XXIV
Every day for the next 28 days Roberto returned to the beach at Alamar to drift fish and to watch for the Coast Guard patrols boats. The fishing was a cover. He wanted to know for sure, when the last patrol would pass for every day of the week.
He would fish each day with a hand line—sitting in an inner tube, out in the deep water near the edge of the reef when the ocean was not rough—until he thought the last patrol had passed. Occasionally when the patrol passed close to shore, and he was outside the line of the surf, he would wave innocently to the crewmen and they would wave back. Only once he saw them pass after seven o’clock in the evening.
Roberto and Pedro continued to meet regularly to discuss their plan to escape. Pedro had finally introduced Roberto to the other people who would be going with them, and although he wasn’t happy knowing there would be fourteen people in such a small boat, Pedro repeatedly assured him it was safe and would take no more than ten hours to reach the Florida Keys. Gradually, he thought about the situation less and less.
Pedro was leaving nothing to chance and meticulously inspected every part of the motor and drive train. He had taken the newly renamed, in honor of Roberto’s mother and sister, Rosita out a few times in recent weeks—only enough to keep her fresh—and when he did, was careful never to run her at full throttle remembering the trouble it brought after attracting the attention of the Coast Guard the previous year.
They were days away from leaving by the time Roberto finally found a buyer after weeks of looking, who was willing to pay his asking price of $40,000 pesos for the car. He made arrangements to meet one last time with Carmen at La to buy four additional paintings, which would bring the total for his collection to fourteen, with an estimated value in excess of half a million U.S. dollars.
Carmen had asked Roberto to meet him at La Bodeguita del Medio instead of his home in Habana Roberto had been watched closely by the local CDR since being released from prison, and Carmen knew it would be safer to meet in La Roberto had not been to the old bar in more than a year.
Maura and Roberto deliberately arrived early, before the music had started at a time when there would be fewer people in the bar. Roberto wanted to find an open table in the back room where they could talk quietly with Carmen without anyone eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Good evening,” said the waiter. “What would you like to drink?”
“Agustin, right?” asked Roberto.
“Yes, that’s right. I remember, you’re friends with Anabela,” said the waiter. “She’ll probably be here later. Usually she comes in when Rafael is performing.”
“Yes, I’m friends with Anabela. I am Roberto, and this is my friend, Maura,” said Roberto.
Maura,” said Agustin.
Agustin, I’m sure. Actually, I’m his girlfriend. You see he has a tiny fear of commitment. At least for some things,” she said smiling.
“I’ll have a Havana Club, Siete Anos. And for the comedian?” asked Roberto, looking at Maura.
“A mojito will be fine, Agustin, thank you,” she said.
“You’re so independent, Roberto. Your mother was right,” said Maura, turning away. She was trying not to smile and pretending to read the notes from the tourists who come from around the world, written on the wall behind the table where they were sitting.
“Yeah, and what did she say about me?” he asked.
“I learned plenty while you were on vacation at Don’t you worry,” she replied.
Carmen is here! You’re in luck. You won’t have to testify,” smiled Roberto.
“Roberto!” said Carmen as he walked up to the table. “We were so worried about you.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry, I should have contacted you sooner. How have you been? How is Anabela?” he asked.
“Oh, you know. Not much changes in Cuba. We’re okay. I told her you would be here. She’s coming a little later,” said Carmen.
“Maura, I see you’re sticking it out with this character,” said Carmen.
“Somehow we make it work. Don’t forget, you’re the one responsible for this alliance,” she said smiling.
“Here’s Agustin with our drinks,” said Roberto. “Sit down Carmen, please. What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever he’s having, Agustin,” said Carmen. “So, you finally got rid of the MG.”
“That car was cursed. Although I did make a little profit on her. I have $35,000 pesos to spend on the four paintings we discussed. I had to pay Pedrito the last little bit of what I owed him for the boat and that is all I have left,” said Roberto.
“We can make it work. You know, these paintings are the most valuable you will have, Roberto. How do you plan to protect them in the boat?” he asked.
“The boat has a small wheelhouse. I’m going to take all the paintings out of their frames and lay them flat with paper in between each one and then wrap them in several layers of heavy plastic. I plan to hide them in the ceiling of the wheelhouse. I’ll put in a false ceiling. Pedrito said no matter how rough it may get they’ll stay dry,” said Roberto.
“Let me show you the photos. Here, there are two by Evelio Mata, one by Angel Valdes, and one by Antonio Araujo,” said Carmen, laying the photos on the table in front of Roberto.
“They are all spectacular, Carmen! Incredible!” whispered Roberto. “I don’t know what to say.”
“I told you. In the U.S., these four alone may be worth half a million dollars to the right person,” said Carmen quietly, deliberately keeping his voice low.
“Where did you find them?” asked Roberto.
“In San Cristobal. An elderly woman whom I’ve known for many years had contacted me right after you were arrested and wanted to sell some of her late husband’s collection. She knew about you from Arturo, in Vinales. I told her you had been arrested and maybe they wouldn’t hold you for long,” said Carmen.
“But she was willing to wait,” said Roberto.
“She was, and is firm on her price, which I think is fair, and besides, she knew there was no one else who had that kind of money in Cuba. Except for Fidel of course, and he’s not in the market right now,” laughed Carmen.
