This is a one-shot!! I vowed to finish another story that I'm working on before I started anything else, but I went on a wild Havana Nights craze this week (I watched it like twenty times, no joke) and I couldn't stop myself from writing something. So here's my ONE-SHOT (I have to keep telling myself that, I need to finish my other stuff…) Oh, I made up basically everything about how she got back, too – like I have no idea what happened right after the Revolution, or whether anyone at all could get back, but I was too lazy to check it out. Apologies. Also, I don't know much about cars back then, so just ignore the car stuff, basically.
Disclaimer: You get the picture anyway, but I don't own Dirty Dancing or whatever…
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Impossibility meant nothing. Well, on the other hand it meant everything… I flicked a finger over the worn page and scanned a line of tiny black lettering: adj.; unbearably difficult or not possible to endure. Hmm…the right word, in all ways. So satisfying, to find the right word.
"Sweetheart, put on a sweater, it's 40 degrees outside," commented my mother. Her voice was quiet and cold, but I could see that she was making an effort to be as pleasant as possible. With her gray-streaked black hair wrapped in a tight bun and her face drawn and gray, Jeannie looked far older than 44 years of age.
"It won't be when we get…there." My words came out sounding hollow and separate, each one heavier than the next.
Immediately, Jeannie stiffened, her starched dress crinkling against the plastic seat. Without a word, she reached into her bag and yanked out a black sweater, shoving it roughly in my face without meeting my piercing gaze. My eyes narrowed as I snatched the cardigan and pulled it swiftly over my arms. I made a point not to button it or tuck it in to the hem of my gray skirt, showing blatantly that I would take it off at the soonest possible moment. I hardly remembered the last time I'd worn a sweater. Spring in St. Louis was warm enough for sundresses and sandals, but it didn't compare to spring in…
"Katey, why don't you put that silly book away? We'll be there in an hour – why don't you read something more interesting than a dictionary?" Susie scolded, dragging the heavy dictionary towards her over the top of the seat. My wrist twitched feebly in the direction of the disappearing tome, but it was too late. Besides, the words 'not possible to endure' were burned into my mind anyway.
Around us, the whir and whistle of the airplane made a calming background noise that came blissfully close to lulling me to sleep. Below us, ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. Beyond the ocean, in one direction, was America, and in the other – I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and turned away from the window to face my mother, hunched in the seat beside me. A pair of spectacles rested precariously on her nose, angled down towards a trashy romance novel.
"Dad?" I murmured, shifting so that I could peer through the crack in the seats in front of me. A gray-haired, tanned head came into view, or at least a sliver of it.
"What is it, Katey?" he replied, his voice low. My dad and I had grown closer ever since the incident, and moving back to America. And my mom and I had grown farther apart, though we understood each other better than we had before.
"When we…get there, what's the plan, exactly?" I hadn't really wanted to ask, but it seemed an appropriate time, and I needed to prepare myself.
Bert seemed to sense my discomfort, so he kept his answer brief.
"It's a one time thing only, sweetie, something my boss arranged with the government. We fly in this afternoon, I have a meeting this evening and tomorrow morning, and we fly out the day after that. I'm sorry, that was all I could work out. It's…tight there, nowadays." The lines in his face explained far more than could be put into words.
After the Revolution, when Americans and their businesses fled…there…like bats out of hell, there were a lot of loose ends left behind. Apparently, a couple of these ends had been causing trouble for Castro and his haphazard economy, and he'd decided to let a few select American companies send representatives to meet with some of his advisors, just to wrap things up, and then he'd close the gates for good. A chill swept down my spine…'not possible to endure'.
"Are you gonna be okay?" he whispered, a wide green eye replacing the weathered cheek.
I nodded, barely trusting myself to speak. The aching hole in my chest had started to burn and throb as soon as we had boarded our plane, and as much as I tried to shove the pain into a back corner of my mind and ignore the cause of it, the closer we got to… the more it seemed to hurt.
