Havana Jazz Club (3 page)

CHAPTER 4

She had just turned eighteen when she married Orlando.

It was a simple wedding, since these weren’t the times for extravagances. Still, there was plenty of beer and rum, which the government made available in abundance for weddings. But to Billie, it seemed a sad affair. Her family didn’t seem as happy for her as she would have liked. Though they tried to act cheerful, she felt the tension in the air. Her fiancé’s family didn’t appear to get along with hers and kept their distance, and she even witnessed the beginning of an argument between father and son. Later, Orlando appeared to get in some kind of tiff with a guest that Billie didn’t know. She was a slightly older woman with a long mane of dyed blonde hair—a little tasteless, she thought—in a tight, low-cut white dress that wasn’t very appropriate for a wedding, since etiquette dictated that that color was reserved for the bride. Orlando pulled the woman aside, out of view of the guests, and when he returned to the party a little while later, he looked annoyed. The stranger didn’t reappear.

Celia couldn’t help but feel anxious as she watched the scene unfold.

“It seems like the groom had something with that—” one of the guests hissed maliciously in Celia’s ear.

“Well it’s over now,” Celia said, cutting her off sharply and moving away.

Billie had always imagined that this would be the happiest day of her life, that everyone would rejoice, and her whole family would share in her joy. But as it was, only her two brothers seemed truly happy. Even Orlando was tense, a far cry from the sweet, carefree man she knew. She thought maybe he was nervous; she certainly was. She even wondered whether her parents were right after all—maybe they should have waited a little longer. Did Orlando regret taking this step? She felt a surge of fear at such a terrible thought. No, that wasn’t possible. He was the one who had insisted they get married as soon as they could. She would simply have to show him that he hadn’t been wrong, that she was the wife he needed. Her mother’s advice would help make up for her lack of experience. She went over to Orlando and took his arm tenderly. He looked at her and smiled in that way that made her tremble. As he kissed her on the lips, all her fears vanished.

Celia couldn’t free herself from the pressure gripping her chest, as if an omen wanted to make itself known. She looked at her still-bewildered husband and was overcome by a wave of tenderness. The poor man was trying to feign happiness so he didn’t upset his daughter, but to Celia, who knew him so well, it was obvious that he was making an enormous effort to control his emotions. He wasn’t ready to let go of the apple of his eye, the light of his life, to accept that she had become a woman overnight and now belonged to another man.

Celia sidled up to her husband and pulled him out onto the dance floor. Nicolás, groaning and complaining, tried to escape, but other guests soon formed a circle around the couple and began cheering them on with laughter and applause. Nicolás had always been a great dancer. Like the rest of the family, he had rhythm in his blood. After dancing with his wife, he danced with his daughter. He was not allowed to sit down for a long time, as all the women wanted to dance with him, and he passed from one set of arms to the next under the satisfied gaze of his wife. Later, mother and daughter sang to their guests, and everyone left the party in good spirits.

It was only when Celia hugged her daughter good-bye that her emotions betrayed her and tears flooded her eyes.

“But, Mami,” Billie consoled her. “I’ll be here,
right here
. I promise I’ll come see you every day. You’ll see. You’ll have to kick me out. You won’t even realize I don’t live with you anymore.”

“Yes, my girl, yes. Please do that. Come and see me every day,” Celia begged, overwhelmed by an intangible unease, as if she had a premonition that this wasn’t going to go well and that a bitter future awaited her daughter.

Her son-in-law hugged her next. She looked him in the eyes with an expression that was simultaneously a plea and a warning.

“Treat her well. She’s still just a girl. Take good care of her.”

“I will, Mama Celia,” he said, smiling. Kissing her sweetly, he added, “She’s mine to worry about now.”

Nicolás and Celia watched as, amid the guests’ cheering, Orlando drove away with Billie in a car a friend had lent them. They would spend their honeymoon on the beaches of Varadero.

Orlando told her the news that night, when they were still sweaty and panting, settled in each other’s arms after making love. Billie, with the pleasure and pain of her first time lodged at the bottom of her belly, her heart and mind inflamed, drunk in love, found herself wrenched suddenly from a sweet and placid drowsiness.

“We’re going to Spain, chocolate chip,” he announced, kissing her tenderly.

