Boy Who Said No : An Escape to Freedom (9781608090815) (31 page)

Rosa didn't own many records so she played what she had over and over—but no one seemed to mind. At first, she was nervous about me being under the bed with company around but, after a while, she began to relax. I could tell from the tone of her voice. The sound of laughter rang out, and the floor vibrated with the footfalls of dancing.

On both days, I stayed hidden until the front door closed in the evening. From my position flat under the bed, I watched the feet of people coming and going to use the bathroom. When no one was watching, my cousins would slip me some fried plantains or a glass of Cuban cider under the bed and whisper
Feliz Navidad.

Since I had no contact with Sophia and Rigo, I had no idea how Magda was doing. I was thinking about her all of the time, missing her terribly, and hoping she was singing Christmas carols and sipping
crème de vié
somewhere sunny and nice.

I wondered whether she was still wearing the ring I had given her. And I wished from the bottom of my heart that I could give her a gift.

On December twenty-eighth, Cuni came by to cut my hair and to tell me that the trip he had originally planned had been cancelled. I could hardly believe my ears. It had been a long and nerve-racking wait, far too long to have my hopes dashed at this late date. I felt angry, deflated, and curious about what had gone wrong.

“What in God's name happened?” I asked, incredulous. I tried to mask the disappointment in my voice, but it was impossible. Whatever had transpired, I knew it wasn't Cuni's fault, and I didn't want to take it out on him. Still, the news was disheartening.

“Macho had arranged for a big boat to take people out, but he's backed off,” said Cuni. He looked somewhat relieved.

I took a deep breath. “What was the problem?”

“Macho's older brother got wind of it, and he pressured him to cancel the operation. Macho decided it would be safer to lay low for a while.”

My heart dropped at the news. I didn't know how much longer I could impose upon Luis and Rosa, or how much longer I could hide under the bed without being discovered. The sands in the hourglass were running low. I tried to corral my emotions. Cuni studied my reaction.

Surprisingly, he said, “There's another opportunity you might find of interest.” I looked up, amazed. The timing could not have been better.

“What's that?” I said, afraid I had misheard him.

“I got a message from Señor Lopez that he has a trusted friend
who's taking Joey and Pedro out of the country on Tuesday. Would you want to join them?”

“Tell me more about it,” I said, although I had to admit the plan sounded promising.

“It's a good-size boat and seven or eight boys are going, including his sons. He's willing to pay the passage for your uncle.”

I canted my head, thinking. “That's very generous of him. Let me talk it over with Luis.”

Cuni nodded. “Fine with me. I want some time to ask around, make sure everything's on the up-and-up. Let's talk again on Saturday.”

Luis was excited about the proposed trip, especially since Lopez believed it was safe enough for his own children. He thought Lopez would be extra careful after his boys nearly died during the last trip. Besides, Luis was eager to make a move before something happened to any—or all—of us.

When I informed Cuni of our decision on Saturday, he sighed. His expression gave me pause. Something was wrong.

“What is it?” I asked, perplexed. Cuni looked like he wanted to tell me something, but he didn't know how.

He swallowed hard. “I trust Lopez. I think he's a great guy. He's helped a lot of people.” A moment of silence elapsed.

“But?” I prompted, concerned about the direction of the conversation.

Cuni hesitated a moment. “I guess I just need to come out and say it. I don't want you to go on this trip.”

“What?” My voice betrayed my dismay. “Why?” Since Cuni had suggested this trip in the first place, I wanted to know why he had changed his mind. I felt exasperated.

Cuni shook his head. “I don't know this friend of his. And I haven't been able to learn anything about him, including what precautions
he's taken. I'm a little leery of the situation. I don't want to chance it.”

“What is your concern?”

“Too many are people involved,” said Cuni as if he were thinking out loud. “There's a real chance for trouble. I'm afraid word might leak out.”

“But Lopez is letting his kids go. Surely he's looked into this. He must think it's safe.”

