Game Seven (6 page)

9

GABRIEL PRODUCED A
cell phone that looked like it had never been used. I guess the government couldn't trace or listen in on any calls if it was brand-new. He held the phone out to me, and I took it from his hand. Then I turned my back to the three of them before I dialed. In the few seconds those numbers were changing into tones, a thousand moments went racing through my mind—from the time I could first remember following Papi around in short pants until right now. I didn't know exactly what I was going to say. I just knew that my tongue was waiting to start in motion.

I heard Mama's voice say, “This is Luz Ramirez.”

My heart jumped.

I said, “Mama, I'm in Cárdenas with—”

That's when the rest of Mama's message greeting began talking over me.

I hit the “end” button fast, without even thinking about leaving her a message.

“You'll have time to call back,” said Uncle Ramon from over my shoulder. “There's a two-hour window for you to make a decision.”

I turned back around and Gabriel said, “Your papi would be crushed if we made the crossing without you.”

“I'm not living my life for
him
anymore,” I said, standing on a small mound of sand. “I'm sorry to possibly disturb
his
plans.”

“Julio, you see that man with his family over there?” asked Gabriel, pointing about forty yards away. “He's not here by accident. Twenty minutes before sunset, he's going to walk off this beach. He'll bring back my vessel and leave it in a small clearing past those thick bushes. Then his family will pile into my car and take it home to keep.”

“What Gabriel means is there's a structure to
our
plan. There has to be,” said Uncle Ramon. “Being dependent on a single phone call can't destroy its timing.”

I started dialing another number.

“Lola?” Luis asked me.

Uncle Ramon put his hand over the phone, shutting it. I tried to yank it away, but his grip slid down to my wrist, holding me there like a vise.

“Remember, she doesn't know,” said Uncle Ramon. “This isn't the time for her to find out. She's very emotional and talkative. That could hurt us.”

“I wasn't going to tell her. I'm not that stupid or mean,” I said as Uncle Ramon loosened his grip.

A moment later, Lola picked up the cell we'd shared.

“Listen, Mama's not answering her phone at work. I need you to go down to El Puente and let her know I'm trying to call.”

Lola pitched a fit and I waded through every one of her complaints.

“I know you're studying, that it's hot outside. But I need to speak to Mama. Do this for me. Please. What? No, it's not about me becoming a Nacional,” I told her. “I just may be away longer than I expected, to train some more. I need her permission. It's important. When? All right, but as fast as you can. Listen, I don't say it enough, but you're a great sister, much smarter than I'll ever be. Okay. Thank you.”

As I closed my hand around the phone, Uncle Ramon nodded his head to me, and I took it as an apology. Then I turned toward Luis. I hadn't noticed it before, but I could see the growing panic in his eyes. Luis said he wanted to go for a walk on the beach, just to “stretch his legs.” I decided to go with him.

“Sure. Walk. Relax. Just stay within our sight,” said Gabriel, who seemed calm as could be. “The four of us shouldn't get separated for any reason. We'll discuss this more when you get back.”

When we got out of earshot, walking along the water's edge, Luis said, “Julio, you know that I can barely swim, right? I should have practiced my whole life for this.”

“Don't worry,” I said. “There'll be at least one life preserver on Gabriel's boat. If I'm there with you, it's yours. I promise.”

“What would we even do in the US?”

“I can't put myself in that situation yet. But
you'll
escape the Moyanos on this island. I'm sure.”

“You have to come. I'd be lost without you,” Luis said.

“You're stronger than you know. I've seen it,” I said, kicking the broken seashells at my feet.

“I keep thinking of that photo. The one I left in our dorm room,” said Luis. “If we leave, I won't have a single picture of my mother. I'd give a hundred pesos to have it with me right now.”

“You still have your memories.”

“But I have to close my eyes to see her that way.”

“Sometimes that's better,” I said. “Then your memories can never change.”

“Maybe your mama and sister will bring me a photo, the day they leave Cuba.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, squeezing the phone tighter inside my hand.

