Havana Best Friends (22 page)

Elena lowered her gaze to the floor. “I know what you mean. I kind of feel the same.” Instantly she wished she hadn’t admitted it. She always opened up to him, revealed what she hid from everybody else. As though he were a confessor. It was the only aspect of their relationship that remained unchanged, and she wanted to be free from that too.

He nodded, staring at Elena. “So, how are you doing?”

“I’m doing fine, thanks.”

“On vacation?”

“You know how it is.”

“Yeah. Have you … been to the beach or something?”

“No. I haven’t felt like it.”

“Would you like me to take you?”

Elena smiled sadly. “You never give up, do you?”

“My love for you will die when I die.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Elena said, angry now as well as irritated.

Domingo Rosas, from Army Counter-Intelligence, was the psychologist ordered to “look after” Elena and Pablo when their father was sentenced to thirty years in prison. Now fifty-five years old, he was the third man she had gone to bed with. When they met he was already married, had two daughters, and was one of the few army officers who had been promoted to the rank of major at thirty-five.

Dazzled by Elena’s beauty and intelligence, admiring her ability to cope with tragedy, and feeling sorry for her, the major took advantage of his privileged status in the family and successfully courted her. Aware that after the general’s traumatic experience she would have rejected his advances had she known he was married, he told Elena he was divorced. Rosas had the kind of job that allows considerable leeway, his wife was accustomed to his late hours, he dressed as a civilian most of the time, and for a year and a half the relationship progressed as an open, unfettered affair.

Rosas told Elena that after his divorce he had been assigned an apartment at an army building, but they should never go to his place as his boss was also his next-door neighbour. He had no phone there. He also explained that he would face serious consequences in the army if the relationship became public knowledge prior to setting a date for their marriage, so Elena ought to be mindful when she called him at his office as all calls were recorded. She should never use terms of endearment or call too frequently.

Elena was too inexperienced to become suspicious and took his word for it. After the first few months she discovered that what she felt for Domingo was a rather rational, sedate emotion. Sex was fine, yes, and she wished to have a family and a home of her own, but she would not get married before completing her studies.

For almost two years the real victim in the triangle was Rosas. Ripped apart by conflicting feelings, he lost weight. The major admired his wife, a decent, hard-working, self-sacrificing woman; he couldn’t find the courage to tell her that he no longer loved her. But the possibility of losing Elena was unbearable. It was especially difficult to confront General Miranda when he visited the prisoner to report on Pablo’s progress: at the end of their meetings, almost as an afterthought, he would tell Miranda his daughter was doing fine, didn’t need psychological counselling of any sort.

During a weekend in Guamá they got carried away and Elena became pregnant. She was concluding her sophomore year at university, feared an abortion, and felt certain her mother would lend a hand with the baby. She told Domingo she wanted to marry him. By the time he ran out of excuses and told her the truth, she was way into her fourth month and no abortion clinic would end the pregnancy.

The relationship broke down, Elena’s mother refused to speak to the major and reported his involvement with her daughter to the Ministry of the Armed Forces. The worst came nearly two years later, when Elena took her eighteen-month-old son to the Institute of Pediatrics for extensive tests. He was unable to stand, crawl, or sit; neither her family doctor nor the local clinic’s pediatrician could diagnose what was wrong. A CAT scan revealed that the boy had an inoperable brain tumour. Doctors told the
bewildered parents there was no hope; the tumour impaired his motor functions and, if it were malignant, and they suspected it was, the child would die when it started spreading to other areas of the brain.

Elena quit her studies and, for the next three years, devoted all of her time to caring for her son. Major Rosas visited whenever he could to see the boy and provide for him, secretly hoping to win back the woman he loved. The child died at age four and Elena was devastated. Six months later she returned to university.

Rosas was severely reprimanded, assigned to the province of Guantánamo, consigned to oblivion. In 1985, when hundreds of officers his age were honourably discharged, he was kept on active service. Fifteen years later he was still a major. And now, fidgeting and irritated, Elena Miranda realized that the final breakup was long overdue. He kept confusing her politeness with dormant love.

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s over, Domingo?”

“But, listen. It’s different now. I’ll get a divorce. We can get married, live here together, in peace, now that Pablo …”

“Domingo?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve been wrong all these years. You come to visit once in a while, I let you in, chat with you, try to be polite. You end up thinking I still feel something for you, that our relationship can be rebuilt. You’re wrong. I don’t love you any more. My love for you died seventeen years ago. It’s a lifetime, Domingo. Don’t you understand?”

“I just can’t resign myself to –”

“Domingo.”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for coming over. I appreciate your condolences. But I have things to do.”

“Can I drop by once in a while? Say hello?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m in love. He plans to move in soon.”

“Oh.”

Elena stood. Major Rosas remained seated, staring at her dumbfounded. “But you have never –”

“I have, Domingo, I have. I’ve had several love affairs in all these years. I just didn’t feel any obligation to tell you about every goddamn guy I go to bed with,” Elena said. Being so rude and cruel was trying; it made her feel miserable. But it had to end, she didn’t want to see him any more.

Looking hurt, Major Rosas got up and shuffled to her side. “Is this the end, Elena?”

“The end was seventeen years ago, Domingo. You never realized that. Our child kept us seeing each other. You wanted to spend a couple of hours with him once in a while. I agreed to it. But I felt nothing for you, nothing. After he died I should have severed all ties with you. I didn’t; it’s my fault. I felt compassion for you, for your …” Elena stopped in mid-sentence, not wanting to add insult to injury. “Let’s part like friends. I have nothing more to say. Goodbye, Domingo.”

With hunched shoulders, Mayor Rosas stepped outside. “Can I give you a hug?”