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"Katey? Katey, wake up, we'll be there in ten minutes," came a loud whisper.
Bleary-eyed and stiff, I lifted my head and located the source of the noise. Susie was leaning over her seat again, staring down at me with wide eyes.
"What time is it?" I questioned, my voice hoarse. My arms stretched to the ceiling as I tried to work out the kinks in my shoulder muscles.
"It's 5:00 in the afternoon, and Dad says we'll reach the hotel at six – his meeting is at 6:30. Are you okay?" Her cautious smile flickered at the underlying meaning of her words.
The last time I'd spoken about our few months stint in Cuba two years previous was…exactly two years and four months ago, when I'd stepped off the plane onto American soil. I grimaced, looking up at my younger sister through thick lashes.
"I'll be fine," I replied, but I'd said those same words so many times since Dad had announced where we'd be traveling that they didn't seem to mean much anymore.
"We don't even have to leave the hotel," Susie promised reluctantly, resting her chin on the seatback and gazing down at me with imploring eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous," I shot back, willing her to shut up. The more she brought it up the more it hurt. "We can go wherever you want."
Sighing, Susie's blond head disappeared over the top of the seat, and I heard the plastic wheeze in return as she settled down.
Steeling myself, I lifted the shade blocking out the sun and gazed out the tiny window, me eyes narrowed against the blinding light. Far below, but getting nearer every minute, a strip of beach extended in both directions as far as the eye could see, separating the azure water from the dark, wild green of the island. Like someone had tossed a handful of beige bricks by the beach, Havana loomed out of the wilderness, a giant sprawling mass interspersed with bright colors and wide stretches of green or gray. Miniscule cars could sometimes be seen zooming along dusty highways around the outer edge of the city and along the beach.
A tinny voice overlaid with a thick Southern accent suddenly blared over the loudspeaker. "We'lluh be arrivin' in abat teen meenutes, foulks. Plase have yur seets in a upright position foruh landin'. Thaenk yew." With a sharp crack the voice was gone.
I noticed for the first time my mother rummaging in her bag beside me.
"What are you looking for?" I questioned, merely out of boredom. I'd shut the window shade again after my first look, unable to concentrate more closely on the loose sprawl of the city, in case I should recognize anything familiar.
Before she could speak, my mother drew out a black tube, which she uncapped to reveal a stick of bright red lipstick. Her pointed glare was my answer – this was what she'd been searching for. Slowly, she ran the stick across both lips, then recapped the tube and tucked it gently into her purse.
I was a little bit surprised. She rarely wore bright red lipstick, not since we'd moved back to St. Louis. In fact, I don't think anyone in my family had done many of the things they used to do for a long time. Susie didn't pin up her hair like she had before, instead letting it hang flat and lifeless against her back. I avoided most bright colors – something in the cheerful, loud patterns made me want to vomit. And Dad, well…Dad didn't dance anymore.
The hum of the airplane's engines picked up speed and volume, until all other sounds were drowned out. I clenched my teeth, counting down the seconds.
Suddenly a heavy thud and a jerk of the seat told me that we'd landed. Immediately, the plane began to slow and a myriad more bangs and snaps started up all around us, until finally everything quieted down and it seemed we had come to a complete stand still. Timidly, I reached over and slid the window up. A vast stretch of tarmac surrounded the plane, stopped abruptly by a high beige brick wall, and then a mass of tangled green.
"We're here!" I heard Susie squeal from the front seat, followed by Dad's low chuckle that sounded a little bit uneasy.
"Yew maye rise whin the captin has tairned off the seetbilt sign. Thaenk yew," came another almost indiscerniable command from the speakers.
I gently pulled off the sweater, relishing the blast of chilled air that swept down my arms. Jeannie eyed me warily, but took the garment and stuffed it into her bag without a word. It seemed that wearing it for the hour we spent in the air was enough to satisfy her.
Another few moments passed while the plane idled on the tarmac. Men in yellow jackets scurried around the wheels.
