1Finding My Son, Finding Myself
Chapter Eight
1229 Calle Central
Dorado, Puerto Rico
Carlos Vasquez ushered his family from the doorway into the living room, momentarily torn between the choice of who to console: his wife, who, like he, had just learned of the death of their son, Benjamin, or his daughter and grandson, who had just had their hearts and hopes shattered, once again. He went to his wife's side, having decided that at least Maria Elena and Roberto had each other.
Carlos hugged his sobbing wife close and kissed her head. "It's okay, Rosa. I know it still hurts."
She looked up at her husband with tear-filled eyes. "I thought that I was prepared for this...for news like this...we knew he would come to a bad ending, but..." She leaned into her husband's chest, the mournful sobbing overtaking her voice."
Maria Elena and Roberto looked on, he, still in his mother's embrace, though their own tears had subsided.
Carlos continued comforting his wife, "Shhh-shhh, it's all right." Inwardly, Carlos wasn't half as upset. He knew that Rosa somehow blamed herself for the way Benjamin and turned out, but as for himself, he was stronger and, maybe, just more hardened by life. He had known that Benny was trouble from the time he was 15 years old — and the older he got, the more trouble he became. As far as he was concerned, Benny hadn't been a real son to him for a long, long time. He was a disgrace to the family; especially after the events of twelve years earlier, he considered Benny "dead" to him. And, over the years, whenever a pang of guilt managed to hit him for feeling that way, all he had to do to remedy it was to look at the face of his grandson– sweet and innocent– 'Berto was his pride and joy. If Benny's plan had worked 12 years ago, Roberto would never have been born. No, Carlos wasn't upset, at all. If anything, he was relieved.
Maria Elena and Roberto walked to the living room, joining Carlos in a 'family hug' with Rosa.
"C'mon," Carlos urged, "It's been a rough night. Let's all go get some rest." They said their 'good-nights' and, as Carlos went through his usual routine of making sure all the windows and doors were locked, Rosa headed for their bedroom and Maria Elena walked Roberto to his room.
"You get your pj's on and brush your teeth. I'll come back to tuck you in, okay?"
"And say our prayers," Roberto reminded her.
"Yes," she said, smiling, "And to say our prayers."
Carlos had joined Rosa in bed. She snuggled closer as he put his arm around her. A long, deep sigh escaped her lips.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I will be," she answered. "What do you think about everything else that went on here tonight?"
"Oh, our visitor?" he answered her question with a question. "It was nothing. The Police said he was cop from New York — maybe they sent him to notify us about Benjamin."
"I don't think so," Rosa skeptically answered.
"Why's that?"
"Because you spotted him in his car at least three times. If all he was supposed to do was tell us about Benjamin, all he had to do was ring the bell. But he kept coming back – watching."
"So what is it you're thinking?"
"I'm thinking that with Benjamin — gone now — now it's safe for Maria Elena and Roberto — it's safe for Robert to come find them."
"Ahhhhh, Rosa, you shouldn't go getting your hopes up — OR put any more ideas in Maria's head.
"I'm just saying, Carlos..."
He kissed her forehead and smiled. "Just don't say anything to Maria or 'Berto, okay? I can't stand seeing the disappointed looks on their faces one more time, all right?"
"All right," she grudgingly abided, while reaching to turn out the lamp. "But I'm not giving up hope."
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Maria Elena tucked the blanket under Roberto's arms. "You ready to say your prayers?"
He nodded.
"Okay, let's go," she said, as they made the sign of the Cross in unison. It had been their nightly ritual since he was old enough to talk. She would sit on the side of his bed, silently listening and praying along with her little boy. "Dear God, thank you for this day. Thank you for my food and clothes and my home. Please Bless all the poor people in the world who aren't as fortunate as me. Thank you for my Mom and Grandma and Grandpa. And please keep my Daddy safe, 'cause it's really dangerous being a Police-man in New York City. And please help my Daddy find Mommy and me so we can be a family. Amen."
"Amen," Maria Elena said. "That was very nice, sweetheart," she said, leaning over to kiss his forehead.
She began standing up to leave, but stopped. "Did you remember to put on your "Good Nights?"
He rolled his eyes and sighed with slight embarrassment, "Yes, ma'am."
