by Ocean
Carefully, Devin clutched a shard of glass and with Rosie’s help, climbed up the side of a milk carton. When she got to the top, she cut the bag and peered out.
“What do you see?” Rosie asked.
“We’re in a trash bin. Come on, let’s get out of here.” She scampered back down the side of the milk crate and reached a hand to help Rosie climb up.
When they were out of the bag, they stared up the sides of the green metal container that towered upward. Above was a vast, dark sky, littered with twinkling stars and a bright, white moon. The top of the container was a seemingly insurmountable distance away.
“How are we going to get out?” Rosie asked.
A broken broom handle lay across the heap of garbage, half buried.
“There!” Devin pointed to it. “Help me get it out.”
They cleared cans, food, and dirty diapers away until the stick was free. Devin leaned it at a forty-five-degree angle, wedging it against the top corner of the dumpster. She shimmied up it with little effort. When she reached the top, she climbed up to the edge of the container.
“Come on, Rosie.”
Rosie wrapped her legs and arms around the stick, hugging it and tried mimicking the way she’d just watched Devin climb. She’d get up a few inches, then slide back down.
“It’s really hard,” she said.
“I know, but you can do it. Pull with your arms and push with your legs. Come on.”
They both heard it at the same time. The beeping sound a large truck makes when it backs up.
Devin turned her head then looked down at Rosie.
“Rosie, hurry! It’s the garbage collection truck.”
Rosie started up the pole again. She’d reached about halfway up when she slid down to the bottom.
“Devin. I can’t!” She didn’t want to cry but felt like sitting and bawling.
Why was everything always so difficult?
The beeping sound grew louder.
“Hurry Rosie. They’re only a couple houses away!”
Rosie gripped the broomstick the best she could. Her tiny hands barely encircled it, and she tried shimmying up it again. She’d only gone a few inches when her feet slipped, and she slid back down.
“Devin!” she cried.
“Take those stupid shoes off. That’s what’s making you slip. You’ll be able to grip it better with bare feet. Hurry.”
The beeping sounded like it was right next to them. Rosie kicked her boots and socks off and started back up the pole. This time she made it. As she stood at the top of the dumpster next to Devin, she glanced around. They were in a neighborhood. A nearby sign said, “Havana. 1.5 miles”.
She pointed to the sign. “Devin. We’re in Havana. What–”
Before she could finish, the ground beneath her shook. The forklift of a huge green truck slid beneath the container and was lifting them off the ground. She and Devin both teetered, their arms waved in an attempt to keep their balance. Devin was about to fall back into the container.
“Devin! Jump!” Rosie yelled. She pushed Devin then lept off the edge of the dumpster herself and tumbled to the ground below, landing on top of Devin.
They lay on the ground and looked up in horror as the container slowly drifted overhead away from them. There was a loud crash as it was tipped, and the trash dumped into the truck. The sound of a motor competed with the noise of the container being lowered and crashed onto the ground, immediately followed by a loud, disturbing grinding noise.
Devin’s face contorted as if in pain and Rosie understood why. She felt it too. The thought of how narrowly they’d escaped being dumped into the grinding mechanism. It was as if the sound were that of her own bones being crushed.
As the truck drove past them, one of the men holding onto the sides yelled, “Hey look! Two dolls! Hey Joey, hold up,” he yelled, jumped off the truck then jogged toward them.
Devin said, “Oh shit. Not again.”
She lept up, lifted her hands over her head and screamed, “Boo!”.
The man froze. The whites of his eyes showed wide as his head snapped back. He emit a high-pitched scream and bolted back to the truck.
“What’s the matter?” a voice from inside the truck said.
“Go! Go!” The man had resumed his position clinging to the side of the vehicle and violently waved to the driver’s reflection in the side mirror. As the truck pulled away, he repeatedly glanced over his shoulder.
