After Fidel Ch. 06

Chapter 6 – The Trip Home

Stacy's question immediately changed the topic of conversation. The two ladies launched into an exclusive conversation about dresses, churches, and other things that I tuned out. Brian looked at me, rolled his eyes, and we both grinned.

"We stopped and checked in on Felicita's family on the way down. They'll be coming down for breakfast in a little while," Brian told me.

"Thanks. We'll take them back home before we go in to the office. Hold down the fort for me?"

"Of course, Chris. That's what I'm here for. After all, who will you trust to run things for you when you're on your honeymoon?"

"I hadn't thought of that!" I exclaimed. "I guess we'll be away for a while."

"At least a week," Brian assured me. "You're the boss here. Take more if you want. I won't tell."

"There's so much we have to talk about," I said, looking at Felicita. She gave me an embarrassed smile.

"Yes, we have to talk about the details," she said to me.

"Right, when and where, who to invite, what everyone will wear..." Stacy gushed on.

"Stacy," Brian admonished. "Let them plan their wedding."

"It's OK, Brian. We want help. It's not like either of us has ever done this before," I told the two of them.

Brian motioned towards the door. Felicita's mother and grandfather were standing in the doorway, looking lost. I nodded and got up to greet them. I sat them at our table and got coffee for both of them. Felicita explained about the buffet. They were amazed to see all the food. The common people didn't get to even see places like this. That was another facet of Cuban life that was changing.

We all ate well. Over breakfast, Felicita's mother joined the conversation with her daughter and Stacy. Brian and I kept her grandfather entertained. He told us of the previous revolution. That one had ended kind of like this one. Once Fidel had taken control of Havana, the entire country suddenly came under his control. The end came quickly. When Battista seized power, it had also been the same way. He who controls Havana controls Cuba.

After breakfast, we called for the car. When it got there, we had to squeeze in. We were going to drop Stacy and Brian off at the office and take Felicita's family home right away, but Felicita's mother asked if she could see where we worked so we took them into the office. Felicita showed them her office and explained what the company did. They were very impressed with her job. I explained how we moved goods between Cuba and the United States. The computers we used to track shipments were like seeing a miracle to them.

After their tour, we took them home. On the ride, we talked about where to hold the wedding. Felicita explained that we had been attending mass at Jesus de Miramar.

"That is a beautiful church," her mother said. "The Pope visited there."

"That is where I'd like to be married. Is that all right, Christopher?" she asked me. I could tell her eyes were a little teary.

"I've always hoped that would be where we would be married, ever since I first saw it. I'd like that very much," I said. Whew! One detail settled!

On the rest of the ride, the two women chatted about some of those other details while her grandfather told me about the sights as we passed them. He spoke of how grand things were before Fidel, of how different the city was. It was fascinating seeing the dingy city through his eyes. Havana would be that way again.

We didn't get to return to the city right away. Felicita's mother insisted we stay for lunch and visit with some of her family. I half expected this so I didn't push. Felicita's left hand was shown to what seemed to be hundreds of people. We were the center of attention for hours. I was grateful when Felicita announced, after lunch, that we had to get back to work. We left to a myriad of cheers.

In the car on the ride back, we talked about what we wanted the wedding to be like. Felicita of course wanted to invite all of her family. She looked at me questioningly because she knew I didn't have any family. I explained that I wanted to invite everyone from the main office who could come because they were like my family. She liked that idea. We hadn't looked into a date yet, but we wanted it to be soon. I asked if she knew where we could hold the reception. She explained that her family usually had such parties outdoors where she lived. I worried about the tropical weather, but let her judgment prevail. She knew the climate much better than me.

At the office, it was hard to concentrate on work. So much had happened in the last day. Again. There was a flurry around the office when we returned. I finally gave up and decided that not much work was going to get done. I managed to steal away to my office to place a phone call back to the States.

I called Ross. When he answered, he sounded glad to hear from me. I assured him all was well in Havana and briefed him on how the office was shaping up.

