Game Seven

by Paul Volponi

  8

  FROM HIS CHAIR, Uncle Ramon kicked his shoes off and dug his feet deep into the sand.

  “Your papi was able to get a sum of money into Cuba through a Canadian turista,” he said, as the smell of swordfish filtered through the salty air. “That money was given to Gabriel.”

  I was pissed. My family had struggled for every peso, just to meet the bills. No wonder Gabriel could afford steaks like these.

  “Why?” I demanded. “How come our money went to him?”

  “So Gabriel can get us out of Cuba,” Uncle Ramon replied, before popping the top on a can of soda with a tsssp.

  Those words seemed to hang in the air for a moment—get us out of Cuba.

  I only felt the weight of them when Luis grabbed hold of my arm and gasped, “Holy crap.”

  My heart began beating harder and harder inside my chest, and I had to actually think about taking my next breath.

  “And that’s his payment?” I asked, hoping to steady myself.

  “Payment?” repeated Gabriel, turning the steaks on the grill with a long metal fork. “No. There’s nothing for me. That money covered the entire cost of building—”

  “Look! Down the beach!” interrupted Luis. “Police!”

  There were two officers on a motorcycle with a sidecar. It had three wide wheels, meant to power its way over the sandy shore. They were slowly making their way from the far end of the beach toward where we’d camped.

  “Just act naturally. Remember the truth: you’re baseball players from Matanzas celebrating a victory over Puerto Padre. Nothing more,” instructed Gabriel. “Besides, I know these two, what they’re all about.”

  “You know them?” asked Luis.

  “I make it my business to,” answered Gabriel, through the smoke from the barbecue.

  The policemen rolled past the families and kids without any interest. But they took a long glance at the two girls reading on their blankets. They seemed about to pass us, too, before Gabriel called out to them, “Officers! A moment, please!”

  I shot Uncle Ramon a concerned look, already feeling the sweat on my palms.

  “I’ve learned to trust him,” Uncle Ramon said quietly, barely moving his lips. “There’s no other way.”

  Gabriel took one of the steaks on a paper plate down to the officers, who were maybe ten yards from the water. They had some conversation. Then one of the officers gave us a thumbs-up and called out, “I used to play baseball myself.”

  A minute later, they were gone with their steak.

  “They’ll pass this way again in a few hours, just before sundown,” said Gabriel, who’d walked back to us. “Their last patrol of the day. That’s when we’ll be packing up.”

  “We’re going to sit here that long?” asked Luis. “And do what? Talk?”

  “How much of this does my mama know?” I asked Uncle Ramon.

  “She knows enough,” he answered. “That there’s a plan, and that it’s happening sooner rather than later.”

  “How soon?” I asked.

  “Tonight,” answered Gabriel, handing me a steaming plate of fish.

  “What about her and Lola?”

  “Your mother thinks the trip is too dangerous for Lola,” answered Uncle Ramon. “And she won’t leave her daughter behind. Your sister knows nothing of it.”

  “They’re both staying?” I asked.

  “Your mother’s made her choice,” my uncle said. “Now you need to make one.”

  “How about me?” asked Luis.

  “I’m your father,” said Uncle Ramon. “You go where I go, and we’re leaving Cuba.”

  Luis nodded his head, taking a plate of his own.

  I turned to my cousin and said, “Besides, you don’t want to be the son of a defector.”

  Then Uncle Ramon looked at us both and said, “I’m sorry about all the deceptions, for keeping you in the dark so long. But the fewer people who knew, the better our chance of making it this far without being arrested.”

  “Papi’s money,” I repeated to myself in disgust.

  “I know you’re angry at him, Julio. But your papi does love you. He wants you to be free,” said Uncle Ramon, peeling off a chunk of fish with his fingers. “And if you decide to stay, well, Moyano will know that he can trust you. He’ll make you a Nacional for sure.”

  With all of that churning inside my stomach, Gabriel sat down, making four of us in a tight, seated circle.

