VIII
One year had passed since he’d been home. It seemed much longer he thought to himself, and the house felt unfamiliar. The light from a single kerosene lamp with the flame set low, burning in the living room, provided only enough light to see to the end of the hallway leading to the back of the house, and he could hear the faint sound of voices coming from the kitchen. A slight haze, produced by the smoke from something cooking on the stove, combined with the fresh-smelling smoke from someone’s cigar, hung in the hallway.
Carrying his bag with the remaining fruit from Luiz, Roberto walked to the end of the hall, turned the corner to the left and stood in the half light of the doorway to the kitchen.
Seated at the kitchen table with his back toward Roberto, was his younger brother Lazaro, along with his brother Carlos, and his sister Rosalena. Sitting around the large wooden table on the terrace outside the kitchen, all three enjoying a cigar and a small glass of rum, was the rest of the family: his father Guillermo, and the two older brothers, Pedro and Guillermo junior. There were three empty rum bottles on the terrace table, one at either end, and one in the middle. Each held a lighted white candle, and the table was set for seven. His mother Rosa, who always refused any help in the kitchen, was finishing the last few preparations for the evening meal.
No one heard Roberto when he entered the house. Nor had they noticed him standing just outside the doorway leading into the kitchen.
“What,” said Roberto. “I’m no longer invited to the Saturday family supper?”
Roberto’s mother Rosa, surprised by the sound of Roberto’s voice, and turning around quickly nearly dropped the large bowl of peas and rice she was holding.
“It’s not enough I have to visit you in prison and now you want to scare me half to death,” said Rosa, looking over her shoulder as she placed the bowl on the table.
“Roberto! When did they release you?” cried Carlos.
Roberto walked into the kitchen from the hallway and placed the bag of fruit he was carrying on the kitchen table. “Just this morning, Carlitos. They never told me I was going to be released. The doctors came to my ward early, handed me my old uniform and told me I was free to go. I couldn’t believe it.”
Roberto, stopping first to kiss his sister Rosalena on the top of her head and slap Carlos and Lazaro each on the shoulder, quickly followed his mother outside to the terrace.
Rosa was standing next to Roberto’s father Guillermo, who was still seated at the table. Her head was down and she was bent over slightly with her hands on the table.
“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Roberto, as he put his arms around her. “I found out early today I would be freed only minutes before I was to be released. I should have called.”
Rosa turned around and held Roberto and began crying. “I had convinced myself you would end up like the old man,” said Rosa, now sobbing uncontrollably.
“You mean, Tiburcio?” asked Roberto.
“I don’t remember his name. It doesn’t matter. Here sit down with your father,” said Rosa.
Rosa took a small, peach-colored handkerchief from a pocket in her cooking apron, carefully dried her eyes and returned to the kitchen to finish preparing the meal.
Roberto had not seen his father in over a year. He was nervous, and he was unsure what to say to him.
“How is the cigar, Father?” asked Roberto. In an effort to ease the tension, unable to think of anything else to say.
“It is a very fine cigar. Vicente rolled these yesterday. He received a small shipment of leaves from Vuelta Abajo,” said Guillermo. His father placed his cigar in the glass ash tray and looked directly at his son. “Roberto, I want you to know I am very proud of you. Believe me, I know what you did to Charon was dangerous, and maybe you shouldn’t have reacted the way you did, but you did the right thing. We don’t need to talk about what happened any more than that.”
“Understood,” said Roberto.
“I see you are wearing your uniform,” said Guillermo.
“Yes, I have been reassigned to my old unit.”
“What about your training? Are you going to continue?”
Roberto was about to answer his father when his mother, along with the rest of the family who were in the kitchen, returned to the terrace with the remainder of the evening meal, which consisted of land crab and cornmeal stew with fried sweet plantains.
“Talk later, I cooked all afternoon,” said Rosa.
“Can you believe we were never given any cangrejo de tierra in prison,” said Roberto, sarcastically.
“Well then, you should be particularly grateful for this evening,” said Rosa softly.
“I am always grateful, You know that.”
“Well, maybe you would like to show your gratitude then and say the blessing,” said Rosa.
“It’s been awhile, but I’ll do my best.”
Roberto realized how long it had been since the entire family had been together and wanted to find just the right words to express his feelings of gratitude, not just for the occasion, but more importantly for the unconditional love and support from each of them, and so he began.
“I am only able to tell you how I feel at this moment, and what I know to be true. I want you to know there is nothing more important to me than the love and loyalty I receive from you, my family. Moments such as these are becoming less frequent for us and so, more important than ever. I am grateful, and I will cherish this moment forever. I know also there is not a lot of hope today in Cuba, but there is a lot of love, and it is powerful. I love you all, and promise you, one day, with this power, I will bring you hope. God bless this food and God bless my family, amen.”
No one spoke. Rosa was holding back tears, and everyone else but Carlos was unable to look at Roberto.
“I believe you, Roberto,” said Carlos, breaking the silence. “I don’t know how it will happen, but I know one day you will find hope.”
“Not only for me, Carlitos, but for all of us.”
“You are still young, Roberto,” said Roberto’s father. “You think you can’t be broken. What I know is eventually they break us all. We are powerless against them.”
“I respect you, Father, but you are wrong. I will not be broken. I would rather die than live without freedom. It is the most precious of all human rights,” proclaimed Roberto.
“Enough foolishness, all of you,” said Rosa. “I would like to enjoy the meal which I worked very hard to prepare and to enjoy in the company of my family.”
siento, said Roberto.
It would be many years before Roberto and his family would be together once more. His brothers and sister, with the exception of Carlos, had one by one left home and were all busy with their own lives.