On Marcella’s phone he calls his father, but an unfamiliar voice says
hola
. “
¿Por que no se ven?
” the voice says. Why don’t you come in? “After a while,” Cot whispers, and closes the phone.
Al ratito
. He asks the bartender for tape to repair his shoe that has opened up again, and the bartender hands him from under the bar a roll of bright yellow carpenter’s tape. He tapes his shoe, studies it, and then tapes the other, uncut shoe, as well, gives the tape back, thanks the bartender who nods his head in royal dispensation, and leaves the bar.
It’s as if molecules are slaking off him. He’s leaving a trail. Okay by me, he thinks holding himself tightly upright. But something’s loosening, something’s already worked itself loose. At the corner of San Juan de Dios and Las Comidas he sees, as if established by the darkness itself, a man standing just outside the even deeper darkness of a tree’s shadow. It’s his father. Cot knows he has been waiting for him. His father is carrying his patched guitar slung over his shoulder. Cot’s heart races. He experiences a rush of happiness. It’s raining a little, hardly more than a mist. His father smiles as he approaches. The city around him is still dark, swept over by a blackening hand. He embraces his father, and his body feels strong, muscular like that of a young man. His father’s face is unwrinkled, the face of a man in the fullness of his strength. They walk together down the street that is as dark as a cave, so dark that he can’t make out his father walking beside him. He takes his father’s hand. After a while they reach a small park and enter and walk among the trees. The park smells sweetly of
cassia nodosa
flowers. They sit down on a bench they’ve groped their way to. Cot’s afraid, punished by the dark, as if by a confinement that might be endless. His father says something that Cot can’t make out. Cot wants to ask him what happened with the police, but he can’t find the words. He wants to ask him what will come next, wants to tell him how much he loves him, wants to ask his forgiveness—or no, not forgiveness, he wants to admit everything, enter a plea of guilty, in shame and obedience, in fealty, like a man stepping from the ocean after a long swim, exhausted and relieved, utter the simple facts—forgiveness can take care of itself—but he doesn’t. His father rubs his arms, making a soft chafing sound, almost like the sound of an animal rustling in leaves. Cot can hear this, but he can’t see it. Then he doesn’t hear his father anymore. He waits, but there’s nothing, and he knows his father has left him, and he knows what this means. The air is cooler, almost cold. He senses the ocean nearby. The Gulf Stream that swings in close to Havana as Havana reaches out to it. The sky is clearing, cleansed, faintly bright, host, clouds, the whole frolic and piquancy spread out above the city. What a miracle! It’s as if he can smell the stars, inaccessible to him.
From among the dark trees the regulators of his fate advance, precise as dancers, toward him.
The prologue appeared in
Ploughshares
. Thanks to the editors.
CHARLIE SMITH
, the author of seven novels and seven books of poetry, has won the Aga Khan Prize, a Guggenheim Fellowship, and a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. His writing has appeared in
The New Yorker
, the
Paris Review
,
Harper’s
, the
New Republic
, the
New York Times
, the
Nation
, and many other magazines and journals. Three of his novels have been named
New York Times
Notable Books. He lives in New York City and Key West.
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www.AuthorTracker.com
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Word Comix
Women of America
Heroin and Other Poems
Cheap Ticket to Heaven
Before and After
Chimney Rock
The Palms
Crystal River (Storyville, Crystal River, Tinian)
Indistinguishable from the Darkness
The Lives of the Dead
Shine Hawk
Red Roads
Canaan
Cover design by Gregg Kulick
No person, place, or exact situation in this book ever existed on earth before, including (despite their names) all states, cities, towns, tribes, oceans, parks, and general zones.
MEN IN MIAMI HOTELS
. Copyright © 2013 by Charlie Smith. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
ISBN 978-0-06-224727-8
EPub Edition JULY 2013 ISBN: 9780062247292
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