Then with a resounding ping the orange seatbelt sign disappeared, swallowed by the surrounding black plaque. There was a pause, and then the plane erupted in a surge of motion. The click of seatbelts being removed filled the air, along with murmurs and the rustle of bags and clothing.
"Everyone follow me," ordered Dad calmly, inching his way into the aisle. I stayed sitting as long as possible, then tore off my seatbelt, grabbed my purse and dashed after my mother who was already a few feet away, striding purposefully between the rows of seats.
I reached the doors and murmured empty thanks to the stewardesses, then turned and tripped down the metal stairs and onto the tarmac.
"Hurry up, Katey, we have to meet our chauffeur at exactly 5:05," Dad called over his shoulder.
A wave of heat rose up and smacked me in the face as I ran to catch up with them. Magnified tenfold by the black asphalt, the heat was choking and instantly caused a sweat to break out on my face. I cursed the long gray skirt which had become a staple part of wardrobe over the past winter, which I hadn't left behind when the weather grew warmer. Of course, I should have remembered what the weather would be like, but I knew why I had worn this particular skirt – it was a direct rejection, as if I had tried hard to convince myself that I had absolutely no memory of this place at all.
Just as promised, our chauffeur was waiting in a sleek black Buick – ironic, of course, since Dad worked for Ford. The driver was a stout bald Cuban man who glanced at us with a completely indifferent expression as we loaded the small amount of luggage we'd brought with us into the back of the car.
"Where you go?" he asked sharply once we had settled into the leather seats that smelled strongly of gasoline. I wondered uneasily if the car had a leak.
"Hotel Oceana," Dad replied slowly, and I watched as his eyes wandered briefly to my face. My eyes narrowed and turned pointedly away to stare out the window.
"Hotel Oceana," the driver confirmed, and then jammed the keys into ignition. The car engine started with a ill-sounding snarl, and I clutched the door fearfully, hoping the car wouldn't fall apart beneath us before we reached the hotel.
The streets and buildings that passed the window were unfamiliar as the car entered the edge of Havana, keeping to a highway that ran parallel to the beach. The once beautiful lampposts and marble statues had either fallen apart or disappeared, and the colorful shop fronts seemed cloaked in a darkening haze. All in all, Havana seemed to have become lifeless since the last time I'd seen it.
Somewhere deep in my chest this thought sparked some sort of smothered emotion. What was it? Smugness? That couldn't be. What would I have to be smug about? With a rush, a flash of memories poured into my mind's eye, and I was lost in the torrent.
"But you don't know what life will be like here, I mean what if it doesn't get better?" I questioned angrily, propping myself up on an elbow. He stared back at me, confused.
"My father died for this," he protested, frowning. "I have to believe it will."
With a shudder, I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head vigorously, shutting out the images to stop the pain. Wrong, I scolded furiously, rubbing my fists into my eyes. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
"Katey, are you okay?" came a timid voice. Susie, seated next to me, had turned away from Jeannie's romance novel, which she had been reading over her shoulder.
"I'm fine," I whispered, and leaned my head against the window, opening my eyes.
"I don't think-" Susie murmured, but I cut her off.
"Susie, I said I'm fine," I protested more forcefully, keeping my eyes trained diligently on the dull faces of the dilapidated houses parading past.
"'Kay," my sister ceded grudgingly. I waited until she was once again absorbed in Jeannie's book before allowing one tear to squeeze out of my eye, which I quickly swiped away before anyone could see.
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The hotel was much the same as before, in all but its inhabitants. Now, instead of the hordes of pleasure-seeking Americans, a quiet string of dark-skinned locals trickled through the lobby, murmuring in quiet voices. Their attire suggested that they were among Cuba's elite, but their small number showed the changes that had taken place since Castro's Revolution. One or two pale-skinned guests wandered past while we waited to be assigned a room, but their faces were blank and their feet moving seemingly apart from their minds, set towards a pre-specified goal which they knew would be there when they arrived, and they didn't need to worry much about the journey. It was eerily quiet, so different from the last time I had walked in through the big double doors feeling sick and out of place.
"Suite 1675," directed the concierge, a tall Cuban man with a severe expression on his wind-chapped face. He stared down his long nose at Bert as if he were something dirty, which gave the biggest shock of all. We were unwanted here, far more than we had been before. Or at least, now we were openly unwanted, even by the hotel staff.
"I'm surprised this place is still in operation," commented my mother quietly as we picked up our bags and headed for the elevator.
"Well they weren't about to tear it down, were they? I bet it still makes a fair amount of money," Dad said, looking around at the familiar flower-patterned tiles of the lobby.
The room they'd assigned to us was far smaller than the one we'd lived in back in '58, but it just as luxurious, despite the thin coating of dust that covered most of the hard surfaces. The beds were newly made up and fresh, cleaned scented towels were hung on silver racks in the bathrooms. The sunlight streaming through a picture window at one end of the living room made my heart stir, so I quickly turned away.
Susie immediately grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bedroom we would share for two nights. Two double beds occupied the space, almost exactly identical to our old room, and an old glass chandelier hung somewhat lopsidedly from the ceiling.
"It's not as nice as the old one," Susie commented as she hopped onto a bed.
I shrugged. "It's just smaller."
"But look at all this dust," she said, her nose wrinkling. She swiped a delicate finger across one of the bedside tables and held it up so I could see the film of gray that had collected on her skin. I shrugged again, nonplussed. With a snort, Susie wiped her fingertip on her skirt and stretched out on the bed.
"What are we going to do tonight?" she groaned, tucking her arms behind her head and staring sideways at me as I sat down slowly on the other bed.
"I don't know. Maybe we could go for a walk on the beach?" I suggested, but the words were completely void of emotion. The last thing I wanted to do was bring back any of those happy memories.
"I wonder if the country club is still running," Susie mused.
I snorted. "I doubt it." I pulled out a couple of boring skirts and laid them out on my bed, smoothing out some of the wrinkles they had gathered during the flight.
"The Palace?"
"Probably…not. Not the same, anyway," I said.
"I know…" Susie paused, and her eyes flickered to the ceiling and then back. I noticed some form of emotion flash in her gaze, but I was too lazy to take much notice. "Want to go down to the plaza with me? We could look at the fountain, see if any of our pennies are still there."
This plan seemed harmless enough. "They won't be…and how would we tell anyway?" I scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
Susie laughed brightly. "Whatever. Let's do that."
"Okay."
We both got to our feet, planning to go out into the living room to speak to our parents about our plan.
Susie paused by the door. "I'll pick out what we should wear," she said suddenly, stepping back.
I shrugged again. "Okay."
"But you have to promise you'll wear whatever I want you to?" Susie said, holding out her hand.
I glanced down at it with a frown. So far, all of this had seemed harmless enough. The fountain didn't have any pain connected to it, and none of the clothes I'd brought with me had any potential to conjure up memories – I'd made sure of that when we returned to America, despite my sister's chagrin that I confiscated so many 'pretty' dresses. To me, the dresses that I had gotten rid of were the most heinous things on earth.
"Okay," I agreed again, with a small sigh. "Whatever you want."
Both Mom and Dad were fine with our plan. Bert was getting ready for his meeting, and when I asked him he merely nodded and waved his hand for me to get out of the way so he could try on a different suit. Mom seemed not to care much. She had settled down on the couch with her novel and it seemed that only another Revolution would shake her from her seat.
"It's a go," I said to Susie as I reentered the room.
"Oh good," she replied. Her voice was a few octaves too high. Suspicious, I turned to face her after closing the door quietly behind me, and my mouth fell open.
"You…" I choked.
"I'm sorry," she moaned. "I kept it, it was so pretty, and I just couldn't let you throw it out!"
