Authors: Scarlett Jacobs,Neil S. Plakcy
Suddenly he had his arms around Daniel, kissing his cheek and hugging him so tight I worried his fragile old arms would break.
Daniel pulled back and introduced me, telling the old man that I did not speak Spanish.
"Come in," the man said, in an accent a lot stronger than Daniel's. He motioned us into the small, crowded living room, filled with furniture, papers, and another statue of San Lazaro.
Daniel's stomach grumbled as we walked in, and mine echoed it. We had eaten all the food we brought with us for breakfast and lunch, and we hadn't had time to get any dinner, going directly from the train to Egidio's.
"You are hungry?" Egidio asked. Without waiting for an answer, he led us to his tiny kitchen and motioned us to sit down. There was a casserole simmering on the stove. "My neighbor, she cooks for me," he said as he ladled chicken stew onto plates. Then he heaped some white rice on the side of each plate. "You like pineapple soda?"
We both nodded. He brought us the plates, with silverware and white paper napkins, then filled two plastic tumblers with ice and brought them to the table with a big half-gallon bottle of a soda called Jupina.
"My favorite!" Daniel said. "When I was a little boy."
"Yes, you always used to drink it with me." Egidio sat down across from us and watched as we ate. "You know who I am?" he asked Daniel.
Daniel shook his head.
"I am your mother's Uncle Egidio. Your great-uncle."
Daniel looked up from his food. "I didn't know we had any relatives."
Egidio sighed. "It is very sad, this exile. Families torn apart. And then, your mother, she is a special case. Where is she?"
"That's why we're here," Daniel said. "She disappeared. All she left me was a box of papers. Your name was there, with your address."
"Disappeared? What do you mean?"
Daniel started to tell him, but Egidio kept interrupting with questions, so when Daniel finished eating he told the whole story, starting with his earliest memories, skimming through all the places he and his mother had lived.
He had told me bits and pieces of the story, but that was the first time I heard the whole thing, about moving around every year, his mother always seeming frightened, never having contact with friends or family.
"This is very bad," Egidio said when he was finished. "Very, very bad."
"Why? What's going on?"
"I make cafecito," Egidio said. "This is going to take a long time." He got up and started fiddling with an ancient-looking coffeemaker, like they might have made cappuccino with about a hundred years ago. Soon the tiny kitchen was filled with the aroma of coffee, and I sighed. I wanted nothing more than to be back home, sitting at the bookstore with Brie over a pair of big, foamy coffee drinks.
The cafecito, though, was nothing like that. Egidio gave us demitasse cups with strong, sweet coffee. The caffeine was a jolt to my system and despite the fact that it was nearly nine o'clock at night I felt wired.
"Your mami and papi were so happy to know they were going to have a baby," Egidio said, when he was sitting down across the table from us once more. "Your mami, she want to do everything best for you. She start going to the doctor right away."
Under the table, Daniel reached for my hand.
Egidio shook his head. "This doctor come from Spain, el doctor Irrizarry. No one know why he leave Spain to come to Cienfuegos, but he seem very smart, very good man."
"Irrizarry?" Daniel asked. "Wait a minute." He got up and went back to the living room, where I could see him rooting in his suitcase. He returned with that yellowed newspaper clipping. "Is this about him?"
He handed the clipping to Egidio, who fumbled for a pair of reading glasses and put them on.
"What is it?" I whispered to Daniel.
"A doctor who was arrested," he said to me. "I read it, but I didn't understand why my mom kept it."
"Yes, this is the doctor," Egidio said when he had finished. "You see he was arrested?"
"Yes, but why?"
"He start to give your mother all these
inyeccions
-
como se dice en Ingles
?" He mimed sticking a needle into his arm.
"Injections?" Daniel said.
"Si, si. He give her these injections. He say to make the baby healthy. Of course, she accept. She want only best for you."
"So then what?" Daniel asked.
"Your mami is not the only lady to have injections. Sometimes, the baby die. Sometimes born with something wrong. Your parents were very worried, but you were healthy baby." He looked back at the article. "See here? Is when you were five years old. You started school, very smart."
He looked up at Daniel. "Still? You are very smart?"
"Yes," I said. "He's a genius."
Egidio nodded again. "Your parents, they get very worried. When el doctor Irrizarry is arrested, they have all his records, they start looking for these children. Men from the government come to Cienfuegos."
My stomach felt queasy. Was it the strange Cuban food, the potent coffee? Or was I already seeing where Egidio's story was going?
"Your parents want to leave Cienfuegos. Your mami went to La Habana with you. She had friends there from her school who she ask for help. Your papi stay in Cienfuegos to sell what they owned, to pay for passage."
He reached up to his right eye to wipe a tear away. "Your papi, he died. No one know how or why for sure, but I know. Was the government. He died to protect you from them."
"But why? Why would someone kill him?"
"They know you are special, Daniel. They want to put you in government school, show off how smart you are. You will be new type of Cuban people."
"And they killed my father because he didn't want that for me?"
Egidio nodded. "Your mami, she try to protect you for many years. Now, I fear they kill her too."
Daniel shook his head. "I don't believe that."
Maybe he didn't, but it was sounding true to me. Poor Mrs. Florez. No wonder she had been scared all those years, moving around so much, keeping all those fake IDs. She was afraid the Cuban government was after her.
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.