The Plug's Wife

by Chynna

  Summer shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Good thing she had thrown on a comfortable pair of J’s and some leggings for this visit.

  After what seemed like an eternity, a mocha skinned man wearing a button down shirt and khakis approached. Summer’s heartbeat sped up. It was the administrator of the nursing home, Mr. Halsey.

  “Ahhh, Mrs. Banks. That’s the new name, isn’t it?” the man said, extending his hand. Summer wasn’t there to make small talk. She accepted his hand for a curt handshake.

  “Yes. It’s Banks now,” she replied.

  “Right this way,” Mr. Halsey said, stoically leading the way like.

  Summer wasn’t feeling the atmosphere at all.

  “Listen, I’m confused. I get a call saying that I need to come here right away. Everyone is acting strange. Front desk girl tells me my grandmother has been moved somewhere only escorts can access. No disrespect, but what the hell is going on? Is my grandmother doing okay?” Summer asked, concerned.

  One of her worst fears was getting a call that her grandmother had passed away. Her grandmother’s health had steadily deteriorated since coming to the United States. Summer often wondered if it was worry about her and other family members that was slowly killing the matriarch.

  “We’re almost there,” Mr. Halsey said calmly, completely ignoring Summer’s questions. They entered the elevator where Mr. Halsey used a swipe card to access the button for the top floor. Summer bit into the side of her cheek and tapped her foot. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep her cool. The elevator could not move fast enough for her.

  They walked down a long hallway to a set of glass doors. Mr. Halsey swiped his card again and the doors parted automatically. Summer followed him through, her eyes wide with amazement. She never knew this part of the nursing home even existed. The room they entered was furnished like a penthouse suite. A beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline filtered through the windows. The floors were covered with thick Persian carpets. Soothing artwork decorated the walls. The entire wing screamed FOR RICH PEOPLE ONLY. It was the type of place Summer imagined the Kennedy family sending their elderly members.

  “This is the best suite in the place,” Mr. Halsey said. She raised her eyebrows; she certainly had not asked him to move her grandmother.

  “Who made the decision to move her here?” Summer asked. She wasn’t complaining, but she could only imagine how much the new suite cost.

  “Umm…I did. You’ll understand why soon enough,” he replied vaguely.

  The exclusive wing provided twenty-four hour nurses and attendants for only three patients under their care. That meant her grandmother basically always had her own nurse. Keeping her grandmother comfortable was one of the biggest worries Summer had after Jesse was killed. Yet another reason she worked so hard for the business.

  Mr. Halsey pulled out a thick ring of keys and used it to open the door to her grandmother’s room. Mr. Halsey pushed the door open inviting her in with a wave, but he stood back as if he were afraid to enter. Summer’s heart rattled in her chest. She immediately saw her grandmother’s form from the doorway. Guilt and shame washed over her; Summer hadn’t visited her in weeks. Mr. Halsey left the room, locking it on his way out. Summer felt like someone had sucked the air out of her lungs with a straw. Just the idea that her grandmother might not be around forever made her feel nauseous enough to throw up. Her grandmother had been everything to her after her parents were gone.

  The smell of lavender and talcum powder—her grandmother’s signature scent—filled the room. Tears sprang to Summer’s eyes. She moved forward at a snail’s pace towards her grandmother’s bedside. She immediately noticed a bouquet of fresh, newly opened roses that had been dyed black sitting on the tray table at the end of the bed. Her stomach curled. “Abuelita?” Summer she whispered almost breathlessly.

  Before Summer could react, Summer sucked in her breath as she felt a presence move in the darkened corner of the room. She’d walked right into a trap. A scream stuck in her throat. The call from her grandmother’s caretakers had led her to this vulnerable position. She had walked right into a trap. Her family had always been her Achilles heel. She was helpless, just like the little poor girl from Cuba. Summer’s body trembled fiercely as the noose of fear tightened around her neck.

  “Lourdes Calvo, this is what it took to see you, huh? I had to sit at your sick abeulita’s bedside for days just to get your attention?” The familiar voice filtered into her ear. It was a harsh, embittered whisper that sent stabbing pains through her chest.

