My Heart Is In Havana
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
The next day was Sunday, and we didn’t ride out until the afternoon. I wore my traveling cloak over a dress, knowing that it was too big for me since I’d lost weight. The sun was bright overhead as we rode into town. An unshaven man wearing an old gray suit, who looked to be in his fifties, was talking to two men in white hats.
They were pointing at us and laughing. The one with the gray suit stepped forward and bowed to me. “Good morning, ma’am,” he said in a thick Spanish accent. He had a full gray beard, but the other one’s mustache was much longer. The two of them could have been brothers.
“You’re looking good this morning,” he said.
“And you too, senor.”
“We’ve not seen you in many months.” His eyes shifted from the gray-haired one to me. “You know who these are?”
I nodded and looked up at them. The two men smiled at me. The older one said something and I heard the word, “Puerto Rico.”
“We’ve traveled far today,” he told them. “We’ve come to sell our wares and visit friends.”
“Is it true that there is a new doctor in town?”
I turned to him. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean he’s any different than the rest of them.”
“That’s why we’re here. We thought we would ask you what he’s like.”
The man with the gray beard said, “He’s not as good as some of them doctors in Miami.”
“But he’s a fine doctor, no doubt about that,” the younger one added.
The older one shrugged. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Juan Pérez,” he answered.
“And you’re Juan’s brother?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Are they really as bad as people say?”
“Most of the time,” he laughed. “But that’s why you’ll never get sick or hurt if you have a stomachache or a cut on your foot. If you need a shot of morphine for a headache, you can find plenty of those here. That’s one reason we came to town.” He stopped suddenly and looked back at me. “You don’t like doctors?”
“Some of them are as bad as the diseases they treat. They’re only interested in their money. But the ones here in San Cristóbal aren’t so bad.”
Juan Pérez stared at me for a moment and then nodded. “If you ever have any trouble, feel free to come to see us anytime you like,” he said.
As the two men rode off toward the main street, Juan Pérez turned to me. “Are you ready for lunch?”
I was tired of eating with people I didn’t know. I knew that it wasn’t polite to refuse a meal, but I wanted something more familiar. We’d been invited to many meals since my arrival in Cuba and each time I was glad to have someone else around me.
But lately, the people I ate with seemed to be on the same level as the servants, and I didn’t like being surrounded by them. “No thank you, sir. I’m not hungry.”
Juan Pérez looked at his older brother. “We’ll eat without her today.”
He turned and walked away.
His brother followed him as they rode through the crowd gathered on the main street. The horse moved slowly along as we watched the two of them ride down the street. After they were out of sight, Juan Pérez led his horse back to ours and brought it to the center of the street.
We rode the rest of the way into the square, passing the cathedral and other shops as we went. “If you change your mind,” he said, “you can always come to join us for lunch. But if you don’t want to eat, that’s fine too.” He stopped and stared at me. “I’ve been wondering about you,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You’re so quiet. You don’t talk much, and you rarely smile.”
“It’s a habit,” I told him. “I’m used to being around men who speak loud and are always joking around. I can’t seem to relax enough to have any fun.”
He shrugged and stared at me. “But you’ve changed your mind?”
“Yes,” I said. “I don’t feel as uncomfortable in these clothes as I did when I first arrived here.”
“You still wear the same dress?”
“Yes, but I feel good now.”
He nodded slowly. “You’re right. That is one thing that has changed.”
The muleteer and his son pulled their donkey up alongside our wagon and we both waved at him. “Good day, Manuel,” I called out.
“Buenos días,” he answered, and then waited until we passed by before he and his son continued on.
Juan Pérez rode over to the muleteer and shook his hand. The muleteer pointed back at me and said something in Spanish to his son, who looked at me and nodded. “You must be Alicia.”
I smiled. “Yes. Are you well?”
“Very well. What do you think of the horse?”
“He’s beautiful.”
“My father would like to buy him from you.”
“Unfortunately, he was sold the other day.”
“But there is another one,” the boy said and turned to his father. “Do we want to buy him?”
Juan Pérez sighed. “It’s not a good time. We’re having money problems. It wouldn’t be fair to sell the muleteer anything.”
“But we can always find another mule,” Manuel said. “And besides, you’re here in San Cristóbal and my brother is not.”
Juan Pérez smiled at me. “He’s the best man to ride horses in Cuba. You’re sure you wouldn’t sell him a mule?” He turned back to his father. “I’d rather you bought your own than pay for his horse. Juan is here on business.”
“Buying a mule isn’t that much more expensive than a horse,” Manuel said. “Besides, if Juan doesn’t want to sell you his horse, then you’ll just have to take the mule back home.”
“No,” I told him. “I’d like to buy it.”
Manuel stared at me and then nodded slowly. “You are sure?”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ve never had a horse before and I would really like to buy this one.” I pointed at the muleteer and his son. “They’re riding away, and I don’t feel right about them leaving without us buying anything.”
“Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know,” I said. “It just feels bad to leave them without me doing something for them.”
The muleteer looked back and waved to his son, who shouted out “goodbye.”
“Your father will take care of the price later,” Juan Pérez told me. “Now let’s go back to the hotel and get cleaned up.”
***
We took a short rest in the room before we left for dinner. The bell boy brought up our bags as we changed clothes. I put on a nice dress and tied my hair back with a ribbon. Juan Pérez wore the same clothes he had on when he went riding with his brother. I held my hand to his arm and smiled at him. “Are you ready now?”
He nodded. “But do you mind waiting downstairs for me? I have some things to settle and then I can take you to the hotel.” He walked over to his bag and pulled out his wallet, and then looked at the door to make sure the bellboy wasn’t listening to us. “Do you have any money?”
“I always carry it,” I said, and felt embarrassed at the idea that the bellboy could hear our conversation.
Juan Pérez opened the top drawer and counted out bills and handed me some. “These are for you so that I can buy a present for Alicia. We can exchange them for jewelry and then I’ll return the money.”
“That seems like a good plan.” I slipped the money into the pocket of my dress.
Juan Pérez took his time in choosing a gift for me. He looked through his saddle bag and pulled out the knife, a horsewhip, and a set of pistols. “I found these in the saddlebags of the muleteer. You didn’t know about this?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t think we need these.”
“They’re for show,” I said. “I wouldn’t actually use them.” I fingered the smooth hilt of the pistol. “This is very nice.”
“I will give it back to your father.” He pulled out another horse whip and took out the bundle of notes, then held out one and said, “But first let me buy you this.”
I held the purse and took it from him.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. The black leather shone in the light. It was still soft and new. I ran my hand across the front and then flipped open the clasp and opened the flap to look inside. There were two round white stones, and in the center of the purse, there was an old piece of paper that said: Alicia’s First Purse.
“It was given to my mother by Juan Pérez.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said and slipped the purse over my shoulder. I’d never owned anything so expensive before. “But what is it?”
“It’s a present,” he told me. “And if I’m right, then Alicia is about the same age as my mother and my sister when they got married.”
“You mean to say you have sisters?”
He nodded. “One of them is the girl I told you about.”
I remembered Manuel’s story and shook my head. “No, that can’t be.”
Juan Pérez looked surprised. “Why not?”
“Because I already met your sister.”
Juan Pérez stared at me a moment and then his eyes went wide with understanding. “Oh!” he said. “Of course. You must have seen Alicia working with my wife, and thought that she was my daughter.”
I nodded and then smiled. “She had on a hat, but that’s all I could see.”
Juan Pérez rubbed the top of my head. “I guess it’s true what the Mexicans say, that we all look alike.” He put his hand on the side of my face and kissed me lightly. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”
The End