Betrayal (15 page)

The ride into town takes over an hour, with many of the roads bumpy enough that I’m happy I hadn’t spent all morning drinking mojitos like we’d been doing for the past couple of days.  Chase has been promising since we got here to show me the real Cuba.  Spending time on the resort is great, of course, and I have enjoyed the relaxation, but I know how insulated a five star hotel is from real life in a country like this, and I’m curious to see how Cuban people really live. 

After paying and tipping the driver enough for him to want to stick around town for the day to take us back again, Chase leads me through the brightly painted center of the little town.

“Welcome to Viñales,” he says. 

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”  It really is.  Many houses are painted the bright colors common in the Caribbean, pinks, greens, yellows, but mixed in with those are bigger, more historical looking buildings which have their own character.  The architecture of many of them seems almost colonial.

“Careful,” Chase’s hand eases me out of the way of a cart being drawn by a couple of animals.  In the back are a few weathered men who look to be in their 40’s.

“What are those?  Horses?”

“Oxen,” he replies.  “They’re likely on the way to the fields.  Farmers here grow some of the best tobacco in the world.”

The men smile at me as they pass and I wave back.  Everyone seems very happy.

We continue to walk through the town and each time we pass a local, Chase greets them in Spanish and they say something back.  I wish I could understand what they are saying, but the extent of my Spanish knowledge is from my trip to Mexico years ago with Evelyn.
Dos cervezas, por favor.
  I don’t think asking politely for a couple of beers is going to get me very far.  Especially since most of the locals he is stopping to talk to are children.  Each time he meets one, Chase reaches into his backpack and pulls out something he picked up back in Canada, handing it to them along with a few dollars.  The smiles on their faces almost bring a tear to my eye.

“Do you come to this town often when you’re here?”

Chase shrugs.  “Believe it or not, this is actually one of the touristy towns.”  As small as it is, I have actually noticed a number of faces in the town which clearly don’t belong.  “I usually go to different places, smaller ones, but still in this general area of the country.  But there’s a good mix of things to see here so I thought it would work for us today.”

Chase leads me past the town now and soon we’re at the edge of the farms.  Workers and animals dot the landscape amid broad leafed plants that are about waist high. 

“Tobacco,” he says when I ask about them. 

We continue to walk, the hot Cuban sun layering us in sweat as we pass small little houses sprinkled here and there amongst the farms.  I have a feeling this is even more indicative of daily Cuban life than Viñales, so I’m glad to see it.   Chase had packed  water and had warned me this morning to wear my walking shoes, so I’m not about to complain.

Eventually we come across a small house at the edge of a farm and stop.

“It’s lunch time,” Chase says.  “Hungry?”

I nod vigorously.  I’m starving.  If it is actually lunch time, that means we’ve been walking for close to three hours.  My feet are exhausted and I’m overheated from the sun.  Still, I don’t recall Chase packing a lunch for us so I’m not sure what he has in mind.

“Follow me.” Before I know what he’s doing, Chase is knocking at the door of the farmhouse.  An older Cuban woman answers and as soon as she sees Chase, she pulls him into a hug as if she’s known him for years.  The two of them begin speaking very quickly in Spanish.  I have no idea what they’re saying, beyond being sure that he hasn’t asked her for a couple of beers.  Before I know it, though, we’re being ushered into the little house.  I try to catch Chase’s eye to ask him what is going on, but he is too busy talking to the woman.  She looks old enough to be his mother.

The two of them speak for a few more moments before Chase introduces me.  The woman’s name is Elena Cruz.  As soon as Chase introduces us, she says something and then exits the front door, leaving us alone in her house.

“Chase, what’s going on?  Who is this woman?” 

“I’ve known Elena and her husband Victor for years.  Every time I come by this way I stop in and they always feed me a great meal.  You can’t visit Cuba without getting at least one home cooked meal.”  He winks at me and gives me a little hug.  I accept it stiffly, still unsure what to think about standing in a stranger’s home in Cuba, waiting for her to feed me lunch.

While we wait for our host to return, I look around.  This is the first Cuban house I’ve been inside of, and despite how small it is, I’m amazed at how much character is packed into it.  There are pictures of Elena and who I assume to be Victor alone, but also with others who I assume are their children.  From what I can tell, they have at least three of them.  In the photos they are various ages and I can almost track their growth progression through each picture.  All of them seem to be taken in this very house until the kids became adults, at which point the pictures stop.

“Hola!”

I turn to see Elena return with a darker skinned man wearing a wide brimmed hat and a light shirt.  Chase introduces me to Victor who matches the images of the man in the pictures with Elena.  He smiles and shakes Chase’s hand as Elena disappears into the kitchen.  The three of us sit down in the small room with all of the pictures.

“Victor owns this farm and has for a few generations.  They grow tobacco.” As if he understands what Chase is saying, Victor pulls out a few cigars from a box next to his chair and offers them to us with a smile.  I politely shake my head, but Chase takes one and the two men light them up.  Victor doesn’t speak as much as his wife, and we sit mostly in silence until Elena returns to tell us that lunch is ready.  We follow her to the kitchen and sit at a little table laden with food.

