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I was caught between two lands—two iterations of myself—the one I inhabited in my body and the one I lived in my dreams.
To be in exile is to have the things you love most in the world—the air you breathe, the earth you walk upon—taken from you. They exist on the other side of a wall—there and not—unaltered by time and circumstance, preserved in a perfect memory in a land of dreams.
All my life Cuba has been this mythical entity, at times tangible, at others an ephemeral presence removed from my grasp. But now it’s real, and while there’s nothing romantic or glamorous about the arrival hall, excitement fills me.
That’s the thing with grief—you never know when it will sneak up on you.
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The faint sound of a saxophone drifts up to my room, and I recognize the familiar strands of “La Bayamesa.” This is family, home, the most fundamental part of me. I could be sitting in my grandparents’ elegant residence in Coral Gables, or off in Europe, and all it takes is the scent of mojo, the sound of my people, to ground me.
Cuban society is not quiet society; we flaunt our wealth and status like peacocks.
In his absence, my attention turns back to the view ahead of me—the ocean and beyond. The sound of the saxophone returns—low, haunting, each note aching and melancholy. The music fills me with a soaring emotion, and it doesn’t surprise me in the least when the saxophone player steps into the little courtyard, his eyes finding mine as his lips press against the instrument, his fingers flying over the keys, playing for the guests. That explains the calluses. History professor. Musician. Waiter. The legacy of the Cuban revolution—donning many hats to stay afloat. Luis doesn’t look away from me as
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Always. You’re the romantic, the dreamer, the one who’s searching for something.
Given my own parents’ disastrous marriage, my grandparents were the ones I looked up to. Their story was filled with so much love and respect, giving me hope that one day I would find a good man, one I could trust, who would be both friend and partner, who would love me with as much devotion as I loved him.
That’s the trouble with sisters; they know you far too well.
Can you have a relationship where you exist in half measures, or does the very nature of love demand
you throw yourself into it with gusto?
“You speak of passion, but what about companionship, mutual respect, friendship? Why do people always seize on the spark that can peter out as the measure of a relationship?”
the sharp intelligence in his words. He’s an impressive man, his competence and confidence undeniably seductive.
“They came to our home one day with a letter saying the company was now the property of the Cuban government. Just like that. A hundred years of labor, of dreams, our legacy erased with one piece of paper.”
If I thought him attractive before, this conversation, the passion that animates him now, is my undoing.
Each night we went to bed together, and the next morning we woke up and had drifted a little farther apart than the day before. One morning we woke up strangers.”
If things don’t look the way you anticipated, you change your expectations. It’s an easy way to avoid being disappointed.”
“You are entirely unexpected.”
“This island will break your heart if you let it.”
I am torn between my heart and my head, between love and loyalty.
“Then you know what it means to be Cuban,” he says. “We always reach for something beyond our grasp.”
That’s the thing about death—even when you think someone is gone, glimpses of them remain in those they loved and left behind.
What does it say about a place that people will risk certain death to leave
“You never know what’s to come. That’s the beauty of life. If everything happened the way we wished, the way we planned, we’d miss out on the best parts, the unexpected pleasures.”
On the surface, ojalá translates to “hopefully” in English. But that’s just on paper, merely the dictionary definition. The reality is that there are some words that defy translation; their meaning contains a whole host of things simmering beneath the surface.
Hope lost in translation
I’ve seen you go through life, and I’ve watched you navigate all the things that have come your way. You wouldn’t have taken this leap if it wasn’t right, if you weren’t sure.
I prefer the memories I keep in my heart, rather than the harsh reality of what it has become.”
For some, there is only one true love. But not everyone is lucky enough to have that love work out for them. And for some, the love we cannot have is the most powerful one of all.