“I hope so,” said Cuni. “But nothing in this business is guaranteed. And I don't have a good feeling about it.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and said in a hoarse voice, “I hate to do this to you, Frankie, but let me tell Lopez you won't be going.”

I faced Cuni. This was the first time he had ever called me Frankie. I knew in my gut that he cared about me. The look on Cuni's face and the tension in his voice were enough to make me agree not to go.

“All right, if that's what you think. But please thank Señor Lopez for his generosity and tell him how sorry my uncle and I are that we won't be joining his sons.”

Cuni patted me on the back and sighed. “It may not seem like it right now, Frankie. But I think you'll look back on this as a good decision.”

“I hope not,” I said.

Cuni looked momentarily confused. But as soon as he processed my implication he nodded.

“I understand. You're just hoping nothing goes wrong for the boys.”

“For them and for everyone else.”

Cuni was silent for a moment. He shook his head slightly and draped his arm around my shoulder.

“I don't know when or how, Frankie, but I promise someday I'll get you safely out of the country.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I sure hope so.”

• • •

The fate of the Lopez boys had occupied my mind all weekend. After our previous harrowing experience, I was praying this trip would go smoothly—for everyone. The fact that Cuni had reservations about it made me nervous, very nervous.

Tuesday night I could hardly sleep for worry. I tossed and turned and finally got up and drank a glass of milk. I looked out the window at the night sky. I was hoping for calm weather and that a safe boat headed for the States would take everyone aboard. If not—I rotated my head and breathed deeply. My skin turned to gooseflesh just thinking about it.

Wednesday morning broke warm and sunny and, as usual, I spent the entire day under the bed. After the sun went down Wednesday night, someone knocked on the front door. My uncle answered it, and Cuni came in looking somber and shaken. I was outside in the dark doing push-ups when Rosa called me into the house in a voice full of angst. I scoured her face for clues as to what might have happened.

I looked at Cuni and walked toward him. He was slump shouldered and sad, and I knew something was wrong. I took a deep breath and a step backward.

“I'm so sorry,” said Cuni, extending a hand toward me. I looked at him, confused. My eyes widened, fearing he was bringing me very bad news. My mouth went dry not knowing what to think. He put his hand on my shoulder and shook his head.

I looked into his ghostly eyes and asked, “What is it?”

“You'd better sit down,” he said, pointing to the sofa.

“I'm fine,” I replied swiftly. “Just tell me.”

Cuni cleared his throat. “I have news from the underground.”

“The boys?”

Cuni sighed. “Yes.”

I scrutinized his face. It took me a moment to focus. His hair was askew and his chin was blue with stubble.

“What happened?”

“Joey—” He stopped speaking as tears filled his eyes. His voice was rough and strangled.

“What,
what?
”

“I was so afraid of this. Someone talked, I'm sure of it.”

“Tell me.”

“The boys were right at the edge of the beach in Cojimar. They were just past the mango trees when they were surrounded by dozens of soldiers. When the soldiers screamed for the boys to stop, they all ran in different directions.”

“And?”

“The soldiers let loose with gunfire. Six boys died.”

“Joey?”

“Joey was shot dead in the back. He was covered in blood and lying face down in the sand. He never had a chance.”

The muscles in my cheeks wilted, and my hand flew to my mouth. I looked at Cuni who was visibly upset.

“Dear God in heaven.”

My emotions suddenly became ungovernable. I needed a moment to calm them. I closed my eyes and pinched my nose with my thumb and forefinger. All I could think of was how happy I was that Joey had won our last game of gin rummy. I remembered him looking at me with a gleaming smile and eyes crinkled with delight.

“And Pedro?”

“He was beside himself with grief, holding on to Joey. The soldiers had to drag him away from his brother.”

“Where is he now?”

“He's been taken into custody. Since he's a minor, he'll get five years in jail.”

“Five years,” I repeated, thinking out loud. Pedro would be twenty before he got out of prison. Those were pretty important years of your life to miss. And then he'd be regarded with suspicion for the rest of his life.