That's when I started thinking that if I did go, I'd most likely never see Mama and Lola again. That they'd become images in my mind. The same way Aunt Blanca had become for Luis and Uncle Ramon.

Luis stopped us about fifteen yards from those two girls reading. They were probably twenty years old. But that didn't discourage Luis from running a hand back through his jet-black hair.

“Who knows what could happen tonight. A big wave might drown me,” he said. “I'm going over there. Turn on the charm, see where it gets me. You coming?”

“Not worth the effort,” I answered. “Either way, we'll never see those two again.”

“That's the point. I've got nothing to lose,” he said, walking off toward their blankets.

The sun was sinking in the sky. Maybe it was down half a thumb's worth since I'd last noticed. Everything else in my life seemed to suddenly stop. It was like I was alone on my own island, waiting for a sign to move in some direction. And hanging over that ocean in front of me was Papi's shadow.

I didn't know what I wanted or where I belonged. I just knew that I'd had enough—six long years of trying to make sense of an empty feeling.

After a few minutes, Luis came back flashing a strip of paper with a phone number on it.

“I told them there was going to be a party after we won the tournament tomorrow. That I'd personally get them invited,” he said, leading me back in the direction we'd come. “And that you were too shy to talk to them. They thought that was cute.”

“What are you going to do with the number?”

“Maybe put it in a bottle, like a note. Throw it overboard from Gabriel's boat.”

“Why did you even bother talking to them, then?”

“Think of the story. Two girls waiting for me to call. Then they find out I'm either in the US or in prison or dead,” said Luis.

“Something to tell their friends?” I asked.

“Bigger. It could become famous, like a folktale.”

Suddenly, the phone inside my hand began to vibrate. It felt like an earthquake starting in my palm and spreading through my entire body. I flipped open the phone and it stopped. But I could still feel a rumbling in the pit of my stomach, shaking me to the core.

“Who is this? I don't know this number,” Mama said in a defensive voice.

“Mama, it's me. I'm in Cárdenas, on a borrowed phone,” I answered, with Luis's eyes glued to mine. “Didn't Lola tell you?”

“No, I took a break at work and saw the missed call. Is everything all right?”

“Mama, I'm on the beach, with Luis and Uncle Ramon, and someone else. They say that it's time. Time to—”

“
Shhh.
Don't speak it,” she interrupted. “Do what you need to do, Julio. This is
your
life. Live it.”

“Mama, I don't—”

“Julio, you
need
to go. Find what you're searching for.”

“Are you sure?”

“Wait, I see Lola coming.”

“Mama?”

“Julio, make your decision and know that I love you. I'll always love you, no matter what.”

“I love you, too, Mama,” I said, before I heard Lola's out-of-breath voice and then the connection cut off.

“So?” asked Luis nervously, as I closed the phone.

“I guess those girls are going to have some story to tell about meeting
us
.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Luis, throwing both arms around me and hugging me tight. “But remember, you were too shy to talk to them.”

The rest of the way back, I walked on the damp, hard-packed sand closest to the water. I didn't want the ground shifting beneath my feet. At some point, I saw the tracks we'd left behind heading toward us. I stopped for a second to look down at them. It was a strange feeling, like suddenly being present in my past. Then I picked my head up and kept right on walking into my future.

When we reached camp I handed Gabriel his cell phone.

“A journey like this makes people family—that's what you said,” I told him. “Well, I've already got an uncle and cousin here. But I'll give you a chance to earn your way in.”

“I accept that,” said Gabriel, reaching out to shake my hand. “I can't ask for anything more.”

“No one can. That's the highest bar there is,” said Uncle Ramon, who looked as if a huge weight had just been lifted off him.

“There's still lots to talk about and little time,” said Gabriel, glancing at the sun.

“Before any more talk, let's pray,” said Luis.

Nobody argued with that. We all knelt in a tight circle, bowing our heads, even me and Uncle Ramon.