In her hands was the fiery orange dress that I had worn to the competition. I hadn't seen it since I'd cleaned out my wardrobe two years ago. I hadn't wanted to see it.
"You kept it…and you brought it?" I coughed, my face flushing.
"I'm sorry," she whispered again. The dress was like a beacon, calling up another swell of long suppressed memories. With a massive heave of effort I resisted the flood, screwing up my nose and pressing my cold hands hard against my forehead.
"I. Won't. Wear. That," I spit venomously, my eyes still tightly shut.
"But…" whimpered Susie. She seemed to have recovered from her moment of apology. "But you promised. And all your other stuff is black or gray! It's awful and it's all you ever wear! It's summer, for heaven's sake! Please, Katey? For me? It's not like we'll see anyone…we know." I heard her swallow uneasily.
Wrong, my conscience scolded quietly. Wrong, wrong, wrong.
I stepped forward and snatched the dress from her grasp.
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"We're lost. Admit it, we are lost," I groaned.
"We're not lost," Susie sighed exasperatedly. "I know exactly where I'm going, just follow me, okay?"
"This is not the way to the plaza, then!" I snapped, stopping again. I wrapped my black sweater more tightly around my torso and glared suspiciously at my sister.
"Yes it is! I know where I'm going!" Susie said. "Come on, don't be a baby, I seem to remember you walking all over Havana in the middle of the night without a care in the world. Good Lord, if Mom had known about that she would have disowned you for sure."
"I-" I stopped abruptly. I'd been about to say that I hadn't been alone, but I pressed my thumbs against the bridge of my nose and chanted inwardly, I was alone. I was alone.
"This is dangerous," I murmured instead.
All around us twilight had claimed the city of Havana. We'd only seen a few people so far, but I was wary. I knew exactly what could, no, what would happen to two young American girls wandering aimlessly through the post-Revolutionized city.
"Are you sure you know the way to the plaza?" I asked again, hoping we might be there soon so we could start walking back.
"Of course," Susie quipped, and reached backward to grab me by the arm and drag me along.
It was only when we reached the side street and I heard the music that I realized exactly how I'd been betrayed.
"No." I dug in my heels and whispered the word, cold and final. "No."
Susie turned to face me, her face innocent, blond curls bouncing against her shoulders. "We might as well stop by, since we're just passing on the way to the plaza," she said, shrugging and donning a small smile.
I tried to step back, but her hand was still encircling my wrist.
"How could you do this to me?" I hissed, and to my surprise tears pricked at my eyes, threatening to spill over onto my reddened cheeks. "I trusted you.
Susie seemed a little bit taken aback my the strength of my outburst, but it didn't seem to have shaken her determination.
"You have to face it, Katey," she growled, her voice more forceful then I'd ever heard her use. "I've watched you run from this ever since we left, and it's not right. It's not healthy. Just come inside, Javier probably isn't even there."
A gasp wooshed out of my throat, taking all the air out of my lungs like someone had punched me in the gut. Well, technically, someone had. "No," I protested, my voice a moan now. She'd said his name. Absolutely forbidden. So forbidden that I knew its utterance had been deliberate.
"Come on," Susie snapped, and she jerked me forward. I was powerless to stop her, my strength sapped by the agony that speared through my chest.
The music grew louder as we neared the door, jarring and piercing. Two rotund men sat on the steps outside, smoking fat cigars and murmuring in low voices. Their dark beady eyes followed us as we climbed the stairs, Susie marching and me tripping limply behind.
Susie put a hand on the door and pushed, sending a wave of heat and smoky haze billowing over us. We entered, but my eyes lingered on the black lettering over the door. La Rosa Negra, it read. Unable to endure.
"It's exactly the same," Susie said with a sigh of relief as the doors creaked shut behind us. She was right – nothing had changed, not even the dancers. Not even the dancers. I pulled feebly, but Susie's hand only clamped down tighter over my arm.
