Alien Girls, Cousins

This is the sequel to Alien Girls Find Friends, you'll enjoy it more if you know the girls and their background :)

Alien Girls, Cousins

What a yummy nap, Sally stretches, beside her someone's curves are buried in the sheets. Maybe not just one, she smiles suppressing a giggle.

A mysterious cousin, my even more mysterious Alice mentioned. Seems strange, my family's from Louisiana, down Baton Rouge way—nobody from Cuba.

Alice's hand slides out from the sheet to toy with Sally's fingers. Light touches, sending tingles, relaxing, images arise, crowded streets, faded clothes, folks flowing, languid in the heat, but eyes sharp, on the lookout.

Alice snuggles closer, decides she likes the whispering the girls do, remembers how mellow the whispers were between Angel and Sally in the cockpit of the plane. Lips brush Sally's ear, as she murmurs, 'Should we visit your cousin or Angel's family?'

'Can't we do both?'

'Angel's family in Havana, yours is in the South.'

'Angel's family then, my cousin's younger than her granny, no?'

...

Out on the street, the fine women stroll down the decrepit boulevard gliding over its uneven sidewalks, stepping lightly over cracked concrete and crumbling curbs. Sweet smiles greet the curious eyes that follow them. Men begin to trail along, eyes on curves and swaying hips and that indefinable something, like the scent of cinnamon wafting from some tucked away bakery.

Sally with her long legs walks ahead with Angel, their arms linked companionably. They've attracted the more aggressive men. They strut and posture, batting at each to get closer to these girls so fine it's hard to believe they'd walk so carelessly in this seedy barrio.

Annie whispers to Alice, 'Will they be safe? I mean you and Susan can...but they seem so oblivious, no sign of fear...'

'They'll take care of themselves.'

Other more menacing men join the rowdy group following the girls. They start pushing the others to the side. Suddenly, Sally stops and turns to look at them. They're shocked to see the high-wattage smile like that of a wining Miss Universe contestant. It seems to glimmer, to reach out. When Angel turns to see what the commotion is. The combatants are stopped in their tracks, pushes at the ready but somehow forgotten.

A half block away, Annie shudders proud to see their fabulous smiles spreading like sunshine, but when Angel turns to walk back to the fighters, Annie shivers, afraid for her.

Angel acts on an impulse she's finely tuned as a stewardess, part firm, part soft, wrapped in the warmth of strong loving mother. Her mind is on the verge of rebelling—how stupid to be confronting these gangsters—but something deeper, hard and able, is like an anvil where actions are reshaped, hammered true to necessities nature.

Distracted by this girl now in their face, they've forgotten Sally's smile, and are ready to resume their fight. Angle laughs at them, pushing them lightly to the side.

It's the last thing they expect, this hot girl touching them, not giving way, unafraid, telling them 'If you want to join us, you'll need to settle. How cool would it be to take these pretty turistas to your casa, meet your mama, your sisters, your little brothers, impress them?'

The younger one recovers enough to raise his fist. Angel doesn't budge. 'No fists, how do you expect to meet that pretty girl, she glances back at Sally?' But when she returns to face them, her eyes are suddenly like Alice's, deep pools of darkness into which all things seem to float in mindful possibility. Her aggressor is named Jose and his life is a story of pain, the pain of love and comfort and often food just out of reach, aggravated even more by the itch of drugs he can't possibly afford.

Angel sees the child that could have been had he not strayed from his sister, Rosa, his only champion.

'Let's find Rosa, she'll help. You'll get killed running hot-headed like this, ready to become a bigger criminal every day you hunger.'

Jose drops his hands as the images of his past float by his mind's eye, seen as though from a stranger.—He realizes in the rush of memory that there really might be someone who cares whether he livers or dies, someone like Rosa.

'She's gone.'

'No, she's not far.'

As she talks to these strangers, Angel realizes how profound the link is to her strange sisters, marvels at how the crooked lane and the whitewashed house with the tattered curtain across the door present themselves; amazed at how she knows so much about this violent man who could hurt her, how her fearlessness is the defining moment when his threat was revealed to be but a child's long buried pain.

She touches Jose's fist, 'Come on, no more time to waste.' And takes his arm pulling him toward Sally.