10

OVER THE NEXT
half hour or so, we each downed two sixteen-ounce bottles of water to hydrate ourselves for the trip. Gabriel couldn't say exactly how long we'd be at sea. Instead, he was more like a weatherman giving a forecast he wouldn't stake his reputation on.

“Depending on the currents, we could reach the coast of Florida inside of two days,” he said, before putting both hands out in front of him as if to halt any hopes of a guarantee. “But the weather can change in minutes. Even storms miles away can have an impact, driving us off course, spinning a small vessel in endless circles.”

“You have a compass, don't you?” asked Uncle Ramon.

Basically, the only reason to have a compass in Cuba is to help you defect. So you could get into serious trouble being caught with one.

“Think I'd take you and two young boys onto that ocean without one? I'm not the devil,” Gabriel countered, with a twinge of annoyance. “As a kid I experienced what happens when it's tried that way.”

That was the first time I'd seen Gabriel tense. It didn't seem like much to get upset over. Maybe his nerves were getting tighter as the sun slipped lower.

“I've got other supplies, too,” Gabriel continued, his voice leveling out. “Food, water, flares, and an extra can of gasoline.”

So I figured his boat had a motor. I felt better knowing that, like we could choose our own direction if the currents didn't cooperate.

“Ramon and I will sit in the front. Julio and Luis, you'll be in the back,” he added. “Oh, and we're going to be low to the water, very low. That's by design, to avoid being detected on any radar. If it's choppy we'll get slapped in the face by a few waves. Be prepared to get soaked.”

That's when I took the transistor radio out. I wrapped it in a pair of plastic bags to keep it from getting wet, as the others eyed it.

“We might need this way out there. You never know,” I said, trying not to make a fuss.

“You're right. Could come in handy,” said Uncle Ramon, reaching into his shirt pocket and handing me a new 9-volt battery. “We could hear a World Series game on it, too. Give us something else to focus on.”

– – –

The tide rolled in and the water's edge kept creeping closer to our camp. From a distance, those two girls waved good-bye to Luis as they walked off the beach. He didn't return the wave, though. Instead, he just glanced their way like somebody they should have been starstruck to meet. Then that man got up and left without his family, just the way Gabriel told us he would.

“I want you boys to take the barbecue and cooler to my trunk,” said Gabriel, giving us his car keys. “But leave the chairs behind. It'll look better when we hang around
to see the stars
.”

Even with the charcoals emptied, I could still feel the warmth from the barbecue as I carried it back. I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining Mama and Lola in my arms for one last embrace.

Gabriel's car was the only one remaining behind those rocks.

“When we walked off that baseball field today, I wasn't thinking about anything like
this
,” said Luis. “Things can change fast, huh? My mother passing, your papi—thought I was all through growing up for a while.”

“Maybe it never stops,” I said as he opened the trunk. “In a few hours, we might be looking back at right now, thinking we didn't know shit.”

“I just hope my next learning curve is about life in the US, not how to shower in prison,” said Luis, stowing away the cooler and leaving enough room for me to fit the barbecue next to it.

“No, I hope the next curve I see comes out of a pitcher's hand. That I'm waiting on it to break, right before I drive it over some center-field fence and round the bases.”

Luis slammed the trunk lid down and then gave me a high five.

“Amen to that, Cuz,” he said.

A minute later, I saw those two police officers slowly rolling back down the beach on their motorcycle. Only this time, because of the tide coming in, they were going to be much closer to us.

“Act like we're packing the chairs up next,” said Gabriel, casually folding one.

Suddenly, I heard the rev of an engine, and the officers' motorcycle turned in our direction.

“I don't trust these two,” Uncle Ramon said, barely moving his lips. “What if we have to jump them?”

“Easy, Ramon,” whispered Gabriel. “They're probably looking for more food, or beer.”

I was wishing I had a baseball bat in my hands. I'd be more comfortable wielding one of those than any weapon in this world.

Their wide tires kicked up a ton of sand before the officer driving pulled back on the throttle, four or five feet from where we were standing.