Devin and Rosie stood, alone, in the middle of the desolate street. It was still dark and other than the sound of the truck that grew quieter each moment, the night air was silent.
Devin put her hands on her hips.
“Well,” she said. “Here we are in Havana. We have no idea how to find this Mambo woman. And any minute the sun will rise, and we’ll be frozen again until tonight. Any suggestions?”
7
Now What?
“Okay,” Rosie said as they stood on the side of the road. “Let’s review what we need.”
“First,” Devin said, “we have to find the Mambo and see if she can help us.”
“Right.”
“And we need to figure out a way to not be frozen all day so we’re not at the mercy of whoever picks us up.”
“Right. What else?”
“Of course, we have to figure out how to get back to the States. Find Ria and Naomi and get back into our own bodies.”
“Right. Like that’s going to be easy. Anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“I might add, we need to find decent clothes, so we’re not running around in these stupid nun outfits.”
Rosie nodded.
“Any idea how we can accomplish all that?”
“Not a clue. You?”
Rosie shook her head, and they began walking toward Havana.
8
The road to Havana
Rosie and Devin had been walking down the dusty road for quite some time before the stiffness started. Rosie first noticed it in her arms. It was a pins and needles sensation. She was losing feeling in them.
“Uh-oh, Devin,” she said. “I think the sun is about to rise. It’s getting hard to move.”
“Yeah, I feel it too.”
“What should we do?”
Devin surveyed the area. “Let’s get away from the road so no one finds us. We’ll wait out the day hidden. We can keep walking to Havana tonight.” She pointed toward a large tree that towered over several boulders. “Over there.”
They’d barely made it to the tree when it happened. Devin had climbed over a rock and slid down the other side. She was on the ground. “Hurry!” she encouraged Rosie.
Rosie climbed the rock, though with great difficulty. Her hands were practically useless and her legs, stiff. When she reached the top of the rock, it took all her might to lean forward so she’d tumble in Devin’s direction. She fell on top of Devin and there they lay, a tangled mess of arms, legs and nun outfits when the sun peeked over the horizon.
The hours ticked by slowly.
This is torture.
Rosie’s mind worked fine but she couldn’t move. All she could do was think. She’d landed face up with her eyes open. She wasn’t sure what position Devin was in, but knew she’d landed on top of her and hoped she wasn’t face down in the dirt.
Her view was of the branches of a tree filtering a bright blue sky. Hours tediously crawled by as birds and clouds floated above, and with them her thoughts.
How did we get into such a mess? And will we be able to get ourselves out of it?
She missed Itchy and when she thought about her cute little Chihuahua face, it made her want to cry. But she didn't think she could cry. She knew her friends would take good care of the little dog. Was today the day she was supposed to return home from her vacation? She didn’t even know what day it was.
The sound of heavy breathing interrupted her thoughts. She couldn’t turn her head, or even move
her eyes, to get a look at where the sound was coming from, but it was nearby. Suddenly, the nose, teeth and tongue of a dog popped into her line of vision. It was a scraggly mutt that sniffed her.
Uh-oh. Get away! Shoo! Scram!
Her thoughts weren’t enough to scare it away, but it was all she had. Luckily, the dog turned from her.
Oh, good. He’s leaving.
Then she saw one of the back legs lift.
Oh, no.
She moaned in silence as a stream of urine splattered past her, a light spray scattering across her glasses.
No matter what it takes, we’ve got to get to the Mambo and get out of these stupid doll bodies tonight!
The rest of the day passed uneventful. Each hour, each minute, excruciatingly slow. When dusk finally settled in, Rosie’s spirits elevated. Hopeful thoughts rushed through her mind, immediately followed by fears, doubts and anxieties.
What if we can’t find the Mambo? What if she can’t help us? Or won’t? What if we never get our bodies back?
She reprimanded herself.
I can’t allow myself to think that way. I’ve got to remain positive. We can make it happen. I will get back into my own body. We have to. Failure is not an option.
