Luz: book i: comings and goings (Troubled Times 1) (35 page)

What would I say? What would I possibly tell her? Every ounce of solace evaporated at the prospect of having to face this mother of all mothers and answer the swarm of questions surrounding Cojimar: why her son had left Cuba but I had not. Why I had prodded and coaxed my husband into fleeing his homeland, only to deprive a mother of her favorite son. She may have been overjoyed that he was graciously alive
and intact on American soil, but it was hardly joyous words she had reserved for me.

It felt like the end of the world alright, but I did not need a last meal. I was no longer hungry. I no longer craved that Middle Eastern bread dipped in salt and oil. I felt sick to my stomach again, nauseous to the point of throwing up. I felt fatigued like never before and grimier than ever. I needed to scrape all the grunge of the last three days off every square inch of my body, even if it meant rubbing it all off with my bare hands. I needed to sanitize myself. I needed to purify my body against Rigo's scent and the way it clung to me so perniciously. At the mere mention of that name all the feelings of loss and pain came bearing down on me. Not like a cleansing wave of water, but a crushing wall of water. Sure, I was the one who had refused to leave, but Rigo was the one who had callously stranded me. Rigo was the one who had brought about the end of us—the end to everything.

I felt deathly ill again: physically, emotionally, spiritually. I felt shaken by a set of complications I had not contemplated. To hear such news, so soon, was to open up a wound much too fresh. Upon realizing that my husband had contacted his mother ahead of his own wife—especially now that I knew I had conceived and was undoubtedly with child—all those feelings of betrayal were instantly revived. It was definitely over between us. I truly couldn’t stand him. And I may have only been three days pregnant, but already I was in the throes of all things maternity. During these last three days I had nurtured myself in a haven of freedom and fluidity and especially simplicity. But at the mere mention of that name, everything felt more complicated and I couldn’t move again: all those feelings of abandonment were instantly resurrected.

. . .
the story continues with . . .

LUZ

book ii: complications

Now that Clara is ready to face the world again, how will she handle that unwanted visitor of hers in the form of her mother-in-law? And how will Clara react when she receives word of Rigo’s whereabouts? Will she divulge what’s truly going on? Why she really stayed behind? Or will Clara keep the secret all to herself? The next nine months will not prove easy. As Clara faces this trying predicament increasingly on her own, it will be a time of trial and tribulation, of conflict and complications. But what about the Creator and the Son of Man? Will the Creator admit He’s up to something and there’s more than meets the eye? Or will He continue to insist the Son of Man is completley off base? Finally, what about Cuba, that magical land where this miracle of sorts is taking place? Will it finally emerge from the turmoil and torment of these tragic days, or will it still be mired down in the swirling suffocation of this Special Period? While book i took us through the days leading up to that ‘frenzied flight across the water,’ book ii will take us through the challenges facing Clara’s family during these troubled times. The story continues steadily and unflinchingly with—
LUZ, book ii: complications
—the second testament of Clara’s story.

the author

Luis Gonzalez
was born in Havana, Cuba, where he spent those all-important years of early childhood. But when his widowed mother of three fled Communist Cuba in the late 1960’s, he found himself next in the Los Angeles enclave of Culver City, California. Though he quickly assimilated his new country and culture, and though he had no trouble mastering his new language, Cuba never left him. Cuba was always with him: inside him, driving him, calling him. He realized this more than ever when, in the 6
^th
grade, he did his country report on Cuba and thus began a love affair with his homeland that continues to this day. It was only natural that Cuba should play a part in his writing, and even from grammar school age, Luis Gonzalez knew that writing was in his blood.

“I always loved to write, even as a young child. And I guess I’ve always been an indie author too because, when I was in the third grade, after only having been in this country a couple of years, I wrote two stories. One was called
The Magic Slippers
, the other was called
The Dolphins
. I took sheets of paper that I folded over and stapled and not only did I write the stories, but I illustrated them and made the cover and everything for them. I still have these two first books of mine and I look back on them now and wonder, wow, I really always was a writer. To this day those two items remain some of my most treasured possessions for they provide a glimpse into the passion that helped shape the person that I am, and if I’m anything, I’m passionate, and if I’m passionate about anything, it’s writing.”

It was also only natural that Luis Gonzalez would go on to study something in the language arts, and so he graduated from UCLA with a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature, and a concentration in Spanish composition and literature. As someone who is deeply moved and inspired by politics and religion and the arts, it was no wonder that he came up with the idea for his novel, LUZ, a story that grapples with all three realms. These days Luis Gonzalez calls San Francisco home where he lives with his wife and two of four daughters.

He’s always writing in one way or another, for writing is more than just writing: a lot of writing takes place in your head before the words ever make it down to the paper. So even if he’s enjoying or exploring the stunning Northern California landscape or he’s debating religion and politics with family or friends, he’s always writing, for out of those discussions little snippets always find their way to the surface of the creative page.