The one sitting in the sidecar of that three-wheeler said, “So you boys are baseball players, huh? When I played, shortstop was my position. I had a lot of range with my glove and a good stick, too. I even dreamed of one day becoming a Nacional, representing Cuba. Now I wear
this
uniform.”

“This is
our
star shortstop. My nephew,” said Uncle Ramon, who'd moved to the outside of the officer's right hip, where his pistol was holstered.

“I'm not surprised. I used to have a build like yours, like a whip. That was before I put on an extra twenty pounds sitting around,” he said to me. “Where are you from? Not Cárdenas. I've been stationed here for three years. I would have seen you play.”

“I'm from Matanzas,” I answered, taking a step closer to the one on the motorcycle, in case I had to defend my uncle.

“Ahh, the Crocodiles,” he said, turning to his partner.

Meanwhile, Gabriel had slipped an arm around Luis. I guess to stop him from doing anything stupid.

“These boys are very dedicated,” said Gabriel. “Baseball is all they dream about.”

“What's your name?” the officer asked me. “I'll keep an eye out for you in the future.”

“My name's Julio.”

About thirty yards behind those officers sat that last family on the beach, minus their father. And maybe another forty yards farther down the beach, I saw the bushes start to shake and shimmy a little. Then they went completely still.

“What's your last name?” he asked.

Ramirez
was on the tip of my tongue. But I bit it back, thinking he'd probably heard of Papi. And that might make him suspicious about us being here.

“Sanchez,” I said, giving him Mama's maiden name and praying he wouldn't want to see any kind of ID. “My name's Julio Sanchez.”

I felt sick to my stomach at having to deny my own name. But that was all on Papi, and the politics of Cuba.

“Very good,” the officer said, nodding to his partner, who put the motorcycle in motion. “Remember, the beach closes at sundown. You have to be on your way soon.”

“Thank you, officers,” said Gabriel. “We appreciate your concern.”

In the distance, that father had just reappeared from the bushes. The officers were traveling in his direction. He began pulling at his pants zipper, as if he'd gone off from his family to pee. Then the motorcycle rolled right on past him without slowing down.

“That's one obstacle out of the way,” said Uncle Ramon.

“Men are a small obstacle compared with what we'll be facing,” said Gabriel. “But you're right.”

That entire family walked off the beach together. A minute later, I heard Gabriel's car starting up from behind the trio of huge rocks that separated us from the sandy lot. Once it pulled away, and the echo of it faded, everything that was about to happen felt even more real.

The sun was in flames now, burning orange and yellow in the red-blue sky as it went sinking into the horizon. It reminded me of one of Papi's fastballs blazing into a dark catcher's mitt.

Gabriel's plan was for each of us to walk straight into the bushes, one by one, while the others kept lookout along the beach. His order was me, Luis, Uncle Ramon, and then himself.

“That clearing I mentioned, it's small and about thirty paces straight into the bushes,” emphasized Gabriel. “Don't get yourself moving sideways. You'll miss it completely.”

When the moment came, I headed into the bushes without hesitation. But a few strides into the thick brush, I had to reset my bearings to sidestep a branch full of sharp thorns. When I did, I found myself standing in the middle of a cloud of mosquitos. They were hitting my arms and legs like I was the last warm meal on earth. And every time I'd slap at one spot, five or six of them would bite me somewhere else. So I bolted forward, praying I was still going in the right direction. I shoved aside branch after branch that either snapped back at me or cracked beneath my weight until I finally arrived at the clearing.

First, I saw the green body of a Buick automobile. There was something strange attached to the grille—a wide, pointed front that looked like the bow of a ship. I searched for a boat, maybe one on a small trailer behind the car. But there wasn't any. Then I saw the weld marks, sealing the car's four doors shut, and the supplies tied down in the backseat.

That's when it hit me: we'd be sailing to the US in a floating car.

For some insane reason, I reached my arm inside the open driver's side window. I was about to tap the horn, as if I needed to hear how it sounded. Then Luis came stumbling through the bushes. His eyes focused on the car/boat in astonishment, and then on mine.