"Okay, I was just checking," she said, leaning to kiss him again.
Before reaching for the light switch, Roberto called to her. "Mommy — is it really true that when Daddy had 'accidents' when he was a little boy he used to get yelled at and spanked?
"I'm afraid so," she nodded.
"But it wasn't his fault. I feel bad for him," Roberto said, empathetically.
"Me too, Sweetie. Don't worry – you'll grow out of it, just like he did," she said with a reassuring smile.
"How old was Daddy when he outgrew it?"
"I think he said he was twelve, honey." She stood in the doorway, smiling, as she watched Roberto count with his fingers, doing the math 'til his twelfth birthday. He wanted to be exactly like his father, in every way.
Simultaneously, in NYC
Alex exited the bathroom, having finished packing all of Bobby's toiletries in his travel case. She watched with amusement as he stood in front of his open closet doors, trying to decide what to wear.
"Want me to help?" she offered.
He threw up his hands, "G-go ahead, I don't know what to wear...I don't know what to bring." Alex laughed as he sat on the corner of the bed. It was as if the nervous excitement of his trip — the thought of finally being with Maria Elena – not to mention meeting his son for the first time– had immobilized every decisive brain cell in his head. He watched, staring but not really seeing, as Alex sorted through the hangers and piles of folded shirts and pants.
"This one...this one...this one...definitely THIS one...these jeans...these...these...you have shorts and a bathing suit?"
"In-in-in one of the drawers," he stammered, his finger pointing and hand waving at the armoire."
Alex laughed, "I wonder if he does that?" (She was alluding to his hand gestures).
"Does what?" Bobby asked, not following the humor of her line of thought.
"These Tommy's...you should wear these when you see her...and this shirt," Alex advised, holding up the dark gray Milano Uomo, "You look great in it – it makes your hair look nice...not with the round sunglasses, though...wear the rectangles."
Bobby had all he could do to follow along with her instructions. His mind was elsewhere.
"Are you listening?" she joked.
"Y-yes, yes. I umm, I didn't know you noticed all that stuff."
"Oh, that's right," she began teasing him with sarcasm, "I got my Gold Shield in the box of Fruity Pebbles I bought last week."
He snorted with laughter. "I'm sorry...I just meant..."
"I know, I know. Well, I do notice — and if you wear what I tell you, so will she!" Alex guaranteed.
"Hey, Eames — thanks."
Here she was again; five years his junior but feeling all maternal as she readied him for his trip. She felt like a proud mother getting her son ready for his first date.
"Where're your Ralph Lauren's? You need those, too!"
"Um...oh, over there on the chair – I wore 'em last Saturday."
"Well, you can wear them on the plane down — hopefully you didn't spill any Thai on 'em; then you can get changed into the stuff I told you before you go see her," Alex said, bossily.
Bobby gave her a look that said, "what are you talking about —on the plane – getting changed before I see her – I'm heading straight there!"
Alex easily read his mind. "Bobby, you can't just show up there in the middle of the night...by the time you land and get a car and a map and figure out where you're going, it could be 4 in the morning!"
He sat, listening to her reasoning.
"Look, what you should do is get a hotel, try to catch some sleep – I know you're not gonna' be able to sleep on the plane down – then shower and shave–did you hear that part? ... and put on the clean stuff I picked out, then go see her." She let out an exasperated sigh. She really did have to think for him.
"Okay, okay," he appeased her.
"We haven't even checked on flights yet – what if there isn't one tonight?"
"There has to be — I have to get there!"
Alex was already walking towards the phone on the night stand. She picked it up and dialed 'information'. "Start hanging that stuff in your garment bag while I'm on with the airline," she directed.
"Good evening...I'd like to make a reservation for tonight...if you have any flights going out to San Juan...oh, really...well, when is the next one? 7:20 a.m.?"
Bobby looked on, disheartened, as Alex continued.
"Nothing to San Juan out of JFK or La Guardia? Really! What time does that leave? Can I book it now, on the phone with you?" She motioned with her fingers to Bobby to hand over his credit card. "Yes, on VISA...the number is 4416..."
Bobby sighed with relief. He had a reservation. Alex hung up the phone, smiling. "You're all set – you're leaving on the red-eye out of Newark at 12:10 a.m."
