Broken Paradise

by Cecilia Samartin

  Pepe raised his hands slowly to stop me. For him this was the equivalent of an emotional hurricane and I froze. “Don’t pay me yet, Cousin Butterfly. If it all works out you can send me some cash from home or a box of American cigarettes. I know you won’t forget.

  34

  LUCINDA AND I PACKED OUR FEW BELONGINGS IN THE MESH BAG we used for our picnic lunches when we went to the beach. We took just the few T-shirts I’d bought weeks earlier and a couple pairs of shorts. The rest of the bag was filled with crackers and fresh fruit.

  Beba brought out another bag of fruit and placed it next to our bulging sack. “Really, Beba, we’ll be in Jamaica in a short time. How many bananas can two people eat?”

  Beba placed her hands on her hips and wagged her head knowingly. “You may not eat them, but a ship full of men will make quick work of that. Better they keep their minds on mangos and bananas. You’ll need all the distractions you can handle.” She flicked her head toward Lucinda who was napping on the couch. Her golden curls caught the light of the setting sun, and her heavy lashes barely fluttered against rose-tinted cheeks. Her long limbs were beginning to assume the curvaceousness of womanhood and she was looking as Alicia had when she was at her most beautiful, except that Lucinda would be taller and her face, although equally sweet in expression, was more exotic in form and color. There could be no doubt that she was destined to be a beautiful woman. I put the thought of potential trouble out of my mind. I had other things to worry about.

  It was just as Pepe described. A tall thin bearded man with a red shirt was fishing at the end of pier 17 in the warehouse district. I was to hand him my plastic grocery bag filled with any food items I wanted as long as amongst it was a coffee can stuffed with half of the money. The other half would be delivered when we arrived in Jamaica.

  I walked up to the man and held the bag out to him, but, with a furtive nod of his head, he indicated that I set it down at his feet. I did so and worried for a moment that the bag might tumble into the sea, but I steadied it well away from the edge before stepping back.

  “Stay and talk for a bit,” he said without looking at me. “It looks strange if you just walk away without a word.”

  Looks strange to whom? Was somebody watching us? “Of course,” I muttered.

  “I understand there’s a blind girl traveling with you?”

  “My niece.”

  “Getting out of the dinghy and onto the ship could be tricky. Do you think she can handle it?”

  “I’ll make sure she can.”

  He studied the water and pulled on the line. “Almost had it.” He reeled the line a bit and turned half way to face me, still avoiding my eyes. “I expect you here tomorrow morning at five and not a minute later or we’ll miss the connection. We have two hours to paddle out towards the ship and I can’t be sure how rough the waters will be.”

  Until that moment, this had never occurred to me. It was what I had to do to get home and keep Lucinda from becoming a ward of the state. It was what I had to do to see Jeremy again as soon as possible and save my marriage. “Will it be dangerous?”

  “Only if we get caught and they don’t believe our story.”

  “Our story?”

  “We’ve gone out for a day of fishing. You’re my wife and the girl is our daughter. It’s her birthday and we wanted to catch some fish for a party and she’d never been fishing before. If any boat comes toward us you immediately throw whatever you have in the ocean. And put something in the bag so it doesn’t float.”

  I studied the man’s long European nose and glossy brown hair. His skin was darkened by the sun, but it was obvious he didn’t have a drop of African blood in him.

  “I’m afraid my niece would never pass as your daughter or mine, and especially not yours and mine together. Her father was mulatto and she looks a lot like him. We’ll have to come up with another story.”

  “OK. We’ll go over it tomorrow at five sharp.”

  “May I know your name?”

  The man choked on a smile in spite of his efforts to remain serious and to the point. He looked me directly in the eyes for the first time. “My name is…José Gómez. What’s yours?”

  It took me a moment to understand. “María Gómez,” I replied.

  He nodded approvingly and returned to his fishing without another word.