"So what's the big news? I can tell something is up from the tone of your voice," he said. He knew me so well.

"Ross, last night I asked Felicita to marry me."

He exploded with excitement. "That's wonderful! I'm so happy for the two of you. When's the wedding?"

"We just started planning. You're invited, of course. Everyone from the company who can come is invited. I was really hoping you could be here."

"Count me in, my boy. I'll be there will bells on. I'll see what we can do about the others."

We talked about Felicita, where we were going to live, the long-term prospects for the office and many other details. I cringed to think how much the phone call cost because we talked a long time. Ross was in so many ways like a father to me.

"When can I get you back here for a visit? I want to meet your bride," Ross suggested.

"I guess I need to come back. It looks like I'm going to be living here so I need to pack up my apartment and ship things down here."

"So come on back. Bring Felicita. You've earned some time off. I'll get Agnes to set it up."

"I need to see about getting a passport for Felicita first, and a visa. I don't think she's ever left Cuba before. I'll speak to the embassy about it today."

"That's right—embassy," Ross mused. "Diplomatic relations have been restored. It's a changing world."

"Are you ever right! It's changing here so fast, right before our eyes," I said.

"Let me know when you're coming. I want to meet your fiancée."

"Will do, Ross. You know none of this would ever have happened without you."

"Call it fate. It was meant for you two to get together."

"Whatever it was, I'm glad it happened."

Before the call ended, I heard Ross call loudly for Agnes to come into his office. He told her I had some news and put her on the phone. Just before he handed her the phone, he explained to me that he wanted her in his office so he could see her face when I told her my news.

"Hi, Agnes," I said.

"Christopher! How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine. I'm getting married."

Agnes gave a little yell. It was uncharacteristic for her, but she was really excited. Ross told me later her expression was something he'd not soon forget. She was very happy, even more so when I told her we were trying to come in for a visit so I could pack up my apartment.

The call ended soon after. Next, I called the U. S. Embassy and asked if they had information about a Cuban citizen visiting the United States. They recognized my name and offered to help but didn't know the answer. I was promised an answer later that afternoon. The truth is that no one knew the Cuban government's policy on issuing passports yet.

I walked over to Felicita's office. She was going over some contracts.

"Hi, Chris," she said when she looked up and saw me in the doorway. Her face had lit up when she saw it was me. My heart warmed when I saw the look on her face.

"How would you like to visit the home office with me?" I asked.

She pondered that for a moment. Then, her eyes widened. "The United States?"

I nodded.

"Yes! I thought I'd never get to do that. I'd love to. When can we go?"

"First we have to get you a passport and a visa. I already spoke to the embassy and they are looking into it for me. No one seems to know your new government's procedures yet."

I let her get back to her work and went over to speak to Brian. I wanted to give him an early heads up on my trip because he'd be in charge of the office while I was gone. I also wanted to talk to him about a trip home for him and Stacy. They had both been here a few weeks and were due to rotate back home, if only to check in for a while. I really wanted to feel him out about moving to Havana. I hoped he'd stay with me. I wanted him as my assistant manager permanently.

He didn't look too excited when I suggested a trip back home for him. "I was kind of hoping to stay on here with you," he said, sounding disappointed.

"I don't think you understand. I want you here. I was hoping you'd stay on with me. I just wanted to give you the option to go back if you wanted to. How about Stacy? Do you think she'll stay, also?"

Brian smiled broadly and leaned over his desk, speaking in a whisper. "I'm hoping. After you get back from your honeymoon, I'm hoping to take one."

"Brian!" I exclaimed. "I didn't know!"

"Shhh! I haven't talked to her about it yet. I think it's crossed her mind, though. She was pretty excited about talking wedding plans with Felicita."

We shared a grin. "I think you don't have anything to worry about. I've seen you two together." It was true, Stacy adored him. "We make a great team. I was hoping we'd all stay together," I added as I was leaving.

"You know you can count on me. I didn't get shot at for nothing."

"Yeah, we'll be talking about that one for a long time."