Sally smiles at Jose, 'Let's visit Rosa maybe she'll forgive you when she sees you, the true you.'

Angel hooks her arm through his, and grins, 'Tu turistas fantastica.'

Down a side street then through a littered alleyway, turn to the left, near the blind end of a narrow lane—not a place to be if you're on your own, his friends follow Jose, their leader. They think he's bewitched, at the mercy of some voodoo queen. They remember the witch's shimmering smile but cannot reconcile the docile behavior of the fierce Jose who gives no quarter to anyone.

Behind them Alice and Annie follow. Near one of the side streets they're surprised to find a little bodega with an inviting table in the shade of a spreading tree where none other than Blondie sits at the table laughing with a wizened old grandma. They're sipping lime juice and drinking rum from little paper thimbles.

Blondie hugs Alice and Annie, tickling them, enjoying Annie's surprise.

Annie stares at her. 'How could you possibly think to meet us here? I thought we lost you, not to mention Susan and M!'

'One minute I was smacking Wing's butt complaining,' Blondie laughs, 'telling her I was missing out on your mischief and woosh I find myself at this corner. It must be that space-time thing where Wing and Alice are never really apart.' And kisses Alice, 'Tricky-tricky!'

Alice smiles, 'Let's wait here in the comfort of our abuela, no need to crowd their reunion.' And points down the alleyway. 'The men will settle and if they don't we're close enough to help.'

The old woman comes back out of the bodega with another pitcher of limeade and more rum.

Blondie gets more chairs and glasses. She gently drapes an arm around the woman's shoulders whom she introducers as her newfound grandmother.

'Join us, mother?' Alice asks, her dialect matching the woman's. The woman is startled to be talking to someone who she swears has an accent like her long dead sister from the campo. She glances at each of the women, thinking they don't look alike, yet something connects them. Maybe they were adopted and decided to come to the island as tourists, but why here?

'Yes, we're sisters, señora.'

'You don't look like sisters.'

'Sisters of the heart,' Alice says, gently placing her hand on the woman's chest.

'Your touch reminds me of this Blondie my adopted rubita. I couldn't resist her company. I thought I wouldn't be able to understand her because she's a foreigner, but instead we felt like friends. Now when you touched me instead of being shocked or offended I remembered the butterflies playing under that big shade tree on our farm, where my sisters and I would lie on the mossy ground and look up into the leaves to watch their wings color the shadows.'

She sits with them and undoes her long gray hair, saying, 'It's like I'm in a dream. My grandson walked by with those pretty chicas, your friends I think, he was smiling like a little boy.' And adds to herself, like the child I remember during those first few years when smiles were possible.

'Will Rosa forgive Jose, will she welcome him?' Alice asks.

'If she can remember the lost boy...' The grandmother says. (Rosa? She takes this knowingness in stride, after all when the rubita was talking to her she grew accustomed to another kind of knowingness that transformed the girl's foreign language, English she imagined, into her native tongue, peppered with curses and wisecracks just as if she were talking to her granddaughter Rosa.)

'Its better if those punks that follow Jose around leave him alone.' She shrugs, nothing can be done.

'We should talk to them,' Alice says.

'They are too mean for tame girls like you.'

'Tame?' Annie giggles.

'Come on,' Alice says, taking the old woman's hand. 'The walk will do your aches and pains good.' And adds with that smile, '...Every step you take one less pain to prick.'

So up they go. A little slow at first. A half block later, the grandmother remarks on the fine weather, no longer complaining about the pain in her hip. She doesn't notice the light touches Alice gives her as they walk. Annie watches the old woman straighten, her shoulders less bent. Her hip moves more freely as the frowns of pain lining her face lighten. Annie walks on her left and extends her arm, and so they stroll stepping with increasing ease down another alley, taking the long way to Rosa's.

Grandmother was going to object to the struggle of so many extra steps, then realizes she likes to walk this way, misses the bougainvilleas that overhang the garden walls among the thorny roses trailing along the fence tops, their colors glinting amid cemented glass shards there to dissuade thieves. When they get to the last alley down which Rosa lives, she seems to float, enriched by her strange new friends.

They watch the men grumbling to each other halfway down the street to Rosa's.

Why we wait? Why we just push that ugly curtain aside and pull Jose out of that witches' den. They're just pussies—putas—nothing to fear!