  “Oh I forgot, you go by the name Summer now. Or did you forget I was the one who gave you that name? Now that you are boss, you forgot where you came from, eh? Well, I never forget. It’s time to pay up, no? I thought I taught you a long time ago that you can’t pay enough…loyalty has no price.”

  Summer froze; fear gripped her by the throat. She side-stepped, but he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. She remembered the feel of his hands on her body and suddenly she felt very ill. Everything about him rendered her powerless.

  “Open your eyes and look at me Lourdes. Remember what we agreed. I never forget,” he said. The sight of his badly burned and disfigured face sent Summer’s mind hurling backwards in time.

  *******************************

  She was almost seventeen when the arrangements were made for her illegal transport to the United States. There was no big family discussion. She didn’t have an opportunity to voice her opinion, nor did her grandmother or her siblings. It had been settled by her grandfather. He made the decision because he felt he was too old to handle her. She was known in their small village for her ruthless fighting and her skills with the pistol. Some called her poco asesino, a title her grandfather wasn’t proud of. There were constant threats towards their family. Her grandfather decided it was time to leave the island when she received a doll fashioned to resemble her with a rope tied around its neck.

  “Lourdes, usted irá a Estados Unidos y hacer una vida mejor. Aquí, morirás como tu padre si no vas,” Lourdes, you will go to America and make a better life. Here, you will die like your father if you do not go. Her grandfather had announced firmly after dinner one evening.

  “Abuelo, por favor! Voy a cambiar! No quiero dejar a todos ustedes!” Grandfather, please! I will change! I don't want to leave all of you! She had cried, her heart exploding with grief at his apparent abandonment. All of her trouble resulted from attempts to protect the family. She didn’t know why he couldn’t understand that.

  “No habrá más discusión! Va a ir!” There will be no more discussion! You will go! Her grandfather wouldn’t hear any more pleas from her or anyone else in the family. No one knew that he left to hide his own tears. The old man knew that if he didn’t send his granddaughter away, he’d bury her just as he had his son and grandson. He was getting too old and his heart was weakening. He knew his time was coming to an end soon. He also knew that Summer was the most resourceful member of the family. He could only hope that she’d make a life in America for herself and bring the others along once she settled down there.

  Her grandfather took a chance on Pino Alvarez, the neighborhood criminal and smuggler, to keep his end of the bargain and get his granddaughter to a safe place in America. Her grandfather was willing to do anything to keep his granddaughter alive.

  The plan was for her to leave Cuba in the thick of the night. Cubans seemed to think that the streets were paved in gold in America.

  She spent the hour before leaving with Pino with her grandparents.

  “Shhh, abuelita,” she comforted her grandmother.

  “Voy a estar bien. Voy a verlos a todos de nuevo ... lo prometo.” I’m going to be fine. I will see you all again…I promise. She buried her face in her grandmother’s bosom. Her grandmother sobbed while she held onto her tightly.

  “Dios te ha bendecido con el coraje, algo que nadie te puede quitar. Usa tu prudencia. Que Jesucristo te proteja, aunque nunca te vuelva a ver.�
� God has blessed you with heart, something no one can ever take from you. Use your gift wisely. May Jesus Christ protect you, even if I never see you again. Her grandmother said the words through her sobs.

  “Abuela, no parecen ser así! Nos vemos pronto! Te prometo, nunca dejes que ninguno de abajo.” Grandma, don't speak like that! I will see you soon! I promise, I will never let any of you down. She broke from her grandmother’s embrace and walked over to her weeping little sister and hugged her tightly.

  “Voy a enviar para usted,” she whispered. I will send for you. Her sister’s body shook with sobs.

  Her younger brother approached with a solemn expression on his face. Sniffling back tears, Summer playfully punched Juliano in his bony arm.

  “Ya me voy, espero que seas el hombre de la familia.” Since I'm leaving, I expect you to be the man of the family now. They had a running joke between them that she was the real man of the house because of how many times she used her gun to protect their family. Her brother chuckled as he swiped roughly at the tears welling up in his eyes. Men are not supposed cry.