Later that afternoon, I heard back from the embassy. My name apparently still carried some weight with the Cuban government because they were going to issue a passport to Felicita right away. She needed to get some pictures taken and go in to fill out the paperwork. I took her to a photo studio for the pictures. The photographer told us we could pick them up the next afternoon.

At dinner that night, Felicita gushed on about the trip. She had never been out of Cuba before. A trip to the United States was to her an unimaginable luxury before the revolution.

That night was another memorable session of lovemaking. Every night with Felicita is memorable. The next day, after lunch, we picked up the pictures and went to the bureau that issued passports. A few weeks ago, what we were doing was unheard of. Another sign of the changing times.

Normally, the process of issuing a passport would take weeks. Because of my relationship with the government (and the President), Felicita would get her passport in two days. I called Agnes when we got back to the office and asked her to set up the trip for the end of the week. Agnes assured me she would set it all up for me, adding that she was looking forward to meeting Felitica.

The rest of the week seemed to crawl by because we were anticipating our trip. I tried not to lean on Brian too much. I wanted him to feel that I trusted him to handle things while I was gone. I expected to be back in a week. I asked around the office if anyone wanted anything special brought back from the States.

On Saturday morning, we said our goodbyes to Brian and Stacy. We left the hotel for the airport, much as I had done about ten months ago. With the trade embargo ended, a few airlines had initiated daily flights between Havana and Miami. We had to fly through Miami first, but we could fly direct from there. The mood on this trip was so different. We were happy, giddy even. Felicita had never flown before but she didn't appear to be nervous. She seemed to be looking on it as a new adventure.

We checked in at the new American desk and paid our departure tax—still in U. S. currency, of course. With shiny holographic stamps on both our boarding passes, we proceeded to emigration. This time, Felicita stepped through the door and presented her new passport to the agent. I was right behind her. Once our paperwork was verified and stamped, the door buzzed. Felicita pushed it aside and stepped through, into a whole new world.

For me, it was a repeat of my last trip but without the heartbreak. For Felicita, every step she took was to a place she had never been before. We had drinks at the bar where I had cried over my last mojito months before. She marveled at the cleanliness and size of the terminal. As this was usually reserved for foreigners and government dignitaries, the level of quality was quite a step above what the typical Cubans usually saw. Before long, our flight was called. Soldiers still stood guard (old habits die hard), but they were there to maintain order, not to prevent Cubans from leaving the country. Felicita's excitement grew as we passed the next checkpoint and started down the jetway. Around the corner, at the door of the plane, there was a flight attendant but not a soldier this time. The attendant was there to check our boarding passes one final time and welcome us aboard.

I had asked Agnes to book us in first class since this was Felicita's first time flying. Agnes told me that the company was paying for the trip and Ross had already told her to book it first class. Felicita stepped aboard the plane and looked around in awe. Smiling, I stepped to her side and led her to our seats. I put our carry on bags in storage and sat her in the window seat, showing her how to buckle her seat belt and adjust the air conditioning.

"This is so nice," she said, astonishment in her voice, as the stewardess took our drink order.

"It's not always this nice. We are flying first class today. Usually I fly in coach," I told her, indicating the back section of the plane with my hand.

She craned around my seat. "The seats are so much smaller back there," she observed.

"Yes, they are. And not nearly as comfortable. This is a treat from Ross."

She thought about that a moment. When the stewardess handed us our drinks, she took hold of the glass and said, "Then I will enjoy it out of respect for him."

I gave a little laugh. "I will enjoy it because I am with you."

As she delicately took a sip from her glass, the sunlight streaming in through the window was refracted in the diamond on her hand. I sighed deeply, feeling love for her all through my body.

Felicita paid careful attention to the safety briefing, following along with the card. I made a point of doing so as well, mostly for her sake. It was hard not to grin as she was watching with the attention of a child on the first day of kindergarten. This was all new to her; it was a world that she never expected to see until today.

