Seeing her discomfort, JZ offered her an easy out. “Look, I really am hungry, but if this is a bad time, I’ll just eat here and avoid the lobster.” He shrugged offhandedly. “Anyway, I’ll soon be ready for sleep.”
“No, no, no!” Liliana erupted. “If you are sleepy, the Professor’s food will wake you up, for sure.”
Qui added, “It is spicy.”
“I’ve been told everything in Cuba’s spicy,” he replied. Qui shot him a sharp look to which he just smiled.
“It is a bad thing only if you like everything bland-like American dancing and American processed food,” Qui retorted.
“Qui! Be nice to JZ,” Liliana demanded. “He’s new here.”
“Have you ever been to America?” he asked Qui point blank.
“No, I confess, I’ve never been; I’ve been spared that much.”
“Ahhh…then all you know about America and Americans is second hand? Stories told by your parents perhaps?”
“My mother is dead, and my father has no time for storytelling.”
“Then where do you get your notions of America?”
“We get American movies here,” said Liliana. “I love them!”
“Ahhh…American cinema, of course, and I suppose you think we all do drugs and carry guns and live in mansions?”
An audible and annoyed hummmph escaped Qui. “Well, sir, you are in a Cuban mansion-the Swiss Embassy-most of the day.”
“Ahhh, the ‘star’ of our show has finally arrived,” said Liliana seeing her dance partner, Antonio, finally make his entrance. “I gotta leave you two and go to work. Qui, call the Varelas. Now!” Liliana danced into Antonio’s arms. The change in the lighting and music signaled the beginning of the night’s entertainment.
JZ smiled at Qui, who returned an exasperated look. “Why won’t you have dinner with me?” he asked, casting aside any earlier pretense of begging off.
Qui pouted. “I have work to do, and you are too forward.”
“I know you can’t be working in that outfit. If you want, we could eat here.” Grinning he added, “We could share the lobster!”
This suggestion only made her shudder. “No lobster here, never!”
“OK, so what harm is there in dining with me? You’ll be safe. I promise I won’t bite, nibble perhaps a little, but no biting.” His eyes shone with humor.
“You might lose something valuable, talking like that. Remember Maui Jim? I was on the verge of decking him when you sent the drinks over.”
“I sensed that. I’m psychic that way. It’s on my resume, too. You needn’t fear me.”
“Fear you? That’s just nonsense. Besides, even-”
“You don’t need protection?”
“Will you quit finishing my sentences for me? You’ll have to stop that-”
“Annoying habit, I know. Sorry.”
“You’re doing it even as you apologize.”
“But I am sorry.”
“You ought to be.”
“Besides?” he asked.
“Besides what?”
“Besides-you were about to say besides something when I interrupted.”
“Oh…besides…besides, I am not sure a woman who is seeing a man exclusively ought be seen with another man-alone-in a hotel-eating lobster.”
“Oh, I see. I had thought Cuban women more ahhh…”
“Adventurous? Loose, perhaps?”
“Liberated.” He laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Now you’re finishing my sentences. Must be contagious.”
“That’s not funny. At all.” She smiled in spite of herself.
“Look, I’m famished. Let’s just eat, anywhere. Please, my treat.”
He started to stand, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him down. “Wait…have you seen Liliana and Antonio dance? They’re so good together.”
The dance music had started, and as he turned to watch, the two began a slow tango. Languorously slow. Antonio and Liliana moved around and about one another like two birds in flight but of one mind. A study in seduction, arms sliding, lightly touching, eyes full of promise, legs entwining. Qui was right. They expressed the passion and essence of the very word tango in a way that compelled JZ’s eyes to watch. He simply could not do otherwise. “I love the tango,” he whispered in Qui’s ear.
“Yes, so do I.”
“It’s like watching an unfolding poem this dance, a poem of movement set to music. It’s like…like fine-”
“-fine sex,” she said, “I know.”
“Wine…I was about to say wine, but frankly, you’re more on target.”
“In life the dance is everything.” Her eyes never leaving the dancing pair, she added, “Life and death and everything in between, it’s all a tango.”
“Like good literature, yes.”
“Yes. What we do with the time between the dates on our tombstones, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah…I think I do.”
She laughed lightly. “Or something like that.”
After a few moments, JZ realized he’d better start talking before his body responded to this incredible display of stylized foreplay on the dance floor, and the surprising turn of words at the table whispered between them. He wondered just how devoted she was to this boyfriend she’d mentioned. All of this colored by the scent of her enticing perfume.
“You’re right, they’re very good,” he commented on the dancers while staring at Qui, who also watched the floorshow in rapt attention, lips slightly parted. While JZ wanted to touch her cheek and trace her full lips with a finger, instead he reached over and laid a hand on her arm, discovering warm, soft skin.
“Shall we-”
“-dance? No one dances when Antonio is on the floor. Unwritten law.”
“Then shall we go?”
She smiled, back in character. “Yes, I’m hungry now.”
17
JZ met the Varelas, a large gregarious family, who indeed routinely turned their home into a restaurant of Cuban cuisine. They liberally plied JZ and Qui with all manner of delicacies and specialties: fried plantains, black beans and rice, yucca, boliche, tomatoes with fresh cilantro, finishing with flan.
“Now this is Cuban food with attitude,” Qui told JZ.
“Agreed, Liliana didn’t exaggerate,” he replied. “The food’s great, and I’m stuffed.” The Varelas’s meal proved the best JZ’d had since he’d arrived in Havana. Having paid outrageous prices at the Palacio, he gave the Varelas the equivalent even though they insisted no charge for a friend of Quiana’s.
For JZ there was so much in the experience beyond the meal itself. He’d been openly welcomed into the Varela home, and it had afforded him the opportunity to watch Qui in a family setting. He enjoyed watching her delight in this simple exchange. At the same time, the Varelas took enormous delight in cooking and in pleasing their guests. By the time they sliced into the flan, JZ felt he’d devoured enough for the rest of the week.
Swallowing the last of his dessert, JZ groaned. “Ahhh… now I really need to begin jogging again.”
“The Malecon’s great for a morning jog or the beach sand! That’s a real workout.”
The talk, laughter, and camaraderie made JZ feel like a stray taken in and surrounded with sustenance for body and spirit-something he’d not felt since arriving in Cuba, the entire experience a welcome surprise. “This hospitality…so unexpected in a communist country, closed in so many ways,” JZ said quietly.
“You see how Cubans radiate a love of life-”
“Yes, an openness, a spirit of giving that I find pleasantly surprising.”
“-this spirit exists, but your American prejudices can blind you to it.”
On a deeper level, JZ, while not fully understanding the complexity of this woman, had seen beyond her professional veneer to her spirit. Further, this evening clearly illustrated how caring and trusting relationships in this tortured paradise could be. As a result, JZ privately conceded his own preconceived notions of Cuba and its people. While he was himself Cuban-American, having grown up in Miami, he had a great deal to learn about Cuba and its people.
When finally they escaped the ‘clutches’ of the Varela family and stood in the cool night air, Qui turned and said to him, “I will never go hungry for food or friends.”