HABÁNAME, Chapter 8                                                  - 15 -

myself,? he paused and let his gaze rest on his shoes. ?It would make a difference to me, Doctora Murphy, to
know that I am not such a bad judge of character.?

Barbara turned and pulled up her laptop, thanking all the saints that she had charged the battery before leaving
Boston.

?Look,? she pled urgently. ?Let me just show you this ? this diskette has all your livestock immunization data.
It?s not true that it has already left the country. And then perhaps you can find it in your heart not to return me
to a country where I will face great suffering because of my refusal to sell you out. I would rather go to a Cuban
jail??

She worked quickly as she spoke, turning the computer on and working her way through the opening programs
until she accessed the word processor. She was aware of twin presences behind her - Chela and Santos as they
eagerly awaited for something to appear on the screen - and realized intuitively that both of them were praying
for a miracle that would reset the direction of the morning. The diskette had only one file on it, named ?Aquí
está!? ? ?Here it is!? She clicked open and looked on in horror as the familiar words scrolled across the screen:
?Mamá, yo quiero saber, de dónde son los cantantes??. The lyrics of ?Son de la Loma? filled the page.  
Matamoros. Matamoros. Fucking Matamoros. Right under my fucking nose. Right under my motherfucking
nose. They are protecting whoever met Alex in front of that building that morning. And they played me all
along. They were never going to help us.

?I don?t understand.? Her voice was a lifeless croak. A hand gently came down on her shoulder.

?It?s time, Doctora,? whispered Santos. ?I am so sorry that this is how it ends between us here.? Chela had
begun to sob. Valverde looked over at Barbara?s possessions, she had only unpacked her duffel in the few days
since her return. ?Let me give you a hand with these?? He moved to pick up the suitcase and side bag.

?I?ll take your duffel,? managed Chela through her sniffles.

?Compañeros!? Santos turned to address the two officers who had observed all of the proceedings with a mix of
interest and confusion. ?Please wait for me outside in the van, we will be out shortly.? The two men looked at
each other, uncertain about the propriety of the physician?s request, but ultimately complied, each accepting one
item from Valverde to carry out to the vehicle. Valverde turned back to Chela. ?I?m sorry compañera, but I
cannot permit you to accompany us to the airport. This is for your good as well. It is bad enough that your name
has come to the attention of the authorities in relation with these unpleasant occurrences.?

?Fuck,? growled Barbara, straightening herself out and looking the Cuban doctor in the eye. ?Santos, she had
nothing to do with any of this other than convincing me that I would be permitted to stay if I told the
immigration office all that has happened. But it seems that the people who have harmed all of us, Santos ? both
your country and myself ? have their own way of manipulating events so that the truth doesn?t matter anymore.?
She gave in to the impulse to kick a chair across the room, sending it crashing against the wall, then collected
herself.
?Please, compañero,? she whispered. ?At least give us the privacy and the time to say goodbye. I beg this of you
in light of the positive experience we have shared in working together.?

The man briefly considered the petition, knowing that it was unwise to provide a suspected spy with such an
opportunity. He would later think back on his decision as the inevitable outcome of the powerful effect the
dissonance of the situation ? the contrast between his fact-based obligations and his embodied sense of morality
? produced on his judgment.

?Yes, compañera. I can give you this. Just a few minutes, though. I will tell them you are gathering your
clothes.? He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Barbara did not know what to do. She was caught at the crossroads of dozens of impulses: to run, cry, scream,
throw herself on the floor in a heap, cast herself into her lover?s arms. Chela was much more decisive and the
door had barely caught in its frame before she was in motion, scrambling for the duffel, opening it widely and
frantically rummaging through it.

?What are you doing,? asked Barbara quietly in astonishment as she saw Chela pulling out her sex toys and dirty
laundry.

?Get me any dirty clothing you can find in the bathroom ? and all the feminine hygiene products you brought. It
doesn?t matter if what you find is mine or yours. Just bring it to me,? she ordered.

Maybe she has gone mad, thought Barbara miserably as she ran to do as she was told. God knows I am on the
verge of losing it. She came back to find Chela pulling notebook after notebook from between the mattress and
bed frame and stuffing them into the bottom of the bag. Chela looked up to see the tangle of clothes and sanitary
pads that Barbara cradled in her arms.

?Good. That?s good. We will be able to bury all of them in there. If they think to look they will stop soon enough
when they find these other things.? She put the dildo and harness at the very top, before zipping the bag shut.
?You want to know what I am doing?? She stood and embraced her confused and crying lover. ?I will tell you. I
am going with you, but only part of me can go ahead. I made up my mind while you were gone ? I told you
those two weeks would make things much clearer. It doesn?t matter that you are getting on that plane. I will find
a way to go to you.?

She took one last kiss, pressing herself into Barbara until her chest ached for breath. ?I don?t even have a picture
of you,? she lamented into the other woman?s neck, before nuzzling it.

?Wait,? muttered Barbara, reaching into her back pocket for her wallet. ?Here,? she said, pulling out a handful of
U.S. currency and her driver?s license. ?This is all I could take out of my bank without calling attention to
myself. Take it. The photo isn?t very good, but the license has my address on it, so you will know where to find
me. I will be at that address starting in May? You won?t do anything stupid to get there, will you? I love you,
Chela. I won?t stop trying to find a way for us to be together.?

?I know you won?t stop. You have my permission to read those journals. In fact, I want you to. It will be like