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Several months had passed, or so it seemed to Roberto, since he had been arrested and sent back to It was impossible to keep track of time in solitary confinement, and ultimately, unimportant. Barbaro was no longer in the cell block with Roberto and Enrique. Perhaps he had been taken to another area of the prison, or possibly sent to another prison. It was impossible to know what happened to Barbaro, and Roberto could only hope for the best.
Roberto was losing weight and could feel his body weakening from the lack of food. He was determined to maintain some level of fitness, employing a modest, but regular routine of stretching and body weight exercises.
One day not long after what he thought may have been the morning meal, Roberto heard voices and the sound of footsteps coming from the stairway at the end of the cell block.
Roberto knew a visit from the guards so soon after a meal was not routine and he immediately became suspicious. Unable to see the guards through the small window in the cell door, Roberto waited until they reached the bottom of the stairs and then began to count their footsteps. Remembering that Enrique’s cell was no more than three paces from the bottom of the stairs, Roberto quickly realized they hadn’t stopped in front of Enrique’s cell and were coming for him.
“Ramos,” said one of the guards loudly. “The warden is requesting the pleasure of your company.”
“Delightful. What if I told you I’m not in the mood,” Roberto shot back.
Roberto knew antagonizing the guards was not a good idea, but he had little respect for them and couldn’t help himself.
“I would tell you to reconsider,” replied the guard.
“Well then, said Roberto.
It was an enormous physical and psychological relief for Roberto, simply to be out of the tiny cell and to feel the sensation of his muscles contracting under his weight as he climbed the stairs to the main level of the prison.
Upon entering the warden’s office Roberto was confronted by two other guards who, like the others, were armed only with batons. He was told to sit in a chair directly in front of the warden’s desk and to wait for Colonel Torres.
The guards did not take their eyes off him, in a not-so-subtle but predictable effort to intimidate him.
“Ramos, thank you for coming,” said Colonel Torres as he entered the room, walked around to the back of his desk and sat down. “Sorry to keep you waiting. One of the other guests here at the hotel was in need of a rules clarification.”
“I’m sure you were very helpful,” said Roberto.
“Ramos, I have an offer, a proposition for you,” said the Colonel.
“And what might that be, Colonel?”
“You have a release review in several weeks,” said the Colonel.
“I was not informed of that.”
There was no way for Roberto to know for sure if Torres was telling the truth and Roberto thought it best to say as little as possible.
The Colonel reached into the top right hand drawer of his desk, and pulled out a single piece of paper, placing it right side up on the table in front of Roberto.
“What is this?” asked Roberto.
“It is your confession and pledge of loyalty, to the Comandante.”
“I was set up by Perez and you know that, Colonel.”
“A minor detail, Ramos. It’s of no consequence to you. Your commitment to the revolution is the important part.”
“The revolution is a failure, sir.”
“I think maybe you are confused,” said Torres. The Colonel was beginning to lose his patience.
Roberto, refusing to back down, continued. “Give me the name of one ordinary Cuban who is motivated to work hard and who is free to pursue the dream of a better life here in Cuba. Just one.”
“Am I to understand that you refuse to sign the paper?” demanded the Colonel.
“Colonel, I want to pursue my dreams, not the dreams of El Comandante,” said Roberto.
“Take him back to his cell,” the Colonel shouted. “You’re going to regret this Ramos.”
Back in his cell, Roberto sat down on the stone bench and held his face in his hands. He could feel himself slipping into a dark place emotionally and he began to think of the old man, Tiburcio, from the Censam Marin hospital, and how, once broken mentally, he had lost the will to live, and how he had chosen death over the surrender of his dignity.
“Roberto,” said Enrique.
Roberto stood up and leaned against the cell door with his head next to the small window in order to hear Enrique better.
“Yes, Enrique.”
“What happened with the warden?”
“He wanted to cut a deal.”
“What kind of a deal?”
“They asked me to sign a pledge of loyalty to El Comandante.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I told them my dreams and the dreams of El Comandante, were not compatible. Obviously they were not happy with my response.”
“You know, Roberto, they will not give up, and they will probably resort to violence at some point. When tyrants become frustrated they always choose violence. Violence is the only way they are able to maintain control of the people.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Because they’re incapable of feeling compassion or empathy. That’s why it is so easy for them to justify their cruelty. Tyrants never have trouble sleeping Roberto.”
“You’re a wise man, Enrique.”
“I’ve had the benefit of a few more years than you. And besides, it’s my job, so to speak.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I write. To be a good writer one must have the ability to observe the world around you in a very detailed way, and to objectively interpret those observations.”
“There’s not a lot of objectivity right now in Cuba. Plenty of lies, yes, but not much truth.”
“A life well lived is all about the revelation of truth. In the end, what else really matters Roberto?”
“Enrique, you give me strength.”
“We gain strength from each other.”
“I’m not afraid of them, Enrique. I don’t care what they do to me. I just wish they would get on with it.”
“Pressuring you to sign that paper makes me think they have become impatient with you. They don’t give up easily.”
“They obviously have the advantage in many ways physically, but I have the advantage of them not knowing who they’re dealing with and what I’m capable of.”
“You know, Roberto, the more I get to know you the more impressed I am.”
“I may be young, Enrique, but one thing I’ve learned in the last few years is the importance of remaining true to oneself. If they want to steal my dreams they’ll have to kill me. I’m telling you; I will not give up easily.”
“I have no doubt you will not give up Roberto,” replied Enrique.