XVIII
By the end of the week Roberto had sold Mariano the four paintings he had purchased from Castillo, giving Roberto the money he needed to pay off Arturo for the car. Most of the remaining money he would use to pay Pedro for the boat, and what was left he set aside to buy more paintings.
His personal collection was growing steadily, now numbering ten paintings, including El His plan was to have at least fifteen by the time he left Cuba.
The only thing Roberto knew for certain about Florida, from the numerous stories he heard growing up, was that many of the Cuban nationals who emigrated to the U.S. had become prominent and wealthy business people in south Florida. Confident in the quality of his collection, Roberto was certain he could parlay all but El Saxofonista, which he planned on keeping, together with the nostalgia the expats surely felt for the Cuban homeland, into a modest art business. That was his plan.
It was Sunday and Roberto was looking forward to his meeting with Pedro in Cojimar. With help from a friend he had been able to solve the problem he’d been having with the MG overheating, and by noon was on his way to pick up Maura, who lived near Carmen in Habana for the short ride to the docks along the Rio
He was excited to see Maura again, and in the days leading up to their getting together, had allowed himself to wonder if she had intentions other than simply using Roberto as a means to leave Cuba. He had no illusions about his chances with a woman as beautiful as Maura, and was determined, no matter where their relationship ended up, to maintain his self-respect.
When he came to a stop in front of the house where Maura lived with her grandmother, she was waiting outside on the sidewalk. Roberto could tell she was excited but appeared relaxed and genuinely eager to see him again. It was what he had hoped for, and her mood gave him confidence.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asked, turning sideways in his seat and placing his arm on the back of the empty seat, in an effort to look relaxed.
Maura began walking toward the car but did not respond to Roberto’s question. She was slender, although not too slender as to be uninteresting or unattractive, and very tall, nearly one meter eighty centimeters. The low profile MG sports car appeared lower, parked next to the street curb, making Maura look even taller alongside. Roberto, not remembering her to be so tall, began to feel intimidated.
“Here, let me get the door for you,” he said.
Roberto barely had time to open the driver’s door before she had gracefully slipped into the seat beside him, and without interrupting her motion, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, more than a little surprised, his face now flushed.
“One thing you need to know about me, Roberto, I am a very straightforward person. So you should believe me when I say this day means more to me than you can imagine,” she said.
“I’m getting that impression. I will try not to forget.”
“How about, for the rest of the day, we are only serious when we need to be.”
“I can manage that.”
“Why do you have such a small car?” she asked.
“I don’t know, I just always wanted a sports car. I plan to sell it before I leave,” he said.
“A car like this tends to attract the attention of the authorities. You must know about la Operacion
“No, what is that?”
“It’s a government operation that identifies people, with the help of our beloved neighborhood snitches, that they believe have too much money, and must have attained it by illegal means. They’ve been putting people in jail recently.”
“The only way someone can attain anything of value in Cuba is by illegal means. I’m not worried. They can’t put everyone in jail. Besides I registered the car in my father’s name.”
“Why did you do that if you’re not worried?”
“Just in case. My father is almost seventy and the government tends to leave the older people alone. I thought we were saving the serious conversations for later.”
“Sorry. I’m a bit paranoid these days. With my family having escaped to Miami, I feel like the government is always watching me.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?”
“My boyfriend at the time didn’t want me to leave, I had a decent job, and was feeling good about my life.”
“But no longer?”
“No, like I told you, my life is shit. The hollow promises of the revolution are a cruel illusion, perpetrated by the great estafador. My father has told me if I make it to Miami, I’ll have no trouble finding work as a model.”
“I don’t doubt that,” said Roberto, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Please don’t misunderstand, Maura, but I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I have ever met.”
“Thank you. You’re a gentleman. But I knew that already,” she said.
“Here we are Maura,” said Roberto. The old boatyard in Cojimar, along the river next to La Playa faced northwest, with an unobstructed view downriver all the way to the ocean.
“I love this place, Maura. I don’t know what it is, but when I come here, I always feel content, and hopeful. Probably because I am a fisherman at heart.”
It was midday and the force of the water from the young flood tide, pushing in from the sea against the river’s flow, was beginning to ripple the water in the middle of the river where the current was strongest. Roberto noticed a large school of passing jacks, common along the coast in late June, beating to the east, just inside the point near the
“It’s only a short walk from here to the docks,” he said, cheerfully.
“This is the first time I have been in Cojimar,” she said. “I like it here. It’s quaint.”
“I’m sure you know Cojimar was made famous by Senor and his long-time friend and first mate, Gregorio Fuentes,” said Roberto.