Yet...

Then they notice, three more witches walking toward them with an old woman. One of them says, 'Jose's abuelita. We stole candy from her bodega.' He doesn't add that he feels like running too, fast, pronto before he's trapped in this pinche blind alley. Why fucking worry? He thinks, warnings sending shivers down his spine. There's five of us and just three skinny chicas and an abuelita coming our way.

And still they come. Just as he thought—no fear like they're out for a Sunday stroll! Closer and closer, each step a trill of fear and desire. Well, not for the Abuelita, she's just plain fear, the fear of the righteous. He shivers. No sense here. Why these mujeres so...so fierce, yet sexy, hot chicas so so fucking hot... Closer... Ah! Ah! No yes,.. Yes! No! He can't think! Mind on fire, dick hard as a rock, he turns wanting to run away or run closer, No, no, no...

Then they stop not inches away. Eyes resting on Eduardo like a light upon his befuddled self, suddenly he can't help smiling like an idiot as he senses it:

All is forgiven, come along with us, we're waiting for Jose, you are his friend, be a friend, he needs...you know what he needs and it's nothing like what was before, it is...don't you see it? That new life where you meet the chica of your dreams, she could—yes—be the puta you fancy on the boulevard, there by the stop light where the policia let the putas pass. The one you know you fancy. Elena, dark and comely, your Elena—waiting even while you diss her. The one to help you with the bodega, the bodega your papa wants you to help with, not just dick around, but as you know, commit to, just like your true love, that very same puta on that corner waiting where you can't stay away.

So now they walk together, down to the curtained doorway where Rosa consoles her brother as they sit on the threadbare sofa in faded yellow, that bedraggled couch Jose fondly remembers from the farm, now an unlikely anchor to his past.

Outside on the step wait the women and their newest convert. The other men have long since slunk away, confused about the fate of Jose and now Eduardo, so easily seduced by the witches. They will drink shots at the stall by the entrance to the barrio, taking courage in the thimbles of rum, a sad toast for friends they fear lost.

Inside Rosa sits with Jose, Sally and Angel beside her. She feels shy about sharing her poor home with these fabulous woman, but is impressed bu how these girls are like children free to be themselves, like this fancy Angel chica so at ease as though it were natural to be here sipping water. And that Sally, wow, what a dish, yet oddly maternal, using her smile and those sexy, mischievous eyes to nudge them together. She's even more surprised by how Jose is so reserved around these hot chicas Shy, like he seeks my permission to be here—she thinks 'supplicant'—as though he wants me to forgive him, and somewhere deeper in the still gaze of Angel is the what—the push, a nudge—to forgiveness, as though it were a tonic they should drink together, like...she hesitates...like some kind of holy water, blessed be, blessed be...

And so Rosa muses, lost in ever more playful thought, as Angel takes her hand and Sally drapes a comforting arm around her shoulders, as she smiles and smiles, looking at Jose, amazed at how these women have mesmerized her hard-ass criminal brother, how they have somehow soothed her, how they have cut the cords of long ago hate.

Reconciled, or is it redeemed, Eduardo and now Jose lounge on the step. Eduardo is babling to the Abuelita, rapturous about his novia. He will leave soon to find her and there to swear his... He hesitates, it is an odd word...lealtad...his allegiance; deeper then love, because love he too easily professes to every half-willing pussy just to get the prize. But his sweet Elena, he now realizes is not love but the life blood for his weary heart, come home at last, his place to rest in the dark night.

Outside Annie nudges Alice, now that we've found Blondie, where's Susan and M? You didn't just let them roam?

'Susan will be a fine guide for M.'

'Uh huh, will she be doing magic too?' Annie whispers, not wanting to upset the abuelita.

The grandmother just smiles at her, 'Yes I knew you were good witches when you sat at my table under my favorite tree. You had that glow, the same one my mother told me about, the one the old folks talked about, the one that rises with the dancers in the campo, the glow it's said we inherited from Africa.'

...

Thinking of dancers and dancing, Susan and M decide to go to the beach and listen to the steel drums and see what must be dancers, or at least people having fun, their colorful whirling shapes tiny in the distance from their balcony high in the Hotel Nacional.

