Havana Club Ch. 05

Chapter 5 – Scouting Locations

I think in the shower. I get a lot of good ideas there. That morning, I did a lot of thinking. I decided that, as depressed as I was about leaving, I didn't want Felicita to have sad memories of our last times together. I would try to make things more upbeat today. I would do everything I could to emphasize the positive. I wanted both of us to have happy memories of our time together.

After breakfast, I bought my morning Granma and read it on the veranda, as the birds serenaded me. The cool breeze from the harbor felt wonderful. I found an interesting article and mentally filed it away for later.

I got up and walked through the lobby, past the grandfather clock and photo display of the revolution, down the marble stairs, and out to the front of the hotel. I walked up the palm tree lined driveway to the street. I saw a man on a bicycle dropping off his wife or girlfriend for work. After he left, I saw another bicycle, this one with a tiny gasoline powered motor helping its rider climb the hill. I turned to the left, looking for a certain brown-haired girl driving a yellow scooter.

I wasn't disappointed. I could see her smiling face well before I got to the taxi stand. She was as radiant as I remembered, much happier than she had been when she left a few hours ago. Maybe it was the just-fucked look on her face. Maybe it was the joy at seeing me. Whatever it was, I was determined to keep that smile on her face.

"Taxi, Señor?" she asked me as I approached.

"Yes, I would like to hire your taxi for the entire day."

"Certainly," she answered with a broad smile, repeating our daily ritual. I didn't know if we were fooling the other drivers, but it didn't hurt to keep up appearances to protect her.

I boarded the scooter and we took off. As usual, she went a few blocks before leaning back to ask me where I wanted to go. I directed her to an area of downtown. When we got there, I had Felicita park the scooter and we went walking. I explained what I had in mind.

While it was my last full day with Felicita, it was also my last day of work in Cuba. I had come here to do a job. Now it was time to finish the job. I had to scout out locations for the office. I hoped I would be opening the office in the very near future, but I knew it might be a long time from now. Still, I had to get an idea of what part of the city would be best suited for the office. That way, I could set up shop faster when the time came. Today, I was looking at the kinds of offices located in different parts of the city. I looked at the facilities available for businesses. I was also using the time to walk with Felicita. We could spend time together this way; more together than if she was chauffeuring me around in her scooter. Instead of looking at the back of her head, I could walk with her at my side, our hands intertwined. I took pictures of some promising locations, as well as pictures of locations that would help me find these spots later.

I could tell Felicita was also thinking of how our time together was coming to an end. Her mood was ..., well, maybe not dark, but gloomy. I had made a decision this morning to change my mood. Now it was time for me to change hers. I squeezed her hand tighter.

"I'm coming back. You know this," I said, turning to look at her.

"It will be a long time before you can come back. You know this," she answered without looking at me.

"Things will change. They have to."

"No, they don't."

"A famous man once said, 'If there must be happiness, if there must be love, if there must be smiles, it can only be with freedom and dignity.' Freedom will come and I will come back to you."

She stopped walking and looked quizzically at me. "Who said these bold words?"

"Fidel," I told her.

She shook her head as she said, "How can you know this?"

I nodded and laughed as I explained, "It was in an article in this morning's Granma. They were taking about a speech he made some years ago. It is actually a common theme in his speeches."

"He does not speak about the same kind of freedom you speak of." She was still shaking her head.

"Fidel cannot be the President of Cuba forever. He is old." I spoke in a whisper.

"Shhh!! You mustn't say such things here." She was looking around nervously to see if anyone had overheard me.

I continued in a whisper only she could hear. "Change will come. You must wait for it. We must wait for it."

She started walking again, but I could tell she was still thinking about what I had said. I let her think for a few minutes.

I stopped walking in front of an empty storefront and looked in the window. Then I stepped back and appraised the appearance of the outside of the building.

"I think this would be a good location for the office."

"You are wasting your time. This will never come to be."

I let my camera hang from my wrist as I grasped her shoulders, turning her to face me. "You have to believe. Itwill happen." I could see she was starting to change. I was starting to get through to her. I dropped my arms, took her hand and started walking.