“No.”

She slammed the door shut, leaned against it, covered her face with her hands for an instant. Then she hurried to her room
to change. She would cover the nine blocks to the Copacabana on foot, ask for the Canadian couple, let them know she agreed to the search.

Marina felt almost certain that something had shaken the Cuban teacher, something that had made up her mind, but she thought it wise not to ask.

For the benefit of the hotel staff they greeted Elena as though they hadn’t seen her in a long time, then walked her to the pool, chose the farthest plastic table and ordered sandwiches and sodas. The sea was calm and the remains of daylight lingered over the horizon in a beautiful sunset. Elena seemed a little confused, as if wondering why they didn’t come straight to the point. Only when the waiter retreated did Sean ask, “Your coming here, Elena, is it because you’ve made a decision?”

“Yes, I have. You may search for the diamonds. If you find them we’ll split them the way you said, but I still don’t know if I’ll leave with you,” she blurted, like a child saying a prayer from memory.

Knowing how frustrated Sean had been in the afternoon, having witnessed his haste getting dressed a few minutes earlier, Marina detected considerable relief beneath his calm expression. They had been amazed when the desk clerk had called to report that a woman was looking for them in the lobby. Without discussing it, both had concluded they would have to wrestle a decision from Elena the following day at noon. “If she says no, keep calm. I’ll think of something,” Sean had whispered in her ear before leaving the hotel room.

“No problem,” said Sean, nodding in agreement when Marina
finished translating. “We assumed you might want to leave, begin a new life, but if you decide it’s better for you to stay here, we have no objection.”

A brief discussion ensued as to when it was best to begin. Sean and Marina wanted to do it right away. Elena asked how long it would take and if it would be noisy. Sean said not too long, they knew where the stones were, but a little noise was unavoidable. Elena glanced at her watch. It was 7:09 p.m.

“My neighbours may wonder what’s going on,” she observed.

“I’ll keep noise to a minimum,” Sean assured her. “You think the other tenants might be alarmed by a little hammering?”

Elena pondered the question. “Yes, but not with the intention of prying into my affairs. It’s just that, since I live alone now, some may wonder whether something has broken down and if I need help. Cubans are like that.”

“Can you say a plumber is fixing a tap?”

“I guess so.”

“Would they want to help the guy?”

Elena smiled. “No.”

The waiter returned with the order. When he left, Elena said, “I’m not hungry.”

Sean rested his hand on her forearm. “I’m not hungry either. But from now on we must be very careful. Nobody should have reason to suspect something untoward is going on. Not even here at the hotel. We ordered the sandwiches, we should eat them. Just nibble at them, or put them in your purse, as if to take them home.”

They ate and chatted some more. At a quarter to eight, after paying the bill, Sean grabbed his cane and they all returned to the lobby. The guests went up to their room; Elena waited, sitting in a comfortable davenport. Ten minutes later the couple came
down. Marina carried a medium-sized duffel bag, the empty-handed Sean leaned on his cane.

The drive took a minute and a half. While locking the driver’s door, Sean raised his eyes to the apartment building. Lights on in most apartments, empty balconies, deserted sidewalk. On the corner of Third A and 24th, where in May the foundations for a new building were being dug, four floors of load-bearing walls had already been erected. Approaching the entrance, he glanced at the Parque de la Quinta. It was dark, probably empty at this hour.

In the living room, Sean took off his jacket as Marina produced from her duffel bag a brand-new hammer, a chisel, a roll of cotton wool, scissors, two huge green towels, a small flashlight, and a spool of black insulating tape and laid them on the coffee table. Sean cut the cotton wool to the required size and wrapped a thick layer around the chisel, then tightly wound the tape over it. Only its sharp edge was left uncovered. In the time it took him to get the tool ready not one word was spoken. Elena watched in fascination. Marina grabbed the towels and the flashlight.

“I’m ready,” he said, lifting his eyes to Elena.

“Where is it?” the teacher asked in English. Her smile was a killer.

Thinking that he was too worldly to find a woman so attractive, Sean smiled too. “Your bathroom.”

As she led the way, she remembered that Marina had used the toilet on the evening they took her and Pablo to the
paladar
, Elena grinned at her own gullibility and naïveté. She had admitted into her home two complete strangers, allowed them to case the joint, been at their mercy. Luckily, Sean and Marina were nice people; had they been criminals, they could have killed her and fled with the stones. Suddenly, the teacher grasped the enormity
of the situation she had got herself into. What proof did she have that they were honest, decent people? A chill ran down her spine, the smile evaporated. She kept walking briskly along the hall, head high, unhesitating, but from that moment on, Elena Miranda was on alert. She turned the handle and opened the bathroom door, then noticed that Sean had left his cane in the living room; he was no longer limping.

Sean approached the bathtub, climbed over the edge, and sat on its rim, facing the soap dish.
So, it was the bathtub soap dish
, Marina thought. She hadn’t been told which of the pieces recessed in the walls hid the diamonds. One of Sean’s stupid demands, to which Carlos had agreed. She spread out the towels on the bottom of the bathtub.
To deaden the noise if he drops a tool
, Elena thought. Sean placed the sharp edge of the chisel in the upper border of the soap dish and hit the tool’s blunt end with the hammer once.

“Too loud, Elena?”

Marina interpreted.

“I don’t think so.”

But in any case, before starting work, Sean removed a folded handkerchief from the back pocket of his trousers and lay it over the chisel’s blunt end.

He worked with great care, pretty fast for an amateur, with minimal noise. Close to finishing, his aim faltered and the soap dish broke. As soon as he removed the loose parts, he kept cutting to dislodge the remains. Then he laid the hammer and the chisel down on the towels.