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Her parents and Roberto had gone to sleep hours ago, but Maria Elena spent the night –as she had spent a thousand others over the past twelve years- tossing and turning, thinking about Bobby.
Her memories were fresh in her mind because she had replayed them, over and over – committing every detail of Bobby and their precious time together. She remembered his 'look' and his walk; his voice, his lips, his eyes– but most important, his character. She remembered, especially, the night in Atlantic City and the things that he had said in convincing her that his love for her was real and not part of the deceit being perpetrated on her brother. She remembered the look on his face, as the realization of the depth of her love for him finally sunk in.
She began thinking about the man – the Cop from New York that had been spotted watching her house. Her hopeful attitude convinced her that Bobby had sent the other cop – "to report back to him about us," she thought to herself; "To see what? To see if Roberto and I lived here with my parents? To see if I had found someone else? ..."
The sing-song chirping of the Coqui roused her from her thoughts and she, instead, turned her attention to the song which was softly playing on the radio near her bed:
"...You're always on my mind, day and night
When I think of you, boy, ev'rything feels so right
Well, I often think of the happy times we spent together
And I just can't wait to tell you that I love you
Time keeps passing by--you're not here
I feel so all alone when I don't have you near
But I often think of the happy times we spent together
And I just can't wait to tell you that I love you
I'm missing my baby, I'm missing my baby
I gotta hold you tight and never let you out of my sight
Missing my baby, I'm missing my baby
I gotta feel your heartbeat next to mine
Gotta feel it
(Spoken:)
Sometimes, at night, when I go to sleep
I hold my pillow tight, thinking of you 'til it hurts
But, in my mind, I know you're mine
And, somewhere, you're thinking of me, too
(Sung:)
Gotta have you, gotta hold you
Got to have your lovin'
And tell you that I love you
And I really miss you
I'm missing my baby, I'm missing my baby
I gotta have you near, right here by my side
Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh
Missing my baby (oh, oh)"
Without even realizing it, she found herselfclutching her pillow – just as the song said. Tears flowed from her eyes as she finally gave into the exhaustion of her heart and mind, drifting off to a fitful slumber.
Newark Liberty Airport, Newark, New Jersey
Alex's driving bordered on reckless, as she sped to ensure that Bobby made his flight. She had informed him on the drive over from Manhattan that, while he was in the shower, she had called Sanchez to pick Bobby up upon his arrival at the Luis Munoz Marin International Airport in San Juan. His flight would be arriving at about 4:00 a.m. and none of the airport's car rental agencies would be open until 7:30.
"Besides," she told him, "I figured he could at least drive you past the house so you'll know your way there later. He said you're welcome to 'crash' at his folks' place, or he'll bring ya' to a decent hotel."
Bobby, again, seemed to be lost in thought and not paying attention, but finally asked, "So...I didn't even think about it earlier...so Sanchez knows...everything."
Alex smiled, "Yeah– he put two and two together and had it figured out, but when she came running out of the house calling 'Bobby,' that pretty much sealed the deal for him.
Bobby was silent for a moment, then turned to Alex. "You really gonna' let him take you out?"
"Well, I wasn't, at first...but seeing how he's dragging his butt outta' bed at 4 in the morning to pick you up, I figure it's the least I can do," she laughed.
The SUV swerved hard, as she almost missed the "Continental - Departures" exit.
"Don't ever complain about my driving, again he teasingly cautioned her.
She pulled in, directly in front of a waiting sky cap and pressed the trunk release button. "Well, this is it!" she happily announced.
He hesitated, turning towards Alex. "Eames," he said, his hands all in motion, "Alex — I-I-I d-don't know what I would've done without you this week."
"Yeah, well – I'm not looking forward to tomorrow – facing Deakins alone. I'm gonna' have some explainin' to do."
"Jus-just tell him the truth," Bobby said, resigned to having to reveal it sooner or later, "...and if he's gonna' yell, just tell him to call me on my cell — I don't want him yelling at you, okay?"
"Okay," she smiled.
She leaned in to hug him and he wrapped his long, strong arm around her, pulling her close. "Thank you, for everything," he whispered in her ear.