“Well I’m happy she waited. I think it might be safer if you bring the paintings to my parents’ house and pick up the money, rather than me bringing it to you. With my luck lately, the CDR would stop me and then we’d all be screwed,” said Roberto.
“I can do that,” he said. “Why not tomorrow? I’ll come early.”
look who it is,” said Roberto when he saw Anabela come through the doorway from the front of the bar. Roberto stood up and walked over to greet Anabela half-way.
Roberto had not seen Anabela in a long time and she looked older. Unexpectedly, he began to feel emotional.
Anabela hugged Roberto and kissed him once on either cheek, then held him by both hands and stepped back for a better look.
“You look amazing,” she said. “It must be your new girlfriend.” Anabela leaned to the side, looked around Roberto and smiled at Maura.
“Anabela, this is Maura,” he said.
“We’ve already met. At Carmen’s. We talk about you all the time. The fact that you’re crazy and too independent,” laughed Anabela. “Come on, have a seat.”
Roberto looked a little confused by the remark and looked to Carmen for some support. “I’m glad you’re here, Carmen. This could get ugly,” said Roberto.
“Don’t worry, Roberto, they love you. Have some rum,” said Carmen.
“Agustin,” said Anabela, waving to the waiter. mojito, por favor. So, Maura has told me you will be leaving soon. How many paintings do you have?”
“I have ten, but I agreed to buy four more from Carmen. So I plan to leave with fourteen,” said Roberto.
“Anabela, you remember Ceila, in San Cristobal?” asked Carmen.
“Sure. She and her husband have an amazing collection. Many important works from the early part of this century,” she replied.
“Well, her husband passed away and she wanted to sell a number of pieces, so I arranged for Roberto to buy four of the more important ones in the collection. Two by Mata, one by Valdes and one work by Araujo. They’re spectacular and should bring good money in the States,” said Carmen.
“I hope you have a good plan to protect them when you’re in the boat,” said Anabela.
“I do. My friend Pedrito, who I bought the boat from, says it should take no more than ten hours to cross. We plan to watch the weather closely the next few days and if there is a window when it is fair and the wind is light, we’ll go,” said Roberto.
Agustin returned to the table with Anabela’s mojito and placed it on a napkin in front of her then rotated the glass so the Havana Club label was facing her. “The conversation tonight looks serious, Anabela,” said Agustin.
“You’re very observant, Agustin. That’s why you are the best. You know how it is. Difficult times right now in Cuba,” she said.
“Yes, I know. I hope none of you are in trouble,” he said. “You let me know when you need another drink. Next one is on me.” Agustin smiled, tucked the tray he was carrying under his arm and returned to the bar in the front room.
“He’s a good guy isn’t he,” asked Roberto, directing his question to Anabela.
“The best. He’s the story of Cuba. Promises made and never fulfilled. If he lived in Miami he would have the best restaurant in the city with the best bar,” she said.
“If we had the room I would offer to take him with us,” said Roberto.
“He would leave in a heartbeat if you asked him,” she said. “And he’s trustworthy.”
“There’s no room, Anabela. We have fourteen people now and the boat is small,” said Roberto. “I wish I could help him.”
“I understand. The line grows longer every day. Maybe one day when you’re settled you can help me to come to America,” she said.
“You know I would,” replied Roberto.
“We should make a toast, Anabela,” said Carmen.
“What shall it be?” she asked.
“To the wonders of art and to the health and safety and a life of freedom for Roberto and Maura,” said Carmen raising his glass of rum. tu
“Thank you both. You have been truly wonderful to me,” said Roberto.
Maura leaned against Roberto, put her arm through his and kissed him on the cheek.
The moment had come quickly and felt painful to Roberto. As the realities of their impending journey had loomed larger in recent days, feelings of sentimentality began to creep into his thoughts which he knew was a danger to his confidence. He realized he needed to remain disciplined and to resist the feelings.
Roberto took another sip of his rum. As he swallowed the rum he could feel inside his chest, the descending warmth which came from the rum’s strength, and after, the sweet thick smokey flavor given up by the oak aging barrels. The rum was helping to ease the pain of the moment.
“I feel confident this will not be the end of our friendships,” was all Roberto could think to say. “You’ll see.”
“You’re forever the optimist, Roberto,” said Anabela. “That’s why I know you will be a great success in America.”
“It’s my intention not to settle for anything less,” he said.
“Let’s go to the front and find a table close to the music. No more gloomy conversation. That is not how I want to remember tonight. Okay?” suggested Anabela pretending to be cheerful.
said Carmen in agreement.
That evening at La Bodeguita del Medio would be the last time Roberto would ever see Anabela Sobrina. Like countless ordinary Cubans before him—who had fled Cuba over the last thirty years, desperate only for a life of self-determination—Roberto now had to endure the stinging pain of another friendship forever lost. This angered him deeply and he hated the feeling of bitterness he felt that stemmed from the realization of a forced abandonment of friends and family and of the homeland he dearly loved.
He knew the anger he felt was dangerous if it were to take hold and that it could easily lead to a loss of control of the situation and everything he had worked so hard for. If his vision remained clear, he thought, in less than a month everything would be different and the troubles he would face would be good ones.