it?” he asked, embracing her.

  “Don’t!” Isabel gasped through sobs. She pulled away brusquely.

  Stung by abrupt rejection, Atcho stood rooted to the terrace floor. “Did I do something to upset you?” Isabel made no reply. “Please, Isabel. If I have done something, tell me. I love you! There is no one in this world who means so much to me.”

  “Oh, really!” Isabel whirled on him, her face contorted in rage. “Is that why you stayed in Cuba while I was sent over here?”

  In shock, Atcho took a step backward. “I had to … ”

  “I know. You had to stay and fight for the country!” Isabel was sarcastic. “Well, you lost! Meanwhile, all those who didn’t stay brought their families out and lived normal lives. Their children had fathers to love and care for them!” She paused to catch her breath. “Even 2506 Brigade members came out after fighting for their country.” She spoke in uncontrolled gasps. “Do you know what I had?” Fury broke across her face. “An aunt who loved me, but was dominated by an uncle who loathed me. He blamed me for every difficulty they ever had, and never let me forget that I was not his daughter.” There was agony in her voice. “I used to cry myself to sleep thinking that if I had a daddy, he would love me and hug me and make all bad things go away.”

  Atcho moved close to Isabel. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

  “I used to have nightmares about a man lying in the dirt with blood all over him. He was staring at me, and he had a knife in his hand. I always thought
he was trying to kill me. Years later, my aunt told me that you were that man! That was my first and only memory of you, until I saw you in the Miami airport.”

  She pulled a handkerchief from her purse while Atcho stood in glum silence. “Neighbors referred to me as ‘poor Isabel.’ And kids called me an orphan. My uncle always told me I was lucky to be with him and Aunt Raissa.” Her voice was steadier, but still marked by fierce anger. “I knew that a good education was my only hope for a better life, so I worked hard in school. But, kids who didn’t like Cuban refugees taunted me. Somehow I earned a scholarship to Mt. Saint Mary’s. But even then, I had to take out student loans and work to pay tuition. Someone had set up a trust fund for me, but it wasn’t enough.” She paused to wipe away tears with a handkerchief.

  “My Aunt Raissa was the one person in this world who loved me. I wanted to die when she was killed.” She sobbed softly. “Fortunately, I met Bob about six months later. He made life worthwhile again, and even helped pay tuition in my senior year. There was just nowhere else to turn for money.” She calmed down and stared into the darkness.

  “Isabel, why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

  “Why didn’t you ever ask? I inquired all about what happened in Cuba.” Her tone was laced with bitterness. “And you gave me elusive answers. You’re hiding something.” She faced him. “Either that, or you’re a coward, worried about saving your own skin!” Atcho reeled under the onslaught.

  Isabel whirled angrily. “I still don’t understand why you kept your identity hidden all those years.” Tears ran down her cheeks and her voice took on new fury. “Why were you fighting at the Bay of Pigs while I was still in the hands of kidnappers?” Eyes aflame with accusation, she faced her father. “I’ve accepted your explanations all these years. I even refrained from telling you about the baby we lost in Germany because I didn’t want to add to your pain.”