When she spoke after we had gone about half a block, her voice was quiet. It was almost like the voice of a little child questioning something. "You really think so, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. I am coming back here. Back to Havana... and back to you."

"Then I will wait for you."

I knew what I had to say next. I hoped it wouldn't sound like I was breaking up with her. Now that I had convinced her that Iwas coming back, I had to make sure she didn't waste away her life in case it did take years. I was treading a thin line, navigating a gulf in fog, in uncertainty.

"While you are waiting..." I paused. I'm not sure if I was gathering my thoughts or gathering my courage. Felicita was looking at me. I had her rapt attention. She looked like she was holding onto my every word as if it was her sustenance. I took a deep breath, then another. "While you are waiting, I want you to live your life. I want you to enjoy life." Now I had to say it. "I want you to—" I was trying to find the right words. "I want you to sleep with other men. When I come back, I will look for you. If you still want me, if you have not fallen in love with someone else, I—"

"I will not fall in love. I won't let that happen," she insisted. Her expression was almost pained. I just didn't want her emotions to turn to anger.

"I know. I know that, but just in case—"

"Just in case? No, Christopher. If there is even a chance, then I will not risk it. I will not see anyone else. I will save myself for you."

"No, I don't want you to do that. Just in case itis a long time, you should—"

"A long time? Then what will it be? A short time or a long time?"

Oops, things weren't going so well now.

"I don't know for sure. I just know it will happen in our lives."

"You can't be sure of that."

I was losing her now. "You have to trust me. I just want you to know that if you fall in love with someone else, I don't want you to pass up a chance at happiness to wait for me."

She now looked questioningly at me. "And what will you be doing while you wait?"

OK, this was getting tricky, like tap dancing in a minefield. I could say I was not going to see anyone, but that would discourage her from living her life. I didn't want to lie to her.

I cleared my throat. "I will try to see other people. I will not be looking for love, just companionship."

"What if you find love?" Her tone was not so soft.

"I will turn away before it gets its hold on me. My heart belongs to you." As I spoke these last words, I took hold of her hand and placed it over my heart.

"So why can't I wait?" she demanded.

Yeah, she had me. There couldn't be a double standard. She was smart enough to see right through that.

"I won't lie to you. I will see other women. I did that before I met you, but I never found anyone that I loved until I met you. You are the only woman I have ever loved, the only one I could ever see myself with for a lifetime."

She spoke next, with an unsteady voice. "I thought I was in love before. I never felt this way though. I think I have truly learned what love is this week."

Her words did nothing to make my leaving tomorrow any easier.

"We both have found something special, something we never had before. I know—"

I felt tears flowing down my cheeks. The dam burst. Felicita hugged me and we sobbed against each other, right there on the sidewalk.

I spoke through my tears. "Shit, there are no words to make this better. This country really sucks! Cuba must be freed!"

Felicita looked around worriedly, then pulled me to a nearby alley.

"Quiet!" she admonished me. "You mustn't say things like this, not here."

I knew she was right. I was angry—angry at the system, our governments, life—and I wanted to vent. Through it all, though, I realized what she meant. I knew that if I kept saying what I wanted to say, I might get arrested. I would get jailed here, or at best deported and maybe jailed in the States. Either way, my chances of seeing Felicita again would be zero.

She led me back to the street. I had made enough of a scene that some people were staring at us.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered as she hurried me along. "We don't know who might be CDR. The best thing is for us to get back to the scooter and get lost in traffic. Come on!"

We were not quite running (that would have been too obvious), but we were walking along very fast. As we went, Felicita kept looking back. I expected to see a policeman or soldier block our path. I silently cursed myself for doing something so stupid. I had found a few suitable locations and had enough pictures. We could have left anyway. Instead, I had made a scene and maybe gotten us both into a lot of trouble.

"Felicita," I said just loud enough for her to hear, "if it looks like we are going to get stopped, I want you to walk away."

"No—" she started to say.