"One dance," she murmured, and suddenly I was being pushed towards the center of the dance floor, jostled by elbows and knees whichever way I turned. A scream built up in my throat as claustrophobia, something that I seemed to have acquired after we'd left, set in, but Susie's face bobbed out of the crowd beside me, and her hand against my skin was suddenly a comfort.
"I can't," I wailed silently, so only she could hear.
"Just feel the music," she directed, beginning to step back and forth and roll her shoulders just like we used to. As if struck by a sudden thought, Susie reached forward and grabbed the neck of my sweater, pulling it off my shoulders and arms. With a small smile she tossed it over the back of a chair and continued to dance.
Those words and my new level of exposure sent another searing hot spear through my heart, and I closed my eyes tightly shut, trying to block out the music, the familiar smells and sounds, and most of all the feeling that was beginning to tingle in my feet and stomach, traitor urge that it was. Impossible habit that it was.
"That's it, Katey! See, it's easy!" Susie said, smiling widely. I noticed suddenly that I'd begun to dance, as automatic as walking or breathing. The bodies pressed against me on all sides moved rhythmically to the tempo of the upbeat drum solo that rattled from the stage, and I felt myself unwilling joining the frenzy, my body moving of its own accord. Feeling of its own accord.
"I can't stop it," I commented, surprised.
Susie laughed loudly, her blond hair swinging in front of her face.
I felt myself letting go, and for the first time in…a long time, I didn't try to stop it.
We danced blindly for a while before I finally reconnected my body with my mind. I didn't stop the movement, but I took a look around, figuring that if I was going to hurt myself, I might as well do it thoroughly.
What famous last words.
First I heard a quiet, "Ohmygod" from Susie, and then a pulsating silence settled around me.
It couldn't be. It was impossible: adj.; unbearably difficult or not possible to endure.
His dark eyes met mine for a split second, and then I looked away. Baaaad idea. There she was, the she of my deepest, most disturbing nightmares. She had her slender tanned arms slung around his neck, and her lips planted squarely on his. Not possible to endure.
I wasn't aware that I was running until I heard the doors slam shut behind me. I also wasn't aware that I was falling until I heard a shout and a bark of laughter from one of the fat men smoking his cigar on the steps.
"Katey, are you okay?" Susie's voice floated to me from behind. Burning anger ripped through my chest, and I scrambled to my feet.
"Shut up!" I snapped at her, turning to face my sister with my face twisted in fury. "I'm not okay! I'm not okay! Can't you see that? I'm NOT OKAY!" My voice lifted to a scream and then descended into a sob.
"Oh Katey, I'm sorry, I'm so sorr-" she was cut off by another slam of the door.
I didn't look up; instead I immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction, back to the main street. I didn't know where my sweater was, so I clutched my arms over my chest and let the tears fall as they would, more sobs shaking my chest. I'd tried to so hard, for so long, not to give in, but it was too much.
"Katey?"
I froze. This voice was different. So different. I almost threw up.
"Katey Miller?"
Nope. No way. I couldn't take one more step. Once again, my body had turned traitor to my mind, and it was turning, turning…I tried to fight it, but there was no way. The dominant part of me, whatever it was, needed him, as much as air or water.
His face was even more beautiful than I'd remembered. Or not remembered, either way. Unkempt dark hair shadow a tanned face and wide chocolate-colored eyes. My gaze traveled down to the blue striped shirt and brown pants. God, didn't he have any other clothes?
"Katey."
Ugh. No. Not the time. Don't vomit now.
"It is you. Katey, what are you doing here?" His expression was one of utter shock.
Susie stood a few paces behind him, and she, whoever she had been, was nowhere to be seen.
"I could ask the same of you," I snapped childishly, aware that there were still tears on my cheeks.
"Katey, I live here," he said, always the practical one. I thought I saw a smile twitch at the corner of his lips, but I couldn't be sure. Ugh. My stomach heaved again.
