| HABÁNAME, Chapter 7 - 3 - |
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| Chela was stunned. Tomás not only seemed markedly unsympathetic to her statements of resignation, but he had lectured her and was now standing up to leave. ?I?m sorry, Chela, but I really have to get my altar ready, and I don?t think you are open to hearing what I have to say right now. I will be watching and waiting, cariño. And you make sure you take care of yourself until she gets back ? you have a responsibility towards her.? ?I can return tomorrow,? she said urgently to his back. ?One week, Chela.? He turned and waved. ?I will see you in one week and not before. And if you see Mamá and our brothers, give them my regards.? A lone pastry remained on the table. A toddler from another family group ? a tiny girl wearing a bright pink dress ? teetered over to Chela, pointing with interest at the leftover delicacy. Chela sighed and carefully placed the food in the child?s cupped hands, then watched her walk back towards her mother, her chubby legs holding her in precarious balance as she swayed side to side in her gait. She walks like I feel. The earth and its gravity betray me and all I feel under my feet is the tilt, the tremors ? I am riding an earthquake every day. Barbara, forgive me, but I need to know where the edge lies before I over-step and go careening down. I have to see what is left untouched now that your wildfire has swept through. ~~~~~~ Boston, Logan Airport The coffee pot in the ?ready room? had been left on all day, and the distinctive odor of burnt beans wafted through the air. Two men sat at a card table playing slap jack to the soundtrack of Prince?s ?Purple Rain?. The door cracked and a fair-haired youth excitedly called out to them. ?Head?s up! The American Airlines flight from Santo Domingo just got in. I?m on Richards.? The door closed. Slap! The heavier of the card-players ? a spectacled, bald man clearly the far side of forty - grunted in satisfaction at his move in the wake of his partner?s distraction. ?And it?s my call! You lose, Agent Cousins. Let?s see. Not only was your ?bastard? a bit off yesterday, but I?m gonna puke if I have to do ?Mother Teresa? another day in a row.? ?Crap,? muttered the younger loser. ?This one comes with a bullshit detector if the advance press is on target.? ?You?re worrying too much,? laughed the other man, as he scooted his chair back and stood. ?You gotta understand, Bob. We are gonna go meet an insect. Then we are gonna study it. Then we are gonna pull its wings and little legs and antennae off one at a time. And then, Bob, then we are gonna go pin its pathetic little body in our specimen case along with all the other little insects that have passed through our lovely laboratory. This isn?t acting, Bob. It?s science.? ?You?re right,? conceded Bob, breathing deeply and placing his hand on the his co-worker?s shoulder. ?And in the long run, what she does or doesn?t do is of little consequence. OK. Grab your coffee. Ernie?? He grinned and reached for a cup of coffee, as the music prompted him into the pre-session ritual. ?Yes, Bob?? ?Is the water warm?? Ernie guffawed, spilling some of his coffee as his body shook with laughter. ?Yes, Bob.? ?Shall we begin?? ~~~~~~ Crap. This is why I should have a cell phone. I need a friggin? lawyer and I should let Eladio know I?m going to be late. I wonder what they?re doing to Cynthia. I didn?t know someone could go that pale and still be among the living. Yep, just get in the driver?s seat. The people holding you are just run-of-the-mill bacteria and you are a two-week course of augmentin. You are Barbara, Warrior Antibiotic. You will prevail in this crappy little petri dish. She shivered and realized that the room was probably intentionally kept at an uncomfortable temperature. She was sitting at an empty table, across from two chairs, and had been separated from her possessions, including the paperback history of Cuba she had been trying to read on the plane. Fuck, good thing Chela has the toys. Chela?Shit. I miss you, my baby. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of two men, who hurriedly placed a stack of manila folders and a tape recorder on the table without speaking. One of them appeared tentative in his movements, letting his larger partner select a chair first. ?Barbara Murphy?? ?You already know that,? she replied bluntly to the more aggressive man. I am in such a proctology mood, pal. Back off. The man ignored her comment and flicked the recorder on. ?You know, ma?am, I could get you some coffee,? offered the younger man, his voice expressing a hint of gentleness. ?It?s probably not better than what they had on the plane, but it might make this go faster for you.? ?I want a lawyer. I don?t know what this is about, but I know that I?m entitled to a lawyer.? The recorder was turned off. The large man sighed. ?You?re right.? He leaned back in his chair. ?This is Agent Robert Cousins and I am Agent Ernest Townsend, and we belong to a special investigations section of the U.S. Treasury Department.? |
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