  Lucinda wanted to know every detail of my conversation with the man at the dock who’d help us escape, and I told her what I knew which wasn’t very much. She listened as though we were planning a day’s excursion. She hadn’t been so animated since before her mother’s death.

  “I’ve never been on a boat,” she said, while holding on to the edge of her chair for the sheer joy of it. “Mami never let me because I can’t swim very well. But now I have to, don’t I, Tía? Now I have no choice.”

  The question caught me off guard. Of course she had a choice. She could stay here and go to the state school. She certainly wasn’t the only blind child on the island. Maybe the school wasn’t as bad as Alicia said. Would she have wanted me to risk Lucinda’s life rather than let her go to a state school for the blind? Because I was risking her life, wasn’t I?

  Beba listened calmly to our conversation, her face devoid of expression as she picked something out from under her nails. I wanted to talk to her without Lucinda present. She’d been short on answers lately, but this time I wouldn’t let her get away so easily. Why was she suddenly so careful about giving her opinions on things? In the old days she always shot them out at whomever was nearby without worrying about their impact.

  Telling Beba that I needed her to help me select more food for the sailors, we left Lucinda resting in bed. I lead Beba by the arm down the street, toward the sweet breeze of the ocean. The malecón was still several blocks away, but its whispering mist seemed particularly lovely, if only because it would help disguise our voices.

  “What do you think, Beba? Am I making a terrible mistake? Is this risk worth it?”

  I’d bombarded her with questions before we were even half way down the street. I whispered them in her ear and felt I was having trouble breathing and walking at the same time.

  Beba didn’t answer, but sat me down on the fountain of the plaza with a firm hand on my shoulder. Together we looked out upon the maze of streets from which we’d come, at this labyrinth of crumbling buildings with rusted gates and laundry dripping from the balconies. Children ran in and out of the open doors barefoot and happy to be children. They paid no notice to the grim faces of their parents too fatigued to be amused by their play and too consumed by their hunger to notice that some of the babies were getting close to the stairs or ambling out into the street.

  Teenage girls strolled together swinging their stretchy hips this way and that, and walking so their young breasts bounced under tube tops and threadbare T-shirts. Young and old men alike called casually after them, offering vulgar comments about the particular body parts they found most alluring, as if the breasts of one girl and behind of another might jump off their respective torsos and find their way to them.

  One particular drama played out before us. A girl, no more than fifteen, had been persuaded to exchange more than glances with a significantly older man. A few seconds later they walked off, the girl trailing behind like a puppy straggling on a short leash.

  Beba turned to me. “She’s probably been whoring since about twelve, maybe younger.” She waved a hand at the group of girls left behind. “They’re just the same, and I happen to know they all finished high school. The government saw to that all right.”

  “Are you saying Lucinda could be like them some day?”

  “I’m saying that hunger makes you do things you thought only the devil could do. Lord in heaven, I never thought an ugly face and a big belly would be such a blessing.”

  “So you think I’m taking a necessary risk with Lucinda. Is that what you mean, Beba?”

  Beba looked a bit exasperated to be put on the spot again. Then taking my hand in hers, she
spoke to me as clearly as she ever had in all my life. “The decision you make is not as important as the heart that’s behind it. Stand by your decision and it will stand by you.”

  Lucinda was dressed and ready when I opened my eyes in the faint haze of morning. Beba was in the kitchen preparing our coffee and toast, our last meal in Cuba. We hardly spoke as we ate and I glanced frequently at the noisy plastic clock on top of Beba’s TV.

  “We have to go in a few minutes,” I said.

  “Do you want me to walk with you?” Beba asked.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea because the man is expecting only Lucinda and me. I don’t know if it makes any difference…”

  Beba put up her hand to let me know she understood. She took the breakfast dishes back to the little sink, but she didn’t rinse them immediately as she always did. She came back to the room to be with us for every minute she could. We stood up from the table and Lucinda reached out for Beba, and when she found her, buried her head into her bosom and wept openly.

  “I wish you were coming with us,” she said as Beba stroked her hair and patted her back.

  “Now, don’t you worry about me. I’m going to be right here like I’ve always been. One day we’ll see each other again. That man can’t live forever.”

  At the door, I hugged Beba long and hard. “You’ll keep trying to call Jeremy for me, won’t you?”

  “I’ll be at that phone so often, people will think I’m a spy. And when I get a hold of him I plan to tell him a few things I got on my mind.”

  I kissed her on the cheek. “I think you should.”

  After twenty minutes of brisk walking, we were half way down the malecón. Lucinda stumbled a few times, but I didn’t slow my pace. We couldn’t risk being late and I’d long given away my watch. Lucinda didn’t complain. In fact, she didn’t speak at all. She knew we had to concentrate on not appearing suspicious. Perhaps we already looked suspicious because we were walking so urgently. Better slow down a bit and point towards the ships on the ocean like sightseers. But what would sightseers be doing out at dawn? Of course we looked like we were trying to escape. What else would a woman and her child be doing out at this time of morning? The only people out at this hour were vagrants sitting on curbs and young prostitutes dragging home with tired faces and high heels dangling from their fingers.

  I pointed to the ships and told Lucinda that our ship was out there somewhere. So eager to appear the unlikely tourist, I forgot that Lucinda couldn’t possibly see where I was pointing.

  “Tía Nora?” Lucinda was slightly out of breath. “I feel so sad inside. I never felt like this before, not even when Mami died.”

  I slowed my pace slightly and struggled to push my mind away from the nervousness I felt. I remembered the first time I had said good-bye to my country so many years ago. Although I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant, Beba’s words made all the difference to me then and I knew they’d help Lucinda now.

  “The sadness of leaving home is like nothing else you’ll ever know,” I said slowly. “And it comes in strong waves that can knock you off your feet when you think you’re standing on solid ground. Everything can be just fine and then you’ll hear the chords of a song or smell onions frying in olive oil and your heart will break all over again into a million pieces, just like that. You’ll want to sell your soul to be home again or just to belong somewhere…anywhere. That’s when you have to hold on most to who you are. And don’t ever give your true heart away, as broken and bleeding as it may be, because when you do, you’ve lost something you may never find again. Better to give away your ghost heart, and then you’ll always know who you are.”

  “What’s my ghost heart, Tía Nora?”

  “It’s the heart inside you that can never be hurt by broken promises or the pain of too much longing. It goes right on beating no matter what happens, because your ghost heart has many lives. But your real heart has only one precious life, and you must always keep that one for yourself.”

  The mild glow of dawn had begun to intensify on the horizon, causing both of my hearts to beat erratically. There was no time to waste, and I picked up my pace again. “We’ll talk more about this, but for now you must remember everything I told you.”

  “I won’t forget,” Lucinda said, running to keep up with me. “Mami said I had the best memory of anyone she ever knew and that I’m rich because of it, because memories are like jewels that can never be stolen.”

  We arrived at the designated dock flushed and slightly out of breath, but the man in the red shirt was nowhere to be found. I was certain this was the right place, and I turned in circles several times in confusion and panic. My God, where was he?

  “I hear something in the water,” Lucinda whispered.

  I looked over the side of the dock to see José Gómez sitting in a small, battered looking dinghy that bobbed up and down in the receding tide. He was watching us anxiously as he motioned for us to get in quickly. We carefully climbed down the steps and Lucinda dropped into the boat without any fuss. José didn’t wait for introductions. He hurriedly untied the boat from the mooring and started to row away from the pier with strong thrusts of his arms and legs. Lucinda and I huddled together on the other side of the boat with our small bag of provisions between us.

  The sun had begun its glowing ascent in the sky, turning the water into pink and gray ribbons of light. All was still except for the rhythmic splash of the oars in the water. It was amazing how quickly José moved.

  Satisfied that we were far enough out, he rested the oars on his thighs and began to instruct us between gasps of air. “We’re husband and wife, José and María Gómez. This is our niece and we’re taking her fishing to celebrate her birthday.”