"Do it! You can blend into the crowd. Don't get caught because of me. I want you to be safe. I'll be alright."

"I won't leave you!"

"You will! There is no point at both of us getting arrested. Now promise me you will leave."

She didn't answer me. She just hurried me along a little faster, still looking all around us.

"Shut up!" she told me. Then, a little gentler, "We are almost there. The scooter is just ahead."

As we turned the last corner and entered the plaza where she had parked the scooter, I saw them. Two soldiers, armed with rifles, standing in front of the scooter. Damn! It was really going to happen. I was going to get arrested.

"Go! Run now!"

"Shut up, damn you!"

We were arguing in whispers.

"Keep walking. Maybe they aren't looking for us."

"Yes, they just like the color of your scooter," I said, sarcastically.

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she told me.

I wanted to push her away and run. I wanted to run so the soldiers would chase me and she would have a chance to get away. I almost did it. What stopped me was the fear that she would run with me. Or worse, she would make her own scene to let me get away. I knew how desperate I was. I knew she probably felt the same way. I trusted her.

We walked right up to the scooter. One of the soldiers had his boot on the fender. He looked up at us as we approached. I hoped he couldn't see how hard I was sweating, or hear my heartbeat.Was this going to be my last moment of freedom? I wondered. The soldier moved aside, and spoke.

"Is this your scooter?" he asked Felicita, recognizing her Havana Club t-shirt.

"Yes, but I already have a passenger," she answered with a lot more confidence than I possessed at that moment.

"You are supposed to be driving, not walking."

"My fare needed to visit a shop and wanted me to wait for him. He didn't want to wait for another taxi. He is a very important businessman."

"A very important businessman who rides in a scooter?" The soldiers now appraisedme. They were not convinced, and starting to suspect something was suspicious. I could see it in their faces.

I decided to play along and speak. I hoped my voice would come out sounding a lot more confident than I felt.

"I can get into the side streets a lot better in a small scooter. Now I have business to attend to. May we go?" As I spoke the last part, I used a very conciliatory tone and looked one of the soldiers directly in the eye. I never faltered. I stared him down. He flinched.

"Let them go," he told the other one. They stepped aside. I took my seat as if I was mounting a grand carriage pulled by stallions. Felicita started the engine and we putted away. After we turned the first corner, I slumped against the curved side of the body.

When she stopped at the traffic light, Felicita looked back at me. She was smiling broadly. "We did it! That was so amazing!"

"I was scared to death."

"The soldiers were afraid of you. They didn't want to mess with you in case you were important. You handled that so well."

"They wouldn't have been so afraid if I had peed in my pants, which I almost did. I was sure we were going to get arrested."

A car horn blew behind us. The light had changed. Felicita turned back to the front and drove off.

She drove us to a secluded spot along the coast. I knew what she was doing. We needed to talk somewhere that we could not be overheard. I sat back and let her drive, lost in thought. I knew what I wanted and I knew I couldn't have that. The only solution I could come up with was for us to try to live our lives and keep open the option of getting together again someday. Maybe. I loved her too much to ask her to sacrifice any happiness that came her way for the hope that I would return. I wanted to wait, but I didn't want her to. I also didn't know how to explain that to her in a way that didn't sound like I was dumping her. I wasn't any good at this. My last attempt almost got us both arrested. I had avoided situations like this before by never getting serious with anyone. Now that I found someone I couldn't live without, I was getting a crash course in long distance relationships. Oh, yeah, with a heavy emphasis oncrash.

I wasn't really paying attention to the route we took. I think we were west of the city, along the coast. Felicita finally pulled over somewhere on the coast. She took out the blanket and looked at me. I could tell that tears had streaked down her face and been evaporated by the wind. She had been crying on the drive. I felt like a real shit. She reached for my hand. She never said a word. I didn't know what to expect. I was afraid she was going to tell me it was all over. Right now. Maybe I'd even have to walk back to town. I wouldn't blame her.

She led me to the water's edge, and then set out the blanket. She sat down and looked up at me, waiting for me to join her. I gingerly sat down, not too close but not too far away. She looked right into my eyes, very seriously, and said those words every man dreads.