"You're welcome," she responded, kissing his cheek and patting his back. "Good luck! And enjoy yourself."
He got out of the SUV and retrieved his luggage from the trunk. He walked back to the open passenger door, for one last 'good-bye." Alex read the worry on his face and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry– he's gonna' love you!"
Bobby nodded, his head slightly tilted to one side. "Bye — I'll call ya' ". He closed the door and was on his way.
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San Juan, Puerto Rico
Bobby's flight had arrived on time and Sanchez was there, as promised, to greet him. The two men talked during their drive; Sanchez recounting the facts revealed by his surveillance, as well as the events of the previous night –Bobby wanted to hear the particulars again, first hand. In turn, Bobby filled in Sanchez with a more detailed history of his relationship with Vasquez, specifically, Maria Elena and how he came to be in the situation at hand.
As hard as it was for him to believe, Bobby now found himself a little more relaxed. He enjoyed Sanchez' company – "He has a down-to-earth, laid back feeling about him — he makes me feel calm," Bobby thought to himself. The drive in the darkness of the cool morning air was calming to him, as well. It was refreshing and fragrant and, after leaving the City, heading towards Dorado, the rhythmic crashing of the waves onto the beach could be heard in the distance. It lulled him into a peacefulness that his nerves hadn't enjoyed in a while — certainly not since the event of the previous Friday.
Sanchez had driven in silence for the past ten or fifteen minutes, leaving Bobby to his thoughts. "Here we are," he finally spoke, as he navigated a right turn onto Calle Central. "It's the white one– almost down at the end on the right – closest to the beach."
"Slow down – I just wanna' look," Bobby said.
"Okay, I'll go slow, but I ain't stoppin' – the old guy might call the cops again and I ain't gettin' caught here snoopin' twice," he joked, but seriously meant it.
As they slowly cruised by the house, Bobby had all he could do to restrain himself from jumping out. He gazed at the house, imagining them sleeping peacefully inside: his beautiful Maria Elena and his son– who he already loved– he couldn't figure out how, but knew he did.
"There," Sanchez said. "It's easy if you go the way I just brought you. I'll write ya' the directions."
"Thanks." He glanced at Sanchez, afraid to ask, but had to: "C-can you pull a "U" at the corner and drive back the other way?"
Sanchez just gave him a look.
"I know, I know...but just, just pass one more time," Bobby pleaded.
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After their 'practice run,' Sanchez brought Bobby back to his parents' house. He showed him to the spare bedroom, the bathroom and brought him to the kitchen, asking if he wanted anything to eat.
"No thanks. I think I'll just try laying down and resting. Thanks, Sanchez."
"No problem, man," he assured. He walked over to Bobby and handed him the car keys. Bobby looked at him with question.
"I'm goin' back to bed 'til noon, man! I'm on vacation. You take the wheels – you're on your own." He headed towards his own bedroom, turning back to wish Bobby luck and give him a word of warning. "Hey, Bobby – good luck, man —and um...make sure you close your bedroom door tight...you gotta' watch out for Paco," he said with a grin.
"Wh-who's 'Paco'? Bobby asked, envisioning another of Sanchez' wild and crazy friends or, perhaps, a grouchy relative who didn't appreciate 'company' staying at the house. Bobby suddenly felt uneasy being there.
"It's my mom's crazy dog, man. If you don't latch the door tight, he'll jump on the bed and hump your leg all night!" Sanchez said with a hearty laugh.
It made Bobby laugh, too.
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If Bobby had dozed off for an hour, it was a lot. He was too wound up– anxious to get back to the Vasquez' house. He was up, showered, shaved and dressed – all in accordance with Alex's instructions, and out of the house before any members of the Sanchez family were even awake.
He followed Darius' directions and easily found the house, pulling the dark sedan into the driveway, behind the family's cars.
It was 7:20 a.m. He turned off the engine and sat, trying to compose himself by taking a few deep breaths. It didn't work. He felt his heart racing as he looked at the house — especially when he saw the front door open.
END Chapter Eight
Musical credits: Missing My Baby – Selena
FYI: "Coqui" Small frogs, indigenous to Puerto Rico and other islands. The male frogs "sing" all night, until dawn, in a high, two-syllable chirp. They're considered to be 'good luck'.