  “My birthday isn’t until July. And what about Tío Heremi?”

  “No, honey, this is what we say if somebody stops to question us.”

  José nudged the fishing pole resting at his feet toward me and resumed rowing. “Better start fishing.”

  I’d never been fishing in my life, but I knew better than to ask for instructions. I took hold of the pole, untied the line from its tip and dropped it into the water. I looked out toward the shore and gazed upon the malecón. It too was pink and wavering in the morning light. The skyline cut a clear edge along the sky, and the windows blinked with the reflection of the pale light. A few early risers were making their way on foot near the shore. Some were also launching boats closer to shore with their fishing poles cast.

  It was then that I saw her standing at the very end of the pier. She held one hand up to shield the morning sun that peeked over the horizon. The light caught the brilliant white of her turban. It was Beba, and she was waving to us frantically. Perhaps she changed her mind, and she wanted to come with us after all.

  “You have to turn back,” I said to José standing up and rocking the boat. Lucinda gasped.

  “What are you doing? Sit down before we tip over.”

  “It’s Beba. You have to turn back.”

  “Is Beba here?” Lucinda asked.

  “Who the hell is Beba? What are you talking about?” José stopped his frantic rowing and looked toward the pier. “It’ll take me almost an hour to get back there against the current, and we’ll miss the ship.”

  The waves had grown taller, and we could see Beba only at the top of the swells. She was still waving. Then she wasn’t waving anymore. And then she was gone.

  José was drenched in sweat and his T-shirt clung to him. He observed Lucinda for a moment with certain curiosity. She was holding on to the side of the boat, keeping her eyes lifted toward the sky. He reached under the seat and threw a tattered life jacket at me. “I brought this for the girl.”

  I put the jacket on Lucinda quickly and tied the buckles tight.

  “What is this, Tía?”

  “It’s a special jacket that floats in the water so if we fall in, you’ll float just like the best swimmer in the world.”

  Lucinda smiled as she passed he
r hands along the orange plastic and coarse ties. Then her eyes grew somber. “How about you and Mr. Gómez?”

  “We’re good swimmers, honey. You don’t have to worry about us.”

  José began to row again, looking over his shoulder from time to time to see how far we’d gone. He told us that we needed to reach the far ship with the red stripe along the side. It was docked out further because of its immense size. The waves continued to roll higher and splash over the sides of the boat. Although José rowed harder than ever, it seemed that we moved more slowly and sometimes not at all.

  “The current is crazy here,” José shouted over the roar of the wind and the ocean. “It was working for us closer in, but now it’s pulling us back.” He was exhausted from rowing and his face grimaced with the pain of his effort.

  “Can I help,” I shouted, but he didn’t hear me. He just kept rowing with all his strength. At one point the swells got so high that one of the oars came completely out of the water and José almost lost it for lack of resistance. Lucinda held on to me tight. I could only imagine how frightening it felt for her. All she could hear was noise that sounded like thunder. Ocean water splashed over the sides of the boat so that soon we were all quite drenched. Lucinda’s foot slipped in her plastic sandals as she braced herself against the lurching movement of our small craft. The only comfort was the sight of the huge white ship with the red stripe along the side. Once we got on we’d be safe and very easily hidden. Pepe had assured me those ships were never searched because government agents were bribed to look the other way. “A lot of money for passage goes toward the bribe,” he’d said.

  “Our ship is very close, honey,” I said to Lucinda who nodded her head against my chest.

  After another rolling wave that completely obscured the sight of the white ship, José told us to lean against the direction of the waves. We followed his instructions and the boat stabilized significantly, while José rowed with renewed energy. I looked behind us. The malecón still visible in the morning sun, fully revealed in a cloudless sky. We were too far away to see people on the shore, and it was impossible to know if Beba was still watching us. I felt safer believing that she was and I told Lucinda that Beba was there praying for us and making sure we were safe.