Soul Kiss

by Neil S. Plakcy

  I turned to Daniel. “We should call the police again. Now.”

  “You report her missing?” Egidio asked.

  Daniel nodded. “But we didn’t know what was going on. All we had was your name and address. You don’t have a phone.”

  “My number is unlisted. For good reason.”

  My hand was sweating in Daniel’s grasp. I wanted to call my parents. I wanted to go home right away. But Daniel needed me.

  “What happened when Mrs. Florez went to Havana?” I asked.

  “She hear that her husband is killed, and she know she must leave Cuba right away. I go to La Habana and meet her on the Malecon, the street that runs by the sea. She is crying much, holding you, Daniel.”

  The Malecon, I thought. Was that the oceanfront promenade I had seen in my dream? How could that be?

  Egidio sighed. “I give her money, and a medal of San Cristoforo our priest blessed.”

  “The St. Christopher’s medal,” Daniel said. “She always wore it. She said it was the patron saint of travelers.”

  Egidio nodded. “Her friend help her find a boat. She take you and leave Cuba.”

  “I remember that trip,” Daniel said. “I was dreaming of it last night. There were so many people on the boat, adults and little kids, and we didn’t have a lot of water, and people kept getting sick.”

  I looked at Daniel. Had I shared his dream, just by sleeping next to him? I knew he had never said anything to me about that boat ride.

  “The people on your boat were lucky; they land near Key West, and other Cubans help them. But your mami was always scared. She move from place to place. But she always keep in touch with me. Our other family, they are still in Cuba. If any of them know where she is, they tell the government right away.”

  “That’s why she never talked about any other relatives?” Daniel asked.

  “Yes. But now, we must decide what to do. We must find out what has happened to your mami.” He looked up at the clock. “There is a man I can call. But it is much too late to do anything tonight.”

  “Are you sure?” Daniel asked. “Why don’t you call him anyway? Maybe he won’t mind.”

  “It is nearly midnight,” Egidio said gently, and I looked at the clock on the wall, surprised we had talked for so long. “We will all think better in the morning.” He stood up. “I do not have much hospitality to offer you, but I can make my couch into a bed.”

  I looked at Daniel. We didn’t have much money, so I doubted we could find a hotel to take us so late on a Saturday night. And we didn’t have a car to get around, or know anything about Miami.

  Egidio went into the living room and started moving things off the couch. “You can help me, please?” he asked.

  Daniel and I finished moving the books and papers and blankets and we pulled the rickety double bed out, just a single thin mattress over a metal frame. Egidio brought us sheets and pillows and after we made the bed I went into his bathroom to put on my nightgown.

  I looked in the cracked mirror above the sink. I had pulled my hair back to look more like the young Mrs. Florez. Usually my hair fell around my face in curly waves, strands always dangling over my forehead. The reflection didn’t look like me, and I felt like I was a different person too. Where was Melissa Torani? Who was this new girl, so far from everything Melissa knew?

  I turned my phone on. More missed calls from my parents. I sent another text, telling them I was fine, to stop worrying, then turned the phone back off.

  When I came out of the bathroom Daniel went in. I crawled under the covers, feeling the sharp bones of the frame beneath me. Egidio had disappeared into his bedroom. I lay there staring at the ceiling until Daniel came out of the bathroom and turned the living room light off. Before he did, I saw he was shirtless, wearing only a pair of white briefs.

  He slipped into bed next to me. “I’m sorry I brought you here,” he said.

  I turned to face him. “Don’t be sorry. I want to help you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. Tomorrow I want you to get back on the train. I’ll stay here with Egidio.”

  “Tomorrow we’ll see what happens.” I leaned over and kissed his lips. “Right now, let’s just be together.”

  He kissed me back. I started to feel flushed, the heat rising through my body. He reached out and touched my breasts as we kissed, cupping them in his hands, which were so gentle through the cotton of my nightgown. I thought about the condoms in my backpack. Did I want to go all the way with Daniel?