“Come on Roberto, really? I am Cuban,” she said, slapping him on the back of his arm with the back of her hand.
“Senor Fuentes lives here,” he said.
“He’s still living?” she asked.
“I’ll introduce you. He should be by the dock unless he’s out fishing,” he said.
The narrow sand path leading from the boatyard down the hill to the cabana at the end of the pier by the dock where Roberto met with Pedro the week before, was bordered by a tangle of sea grapes, and shaded by a canopy of tall almond trees. The ground beneath was damp and scattered with many large holes made by the big land crabs that were more active in June after a rain, and when caught out in the open feeding, would run noisily across the dead leaves in a sideways motion, toward their burrows.
At the end of the path where it met the river, the bush opened up into a loose stand of coconut palms, protected from the unrelenting trades by a dense thicket of red mangroves that grew on both sides of the river. The coconut palms grew tall and straight and Roberto had a clear view to the cabana.
“Good, Pedrito is here,” he said to Maura, who was following close behind.
“Those crabs creep me out,” she said holding onto Roberto’s arm.
“They’re more afraid of you than you should be of them,” he said. “Haven’t you ever eaten cangrejo de
“No, and I don’t care to. They’re ugly,” she replied.
Pedrito,” shouted Roberto, spotting his friend.
Como tu said Pedro. “Every time I see you man, you have a new girlfriend.”
Maura released her grip on Roberto’s arm, stepped back, folded her arms and looked instead at Pedro. “I’m not his girlfriend,” she said.
“Alina broke up with me the day after we were here, Pedrito. This is my friend Maura. We met recently,” said Roberto.
“So who is this Alina? And why did she break up with you?” asked Maura. She was not convinced and wasn’t about to let Roberto off the hook without an explanation.
“Because she didn’t think much of my plan to leave the country,” he said. “Look, you asked to come here today. I didn’t ask you.”
“She knows?” asked Pedro, pointing to Maura.
“Not only does she know, she wants to come with us. That’s why she’s here. I told her she needed to see the boat before making a decision,” said Roberto.
“Pedro, I’m Maura. It’s a pleasure. Before you get too worried, I have family in Miami. I can be of help once we get there,” she said.
“My apologies, Maura. My pleasure, I’m sure. I don’t mean to be insulting, but you don’t look like the boating type,” said Pedro.
“I’m not, and I don’t plan on becoming a fisherman any time soon either. I just want to get the hell out of Cuba,” she said.
“There’s already five of us in the boat now Roberto, and it’s a small boat,” said Pedro.
“Six,” said Roberto.
“Who is the sixth?” asked Pedro.
“My brother Lazaro. Maura would make seven. I don’t think that’s too many. We plan to leave when we know the weather is good. At nine or ten knots, we could make it to the U.S. Keys in nine or ten hours,” said Roberto.
“Sure, if nothing goes wrong. You know, Roberto, you’ve been out in the winter. The Stream is unpredictable, even in good weather,” said Pedro.
“I’m willing to take my chances,” said Maura.
“Have you asked around about a motor?” Roberto asked Pedro.
“As a matter of fact I believe I may have found one. It has nearly double the horsepower and the guy says he only needs thirty-five hundred for it,” said Pedro.
“Tell him we’ll take it. I have the money for the boat with me. You can use what you need for the motor out of that and when you have it installed, I’ll give you the money to cover the motor and your labor,” said Roberto.
“You’re a good man,” said Pedro.
“I’m not so sure about that. I’d like to know more about the girlfriend,” said Maura, now smiling.
“Maura, let me show you the boat,” said Pedro.
Maura and Roberto followed Pedro to the end of the dock where the La Rosita was tied off at the end of a short finger pier with several other smaller fishing boats.
“You can change your mind at any time, Maura,” said Roberto.
The tide was dead low and the boat was resting partly on the bottom which made her tilt to one side. Maura stepped down onto the finger pier and walked out to a point alongside the boat where she had a better view into the wheelhouse.
“How can you go anywhere with the boat stuck on the bottom?” she asked, turning in the direction of Pedro.
“The river is tidal. When the tide is high, depending on the phase of the moon, it will come up to here,” he said. Pedro pointed to the top of one of the heavy pine poles that supported the finger pier, where the barnacles and algae were growing. “When tide’s high the barnacles are covered, and when we have the King Tides, the water will come even higher.”
“And you think this boat will make it to Florida in one day?” she asked.
“No problem. I’ve spent thousands of hours aboard her. Not many boats her size are as sea kindly,” said Pedro.
“What do you mean, ‘sea kindly’?” she asked.
“It means she’s comfortable even when it’s a little choppy,” replied Pedro.
