“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.”
“Absolutely. I can see why.”
“Now you’re not gonna say awe-some, are you? Spare me.”
They laughed at this.
Taking her hand in his, he kissed it, all the while staring into her dark eyes. “A tarnished knight, thanking you for a lovely evening.”
She slightly laughed and then JZ did the unexpected. He turned her hand and kissed her palm; he next lightly kissed her fingertips-his hot breath penetrating her skin. Taken aback by the depth of her response, Qui’s skin flushed, her breathing stopped, and her pulse raced. His seductive overture felt right between them. She couldn’t’ve predicted her reaction to his gambit, and could not help but wonder how his lips might feel against hers. Nervous, she laughed a bit, unsure what to say. She turned to hide her reaction, declaring, “It’s late. I–I should get you back.”
As she fidgeted with the key in the car door, he placed a gentle hand on her arm and turned her round to face him. She tried avoiding his eyes, but a mere fingertip was all it took to raise her face. Softly, he said, “I just want to say I’ve had a lovely evening. Thank you, Qui.”
She felt his closeness, the warmth of his breath. “You still prove my point about Americans,” she said, trying to dispel the mood between them.
“Americans? What do you mean?”
“You’re…you take too many liberties, JZ.”
He took a long moment to examine her eyes. Then taking a step back, he said, “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable; I certainly didn’t intend that.” He shrugged, grinned wolfishly at her, and raised both hands in the universal gesture of surrender. “Sorry if my nibble turned into a bite, but you are… hard to resist.”
Taking a deep breath, Qui acknowledged his comment with a half-smile. “It’s been…a very pleasant evening. Food was great…good company…I love the Valeras…” Qui realized she’d begun to babble like a teenager on a first date. She struggled to regain composure. “Look JZ…ahhh, it’s really late and…and we’ve had more wine than we ought’ve, and it’s a beautiful night with the sea breeze…but you and I… we come from different worlds. I can’t be getting involved with you.”
“Is that because you’re already involved?”
“Yes, in part.”
“And the other part?”
“You’re American and I’m Cuban. World’s apart.”