  Why would I have bought those condoms if I didn’t? But was this the right time? When we were both so worried? And what did it mean if we did? I wanted to be with Daniel completely but I was also scared of stepping into uncharted territory.

  Daniel climbed on top of me, and I felt his body pressing into mine at a hundred places. We kissed and he rubbed against me, and I felt all kinds of sensations rushing through me. I gave up on thinking and just tried to be in the moment. My breath started coming more quickly, and I felt the way I felt when I had touched myself before, only better, and stronger. I didn’t know what we were doing, really, but I didn’t want it to stop.

  Then I felt Daniel shudder and stiffen above me, and he moaned. He slumped down over me, and I felt wetness seeping from his shorts onto my nightgown. It was enough to push me over the edge. I moaned myself, and pushed back against the pillows as the feeling overtook me.

  Daniel immediately moved off me, though that was the last thing I wanted. “Are you all right?” he whispered.

  “Better than all right. That was amazing.”

  “I have to clean up.” He crawled out of the bed. I slid onto my side and closed my eyes. So that was sex, I thought. It was different from what I had expected—stranger and better. Scarier, too, because I felt like I had completely lost control of myself when Daniel was pressing against me. I curled myself up and smiled.

  When I woke up the next morning, Daniel was sleeping beside me and bright sunlight filtered through the barred windows of the living room. I crept out of the uncomfortable bed, trying not to wake Daniel, and went into the bathroom. When I came out, still in my nightgown, Egidio was in the kitchen making us more cafecito, and Daniel sat up in bed. He yawned and rubbing his eyes.

  After he handed us the cafecitos, Egidio picked up a cell phone and dialed a number. He spoke in rapid Spanish, but I could see Daniel watching him. “Who’s he talking to?” I whispered.

  “Can’t tell,” he whispered back.

  When he hung up, Egidio said, “My friend, he will come to take us to breakfast. You must get dressed.”

  Daniel and I had both brought jeans and T-shirts, and he got into his while I went into the bathroom and put mine on. We were both uncomfortable around each other, neither of us willing to talk about what had happened the night before—and certainly not in front of his great-uncle, who was so old he probably stopped having sex before there was even cable TV.

  Egidio’s friend pulled up in front of the house about a half hour later. He was a Hispanic guy in his thirties, wearing a white guayabera, this embroidered Cuban shirt with pockets all over the place. He drove a minivan like the mom-mobile, and Egidio got in the front with him. He was so short that he pulled the seat way forward, and Daniel and I stretched our legs out in the back.

  “My name is Roly,” the guy said, reaching back to shake hands with us.

  Daniel and I introduced ourselves.

  “You’re a friend of my uncle?” Daniel asked.

  “I work for the FBI,” Roly said. “I’ve known your uncle for a long time. I’m glad he called me. I want to talk to you about what’s been happening, but let’s get out of Little Havana.”

  I looked at Daniel. The FBI? I felt queasy in my stomach again. Things seemed to have gotten way out of hand since we walked into Daniel’s apartment to find the place had been trashed and his mother was missing.

  No one spoke in the car as Roly drove us down some local streets, then onto the highway. “You lik
e pancakes?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I said. I looked out the window in amazement as we drove. The highway turned into a causeway over a broad bay, the sunlight sparkling on the water. There were sailboats and powerboats in the water, and as we got closer to the other side we saw rich peoples’ houses on the water, and big high-rise towers.

  He drove us for a while until we pulled into a small parking lot in front of a pancake house. At least that was something familiar. We had one of those back home.

  Everything else was weird, though. The signs in the stores next to the restaurant were in Spanish, there were palm trees in the parking lot, and more of those white birds with stilt legs were pecking in the dirt. “Your first time in Miami?” Roly asked, as we got out of the car.

  “For me,” I said.

  “I was here before, when I was really little,” Daniel said.

  I remembered the dream I had had on the train. So many details of Miami matched it, though I’d never been here. Had I tapped into Daniel’s memories? Or his dreams? Why hadn’t that happened before? Should I tell him about it? What if he had been seeing my dreams too?

  I was so confused I stumbled on the step into the restaurant, and Daniel had to reach out and grab my arm. His eyes met mine, and I could see the fear I felt reflected in them.

  Roly led us to a booth, Daniel and me on one side, Egidio and Roly on the other. “Order whatever you want,” Roly said. “My treat.”

  I realized I was starving. I ordered a big glass of orange juice, and chocolate chip pancakes with a side of bacon and hash browns. Daniel just got an omelet, and I elbowed him. “You’re making me look like a pig,” I said.

  “I’ll share your hash browns.”

  “You will not. Get your own.”

  Roly smiled. When the waitress arrived, he ordered bacon and hash browns for Daniel too. “We’re Cuban,” he said. “We love pork, right?”

  “You’re Cuban too?” Daniel asked, when the waitress had gone.

  Roly nodded. He was probably my dad’s age, with short dark hair. His skin was as white as mine, much lighter than Daniel’s, and the only time I heard his accent was when he pronounced Spanish words. “I came here with my parents during Mariel. I was just a kid then, but I grew up in Little Havana.”

  “And now you work for the FBI?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Your uncle has told me a little about you, Daniel. But why don’t you tell me the story yourself?”

  Daniel shifted uncomfortably on the bench next to me. “Go on,” I said. “You have to do this to help your mom.”

  He told the story, stopping for a while so he could eat, and by the time we had finished our breakfast we were up to finding the box with Egidio’s name and address.

  Egidio didn’t say much while Daniel talked, just nodded and sipped his Cuban coffee. It was so strange to me, sitting there a thousand miles from home with an FBI agent and a little old Cuban man who looked like a monkey.

  “You just came down here by yourselves?” Roly said. “You didn’t tell anyone else?”

  We both shook our heads.

  “What about your parents, Melissa? Do they know where you are?”

  “I sent them a couple of texts,” I said. “They’re freaking out, but they’ll get over it.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not right, and you know it. You have a cell phone?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.” He held his palm out. I dug the phone out of my jeans and handed it to him. As soon as it turned on, the missed call message popped up, and Roly dialed my parents. At first, I could only hear his side of the conversation.

  “Mrs. Torani? My name is Rolando Gutierrez, and I’m an agent with the FBI in Miami. I have your daughter Melissa here. She’s fine, but as soon as I realized she hadn’t been in touch with you I wanted to call you myself.”

  He listened. I was sure my mom was giving him an earful. “She’s here with Daniel Florez and his uncle. I promise you I will put her on a plane back home as soon as we finish talking.”

  He listened for a moment more. “She wants to talk to you.” He handed me the phone.

  “What in the world are you doing, Melissa?” my mother screeched.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Didn’t you get my texts?”

  “A text is not a real call. You know you only sent those messages because you knew if you spoke to us we would never let you get away with whatever it is you think you’re doing. I can’t believe you would run away to Miami and think you could just send us a couple of text messages and that would be enough. Do you know all the terrible things we’ve been thinking?”

  She stopped to take a breath, and in the background I heard my father say, “Easy, Caroline.”

  She started crying, and it just tore my heart out. “Mommy.” I started to cry, too, which drove me crazy.

  She snuffled and said, “I’m glad you’re all right. You had your father and me worried out of our minds. Let me talk to the FBI agent again.”

  I handed the phone back to him. He made a couple more promises, then shut the phone and looked at Daniel and me. “Now, let’s see where we go from here,” he said.

  Science Experiment

  Keeping his voice low so no one at any other tables in the busy restaurant could overhear him, Roly said, “Tell me again why you waited so long to call the police about your mother’s disappearance.”

  Daniel looked down at the table. “She never trusted the police.”

  “Any idea why not? You here illegally?”

  Egidio shook his head. “They are both legal. They had pies secos – dry feet.”

