ТОП просматриваемых книг сайта:
The Miracle of Saint Lazarus. Uva de Aragón
Читать онлайн.Название The Miracle of Saint Lazarus
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781642501254
Автор произведения Uva de Aragón
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство Ingram
At four o’clock, she waved goodbye and whispered thanks to Leo, who was on the phone, and she took off before the rush hour traffic got worse.
She had just enough time for a shower—she felt like her clothes wreaked of cigarette smoke from Leo’s office—and to make herself a quick smoothie of almond milk, yogurt, strawberries, and some protein powder that Patrick had given her. She drank it in front of the TV while she watched the ABC Evening News and then the beginning of Wheel of Fortune. She brushed her teeth, retouched her makeup, and set out for Hialeah.
She thought about her own grandmother and how she used to say that the pain endured by grandparents was twofold: they felt sorry for the problems of their grandchildren as well as their own children. She asked herself how a woman whose oldest granddaughter had disappeared at such a young age might feel, not knowing if the girl was dead or alive. Her first thought when she opened the door was that grandmothers these days were so different from those of years past.
Standing before her was a blonde woman (bleached, yes, but blonde nonetheless). She was dressed fashionably with a smart haircut and tasteful makeup. One could tell that she wasn’t just a poor country person from Pinar del Rio. Although her face showed signs of age, it was obvious that she had been a beautiful young woman.
She greeted her kindly, invited her to have a seat, and offered her a cup of coffee.
Maria sat down but passed on the coffee. She preferred not to drink it at night. She started the same way she had with Gladys Elena, asking her if she was inclined to tell her the whole story again and to answer her questions honestly, even though she had done so a thousand times before. The woman agreed. Maria turned on her recorder and pulled out her notepad, then told her:
“Whenever you’re ready, Mercedes.”
“Mercy, call me Mercy, and don’t be so formal, you’ll make me feel old… Have you ever been to Pinar del Rio?”
“No, I’m sorry to say I was born here.” The woman looked at her as though not being born in Cuba was a sin.
“It’s beautiful…and it continues to be because the countryside is something that can’t be stolen. The Valle de Viñales looks like no other place in the world. The whole province is beautiful and has a rich history ever since the War of Independence. Oh, sorry, I tend to prattle on… I was Spanish on my father’s side. We were Asturian, so our life consisted of a small farm where we grew rice, tomatoes, potatoes, and I don’t know how many other things. Most people who live in that area were tobacco farmers, or vegueros as they’re called there. They also grew henequen, which yields a lot but theirs was modest… My mother’s family was of French descent. In Pinar del Rio, there are people from all over. Our neighbors were Lebanese… Mamá was a rural schoolteacher. You can’t imagine all the jobs that came her way, but the truth is she didn’t need the money. She only did it because it was her calling. In the province, education was important. Mamá showed me old photos of herself in a classroom with her students. She had to go on horseback… We lived in a house with a beautiful central patio, which is typical in those parts. Pinar del Rio is full of legends and music from songbirds.”
“When did you get married?” Maria interrupted, hoping that the woman would start talking about things relevant to the case.
“Oh, sorry, it’s just that no one wants to know about these stories, not even my children. I married very young, maybe when I was nineteen… I was born in ’54. I was only five years old when the Revolution started. My family told me everything changed, but I believe that some things stayed the same… What I mean is that where there was once a pharmacy, there’s still one; it’s just that now it’s falling down… When the agrarian reform came along, they tried to take the farm from my father, but we managed to keep a small part of it and stood up for ourselves. Supposedly, they made things somewhat better at my mom’s school. Yeah right! They told her what she had to teach, but she fought back in the beginning since she had principles. So, by the time I came along, the teachers looked down on me. They called us gusanos, or worms, and even more so when my Uncle Jacinto left for the United States. In spite of that, I participated in all of the revolutionaries’ activities. I went off to cut cane when I was only sixteen, and when I was eighteen I moved to Havana to go to school. I ran into even bigger problems when I was in college, mostly for making stupid remarks, because my cousin Jacinto Jose had been killed in Vietnam, fighting with the Americans. Someone said something about it, and since I am—or at least used to be—a loudmouth, I couldn’t stand it and I told them off. So, I returned to Pinar del Rio because I was expelled from college… That’s when I met Hilario. He was a decent guajirote from the country, polite, and considerably refined for being a farmer. We fell in love, got married… Gladys was born in ’74, when I was twenty, and Raulito in ’76. My husband worked the land, I tended the house and raised the children, and helped my mother at the school, where she still taught.”
Mercy paused to offer her some mango juice. Maria accepted and the woman came back with two glasses of the tropical nectar. They drank in silence for a while until she started her story again.
“Now, where did I leave off? Ah, things began to get worse… Some of the neighbors told Hilario to get on a raft and get out of Cuba. I always thought that was crazy. Besides, I didn’t want to leave my parents…but when that guajiro got an idea into his head, he was more stubborn than a mule. Finding materials and constructing the raft in secret was a real undertaking, as you know. You have to understand that I love my children, but I just couldn’t get on that raft with them. I had a panic attack when I saw the blackness of the sea…there was no moon…it was an imposing darkness. I didn’t believe that Hilario would do it, but our neighbors were pressuring him to leave. The thing is, they got onto the raft, pushed off, and I stayed on the shore as still as a statue. The ten days I waited without hearing from them were the longest of my life. At last, Gladys called me crying a river to tell me that her father had drowned, and our neighbor and his wife too. My children were the only ones who made it. The Virgin had protected them because of all of my prayers.”
She appeared exhausted after retelling this part of her story. She looked for a Kleenex and wiped her nose.
“I nearly went crazy thinking about my children, all alone. I haven’t even told this to my children, but it’s the only time in my life that I have borrowed money. I called my Uncle Jacinto in New York. He really came through. I had to pay eight thousand dollars to get there in a boat, because there’s was no way I could do it on a raft. But don’t think that the boat was an easy trip. It went quickly. Seated in the bottom of the boat with the other passengers, you could feel the waves from the bottom all the way up to the top of your head. I didn’t get seasick or vomit like the others did. Maybe because I was focused on praying… But sometimes I thought that I couldn’t put up with it anymore. It was daylight when we came ashore on an island. Then the coast guard picked us up. In the end, it was quite a journey. They detained me in Key West for a few days, but when I finally got to embrace my children, I knew that it had all been worth it.”
“And what can you tell me about Raimundo Lazo?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно