When the Rodríguez-López family had needed anything, they would sell some of their belongings: jewelry, furniture silver, clothes, etc. After forty years of doing that, they were out of things to sell, and had so few possessions left that they often worried how they could live out their lives.
Their old friends who were parents — those few who had chosen to stay in Cuba — were better off, as they had children who looked out for them. The fortunate ones were those who had sons and daughters outside Cuba to send them money — cash — which made all the difference. Roberto, Ricardo, and Eduardo were among these fortunate few, which was why — although they’d had difficulty giving the yearly party — they were still able to procure through the black market enough to make a minimal meal. But now, even they had trouble paying for seafood, as it was nearly impossible to find — and the fines for getting it illegally were exorbitant.
Luis had too much pride to let his friends know of his difficulty. Four years earlier, when it had been his turn to host, he’d been forced to sell his gold wedding ring — the last of his jewelry. The Patek Philippe watch that had belonged to his grandfather had been sold years before that. María Eugenia still had her wedding ring, but they had vowed that would only be sold if they were truly starving.
As the months passed and the date for the dinner approached, Luis supposed that he could either serve a different main course or cancel the dinner altogether. But being able to serve his lifelong friends the exact same meal they had been eating for the past forty-two years had become as important to him as breathing. And he did not want to be like Ricardo, who didn’t have enough food for his guests. It was all or nothing for Luis.
María Eugenia and Eladio watched helplessly as Luis descended into a deep depression. Nothing they said or did could pull him out of it. The situation had become so dire that now even María Eugenia, who seldom left the house, had ventured out and visited a couple of long lost friends and acquaintances to see if they might know of any source of seafood, even remnants of the cheapest of bottom fish. No one knew where to look, which couldn’t have been surprising to her, as everyone was in the same situation.
María Eugenia still had her gold wedding ring, but because of the pact that she and Luis had made, she could not sell it (though being a realist, she knew that day was not far off). Although it would have saddened her to part with it — she had sold her diamond engagement ring years before — she was so worried about Luis that she would have sold the gold band in a heartbeat. As the time for the dinner grew closer, María Eugenia repeatedly offered to do exactly that, but Luis would not even contemplate it. For him, selling the ring would be admitting there was no hope left, none at all. Castro would have essentially stolen the symbol of his marriage, and this was unacceptable to him.
Eladio scrambled to see what he could do to help his employer, and he too came up empty. Unlike the couple, he had no valuables to sell, but throughout the years he had made a bit of extra money here and there by working at odd jobs — running errands, fixing appliances, repairing old machines, so he had been able to contribute a small amount of cash to his keep. But now, because not even his considerable skills and ingenuity could keep forty-year-old machines running, even that little money had dried up.
However gifted a mechanic and handyman, his real skill was making a palatable meal out of the scarce and low-quality government-issue foodstuff available. With herbs he grew in the garden he lovingly cultivated in the rear of the Rodríguez-López property, he was somehow able to turn even the tasteless three-quarters of a pound of soy blend that was each individual’s monthly allotment into a succulent roast.
Although he had never received any formal training as a chef, he instinctively knew how to bring out the best in everything he was given to work with. Over the years, he’d developed such confidence in his abilities that he was able to successfully transform certain foods — items that conjured up repellent images in most people’s minds (chicken feet, fish cheeks, etc.) — into meals that people would not only eat, but which actually tasted delicious. Sadly, in spite of all his abilities, Eladio was not able to come up with the most important ingredient: seafood for the dinner.
In spite of not having received a salary in more than three decades of working full-time as butler, maid, handyman, and family cook, Eladio considered himself fortunate to have a roof over his head. He knew that he was considered a member of the family, so his fate was their fate.
And although life had been difficult for all three, by combining their resources they had managed. They had never really undergone the worst privations of the Special Period. Until now, that is — since this dinner was upsetting a very fragile equilibrium, bringing Luis close to a physical and mental breakdown.
The important day was now less than forty-eight hours away, and what should have been a happy occasion had turned into a dreaded event. It was obvious to María Eugenia and Eladio that Luis had totally forgotten the original reason for the dinner, and was instead fixated on what food he was going to serve his guests.
Early that morning, after eating what passed for breakfast — at this point, not even Eladio’s culinary inventions could hide the fact that they were always hungry — Luis told Eladio that he wanted to speak with him privately, away from María Eugenia’s hearing. They decided the best place for such a conversation would be at the back of the property, near Eladio’s herb garden. María Eugenia would not question them going there. It was part of their daily ritual.
As he followed Luis, Eladio was taken aback at how thin and fragile-looking his employer had become. How was it that he hadn’t noticed the change in Luis’s appearance earlier? Had it occurred so slowly that it was difficult to see, or had it come over him quickly as a result of his preoccupation with the dinner? Eladio, saddened by what he was seeing, could not tell.
Making their way across the property was difficult, as Eladio had not had the strength lately to tend the grounds. After long minutes of carefully stepping in the overgrown tangle that was once flowers and shrubs, they reached the area beside the herb garden. Luis immediately headed for the wrought iron bench and sat down.
Luis was flushed, Eladio noticed, and breathing hard from all the exertion. Alarmed and not quite knowing what to do, Eladio stood a respectful distance from Luis while he waited for his employer’s command — much as he would have done in pre-Castro Cuba. Although he did not look directly at Luis — his eyes were pointed at the ground — he still had enough peripheral vision to see Luis reach into his sweat-soaked shirt, presumably to take out one of the few handkerchiefs he had left to mop the sweat from his face. But much to Eladio’s surprise, Luis instead took out three photographs. Luis slowly studied each of the them, smiling at the images of himself and his three friends, laughing, sunburned, drunk, sitting on the stern of one of their fishing boats, eating from the enormous platter of seafood in front of them.
“Eladio, how long have you been with our family?” Luis asked abruptly, peering up. “Around forty years by my calculations, right?”
“Forty-one, Señor Luis. Forty-one last March,” Eladio replied, a bit warily. As far back as he could remember, neither Señor Luis nor Señora María Eugenia had ever brought up the length of his employment. A terrible thought occurred to him. Was he about to get fired? Where would he go? What would he do? Now it was Eladio’s turn to begin to breathe hard.