  Daniel and I looked at each other, and Roly saw we didn’t understand. “Government has a policy with Cuban immigrants. Wet foot, dry foot. You get one foot on dry land, you’re safe. They pick you up at sea? You go back to Cuba.”

  He toyed with his silverware. “Even so. You’re just a kid. Why not call the cops right away? Weren’t you worried something might have happened to her?”

  The waitress, a tiny Cuban woman with black hair pulled up into a top knot, brought a tray full of plates and set it up on a stand next to our table. The bacon smelled so good it made my stomach grumble, and Roly laughed. He thanked the waitress in Spanish and she smiled. I guess maybe he was flirting with her.

  Roly dug into his pancakes. “So, Daniel. Continue.”

  “I was worried,” Daniel said. “I was scared. I’m still scared. But Oscar…”

  “Who is Oscar?”

  I jumped in. “Daniel thinks he’s a drug-dealing gangbanger. But I thought he was very nice.”

  Daniel backed up, explaining the way that Oscar and his buddies drove around his parking lot in low-riding cars. “But you never saw them dealing drugs?” Roly asked.

  Daniel shook his head.

  “Or engaging in any other gang-related activity? Fighting, stealing cars, anything like that?”

  “No.”

  Roly frowned. “I’m surprised at you, Daniel. You should know what prejudice is like. You can’t assume someone is a drug dealer, or belongs to a gang, just because he’s Hispanic, or because he drives a low rider.”

  Around us people were having animated conversations in all kinds of languages. I heard French and Spanish and what I thought might be Portuguese, along with English. The restaurant was like some kind of little United Nations, black and white people, old people and families, and lots of tourists with sunburns. The waitresses and bus boys were constantly in motion, plates and silverware clattering over some kind of Latin music playing low in the background.

  “Come on,” I said. “You’re an FBI agent. Aren’t a lot of gangbangers and drug dealers Hispanic? Don’t they drive low-riders?”

  “Yes, I’m an FBI agent, Melissa. But I’m also a Hispanic man, and I see the prejudices people have against me, even here in Miami, even after I show my badge.” He turned to Daniel. “Did this Oscar have any idea what happened to your
mother?”

  Daniel shook his head.

  “Well, any trail is already a week old, but at least I’m going to get someone to talk to the local cops, and then go over to your apartment and check it out.” He pulled out his cell phone and turned away, speaking in a low voice we couldn’t overhear.

  We had already finished eating, and both Daniel and I were antsy. “Can we wait outside?” Daniel asked Egidio. “I want to show Melissa the beach. It’s right across the street.”

  Egidio smiled. He was missing a couple of teeth but instead of looking creepy he seemed nice, like those sweet-looking Halloween pumpkins, not the scary ones. “Do not go far, mijito.”

  As we scrambled out of the booth, Roly looked up and held out his hand. “Está bien,” Egidio said to him, and Roly shrugged.

  We walked out to the parking lot. It was almost noon by then, and the sun was high and hot. Daniel took my hand. “Come on, we have to get away.” He started tugging me toward the street.

  “Daniel. No. We have to wait and see what this guy finds out.”

  “I don’t trust him. My mother always said to be careful around the police.”

  I planted my feet on the pavement. “I’m not going anywhere, Daniel. This is the only chance we have to help your mother.” One of those funny white birds with the stilt legs looked up at us from picking at the dirt around a palm tree.

  “He’s going to send you home,” Daniel said. “As soon as he can.”

  A motorcycle roared by on the street next to us, and I had to wait until it passed to speak. “I don’t care. This is too big for you and me to figure out. We need help and we have to trust your uncle and Roly.”

  “What if they want to lock me up somewhere, just like the Cubans do? Study me, like some kind of science experiment?”

  “You are a science experiment, Daniel.” Cars kept chasing each other down Collins Avenue across from us, some of them noisy old clunkers, some very fancy convertibles with the top down. In between a couple of high-rise hotels I could see a bit of the ocean, striated in all shades of blue and green and purple. “What that doctor did to your mom? You can’t undo it. You just have to live with it.”