  “Before we make any decisions, let me be honest with you boys. Tell you what I know of a journey like this one,” Gabriel said. “When I was eight years old, from this beach, I boarded a raft for the US.”

  My uncle stopped him and said, “If it’s too painful, you don’t need to go through all the details again.”

  “Thank you, amigo,” said Gabriel, who took a deep breath before he continued. “Both my parents were dead and my grandfather was getting too old to take care of me. Our neighbors were planning an escape. It wasn’t much of a raft, just wood and rubber tied together with ropes. They made oars from fish boxes. My grandfather gave them the rubber from some old car tires he had. So they agreed to take me along. There were eight of us—three grown men, two young women, one very old woman who could barely walk, me, and their family dog. Before the trip, we all went to church together.”

  “To pray?” asked Luis.

  “Yes,” he answered. “The priest even gave me my first Communion—the body and blood. As soon as it got dark, we put the raft into the water. The moon was cut like a sickle—thin and sharp. Everything went smoothly that night. But the next morning, instead of sun, there were black storm clouds and ripping winds. First, our food and water got washed overboard. Then, piece by piece, the raft started to come apart.”

  A pair of kids chasing each other, kicking up sand behind them, did a close lap around our camp.

  “Hey, watch it!” Luis hollered. “Keep—”

  Uncle Ramon stopped Luis cold, showing him a single finger over his lips, followed by a long look.

  Gabriel resumed his story. “We all huddled in the middle of the raft. At some point, the dog spotted something in the water and jumped in after it. I heard him barking for a while. But I never saw that dog again. The others tied the old woman and me to the raft. The waves pounded us. I couldn’t open my eyes. They were stinging from all the salt water. When the sun finally came out and the waters calmed, there were only five of us left. Over the next eight or ten hours we floated in the middle of nowhere. Then the raft broke apart even more. I was clinging to the old woman. She was dizzy by that point, seeing things that weren’t there. The others each had their own section of raft. We were floating within fifty yards of each other when we heard an engine in the distance. It was a boat. Unfortunately, it was Cuban.”

  “So they brought you back here,” I said.

  “They did, to the docks in Cárdenas,” he answered. “But before they pulled us from the water, the old woman asked me about the boat. ‘Who is it?’ she wanted to know. I’d already recognized the flag on its side. All I said to her was, ‘We’re saved.’”

  “What did they do to you all?” I asked.

  “The surviving adults went to prison. I got sent to an orphanage and never saw my grandfather again,” answered Gabriel, setting down his plate in the sand. “The old woman, I believe she died happy, because she never made it back to shore.”

  “For almost thirty years now, Gabriel has worked as a fisherman in these waters,” said Uncle Ramon. “He knows these currents like the back of his hand—where they run, how swiftly they can change.”

  “And thanks to El Fuego, now I have a vessel of my own to captain,” added Gabriel. “One that will hopefully sail us to freedom.”

  I stood up and silently walked down to the shoreline, alone. I stared at the northern horizon, that distant point where the water and sky touc
h. I thought about what it would take to reach it. To be in a place where the higher-ups in Cuba didn’t have control over me. Would it be worth maybe never seeing Mama and Lola again? Would it be worth risking my life?

  For all his tough talk on the pitcher’s mound, Papi never risked his life for freedom. He walked through a revolving door in a hotel lobby and into a waiting car. But now he wanted me to take a chance on practically swimming to Miami.

  I dropped my eyes down to the whitecaps, watching them roll all the way to shore. One after another, they turned to foam on the beach until they disappeared back into the surf. And after a minute or two, my heartbeat seemed to be in sync with the rhythm of the breaking waves.

  At the water’s edge, there was a horseshoe crab turned upside down. It was stuck on its back. Its legs were moving a mile a minute, going absolutely nowhere. And its spiked tail kept whipping the damp sand, trying to flip its round shell upright. Finally, I walked over and picked it up, water seeping into my sneakers.