  She never said goodbye to her grandfather. He refused to come out of his room to see her off. Summer, in turn, refused her grandmother’s instructions to go to him and say goodbye. The old man had thrown her to the wolves practically. It was not something she could easily forgive or forget.

  When she arrived at the seaport, Pino Alvarez, an overweight grease ball with brown stained teeth, filthy clothes and dirty fingernails was the first to greet her. Just the sight of him made her want to hurl. She had threatened the dirty pervert numerous times. He had tried for years to get at her sexually, but she always kept a big silver gun tucked away on her body. It was rumored that Summer also participated in vigilante killings and that her thirst for blood was insatiable. That rumor alone kept Pino and his ilk at bay.

  When she walked up with her skin gleaming, her small waist switching side to side and her perfect breasts sitting up on her chest, Pino couldn’t help but lick his lips hungrily. He couldn’t wait to take a bite out of her.

  She stopped in front of him, one hand on her hip. In the other hand she held a small satchel of goodies her grandmother had packed. The uncertainty in her eyes made Pino grin sinisterly. He knew that he was in control this time. He snatched her satchel and before she could get defensive, he began pilfering through it removing the things he wanted for himself. Tossing it back in her face, he laughed.

  “Usted no es tan difícil hoy en día, ¿eh?” You’re not as difficult today, huh? he said slyly, licking his dry, cracked lips again like an animal ready to dine on its prey. She tapped her foot hating the feeling of powerlessness that overwhelmed her.

  Pino made her spin around a few times while he surveyed her physical assets. Then he called her close to him. She scrunched her face at the odor emanating from his body. He took his grubby, calloused hands and stuck them inside her shirt. His hands felt like alligator skin against the delicate skin of her breasts. Pino was breathing hard, fully aroused. She swallowed the ball of anger that welled up inside of her throat. He continued his exploration down south, examining just about every part of her genitalia with his disgusting hands before he was satisfied. Her chest heaved as she endured his molestation. She made a promise to herself that if she ever came back to Cuba or she ever ran into him again in life, she would torture him unmercifully before she killed him. Imagining the heinous things she’d do to him was the only thing that got her through it.

  “Va a ser un premio cuando llegues allí.” You will be a prize when you get there. He wheezed when he was finished his perverted assault. Then he pushed her into the large shipping container that would serve as her “boat to freedom.” The rank smell—a mixture of sweaty armpits and fish was the first thing to hit her when she stumbled into the darkened vessel. She stretched her eyes wide trying to get them to adjust to the darkness. The only illumination was slim radiant beams of sunlight filtering through the tiny holes. There was just enough oxygen inside for her to breathe.

  With her heart constricting tightly in her chest, she found an empty spot on the dirty floor to get settled in. She placed her half empty satchel on her lap and pulled her knees in close to her body. Squinting, she finally got her eyes to focus enough to see other scared eyes watching her. She immediately scanned her company. Girls of all ages sat on the musky floors. She counted twenty-five of them in all, including herself. She sat next to a bony girl who lay on her side facing the wall. She’d noticed the girl because her body was curled into the fetus position instead of sitting upright like the other travelers. The girl seemed frail, coughing loudly every few seconds. She knew immediately that the girl had some type of serious illness.

  “Si nos paramos por la Guardia Costera estadounidense y que está tosiendo así, van a oír su seguro y que todos serán devueltos.” If we get stopped by the American Coast Guard and she is coughing like that, they will hear her for sure and we will all be sent back. One of the girls announced. The girl got a few nods and groans of agreement from the others.

  “Debemos presionar a salir. Quiero llegar a América. Voy a ser una famosa bailarina. Nada me detendrá.” We should push her out. I want to make it to America. I am going to be a famous dancer. Nothing will stop me. Another girl said dreamily. Another round of nods and moans of agreements echoed around the stale shipping container. The girl lying on her side began coughing loudly again, barely able to catch her breath.