“You don’t have to decide today, Maura,” said Roberto. “We don’t plan on leaving until after the new year.”
“It’s going to take some time to swap out the motor and we need to sea trial her after that. I’d like to fish her as many days as possible with the new motor this fall. That way if there’s any kind of problem we’ll have plenty of time to fix it,” said Pedro. “I’ll let you know, Roberto, when I have the new motor installed. We can run her together.”
“I’ll be waiting. Pedrito, Senor Fuentes around today? I wanted Maura to meet him,” said Roberto.
“No, he’s gone out. With all the Passing Jacks that we’re seeing lately he told me he was going with Maykel. Try and catch a big one,” replied Pedro.
“Maybe next time, Maura. Pedrito, mi hermano, muchas said Roberto.
“You care for a cigar before you leave?” asked Pedro.
“Always, but it’s up to Maura,” said Roberto.
“I have no plans and I’m rather enjoying Cojimar,” she said to Roberto. “I would like to sit somewhere out of the sun.”
“We can sit in the cabana, in the cool. said Pedro.
For the rest of the afternoon and into the evening Roberto and Maura sat with Pedro in the shade of the thatch cabana. It was always the coolest place to sit along the river in summer.
The wind had gone out the day before and was light but still strong enough to keep the sand flies from biting. Pedro and Roberto talked briefly about the time they spent together in prison, but like every small village by the sea everywhere in the world, the conversation always came around to fishing, the weather, who was catching, and why they were catching fewer fish than in past years.
By midafternoon the local fishermen who had gone out early and been successful, began returning to the harbor. One by one they tied up to the floating dock anchored at the end of the pier, just outside the low tide line, to clean their catch. The daily fish cleaning in Cojimar was always an event, and because today was Sunday there were more people than usual. All of them were watching; most quietly hoping for a little fish, although few were able to pay.
After cleaning, and then cutting the head off each fish, the fisherman would dump the bony, mostly meatless carcass overboard, where it would sink to the bottom for the grey snappers, that lived in great numbers under the dock when the weather was warm, to pick clean, before the sharks, that came in from the ocean after dark, finished off the rest. The fish heads were given away first to the elderly and then the poorest for making soup, with the rest divided among the local fish potters for bait.
Roberto noticed a young man and woman on the edge of the crowd with two small children, who watched the fishermen as they cleaned their catch. They had been sitting by the dock since the fishermen began returning from the ocean earlier in the afternoon. The children’s clothes were little more than rags and they were thin for their age. He asked Pedro about the couple and Pedro said he knew them, and that the man had recently been released from prison and was unable to find work, and they had come hoping for a few scraps of fish.
“Pedrito, do you have a couple of large plastic bags? Maybe onboard the boat?” asked Roberto.
“What for?” asked Pedro.
“I want to buy some fish for that family,” said Roberto, pointing to the couple with the two children.”
“It’s not necessary. Someone will give them some heads,” said Pedro.
“They need more than fish heads. You know the boat that just came in?” asked Roberto.
“Sure, that’s Mario. He’ll have something. With this light wind he probably went mutton fishing. I’ll introduce you,” said Pedro.
“Maura, you mind waiting here?” asked Roberto.
“Certainly not. I’m a little thirsty though. Some coconut water would be nice,” she said.
“Tajo,” said Pedro to one of the young boys who had been sitting with them in the cabana listening to their conversation. “Take the cutlass and gather some coconuts for us, please. Be careful not to cut the ones with the brown tops.”
“I know which ones to cut,” said Tajo, annoyed that Pedro didn’t trust he knew to cut the young ones with the clean tops.
“Cut eight. You be careful when you climb, Tajo, and give some to that family,” said Pedro, pointing to the couple with the two children. “Cut the bottoms so they can drink them now.”
Roberto followed Pedro to the end of the pier and did not speak to the family when he passed. By the time they reached the dock where the men were cleaning fish, Mario was beginning to unload his catch.
Mario. I see you went mutton fishing again,” said Pedro.
“Yes. It’s getting near the end of the spawn but we got all we wanted,” said Mario.
“Where did you go?” asked Pedro.
“To the bar, off La Playa Santa Maria,” he answered.
“Mario, this is my good friend Roberto. We were in prison together. You remember I told you about the guy who put his commanding officer in the hospital? Well this is the guy,” he said.
“It is a great pleasure, Roberto,” said Mario.
“The same, I’m sure,” replied Roberto. “Mario, would it be possible to buy some fish? I can pay you right away.”
“Not a problem. It’s five pesos a kilo. One fish weighs about four kilos. How many you want?” asked Mario.