'You're not going to materialize us there, are you?' M says, smirking as they leave the hotel. She enjoys teasing Wing, still impressed by how Susan was waiting nonchalantly in the club even though they left before her, unaware that Blondie had similarly vanished while M was still struggling to wake up.

She decides Susan is being way too complacent. She digs a bit more, 'Shouldn't you be with Alice? What if the Light Queen needs you?'

'It's my turn to attend to you—someone has too!' Wing giggles. Two can play this game.

M grabs Susan's hand and whirls her slender body around like a ballroom dance partner. Wing is dipped backwards arched into a passionate embrace, their lips just millimeters from touchdown.

'You little devil, as they say here.' Susan laughs and presses her thighs tighter around M's leg scissoring them, teasing her. 'Do you want to shock the conservative Cubans?' And nods to an older couple who instead of frowning are smiling, clearly enjoying their antics.

'Don't worry, lovebird. They're cheering us on.' M grins, 'But if you keep toying with my leg we won't make it to the beach.'

'It's what Latin lovebirds do!' Susan says and kisses M with an exaggerated smooch loud enough to set their audience tittering.

Susan and M untangle themselves and curtesy for the couple who smile and gayly clap at their performance.

'You look so beautiful together. Would you care to join us for a cocktail? I believe that's an American tradition we've adopted.'

'We're going to the beach to see the dancers. Let's have cocktails there?' M says, as she watches the couple. She's not sure they're entirely serious. They look very formal, much too formal to be joining rowdy girls like themselves. The man wears a well-tailored sports coat and pressed linen shirt open at the neck, curly white chest hair that spouts from his collar matches the wavy hair showing under an expensive straw hat. The woman is immaculately coiffured, youthful despite her obvious age, a crescent of expensive pearls tucked into her hair matches a necklace setting off a tasteful silk dress shimmering in the sea breeze.

The woman takes M's hand and kisses her lightly on the cheek, 'We'd love to.'

The man introduces them, 'This is Señora Ofelia and I am Oscar, we are pleased to enjoy your company almost,' he adds, a twinkle in his eye, 'as much as we enjoyed your affection for each other.' And lightly kisses Susan on the cheek.

The girls blush, startled by their own reaction. Then they smile solemnly and nod, 'Thank you for inviting us.' Their diction remarkably synchronized as Oscar observers with a wink to Ofelia.

Ofelia links her arm through Susan's and suggests they first go to their house where they can have their drinks. 'We'll watch them dance from the shade of our veranda. Later we can walk along the malecon.'

Oscar makes a call and then takes M's arm, remarking on her pale skin, 'My niece has skin like yours, you'll like each other.'

Taking a side street, they go down a lane close enough to the ocean to hear waves lapping against the seawall. The houses nearest the ocean are more ruinous then their opposites—facades crumbling, paint pealing, ironwork rusting. At a large rusted gate stands a dark skinned man with a fierce scar lightening his skin from brow to chin. He nods to them and opens the gate, his rigid posture softening when Susan reaches up to touch his scar and bows her head, one warrior to another.

'Jose has been with us since the revolution. His daughter is my niece's companion.' Ofelia offers, surprised by Susan's gesture and the grace with which Jose accepted it.

'Your niece's lover,' Susan replies, 'her obedient lover.'

As Ofelia ponders Susan's all too knowing comment, she realizes what they remind her of. How odd—she's reminded of rare night blooming flowers that folklore promises bring luck and love to whomever gazes upon their first blooms.

Yes, she and Oscar were attracted to by their playful kissing, but now she realizes the import of the way they seemed to wordlessly communicate, pausing as though scanning the future before accepting their invitation. How they took in the faces of the people they met along the way to her hacienda: intent, compassionate, somehow knowingly aware of their struggles. Now at the gate, this slip of girl, Susan, Ofelia thinks she's fairy-like in her petiteness, but now recognizes her strength, when she reached up to touch the fearsome Jose with a gesture of respect, softening his features in recognition. Finally, that comment, her lover; the little fairy girl could've guessed the relationship between her niece and Jose's daughter—it's surely not that unusual—but when she added her obedient lover...well!

M winks at Ofelia, catching her eye, and smiles. When Susan kisses her wrinkled cheek and whispers, 'We like surprises.' Ofelia giggles. She feels like a birthday girl, like an eager teen on the cusp—of what?