  Despite all its armor, that horseshoe crab was lighter than I’d imagined. I was gentle enough with it, tossing it underhand into the ocean, where it vanished beneath the surface with a plunk.

  When I turned back around, Uncle Ramon was standing a few feet behind me.

  “This is all happening too fast. It’s not a decision about me. It’s about my whole family. I’m not going to have an answer for you, not without talking to Mama first. I’m not leaving her and my sister behind without a word, the way Papi did. That’s not who I am, or who I’m ever going to become.”

  9

  GABRIEL PRODUCED A cell phone that looked like it had never been used. I guess the government couldn’t trace or listen in on any calls if it was brand-new. He held the phone out to me, and I took it from his hand. Then I turned my back to the three of them before I dialed. In the few seconds those numbers were changing into tones, a thousand moments went racing through my mind—from the time I could first remember following Papi around in short pants until right now. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to say. I just knew that my tongue was waiting to start in motion.

  I heard Mama’s voice say, “This is Luz Ramirez.”

  My heart jumped.

  I said, “Mama, I’m in Cárdenas with—”

  That’s when the rest of Mama’s message greeting began talking over me.

  I hit the “end” button fast, without even thinking about leaving her a message.

  “You’ll have time to call back,” said Uncle Ramon from over my shoulder. “There’s a two-hour window for you to make a decision.”

  I turned back around and Gabriel said, “Your papi would be crushed if we made the crossing without you.”

  “I’m not living my life for him anymore,” I said, standing on a small mound of sand. “I’m sorry to possibly disturb his plans.”

  “Julio, you see that man with his family over there?” asked Gabriel, pointing about forty yards away. “He’s not here by accident. Twenty minutes before sunset, he’s going to walk off this beach. He’ll bring back my vessel and leave it in a small clearing past those thick bushes. Then his family will pile into my car and take it home to keep.”

  “What Gabriel means is there’s a structure to our plan. There has to be,” said Uncle Ramon. “Being dependent on a single phone call can’t destroy its timing.”

  I started dialing another number.

  “Lola?” Luis asked me.

  Uncle Ramon put his hand over the phone, shutting it. I tried to yank it away, but his grip slid down to my wrist, holding me there like a vise.

  “Remember, she doesn’t know,” said Uncle Ramon. “This isn’t the time for her to find out. She’s very emotional and talkative. That could hurt us.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell her. I’m not that stupid or mean,” I said as Uncle Ramon loosened his grip.

  A moment later, Lola picked up the cell we’d shared.

  “Listen, Mama’s not answering her phone at work. I need you to go down to El Puente and let her know I’m trying to call.”

  Lola pitched a fit and I waded through every one of her complaints.

  “I know you’re studying, that it’s hot outside. But I need to speak to Mama. Do this for me. Please. What? No, it’s not about me becoming a Nacional,” I told her. “I just may be away longer than I expected, to train some more. I need her permission. It’s important. When? All right, but as fast as you can. Listen, I don’t say it enough, but you’re a great sister, much smarter than I’ll ever be. Okay. Thank you.”

  As I closed my hand around the phone, Uncle Ramon nodded his head to me, and I took it as an apology. Then I turned toward Luis. I hadn’t noticed it before, but I could see the growing panic in his eyes. Luis said he wanted to go for a walk on the beach, just to “stretch his legs.” I decided to go with him.

  “Sure. Walk. Relax. Just stay within our sight,” said Gabriel, who seemed calm as could be. “The four of us shouldn’t get separated for any reason. We’ll discuss this more when you get back.”

  When we got out of earshot, walking along the water’s edge, Luis said, “Julio, you know that I can barely swim, right? I should have practiced my whole life for this.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “There’ll be at least one life preserver on Gabriel’s boat. If I’m there with you, it’s yours. I promise.”

  “What would we even do in the US?”

  “I can’t put myself in that situation yet. But you’ll escape the Moyanos on this island. I’m sure.”

