Havana Bay

They took a table in a corner of the courtyard, Isabel inhaling fiercely, looking Arkady up and down.» Eighty degrees and you're still in your coat. That's class.'

'It's a style. I noticed that you're very good.'

'It doesn't matter. I will never be more than corps de ballet no matter how good I am. If I weren't the best I wouldn't be in the company at all.'

Arkady was struck again by the melancholy of her voice and the long line of her neck, with its nape of feathery black curls on milk-white skin. Also by her fingernails, which were bitten to the quick. She drew on her cigarette hungrily, as if it served for food.» I like that you're thin.'

'There's that.' Arkady lit a cigarette himself, celebrating an attribute he had been unaware of.

'You can see the conditions in which we have to work,' Isabel said.

'It doesn't seem to stop you. Dancers dance no matter what, don't they?'

'They dance to eat. The ballet feeds us better than most Cubans see. Then there's the chance some infatuated Spaniard from Bilbao will set us up in an apartment in Miramar, and all we have to do is drop our pants whenever he's in town. The rest of the girls would say, 'Oh, Gloria, you're so lucky.' I would slit my throat rather than live like that. The others at least get to travel from Cuba and be seen while I rot here. Sergei was going to help.'

'A ballerina who defects to Russia?'

'You're laughing?'

'It's a change. I was never aware of Pribluda's interest in the ballet.'

'He was interested in me.'

'That's different,' Arkady conceded. Her selfabsorption was so complete she had yet to notice any scuff marks on him.» You were close?'

'On my part, strictly friends.'

'He wanted to be closer?'

'I suppose so.'

'Did he have any photographs of you?' Arkady thought of the frame in Pribluda's bureau, of Isabel's willowy pose in class.

'I believe so.'

'Do you have any photographs of him?'

'No.' She appeared to find the question ridiculous.

'Or the two of you together?'

'Please.'

'Only asking.'

'Sergei wanted a different relationship but he was so old, not the most handsome man in the world and not very cultured.'

'He didn't know a plie from a ... whatever?'

'Exactly.'

'But he was doing something for you.'

'Sergei was communicating with Moscow for me, I told you. You're sure there was no E-mail or letter?'

'About what?'

'Getting out of this wretched country.'

Arkady had the sensation that he was talking to a fairy-tale princess imprisoned in a tower.

'When did you last see Sergei?'

'Two weeks ago. It was the day of the first night of Cinderella. One of the principal dancers was ill, I was filling in as one of the ugly stepsisters and there was a problem with my wig, because here in Cuba the ugly stepsisters are blonde. So it was a Friday.'

'What time?'

'In the morning, maybe eight. I knocked on his door on the way down. He came to the door with Gordo.'

'Gordo?'

'His turtle. I named him. It means 'fat boy.''

Arkady could see Pribluda opening the door. Had the colonel imagined himself a knight errant rescuing Isabel from her island prison?

'You lived right above Pribluda,' Arkady said_r 'did you ever notice who visited him?'

'Who would visit a Russian if they knew his home was watched?'

'Who is watching?'

She touched her chin as if such a delicate feature could sprout a beard.» He watches. He watches everything.'

'The last time you saw Pribluda, did he mention what he was going to do that day?'

'No. He didn't boast like George, who always has big plans. But Sergei brought you.'

'He didn't send for me, I just came.' Arkady tried to get the conversation back on track.» Did you ever see Pribluda with a Sergeant Luna from the Ministry of the Interior?'

'I know who you mean. No.' Isabel awarded him a smile.» You stood up to Luna last night. I saw you.'

'In a feeble way.' What Arkady remembered of the encounter was being saved by Detective Osorio's arrival.

'And you are going to save me.' She placed her cool hand on his and said as if they'd reached an understanding, 'When the letter comes from Moscow I will immediately need an invitation to Russia. Pues, that you must organize through some cultural entity, a dance company, a theater, anything. Do you see where Cubans are dancing now? New York, Paris, London. It doesn't have to be the Bolshoi at the start for me, if only I can get out.'

Over Isabel's shoulder Arkady saw George Washington Walls almost trip and recover as he entered the courtyard from the street. His light complexion was even lighter for a moment before he regained momentum, the street stroll of an American slowed to a Cuban pace and an actor's self-consciously casual style: pressed blue jeans and a fastidiously white pullover over brown biceps. The man had to be fifty, Arkady thought, and Walls could almost play himself as a young man if there was a movie. Why not? As Arkady remembered, there had been the war protests, the march on Washington, the plane. As he crossed the courtyard he distributed a pat on the shoulder here, a smile there. The only one impervious to his charm was Isabel, who recoiled from a kiss. He sat and told Arkady, 'Oh, oh, I am on the outs. Arkady, you seem to be the new boy in town.'

'Comemierda' she leaned across the table to say, then twisted out her cigarette and marched back to the rehearsal room.

'Do you want me to translate that?' Walls asked Arkady.

'No.'

'Good. She is as mean as she is lovely and she is a lovely lady.' Walls sat and gave Arkady his full attention.» Are you interested in ballet? I contribute to the cause here, but I'm actually more of a fight fan myself. I go all the time. You?'

'Not too much.'

'But sometimes.' Walls eyed the repair work on Arkady's head.» So, what happened to you anyway?'

'I think it was baseball.'

'Some game. Look, I wanted to thank you for stopping Luna last night.'

'I think you helped.'

'No, you did it and it was the right thing. The sergeant was out of line. These things happen in Cuba. Do you know who I am?'

'George Washington Walls.'

'Yeah, that says it all, doesn't it? Here I am like a kid checking out everyone Isabel talks to. You surprised me, I admit it. Last night I didn't come on too well, either. The problem is, I'm the elder statesman of radicals on the run in Cuba but I'm like a kid when it comes to Isabel.'

'That's all right.' Arkady changed the subject, 'What was it like to be 'on the run'?'

'Not bad. In East Germany, the old Democratic Republic, the blonde Hildas and Uses used to line up to serve under the black commander. I thought I was a god. Here I am trying to wring one little smile from Isabel's lips.'