“When?” Billie could hardly contain her surprise.

“Soon,” Orlando replied, caressing her young breasts. “Very soon.”

“But . . .” she replied, confused, suddenly on the verge of tears.

“I’ll explain everything tomorrow, my love, okay?” he said, cutting her off with a kiss. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. It’s been a big day. Let’s sleep a little now, okay?”

He kissed her again and turned over in bed, lacing his fingers through hers and draping his arm over her stomach. Billie soon heard his breathing become measured and deep. But, despite being exhausted after such an emotional day, she couldn’t get to sleep. Her brain was a tornado of thoughts—wild, out of control, with no order or direction. She thought about her mother, how strange and suspicious she had found her daughter’s boyfriend’s insistence that they marry right away. Why hadn’t Orlando said anything? Why hadn’t he consulted her, asked her opinion? Was he afraid that she would refuse to go with him or marry him? What would she have done if she had known? She couldn’t answer that question. She loved her husband madly, but the last thing she wanted right then was to go to Spain. She didn’t want to leave her country, at least not so soon.

She had no idea when Orlando had made the decision to leave, how long he had been planning the trip. He had never said anything to make her suspect the departure was so imminent, neither during their engagement nor when he asked her to marry him. She knew that her husband was drowning on this island, that he wanted to escape, to travel, to know the world, but she had thought it was a distant, somewhat-outlandish dream, like hers of becoming a singer—something that would never actually happen.

She needed time to adjust to so many changes, to get used to married life and learn how to take care of herself and her husband without the protective shadow of their parents. When she had imagined married life with Orlando, she had always pictured it in Old Havana, in a house near her family, in the neighborhood she knew so well amid the streets that had seen her grow up. Maybe they could take a trip to New York someday and bring her mother with them. She didn’t even want to go to the United States forever: maybe just a brief stint so she could earn her fortune and Celia could scratch the itch that had been bothering her for so long. Then they would return to her beloved island, and she would start her own family. She wanted her children to be born in Cuba, for them to run around the same streets she had grown up on and enjoy their grandparents’ love. She loved the island, she had been very happy there, surrounded by her own people. Spain was a remote and strange place that she knew almost nothing about, except that it was on the other side of the world.

Dawn surprised the silent tears trickling down her cheeks and soaking the pillow. The first ray of sun made her husband’s blond hair sparkle, and she smiled, seized by love. He was her sun god, and she shimmered with light only under his influence. She needed him to feel alive. She needed his breath to be able to breathe. Without him at her side, without his heat, she felt she would perish, that she would wither away like the white ginger lilies that had adorned her bridal bouquet. Though she felt torn up inside and knew that a piece of her soul would always be left behind on her beloved island, she had no doubt that her destiny was to follow this man wherever he went.

CHAPTER 5

In the days following the wedding, Orlando filled Billie in on the details of their departure for Spain. There were still a few issues to resolve, but he was in negotiations with someone who would facilitate their exit from the island. They would go to Miami first, and fly to Europe from there. The most important thing, Orlando repeated over and over again, was that they not tell anyone about their plans, not even her family. The smallest indiscretion could mean exile to an agricultural labor camp for an unspecified period of time, probably years—if they got released at all. They could even be sent to prison for trying to leave the country illegally.

Billie was scared. She had heard of people who had taken to the sea on shoddy rafts. Some were never heard from again, the rafts of others appeared adrift and empty on the ocean, and still others were discovered by the coast guard and imprisoned.

“They say lots of things, my love,” Orlando objected, downplaying her fears. “In many cases, it’s the government itself who spreads these rumors just to discourage people from trying to leave. But you know as well as I do that lots of people manage to get to the United States safe and sound. You’ve seen them, just like I have, when they come back to visit their families loaded down with gifts and a little moola for their relatives here. They stay in the best hotels, eat in the finest restaurants, and shop in the stores that we’re banned from. Who are the
gusanos
here? Them or us? I have no doubt about the answer, little mami, and I want to get out of this shit hole forever.”

As Orlando raised his voice, excited by his own speech, Billie kept her eyes down, reduced to an intimidated silence. Orlando sat down next to her and smiled, trying to calm her fears. He wrapped his arms around her, kissed her sweetly, and continued in a less strident tone.