"Susie, come one, let's go," I called, waving her over. She shook her head. I glanced down and realized that I'd removed my arm from my chest, uncovering the top of the hateful orange dress. I could see…Javier's (I'd have to say his name sometime, so I might as well get it over with) eyes widen and his gaze travel down from my face. My cheeks flushed and I took a step back, as if that would change anything.
"Our Dad is here for business, so we thought we get out of the hotel for a night," Susie explained, walking a few steps closer that she was almost beside Javier. He glanced sideways at her, then back at me, looking like a fox caught between two hounds, but always sure that he could escape.
"For how long?" he questioned.
"Two days or so," Susie murmured.
I watched as his expression changed to confusion. Maybe the fox's plan wasn't so perfect after all.
"I want to leave," I implored Susie more quietly, trying not to see Javier's face as I glared at my sister over his shoulder. She shook her head again and then nodded in his direction, as if urging me to say something to him. I did.
"What's her name?"
Ah, it was cruel, but I wanted to hurt him. He'd hurt me so much, it seemed only fair that he should share at least a little bit of my pain. Oh sure, we'd said our heartfelt goodbyes, and we had known we'd see each other again, but I hadn't expected our happy reunion to turn out like this.
"Andrea," he replied quietly.
Baring my teeth would have been the appropriate response as the hound, but instead, as the lady I had been brought up to be, I turned my cheek away so that the shadow of the alleyway hid the burning blush that claimed my pale cheeks. It wasn't embarrassment, but shame and fear that brought the heat to my face.
"That's it?" I hissed.
I heard a rustle, and my head snapped up. He had taken a step towards me, his expression pained. "Katey, you left!" he accused, running a hand through the twist of hair that flopped down over his eyes. Behind him, the two fat men had stopped smoking their cigars and were watching intently. I wasn't sure if they could understand our exchange, considering that it was in English, but the motions and facial expression were probably entertainment enough.
"I had no choice," I whispered, reluctantly recalling the day we'd said our goodbyes. I'd thought – no, I'd clung to the hope that he would wait for me, if I ever got the chance to return to the island that had captured my heart, in more ways than one. That one small hope had kept me going through the bad times, through the boring monotony of the life of an American schoolgirl, dragged away from the one true reason for her existence. And now that hoped had been mauled, mangled, smashed and reduced to a shred of insanity which was barely enough to keep me breathing.
"Neither did I," he protested weakly, once again catching the strands of dark hair between his thumb and forefinger and twisting with what seemed like nervous habit.
"But you chose Andrea!" I shot at him angrily; spitting her name like it was something foul.
"You don't understand," he murmured, stepping back. "It's not like that."
"I wish I'd never come back. I never want to see you again," I lied through my teeth, then turned and tried to march purposefully away, like I had a purpose. After a few steps, panic set it. I'd been waiting for a warm hand to touch my shoulder, to pull me back so he could tell me it was all a huge misunderstanding and that he had waited for me, just like I'd waited for him. But the touch was not forthcoming, and that more than anything instilled a morbid fear deep in my soul.
Maybe I wasn't who I thought I was. Javier had once been the center of my life, the sun that my transformed planet had revolved around. Dancing with him was like the pure bliss of heaven, and I had wanted it last forever…once. Maybe when I'd moved back my planet had stopped revolving, but the sun was still there. Now, the sun itself seemed to have disappeared, and my planet was ricocheting through the endless darkness of the universe with nothing to anchor it down.
"Katey, please, let me explain," came another low groan. Like I hadn't heard that one before.
I stumbled my way towards the light that shined from the end of the alleyway. But every step I took, it seemed to grow father and farther away.
"¡Javi! ¿Quién es ella? ¿La conoces?" came a wavering murmur.
More tears threatened to spill over onto my cheeks.
"Sí…sí, yo la conozco. Yo la conozco desde antes de la revolución." His voice was still quiet, but he spoke to her with more force than he had ever used when speaking to me. I wasn't sure whether or not that was comforting.