Finally, the last light of day disappeared, replaced by the dim radiance of the rising moon. Rosie blinked. She’d never realized how good it felt to blink. She turned her head. It was only a slight turn, but it felt heavenly. Then her fingers. One at a time, she wiggled them. Devin trembled beneath her.
Rosie tried speaking.
“Dev-in?” Her mouth was still numb and her speech troubled, difficult.
“Em.” The reply was more a hum than a word.
Rosie wiggled, rocked side to side and finally rolled off Devin. Moment by moment she slowly regained use of her limbs. Everything was a blur. The first thing she did was to wipe the dog pee off her face and glasses. Devin peeled herself off the ground. She’d been lying face down all day. She wiped dirt from her eyes and mouth.
“Ug,” she said as she spat dirt off her lips. “Well, that was rather unpleasant.”
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to land on you.” Rosie reached and wiped a clump of dirt from Devin’s cheek.
“Tomorrow morning, let’s make sure we set up in a more comfortable position before the sun rises, okay?”
“I’m hoping that by some miracle tomorrow I’ll be in my own body, and it won’t be an issue.” Devin sniffed. “What’s that smell?”
Rosie looked down at the stain on the front of her dress.
“A dog. Um… peed on me.”
Devin’s face contorted. She flapped a hand in front of her nose.
“Okay, let’s get going,” she said. “We can’t waste any time.”
They ran back to the road. It stretched out far ahead of them.
“This is going to take us days,” Rosie said.
“I know. It’ll take us another night at least.”
They began walking. It was a clear night, and the moon was high, providing plenty of light. Rocks and bushes that normally Rosie wouldn’t have given a second look to, towered over them. Occasionally, a lizard darted in front of them. Colorful flowers and luscious palm trees were everywhere, reminding her of the Florida Keys but noticeably, there was no litter lining the road. The landscape was quite beautiful, and Rosie was thinking that at another time, she’d liked to visit.
The sound of a car approaching interrupted her thoughts. They scuttled to hide in the brush as a car that looked like it had driven right out of a gangster movie passed by them.
“Did you see that?” Devin said as the two rear tailpipes sputtered away from them. “It looked like something from an old Hollywood set. I’d heard there were lots of vintage cars here. Whoa. I’d like to get my hands on some of them.”
“Devin, this is going to take forever,” Rosie said, and when she turned to see how far they had come, she spotted something in the distance.
“Devin, look!”
An old man approached, leading an equally aged donkey. Both the man and the donkey appeared to sleepwalk as they moved slowly forward with lowered heads.
Devin elbowed Rosie.
“Let’s catch a ride.”
“But how–”
“Follow me. Come on.” Devin grabbed Rosie’s wrist and led her to the side of the road where they hid in the tall grass.
Leisurely, the man and donkey approached, then passed by them.
“Come on!” Devin whispered and ran after the donkey with Rosie on her heels.
The gravel beneath Rosie’s bare feet was annoying but not as painful as if she’d been running barefoot in her own body.
“Grab the tail and climb up,” Devin instructed.
“You’re the brave one. You go first,” Rosie said.
The donkey’s tail hung limp behind it, almost reaching the ground. Devin jumped, grabbed the tip of the tail and scampered up it. Rosie tried to follow. She jumped, reached and grabbed onto the course hair, but the donkey flicked its tail, and she was sent flying. She landed on her back.
“Rosie, hurry!” Devin motioned with her hands as she kept looking over her shoulder at the old man. They both must have been a little blind and deaf, as neither he nor the donkey paid them any attention.
Rosie got up and ran after the donkey. Again, she leapt and reached for the tip of the animal’s tail. This time, she grabbed it.
“Hang on tight,” Devin instructed.
Hand over hand, Rosie climbed up the matted hair. A fly buzzed near her face. When she was halfway up, the donkey stopped. The man stopped with it. The base of the donkey’s tail lifted, and with it, so did Rosie.