“Is Señor Lopez all right?”

“The soldiers found out from someone involved in the operation that Lopez had funded the escape. The army went to his home and arrested him for subversive activity. Maria was sobbing uncontrollably when they led him away. She was inconsolable. He won't even be allowed to attend his son's funeral.”

“Christ,” I said. I stood silent for a moment in shock. “And his sentence?”

“Seven years.”

I looked at Cuni. I had no words, either for the death of Joey or the arrest of Pedro and Señor Lopez. The things they did to prisoners flashed through my mind. Señor Lopez might be able to survive it, but the effects would follow Pedro forever. I opened my arms and hugged Cuni. Sweat ran from my forehead to my jowl. He embraced me and patted me on the back.

“It's a disaster for the whole Lopez family,” he said softly. “Everyone is devastated.”

“I can only imagine. Maria and Esme—” I looked at my uncle who would have also been killed if we had gone on the trip. I thought about what that would have meant for him and his family. Rosa would be a widow and the girls would be fatherless. And if I had gone, chances are I'd also be dead.

My bottom lip quivered and my hands began to tremble. I slipped them into my pockets so Cuni wouldn't notice. Fidel's face flashed through my mind. I imagined him brandishing his rifle.

“Young boys, for Christ's sake. What chance did they have? They—”

I was so full of grief and rage, I couldn't finish my sentence.

A couple of weeks elapsed before I heard from Cuni again. Since our last conversation, I had hoped he would come up with something for me sooner rather than later. I knew much of what went into planning such a trip was out of his control. But my patience was stretched paper thin. He arrived at my uncle's house late one night, relaxed and in good spirits.

“We're getting ready for the next trip,” he said. He appeared more confident about this trip than he had about the last one.

“Who's going?” I asked.

“Same as last time. Nine army men. They all think you walk on water.”

“Only because you told them so.”

Cuni chuckled. “They think of you as a hero—seven feet tall with arms of steel.”

I waved my hand in dismissal. “I'm feeling more like a bedbug than a hero right now. Who's the captain?”

“Macho.”

I leaned back and closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about Pedro and Joey. A small tear formed at the corner of my eye. I wiped it away with my knuckle.

“I hope it goes better than it did last time.”

“It'll be different this time,” said Cuni. “Macho's taking his whole family with him—his wife and three children.”

I was very surprised at this news. “They're leaving the country, too?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“When?”

“February or March—weather permitting.”

I sighed heavily. “It can't be too soon for me.”

Under Lieutenant Brown's direction, the army revisited all my relatives to make sure I wasn't hiding in their homes. Every method was being used to bring me in.

Rigo and Sophia remained the main suspects associated with my escape and for several weeks the army followed them wherever they went. Sophia did her best to shake them—and sometimes she did. In an effort to keep them in the country—and thereby involved in the investigation—Pino filed paperwork to revoke their visas. Fortunately, his timing was just one day off.

On February 15, 1967, visas were issued for Magda's Aunt Sophia, Uncle Rigo, and Rigo, Jr. Their bags were packed, and they were ready to leave for the airport the minute they received the documents.

Luckily, their airplane lifted off the runway only hours before Pino came to their home to arrest them. I was unable to speak to them before they left. But Luis heard through the grapevine that they made it safely to Florida. I couldn't have been happier at the news.

My extended stay at her home was beginning to wear on Rosa. A high-strung, fearful person, she was looking for a way to calm her nerves. Like several of her friends, she occasionally frequented a fortune-teller by the name of Balbina. Several of Balbina's predictions had come true in the past, and Rosa put a lot of stock in what she had to say.

Unbeknownst to Luis and me, Rosa decided to pay her a visit. Rosa came home that night visibly shaken. She was distracted when she made dinner, spilling boiling water all over the floor and mumbling incoherently while she cleaned it up.

After we ate dinner and I finished doing my exercises, she sat down with Luis and me to tell us what she had learned. Her face was drawn and ashen as we took our seats at the kitchen table.