Read En Las Olas :: 041680 | Tapas Community

How much time have we been on this boat? I couldn’t tell. It feels like forever since we last touched the ground. Around me, I listen to the dreams of family, friends, and strangers, who all rejoice from leaving, and fear what awaits us. My mother hopes to write words of freedom in a novel, my father wishes he could finally criticize the corruption for others to read in the journal. My grandmother sings quietly believing that God will save us all. Next to me, little kids fantasize they will find new dresses for their dolls. All these voices rejoicing give me faith for the bright future I had contemplated with Caridad on the warm sand of Havana.

“There we will be free.” Her long black strands of hair flowed through the wind, while she took in the heat from the burning sun warming her face as if this would be the last time she could feel it again.

“What do you mean?” I answered confused, “Don’t you like it here? I know we are going anyway, but I wouldn’t call leaving all I know ‘freedom’…”

“ Mi angel, think about it! Ever since Castro announced we could escape from here, hundreds of people like us are taking the first boat to the States! Even if it is not illegal anymore and all camps closed down, it doesn’t mean our families will accept us for who we are! I know my family would not,” she stopped for a moment looking at me, then the ground, not showing her facial expression. She continued.

“Who could imagine what will happen to us if they ever find out… There, we will finally be free to be together,” silence reigned between us.

All we could hear was the waves hitting the sand and the faint sound of Tres, Catá, Chekere, and Congas creating a beautiful melody. I finally decided to speak up “Perdoname… I didn’t realize how important this would be for us,” I stopped for a moment trying to organize my thoughts into something coherent, “with everything happening right now, all I can think about is how happy I am to be with you, enjoying our last moment before everything changes.” I confessed holding her hand trying to smile as a sign of comfort.

“I know,” she didn’t say anything else. She just smiled back at me tenderly. Her eyes didn’t smile though, they looked at me with concern. I wonder what she had on her mind.

Abruptly she stood up still grabbing my hand, “Come! Let’s go to the water!”

I followed her and we continued our afternoon playing and laughing between the crests, not worrying about tomorrow, about the days yet to come. We loved it here so much, especially Caridad. She adored the sea. I remember what she blissfully yelled, after coming back from a short dive in the deep blue. “I’m so happy here I could morirme en la olas!” I laughed so hard after this, what a ridiculous phrase!

Now all I can hear is “here it is!”, “we arrived!”, from the voices around waking me up from my daydream. My grandmother’s quiet singing became a fanfare among families. My mother and father embraced each other with joy. From where I am, I see far away, a slight silhouette of land, with buildings almost reaching the sun. As the land gets closer, a steadily escalating sense of foreboding is coming to me. I hope it’s just a feeling. The boat stops as I fix its last wakes on the water. I haven't heard from Caridad for almost two days.