“Give me four. No, make it eight. I need to take some to my mother,” said Roberto.
“You want me to get the scale and weigh them or you take my word for the weight,” he asked.
“I’ll take your word. Pedrito, can you get me the bags? Four, if they’re kit size,” said Roberto. “Here’s the money, Mario. You can pick out the fish for me.”
Roberto and Pedro watched as Mario finished unloading his cooler and then picked out eight of the largest muttonfish for Roberto. Because the fish were large and heavy spawning-size adults, two were enough to fill one of the plastic bags from Pedro. Roberto then tied a large knot in the open end of each bag, making them easier to carry.
As Roberto turned to walk back to the cabana, Mario asked if he wanted one of the two barracuda he had caught that day.
“You think they’re poison?” asked Roberto.
“I don’t know. Honestly, I never eat them. I only keep them because they make good bait,” he said.
“I’d rather not take the chance, but thanks anyway, Mario,” said Roberto.
As Roberto walked back up the pier toward the land, he noticed the man who had just been released from prison was watching him intently. Roberto, thinking he might humiliate the man in front of his family by offering him the fish, began to have doubts about giving him the fish, but quickly changed his mind when his eyes went again to the children.
“Sir, this is for you and your family,” said Roberto, when he stopped to address the young man.
The man looked at his wife before standing up to take the fish from Roberto. The woman stood up also, smiled and placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder, which seemed to comfort him.
“I was released from prison only a few days ago sir. When I was in prison it was very hard on my family. I don’t normally accept charity, but we’re in a difficult situation until I can find work,” said the man.
“I understand. I’ve been in your shoes. I was in prison twice in the last four years,” said Roberto.
“God bless you, my friend,” said the man.
“You as well, sir,” replied Roberto, reaching out to shake the man’s hand before walking back to the cabana.
“How is the coconut water, Maura?” asked Roberto.
“Refreshing, thanks. That was very kind, what you did,” she said.
“They are suffering. Anyway, I’ll sleep better tonight. We need to leave soon. The fish won’t last long in this heat,” said Roberto.
“I’m ready,” she said.
“Pedrito, always a pleasure. You let me know when you have the new motor installed. I’d like to be here when you sea trial her,” said Roberto.
“I’ll let you know, don’t worry. Maura, it was nice to meet you. Keep him out of trouble,” said Pedro.
“I don’t have that kind of influence, Pedrito. Not yet anyway,” she said.
By the time Roberto and Maura arrived at Maura’s grandmother’s in Old Havana, the sun had set and the air in Habana Vieja was beginning to cool from the light north breeze still coming off the ocean. Her grandmother was sitting outside the house and looked suspiciously at Roberto’s car as it came to a stop in front of the house.
noches, said Maura from the car. “Roberto took me to Cojimar today.”
“What for?” she asked sternly. Maura’s grandmother was protective of her granddaughter. She hadn’t wanted to leave Cuba with the rest of the family and now Maura was all she had.
“Here, take her some fish,” whispered Roberto. “Maybe it will improve her mood.”
“You don’t need to make jokes about my grandmother,” she said.
Maura leaned over and kissed Roberto on the cheek before stepping out of the car and closing the door. Stooping down to the height of the car door she placed her arms on the top of the door with her chin resting on the back of her hands.
“I’m going with you,” said Maura in a voice that was barely audible, not wanting her grandmother to hear what she was saying.
“You seem certain.”
“I’m more certain about this than anything in my life. Remember, I told you I’m straightforward, so there is no need to second-guess what I’m telling you.”
“Then I can be confident your answer will be honest if I ask you if you have plans for next weekend.”
“I have no plans.”
“Have you ever been to the city of Cienfuegos, in the south?”
“I’ve never been anywhere.”
“I’ve always wanted to go there. It’s two hundred fifty kilometers from Havana,” said Roberto. “I’ve heard it’s very beautiful.”
“Then I need to pack a toothbrush,” said Maura, smiling.
“Probably a good idea. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning,” he said.
“What time?” asked Maura.
“10:00,” he said.
“Where will we stay?” she asked, having to speak above the noise of the engine when Roberto started the car.
“We’ll find something. See you Saturday,” said Roberto.
Roberto had questions about Maura’s intentions even though he believed her to be sincere and genuine. Still, she was unusually independent and had little trouble making decisions. He liked that about her and it gave him confidence.
Never one to have any illusions about himself, especially having to do with women, Roberto knew the basis of their relationship, at least for now, was their mutual determination to leave Cuba. It was something he could live with, he thought, and if successful, could lead to other possibilities. There was no need to think of it any other way.