  “Vamos a deshacernos de ella ahora!” Let's get rid of her now! The first girl yelled out. As she headed towards the sick girl, Lourdes stood up too.

  “Déjala en paz.” Leave her alone. Lourdes’ voice was unsettlingly calm. The troublemaker turned towards Lourdes with her eyes squinted into dashes.

  “¿Quién crees que eres? La madrina de este barco? Vete a la mierda! Who do you think you are? The godmother of this boat? Fuck you! The girl spat and continued moving towards the sick girl. Lourdes reached the troublemaker within seconds. In the darkness, Lourdes could only make out the whites of her eyes and her square, buckteeth.

  “No, yo no soy la madrina, sin embargo. Pero si no la dejas en paz, se llega a ver a Dios.” No, I'm not the godmother, yet. But if you don't leave her alone, you will get to see God. Lourdes replied, leveling her grandfather’s revolver at the girl’s head. There was no more talk about removing the sick girl. Halfway to the United States, the girl stopped coughing all together. Lourdes was the only one to notice or care. The girl was dead, curled like a snail under a heap of salt.

  Lourdes put her head down on her knees and hid her tears. She didn’t know the girl enough to cry for her, but she couldn’t help but cry for what the girl represented. Although chaotic and violent, her life in Cuba was all she’d known. If she planned to survive in America, it would be survival of the fittest. The rough movement inside of the vessel as it moved along the choppy Florida Straits gave Lourdes a sinking feeling in her gut. She too would have to die before she could start a new life for herself in America.

  **********************

  Summer’s lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears as the familiar scent—a mixture of redolent Cuban cigar smoke and eucalyptus scented aftershave—filled her nostrils. Memories swirled around her head like the eye of a tornado. She was usually able to get rid of them with a blink of an eye or some distraction, but having him there now, feeling the touch of his claw nailed hands had slammed Summer head first into reality’s wall. Her skin crawled just like it did the first time she smelled him and he touched her. That day, still wild and confident, she fought like a feral cat but after he used his “methods” it wasn’t long before she surrendered. Now, she felt like that fresh-off-the-boat helpless teenager again. In a foreign land with no way out. The vulnerability she felt from his presence made her stomach turn over and over.

  “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” he asked, his voice like ice. The rough boils on his face rubbed against her cheek and made her feel like vomiting. She vomited for two days
straight after the first time with him. He was good at mental warfare. In fact, it wasn’t until she met Jesse and experienced love for the very first time that she felt a sliver of happiness, albeit temporary.

  “Remember when you first arrived in Florida? So beautiful and young and mean as a pit-bull. Of all of the girls, I knew you were special, so I chose you first. I showed you how to be a woman myself. The touching. The fucking. The sucking. You learned it all from me. You enjoyed every minute of it. I didn’t leave that to the filthy strangers. Not you, Lourdes, my flower. Instead of putting you on the streets like the others, I put you with the rich men—exclusive clients who treated you like a princess. I made sure you understood the value of the American dollar,” he told her.

  Repulsed by his fondling, another wave of cramps gripped her stomach.

  “But you forgot…no? You forgot what I told you about always paying me, no matter how far you got in life or from whom you made money selling your pussy.”

  His vituperative words stabbed at her psyche. Summer squeezed her eyes shut and prayed silently that her grandmother would stay sedated. Having her family know what she had to do when she first arrived in America would be too shameful for her to handle. Tears fell in streams down her cheeks. The man pushed his hands further into her hair and clutched a handful of her slick curls tightly in his fist. It was how he restrained her that first night. He called it “taming her.” The act was debilitating her now, forcing her to recall the ugliness of the past.

  “When I gave you the name Summer Hammond, I told you it was a new identity to use for these jobs. The real Summer crossed me and wound up dead. It was a special name to me…just like you were once special to me. You were supposed to use that name and identity to infiltrate the rich and make them trust you. You did well at first with setting up Rex McKenzie. But then what happened?” he whispered harshly, yanking her head back. Summer bit her bottom lip. Didn’t he know who the fuck she was right now? She was the boss!