“Don’t worry about a thing, my queen. I’m arranging everything so that we can leave safely without taking any risks. How could I put my beautiful
esposa
in danger?”

Billie smiled without much conviction and nestled into his arms.

“But we’re fine here,” she insisted. “You know how to arrange it so that we won’t have to do without. We can be happy in Cuba, the way we have been until now.”

“Wouldn’t you like a better life for our children?” Orlando argued a little impatiently. “Do you want them to suffer the same deprivations we have since we were kids? You want them to live their whole lives on rice and beans?”

“I was happy with what I had. My parents—”

“Enough already, woman!” he exclaimed, now unable to contain his irritation. “If you don’t want to go because you’re afraid, I’ll go by myself. I’m not going to make you come with me! I married you because I thought we had the same vision. You wanted to be a famous singer, to succeed in America, and make your mother’s dream come true by bringing her to the United States.”

“Yes, but Spain . . .”

“I have to go to Spain because I promised my grandfather on his deathbed that I would go,” Orlando said dramatically, taking her hands in his and looking her in the eyes with a crestfallen expression.

“Fine, my love,” Billie gave in. “I’ll go with you wherever you go.”

Despite Orlando’s warning, Billie was very tempted on more than one occasion to tell her mother everything. She needed to speak with someone, to share this secret that made her so anxious. She needed someone to calm her down and tell her that their plan wasn’t insane. It was true that in those days many Cubans were abandoning the island for all kinds of reasons. Even her own mother had dreamed her whole life of going to New York. But whenever Billie was on the verge of telling her, she grew paralyzed with fear. She had no doubt her mother would stay silent if she asked her to, but she understood that it would give her mother a new and serious reason to worry. It was her only daughter’s future, and Spain was very far away. Billie had to consider that her mother might try to convince her to stay. It might cause them to argue, and the last thing she wanted was to leave her mother with memories of fighting.

Billie was afraid, too, that if she told her mother, Celia might share her anxiety about her daughter’s plans with her husband, and then it would all fall apart. Her father would undoubtedly emphatically oppose it, and she knew he would be capable of locking her in her room, if he thought it necessary. Orlando always said that the only way to be sure a secret won’t get out is to keep it inside you, and he was right. Billie knew that her husband had put all his hopes for the future on this trip, and he would be furious if she destroyed it. She was sure he would divorce her for ruining his opportunity to leave. The very thought terrified her. She knew she wouldn’t survive without her love.

So, after a great deal of torment and consideration, she decided to stay silent.

If there was one thing Billie was sure of it was that her place was beside her husband, and nothing and nobody could persuade her otherwise. Although leaving her family and her beloved Cuba would break her heart, she knew that Orlando’s mind was made up and that he would go with or without her. He was excited about their plans, and when they were alone, he talked about nothing but the trip ahead—everything they would do in Spain, the places they would visit, the fabulous life they would enjoy.

Whenever she spent the evening with her happy, trusting family, she despised herself. They were as affectionate as always, making plans for the future without imagining for a second that she was soon going to flee like a thief in the night, with no explanation, that she was about to betray all the trust and love they had bestowed on her all her life.

But then some time passed, and Orlando stopped talking about their impending departure. Billie thought maybe he had given up, but she didn’t want to ask him about it. She almost forgot about it after a while. Life went on. She visited her parents and took care of her own home, which she organized painstakingly to please her husband. Orlando was gone a lot. He claimed his job and his businesses kept him very busy, even on the all-too-frequent nights when he came home late. Billie didn’t scold him. She didn’t want to anger him since he was working so hard to make sure that she wouldn’t lack for anything. She wanted to tell him that she could get by with less if it meant more time by his side, but she let it go. She also didn’t tell him that she had seen him more than once with that woman, the older blonde who left the wedding in a huff. Valeria, people said her name was. She knew that he would have some plausible explanation, that he would say she was his colleague or a trusted friend. And that’s what Billie would rather believe.

What did make her sad, however, were the lengths Orlando went to make sure she didn’t get pregnant. He interrogated her regularly about her cycle and made sure not to have sex with her on the “dangerous” days. It wasn’t the appropriate moment to bring children into the world, he would say. It was better to wait. They were very young and still had plenty of time for all that. And although Billie wanted to become a mother more than anything, she kept her mouth shut.