“Uh-oh,” Devin said.
Large chunks of poop, the size of Rosie’s head, poured out the animal’s hind end and dropped toward the ground in front of her face.
“Rosie, hold on!” Devin said.
9
Which way to the Mambo?
Rosie felt her face distort.
“Gross."
She closed her eyes, turned her face away, wrapped her legs in the mass of hair, tightened her grip and held on.
Within a minute, it was over. The man and donkey resumed walking.
Devin motioned for Rosie to keep climbing.
When Rosie made it to the top, they scampered to one of the wicker baskets that hung off the sides of the animal’s back, lifted the lid, and climbed inside.
They jiggled inside the basket as the donkey lumbered along. When the man finally gave the command to, ‘whoa’, Devin lifted the woven lid and peered out.
“What do you see?” Rosie whispered.
“We’re in downtown Havana. Come on, let’s go.” Devin climbed out, slid down one of the straps that kept the baskets in place, and jumped to the ground beneath the donkey with Rosie following behind.
They scurried to the side of the road and hid behind the wheel of a scooter. The moon was high, casting gray shadows. People walked, rode bicycles and used horses and donkeys to carry goods. Vendors unloaded carts and set up booths for the day’s market, even though it was still several hours before dawn. Chickens hustled to get out of the way of the busy activity, noisily squawking whenever they were disturbed. One headed in their direction, curiously tilting its head side to side as it cautiously approached.
“Scram,” Rosie hissed while her hands waved in front of the chicken’s face. The insulted animal clucked and flapped its wings.
“I never realized how big their beaks and claws were,” Rosie said as she watched it go off in a different direction, scratching and pecking at the ground.
“How are we going to find the Mambo? Any ideas?” Devin asked. “I don’t think we’ll see a sign that says, ‘Mambo. This way.’”
“And it’s not as if we can ask someone. Maybe if we can find a map….”
Rosie tugged on Devin’s sleeve. “Look! A phone booth. When’s the last time you saw one of those?”
“Um…Never?”
“Do you think the Mambo is listed?”
“It’s worth taking a look.”
They ran to the phone booth and climbed up to the metal platform that was intended to be a seat. From there they reached the heavy, yellowed paged book.
“This looks pretty old," Rosie said.
“Help me,” Devin struggled with the large book. “It’s too heavy for me to lift by myself.”
Rosie held onto the front of the book while Devin flipped through the pages. She turned to the ‘M’s.’
“Maman… Mamar… Mamber… Mambra. Damn. Nope. Not listed.”
Rosie allowed the phone book to drop. It swung and clanked against the glass side of the booth. She plopped down on the metal shelf and leaned against the glass.
“I really didn’t expect to find ‘Mambo’ in the phone book. This is impossible Devin. We’ll never get back into our bodies.” Her heart hurt.
“Yes, we will. Don’t you dare give up. I need you to be positive and believe we can do this. Together, we can do this, Rosie.”
Rosie stared into Devin’s eyes. She was looking at a doll, she knew, and it wasn’t truly Devin. But it was Devin. It was her soul. And that’s what mattered. It was the strength of her conviction that reached from Devin and touched something inside Rosie that gave her the courage and strength to go on, as it had so many times before.
She nodded.
“Okay.”
They climbed down and walked along the edge of the road, careful to hide whenever someone approached.
They crept behind stalls and under carts that held an abundance of fruit, fish, vegetables, and canned goods that were for sale. Further along they reached the area with storefronts and shops. They passed by a tailor’s shop, a leather repair store, and a bread baker.
“Devin, look!” Rosie pointed at a small sign that hung above a doorway.
“‘Palms Read and Fortunes Told.’ Do you think that person knows about the Mambo?”
“It’s worth a shot. Let’s go.”
The door was unlocked. They pushed and slowly, it swung open. They hurried out of the night and into the dimly lit room, quietly closing the door behind them.