She looked a little nervous when she heard the bump as the cargo compartment door was closed. She jumped a little when the engines started up. I reassured her. Before long, we were taxiing out to the runway and she was glued to the window. When we stopped at the end of the runway, she asked, "Why are we stopping?"

Before I could answer, the takeoff run began. She was pushed back in her seat, her eyes wide. It took a great effort to not laugh. I held her hand and tried to reassure her. When the nose lifted off the runway, I felt her fingernails pressing deeply into the skin of my hand.

"It's all right. This is normal," I told her. Her grip lessened a little and she turned back to the window. Now, the scary part was over and she was seeing her country from a new perspective. She was totally captivated by the sight out the window, even though we soon left the coastline of Cuba behind us.

"What's that?" she asked as the coastline of Florida appeared.

"That... is America," I proudly announced to her.

"It's so close!" she said, the astonishment evident in her voice.

"Only about 150 kilometers from Cuba," I answered. I was enjoying seeing all this through her eyes for the first time.

Her comments had attracted the attention of the stewardess. She came to our seats and knelt in the aisle.

"Is this your first time leaving Cuba?" she gently asked Felicita. Felicita gave a wide-eyed nod. "In that case," the stewardess said, her voice now taking on an official air, "the pilot would like me to bestow on you these wings, in honor of your first flight." She stood and, leaning over me, pinned the plastic wings on Felicita's dress. When she straightened, Felicita reverently touched the wings, as if caressing a Congressional Medal of Honor. It was a ceremony that was usually reserved for little children, but it was not wasted on Felicita.

"We'll be landing in Miami in just a few minutes," the stewardess told me.

The flying time from Havana to Miami is really short. We were soon getting ready to land. This was also a new procedure for Felicita. She very conscientiously went through the procedure of making sure her tray table was locked in the upright position, her seatback was fully upright and her seat belt was still securely fastened. I watched her with a slight amusement. All these things were routine for me, automatic. For her, they were serious matters.

She obediently remained in her seat until the plane came to a complete stop and the Fasten Seatbelts sign was turned off. We had plenty of time before our connecting flight so we didn't have to rush. We had to clear customs while we were in Miami. This was yet another new experience for her. The flight was so short that we didn't have time to fill out landing cards on the plane. We had to take care of that while waiting in line. It helped Felicita that the form was printed in both English and Spanish.

She was nervous when it was our turn to speak to the agent. I could tell that she was also proud to be presenting her new passport. The agent was friendly and welcomed her on her first visit to the United States when he saw the date of issue. Maybe it helped that she was an adult and wearing those plastic airline wings. She smiled broadly and thanked him.

Our bags were inspected thoroughly, probably because we were coming from Cuba. There was nothing to find, of course. Felicita was a little embarrassed when the male inspector found her Victoria's Secret underwear. He took it in stride, politely ignoring her blushing.

When we were cleared through customs, we came to the automatic glass doors with the "Welcome to the United States of America" sign. I saw Felicita look at the message, take a deep breath, and walk through. Once we were on the other side, she turned to me.

"We are in the United States of America now, yes?"

"Yes, we are," I answered.

She smiled one of the broadest smiles I had ever seen on her face. She looked around the terminal and said, "It's very nice here." She took a deep breath. "This is the smell of freedom."

Actually, it wasn't much different from the Havana airport. It was still an airport. She wouldn't get outside until we got off the next flight. I enjoyed watching her excitement.

Felicita marveled at the shops lining the concourse on the way to our gate. We spent a lot of time looking in the windows. She was amazed by all the things for sale, and the quantities of things. Nothing was rationed here. I offered her some cash to buy something.

"No, thank you," she said politely. She reached into her purse and pulled out a neat stack of currency. I saw that they were "C" bills. She went into the next store and picked out a candy bar, purchasing it all by herself. Then she turned to me, her eyes glistening with tears of pride. "My first purchase in America," she said, looking into my eyes. "It's for you," she said as she pushed it into my hands. "I wanted to use the special C dollars to buy a gift for you." I smiled and thanked her. It was such a sweet, unselfish act.