ChaHabanameChap2Pg1

Chapter Two: Changes in the Air

January 1993 La Habana, Cuba

The faint glow of a lone cigarette pierced the pre-dawn darkness of the Humboldt alley apartment. The alarm
had gone off at four in the morning: Jonas did not fully trust himself to properly function on his traveling days
and religiously gave himself substantial amounts of extra time to prepare, but now he faced the ridiculous
dilemma of being completely packed with the taxi not scheduled to come until half past six. As he finished his
morning smoke, he found himself reconsidering his decision to slip out quietly without interrupting his bedmate?s
sleep. It wasn?t that he feared a scene: that was thankfully just one of the many things that he didn?t have to
worry about with the sensible, mature woman he had found. Rather, he was surprised to find himself
anticipating the loss of her company with a note of sadness: his subsequent mornings would be devoid of the
comfort and color she had brought to his days.

She is another way that this island thaws my ice: the sun calms my arthritis and this girl has broken up the
blocked channels of my ideas and my loins. She made this trip the most productive one so far. He reached over to
the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Jonas smiled as he noticed the dog-eared copy of Seven Viking
Romances lying there, and was pleased to see that in just two nights, Chela had easily made it halfway through
the text. Forget having you as a lover and maid. What I would do to have students like you, hungry for
knowledge. He pulled back the bedcovers to gaze at Chela?s sleeping body, her skin glinting like dark copper in
the room?s half-light. It was one last opportunity to memorize the constellations of freckles on her back, and the
lines of her muscles. I?m being a fool. I should take one more conversation, even if I went through the trouble
of composing my goodbye on that antiquated typewriter. Jonas skimmed his fingers lightly up the length of her
spine in a rare gesture of tenderness.

?Chela? it?s time to get up.?

?Uy!? Chela?s arms moved up to lock the pillow more firmly in position over her head.

?No, really. There are some things I need to go over with you before the taxi gets here. And I need to eat
something healthy for breakfast. I can?t stand that fatty meat they serve on Cubana.?

?Hrmph. You?re going to miss that fatty Cuban meat when you get back to the North Pole.? We already miss it
badly here, she thought bitterly, realizing that Jonas?s departure likely meant a return to soy patties for her. She
propped herself up on an elbow and tried shaking her head to disperse the fog of sleep, her light brown ringlets
bouncing softly from her efforts. ?Give me a minute ? I?ll get the coffee started.?

?No,? he said quickly as he pressed down on her shoulder, holding her in place. ?I can do it this once, Chela.
After all, I?m going to have to practice for my new espresso maker ? you know that half my suitcase is full of
coffee and the other is full of Populares cigarettes. I wish you exported them. They would be all the rage in
Trômsk.? There he goes confusing me with the country again, as if I were preventing him from getting his
precious ?chest-breakers?. Chela rolled onto her side and watched the thin older man carefully plug in the hot
plate and set about filling the coffee-maker. The room felt obscenely cold to her in the early morning but Jonas
persisted in wearing nothing but his briefs in the privacy of the apartment. In six months she had only seen him
shiver once, after he insisted on an ocean dip during a late summer storm system. The wind, strong enough to
strip the new fronds off the straining palms, had finally bested the Norseman?s constitution, forcing his pale
bony knees to rattle like dried gourds as she helped him back into his clothes. Chela had refrained from
commenting on Jonas?s lack of good sense during the weeks she nursed him for the resultant cough and
respiratory infection, just as she kept her distaste for his smoking to herself.

The coffee he brought her was too weak, she noted. Still it was luxurious to be served in bed and she sipped the
liquid slowly, warming her hands on the mug as she watched Jonas wash up using a small plastic basin at the
sink. The water was not turned on this early in the building, and he had to settle for last night?s leftovers for his

*HABÁNAME* (Havana [Verb Transitive] Me) by Ana Ortiz Copyright © February 11, 2002 Ana Ortiz All Rights Reserved

Disclaimers: Not written for profit. The lead characters often look and sound like THEM. This is an ALT story, and several languages are used profanely.

Dice que se empina y que no alcanza , que solo ha llegado hasta el dolor; dice que ha perdido la buena esperanza y se refugia en la piedad de la ilusión. Sé de las entrañas de su queja porqué padecí la decepción: fue una noche larga que el tiempo despeja mientras suena en mi memoria esta canción: Venga la esperanza, venga sol a mí. Lárguese la escarcha, vuele el colibrí. Hínchese la vela, ruja el motor, que sin esperanza dónde va el amor.
		Cuando niño yo saqué la cuenta de mi edad por el año dos mil (el dos mil sonaba como puerta abierta a maravillas que silbaba el porvenir.) Pero ahora que se acerca, saco en cuenta que de nuevo tengo que esperar: que las maravillas vendrán algo lentas porque el mundo tiene aún muy corta edad. Venga la esperanza, pase por aquí. Venga de cuarenta, venga de dos mil. Venga la esperanza de cualquier color: verde, roja o negra, pero con amor.