“What do I know? It could just be some tale of my granma’s.”
“But if the muchacho doctor invites her, well excuse me, but Cuba is a lot better.”
“What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything, but Cuba’s got sun, beaches and pretty mulattas, I saw it all on television. Do you want to compare that with snow, frozen water that turns into ice and whitish women with minuscule boobs?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
I thought I heard something in the yard.
“Did you hear something?”
“Nothing. What?”
“Hold it.”
Something, yes, close to the wall that divided Senhor Tuarles’s house from Granma Nineteen’s house.
“The parrots?”
“What kind of parrot’s that? It’s Charlita.”
We ran forward, then went in stealthily along the side of the veranda so that Granma wouldn’t call us. The yard was dark. The parrot His Name shouted out to expose us: “Down with American imperialism.” We made an effort not to laugh: the words came from a television commercial that hadn’t run in a long time. Just Parrot finished off: “Hey, Reagan, hands off Angola.”
We passed beneath the fig tree. Where the wall was lowest, we met up with Charlita.
“How come you guys don’t pay any attention? I’ve been here, like, forever, and those parrots did everything but call out my name.”
“You’re ahead of schedule, Comrade.”
“My dad fell asleep in the living room watching the news in African languages. It’s now or never. Here’s the stuff.”
“Wonderful Comrade Charlita!”
She passed over a nearly full bottle of whisky with a really piercing aroma that looked good for the mission.
“You figure it’ll do?”
“It should,” 3.14 said, sniffing it and closing it again. “I’m going to recommend to Comrade Gudafterov that you be decorated.”
“I’m going to be what?” In addition to her poor sight, I’m not sure if Charlita heard very well.
“Decorated. You may receive a medal to show the gratitude of the community of Bishop’s Beach.” He laughed.
“But is it gratitude, or is it a gratuity?”
“Stop that, we’ve got to get out of here.”
Charlita’s voice trembled. “Good luck,” she said, almost as though we were heading for the war zone at any moment.
“Thank you, Comrade. Long live the revolution!”
“Tupariov,” she joked.
Charlita disappeared and then tripped on something that couldn’t be anything important because the old chicken coop was completely empty.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just go.”
We ran away, passing close to the water tank. The parrots continued to be restless. I dipped my hand in a pool of leftover dirty, soapy water.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s to make the parrots calm down.”
I sprinkled their cage twice with the water. It was what Madalena did; they put their troubles behind them with drops of that leftover blue-soap water. They licked their bodies and remained still, saying nothing.
“Those parrots have a screw loose.” 3.14 didn’t know about this method of silencing parrots.
“Let’s just get going.”
“And your granma on the veranda?”
“Before we get to the veranda, we’ll jump over into Senhor Tuarles’s yard. We’ll go out the other side.”
“What if she calls you?”
“Too bad. We’ve got the bottle now, we have to get going.”
“What about dinner? My dad’s gonna give me a thrashing.”
“Too bad,” I laughed. “That’s your problem. Charlita moved the mission forward, now there’s no dinner for anybody. Draw courage from your hunger.”
“Okay. We’ll move ahead. Liquid ready?”
“Affirmative.”
“Matches?”
“I don’t know. Do you have them?”
“I have them. Dynamite in position?”
“Affirmative.”
“Forward, Comrade.”
We leapt, deliberately so as not to make noise, and in the right places. In spite of the darkness, we knew all the pitfalls of the houses on Bishop’s Beach, and with the two of us together it was practically impossible to put a foot wrong. “Careful with those bricks next to Senhor Tuarles’s abandoned car,” I warned, and we circumvented them. “Lift the gate or it’s going to make noise.” We got out without anyone seeing us.
“Should we crawl until we get to the entrance to the alley, going past your granma’s sidewalk, or are we going to be intercepted?”
“It’s better not to. The problem is that Dona Libânia has secret techniques for seeing and hearing, and at this time of night she could tell on us for skipping dinner or something.”
“Affirmative. We’ll circle around.”
The circle was enormous and we had to try to hide the bottle because this in itself was suspicious; anyone who saw us running flat-out through the darkness with that whisky bottle would tell on us.
“Where are you going?”
We stopped short in fear, almost ceasing to breathe.
“Foam! Do you always have to show up like a ghost from the other world?” 3.14 even forgot that he was crazy.
“La vida es como es. Where are you going?”
“We’re just gonna deliver something.”
“Something? A secret?”
“Foam, keep your voice down. We’ll tell you later.”
“Later, later…When later? In ten years? Twenty-five years? Time is always passing…Are you going to the Mausoleum?” How could he know this? “Lots of people want to go to the Mausoleum at this time of night…Yo lo sé because…The birds… The colourful flock…You guys are mixed up in that, eh?” He spoke in a louder voice.
“Shhh, Foam. Just go your own way.”
“My way is the way of us all.”
“Keep your voice down. We’re on a mission here.”
“And I am on a misión here, too.” And he didn’t ask anything more.
We waited a moment. Concealing the bottle, 3.14 looked at me.
“We will do the following, compañeros…You go on that side and I’ll go past Dona Liberia’s place,”—he sometimes called Dona Libânia this—“and we’ll see who gets there first.”
I was about to say something, but Pi didn’t let me.
“Agreed. Now let’s go.”
Foam ran off happily. He disappeared into the darkness, bidding us goodbye and tripped away with his long dreadlocks.
“Isn’t it dangerous for him?”
“No. They’ll stop him at the entrance. Or even on the beach — there must be watchmen there.”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t know either, and I don’t want to know. Everybody has to deal with his own problems.”
We ran with caution through the darkness. Aside from potholes in the sidewalks, open sewers and damaged transformer boxes near which it was dangerous to pee, Bishop’s Beach had many trees with spreading roots in places where a person wouldn’t expect them.
We passed Paulinho’s house and the big house of Carmen Fernández’s father, and cut through the alley of André the commando’s house.
“Whoa, kids, you runnin’ around at this time of night? What happens if the cops pick you up?”
“André, how’s it goin’?” I stepped forward so that Pi could hide the bottle.
“Great, and you guys?”
“Yeah, the usual.”
“And the parrot His Name, he still alive?”
“He’s really good and he eats a ton.”
“Those parrots that were in the war are always starving. Where are you guys goin’?”
“Just out for a walk.”
“A walk in the dark?”
“We’re fed up with walkin’ in the afternoon with the sun on our heads. Now we’re tryin’ out takin’ a spin in the dark, like a reconnaissance mission, you get it?”