"We need to talk."

Her voice was devoid of emotion. I felt at that moment that the ground below me had ceased to exist. I felt as if I was falling into a great void. My whole life had become a bottomless pit. Then, a ray of light appeared in the darkness. A hand stretched out to stop my fall. It was Felicita's hand on my cheek. Her face was right in front of mine.

"Christopher, do you still love me?"

There was only one way to answer that question. "Yes, of course I do. I have never loved anyone the way—"

She interrupted me with a finger on my lips.

"Do you want, more than anything, to be with me?" I started to speak but she pressed the finger harder against my lips. I got the message. She wasn't ready for my answer yet. "Does it hurt when we are apart? Physically hurt? Do you long, yearn, hunger even, for us to be together again?" She lowered her finger, awaiting my reply.

"Yes," I breathed, a whisper almost unheard over the sound of the waves. "Yes, I feel exactly like that."

"That is how I feel. I need you in my life." She put her head down. I thought she was crying, but she was only thinking. When she looked up, her eyes were dry.

"It may be a month. It may be a year, or ten years. Do you promise that you will come back to me?"

"Yes."

Her look softened, just a little. She didn't smile, but she wasn't so serious anymore.

"I had a long talk with my grandfather last night, when I got home. It was about you, about us. We talked about what was going to happen on Friday, and on the days after that. He is very wise. He has seen a lot of things happen. Do you know what he told me?"

I shook my head. My heart was pounding, I was sweating, I could feel the fear of love that might be dying in my gut, but I just shook my head. I was focused on her, on what she was about to say.

"He told me that, if I loved you, really loved you, that I should wait for you. He told me that I should still seek happiness, but I should keep my heart for you alone. I guess he was telling me what you tried to tell me earlier."

"When the soldiers—"

She continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "I should not become a nun, but I should wait for you." She took a deep breath, shuddered a little as it escaped, then continued. "I had time to think on the drive over here. I think you are both right. I should date other men, maybe even sleep with some –" I nodded at that. "Just some, maybe, but I could do that and not fall in love with anyone else. My heart belongs to you," As she spoke the last sentence, she grasped my right hand with hers, held it tightly, and pressed it against her chest. I could feel the softness of her breast, the rise and fall of her breathing, but most of all, the beating of her heart. I felt her heart beating out its love for me. "I will be yours always, Christopher."

I looked into her eyes, feeling her heartbeat, hearing the crash of the waves, feeling more in love than I ever had before. This beautiful girl was devoting herself to me. What I really felt at that moment was not relief, not happiness, but rather that I didn't deserve her. I didn't deserve her, but I would not do anything to make her sacrifice in vain.

"I'm coming back, Felicita." She looked into my eyes as I spoke those words, as if each word was a physical thing she could hold on to. "I'm coming back. At least to visit, until I can stay here. I don't know how often I can do it, but I will. I promise you that."

She was still holding my hand against her heart. At that point, we both started crying. I put my left arm around her, pulling her to me. We hugged there on the blanket, my other hand still between her breast and my chest. I could feel the beating of her heart, then the warmth of tears. I knew these were tears of happiness, not sadness or anger. We cried together and held each other as the waves crashed and the wind blew.

In time, our hunger drove us from the waterfront. We sought out food. As my time in Cuba was drawing to a close, we had lunch at the place we met – Pan.Com. We shared a meal of Cuban sandwiches and Kristal beer. As we were waiting for the sandwiches to be pressed, I looked around. I marveled at how my life had changed since the first time I was here, only three days ago. In that time, I had done a lifetime of learning and growing. The last time I had stood at this counter, I didn't even know the beauty standing next to me. Now, I didn't want to live apart from her.

We took our food to a table and started eating. The old guy with the CDs was there, and he again approached us. I decided to buy some. It was a memento of the trip (and the time with Felicita) that I could safely bring back. Felicita helped me pick out some. I especially wanted the music we had danced to. I watched Felicita as she ate, wanting to imprint her image permanently upon my mind.