  “You have to come. I’d be lost without you,” Luis said.

  “You’re stronger than you know. I’ve seen it,” I said, kicking the broken seashells at my feet.

  “I keep thinking of that photo. The one I left in our dorm room,” said Luis. “If we leave, I won’t have a single picture of my mother. I’d give a hundred pesos to have it with me right now.”

  “You still have your memories.”

  “But I have to close my eyes to see her that way.”

  “Sometimes that’s better,” I said. “Then your memories can never change.”

  “Maybe your mama and sister will bring me a photo, the day they leave Cuba.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said, squeezing the phone tighter inside my hand.

  That’s when I started thinking that if I did go, I’d most likely never see Mama and Lola again. That they’d become images in my mind. The same way Aunt Blanca had become for Luis and Uncle Ramon.

  Luis stopped us about fifteen yards from those two girls reading. They were probably twenty years old. But that didn’t discourage Luis from running a hand back through his jet-black hair.

  “Who knows what could happen tonight. A big wave might drown me,” he said. “I’m going over there. Turn on the charm, see where it gets me. You coming?”

  “Not worth the effort,” I answered. “Either way, we’ll never see those two again.”

  “That’s the point. I’ve got nothing to lose,” he said, walking off toward their blankets.

  The sun was sinking in the sky. Maybe it was down half a thumb’s worth since I’d last noticed. Everything else in my life seemed to suddenly stop. It was like I was alone on my own island, waiting for a sign to move in some direction. And hanging over that ocean in front of me was Papi’s shadow.

  I didn’t know what I wanted or where I belonged. I just knew that I’d had enough—six long years of trying to make sense of an empty feeling.

  After a few minutes, Luis came back flashing a strip of paper with a phone number on it.

  “I told them there was going to be a party after we won the tournament tomorrow. That I’d personally get them invited,” he said, leading me back in the direction we’d come. “And that you were too shy to talk to them. They thought that was cute.”

  “What are you going to do with the number?”

 
“Maybe put it in a bottle, like a note. Throw it overboard from Gabriel’s boat.”

  “Why did you even bother talking to them, then?”

  “Think of the story. Two girls waiting for me to call. Then they find out I’m either in the US or in prison or dead,” said Luis.

  “Something to tell their friends?” I asked.

  “Bigger. It could become famous, like a folktale.”

  Suddenly, the phone inside my hand began to vibrate. It felt like an earthquake starting in my palm and spreading through my entire body. I flipped open the phone and it stopped. But I could still feel a rumbling in the pit of my stomach, shaking me to the core.

  “Who is this? I don’t know this number,” Mama said in a defensive voice.

  “Mama, it’s me. I’m in Cárdenas, on a borrowed phone,” I answered, with Luis’s eyes glued to mine. “Didn’t Lola tell you?”

  “No, I took a break at work and saw the missed call. Is everything all right?”

  “Mama, I’m on the beach, with Luis and Uncle Ramon, and someone else. They say that it’s time. Time to—”

  “Shhh. Don’t speak it,” she interrupted. “Do what you need to do, Julio. This is your life. Live it.”

  “Mama, I don’t—”

  “Julio, you need to go. Find what you’re searching for.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Wait, I see Lola coming.”

  “Mama?”

  “Julio, make your decision and know that I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

  “I love you, too, Mama,” I said, before I heard Lola’s out-of-breath voice and then the connection cut off.

  “So?” asked Luis nervously, as I closed the phone.

  “I guess those girls are going to have some story to tell about meeting us.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Luis, throwing both arms around me and hugging me tight. “But remember, you were too shy to talk to them.”

  The rest of the way back, I walked on the damp, hard-packed sand closest to the water. I didn’t want the ground shifting beneath my feet. At some point, I saw the tracks we’d left behind heading toward us. I stopped for a second to look down at them. It was a strange feeling, like suddenly being present in my past. Then I picked my head up and kept right on walking into my future.