This time it was Susie's plaintive voice that stopped me in my tracks. "Katey, wait, you don't even know where you're going." She had a point. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my pounding heart while blinking and glancing around. It seemed that I hadn't managed to get as far as I'd thought. The entrance to the alley was still impossibly far away.
"Andrea and I are only friends," Javier said.
"That's not what it looked like," I growled. Bracing myself, I turned back to face them. Andrea was standing on the bottom step, drawing the gaze of the old men. Susie and Javier both seemed poised to run – Susie after me, and Javier probably anywhere else.
"No, no you don't understand," he protested again. "She's a friend of Carlos, visiting. We went dancing. It's Saturday," he finished, as if this was enough explanation for what I'd seen.
"It didn't look like you were only friends."
"Carlos…thinks I should move on," Javier said in a low voice. Andrea stepped down from the last stair. She was short and delicate, with Cuban tan skin and long curly hair. She wore a red shirt over a ruffled black skirt, which suddenly made me conscious of my own attire again. Oh why had I convinced myself to follow Susie's plans?
"Since when do you care what he thinks?"
"Since he suddenly took an interest in our family." Javier's voice had turned cold, and I wondered what had happened between him and his brother. I'd never much liked Carlos, but Javier had told me how he thought his brother would be better after the Revolution. It seemed that that, among so many other things, hadn't worked out as well as it should have.
"Should I…go back inside?" someone asked quietly. At first I thought it was Susie, but the unmistakable lilt meant the voice must belong to Andrea. I almost cursed out loud. I'd been hoping she didn't understand our conversation, but it seemed even that measure of privacy was gone.
Javier hesitated, and then shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
So where do we go from here? I thought to myself as Andrea hovered at the edge of the steps. She didn't seem sure whether this was something involving her or not. I remembered the words of a dance instructor at Hotel Oceana, before we'd left. The man who'd helped me work past the walls I'd put up around myself. "I know that it's scary as hell to let another person touch that part of you. But if you do, it's worth it." No. It wasn't worth it. Not now, not anymore.
"When I left," I began, figuring that I might as well say what needed to be said before leaving him for what would undoubtedly be the last time, "you said that you would wait for me. You promised. And I waited for you. Oh god Javier, did I mean anything to you? Or was I just some stupid Yankee, like Carlos always said? I waited for you. You don't understand what it was like for me." The tears were still fighting their desperate battle, and at any moment, if the wrong thing was said, I was afraid they would betray my true feelings.
"I do understand." More protests. More stupid protests.
Damn it all, why not go the whole mile? I was sunk no matter what I did. "I thought you loved me." Ouch. Well, like I said, it couldn't get much worse.
The despairing expression on Javier's face tugged painfully at my heart.
"I'll just go then," Andrea murmured. I heard the door thud softly, but I didn't look up from Javier's frantic gaze.
"I did!" he objected desperately. His arm twitched like he meant to reach for me.
That did it. Three warm droplets tipped over the edge and trickled down my cheeks.
"Great," I said, my voice quavering. "Just great. Sorry I messed up your night."
Fighting back some more sobs, I whipped around and started towards my impossible goal. The flared bottom of the orange dress hung limply around my knees, swishing regretfully as I strode away. The planet was spinning faster now, out of control; the hound had been beaten and left to die.
Then suddenly, everything, all of the darkness and the horror and the nausea seemed to melt away with one impossible touch. The brush of the fingertips on my shoulder, just like I'd hoped.
"No." His voice was soft.
I almost choked on my surprised gasp and turned, again, my eyes wide with shock. Javier's face was only a few inches from mine, his eyes intent on my face. "I do love you. I have waited for you."
Impossible.
Softly, his lips touched mine, and all the pain was deftly erased. I was where I wanted to be, exactly the place I had never wanted to leave, and vowed then and there that I never again would. I was with him, in his arms.
Impossibility meant nothing, while on the other hand…it meant everything.