After Victor motions at me, I help myself from a pot of what seems to be beans and some type of meat covered in a light sauce, as well as a tomato salad.  Although I haven’t a clue what the dish is that I’m eating, it’s delicious and I say so.  Chase translates and Elena smiles happily.  The three of them talk a bit during lunch with Chase occasionally translating.  Mostly they are talking about the changes to the US embargo and what it might mean to their country.  They’re cautiously optimistic.  I don’t know a lot about it though, since Canada has never had any such restrictions.  From what I know, though, the 50 years long embargo has been very hard on the country, so I can imagine why they’re excited at the prospect of it possibly being lifted.

After the meal, Chase brings his backpack out and empties it onto the coffee table in the first room.  There is still a lot of stuff left.  He speaks to Elena and Victor, and they smile and hug him again.  “They can take what they need, and then give the rest to their friends and neighbors,” he explains.  I also see him hand some money to Victor.  I couldn’t see how much it was, but it seemed like a lot.  I’m touched at how generous he is.  I know that kind of money isn’t a lot to him, but it must mean the world to people like Elena and Victor.

“Ready to head back to town?” he asks.

My belly is full, but my feet are hurting.  Still, they’re not going to get better by waiting around for a few more hours.  We’ve already been here long enough to miss the hottest part of the day.  “I guess so.  Hopefully my feet will last all the way back.”  I say it with a smile, trying not to come off like I’m complaining.  Not too much, anyway.

“Oh, we’re not walking,” Chase says, flashing me his trademark half grin.  “Victor has offered us a special ride.” 

Curious, I follow him out of the little house.  I hadn’t noticed any car when we arrived but it could be parked behind the house. 

Waiting outside is a cart, very similar to the one that almost ran me over earlier, with two light gray oxen grazing on the sparse lawn as they wait patiently for us to climb aboard.

“I’m not ready to go back to my life,” I say, half-heartedly pushing clothes into my suitcase.  Our flight back to Toronto is early tomorrow morning and we decided to pack tonight so that we could sleep in a bit longer. 

“We don’t have to stay there,” Chase says from the other side of the bed where he’s putting his own suitcase together.  He’s almost done since he has a lot more room going home after giving away the entire contents of one of his bags.  “Come back to Vegas with me.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back there, either.  I’m just being silly and spoiled, don’t mind me.”

“No you’re not,” he says, shaking his head.  Chase walks around the bed and takes my arm gently.  “I get it, Lila.  You’re not sure what you want to do, and going back, to either of our homes, is almost like making a decision you aren’t ready to make yet.  The thing about choices is that they’re scary because you don’t know if you’ve made the wrong one until it’s too late.”

I nod, resting my head on his chest.  His body smells fresh through his shirt.  We’d spent our last day at the beach but both of us had showers after getting back to the room.  Well, one shower shared between us, anyway.

“So let’s not go to either place.  Let’s go somewhere else instead.”

“What?”

“Why rush back?  Neither of us have anything pressing to get back to.”

“We can’t just keep running away from our problems.”

“We’re not,” he protests, and I can feel his chin brush against my hair as he shakes his head.  “It’ll just give us more time to figure things out.”

I breathe heavily into his shirt as I sling an arm around his waist, hugging him a bit tighter.  The thought of spending more time away with Chase sounds amazing to me, but I can’t help but feel guilty.  Not only because he’s paying for everything, but because I’m keeping him away from playing poker.  To me it’s just a game, but I know it’s a lot more than that to him.  At the very least it’s his job.

“Don’t you have to play poker or something?  I feel like you’re putting everything aside for me.  I know you’re a professional player and it’s important to you.  Just because I don’t have a job or career prospect doesn’t mean you have to give up yours as well.”

Chase chuckles softly, I can hear it right through his chest, reverberating against my ear.  “A couple of weeks ago it was the most important thing in the world to me.  Isn’t it funny how fast priorities can change?”  He pulls me back a bit and looks me in the eye before kissing me on the forehead.  “Actually, there’s a way we can do both if you’re interested.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ever heard of Macau?”

I shake my head instinctively but then stop myself.  “Actually, it sounds familiar, but I don’t know what it is.”

“Not what.  Where.  It’s a city in China.  Technically part of China but run a with a bit of autonomy, sort of like Hong Kong.  Anyway, it’s a very big gambling city.  The biggest cash games in the world are played there.  I go a couple of times a year to play.  Maybe we can go there for a little while.  I can play a bit while you relax in a fancy hotel or spend time at the spa.  Like a working vacation, but I promise to do a lot more vacation than work.”

“Are you sure?  I feel like I’m becoming this incredible burden, like you have to drag me along wherever you go and pay for everything.”

“Are you kidding me?”  He kisses me again, on the lips this time.  Firmly.  “You’re the only reason I want to go anywhere right now.  You’re the only reason I’m making any decisions.  I’ll go wherever you want Lila.  We can go back to Vegas.  We can go to Toronto.  We can go to Africa if that’s what you want to do.  As long as we go together, I don’t care.  Stop worrying about the money.  Seriously.  I have more than enough, and I have nothing I would rather spend it on than you.”

I close my eyes and return the kiss, my lips brushing much more softly against his than he had done to me.  “You’re right.  I agree.  As long as we’re together.  So let’s go to Macau then.  At least you can play there, and your little spa suggestion sounds wonderful.”  He’s right.  As long as we’re together it doesn’t matter where we go.  I resolve to stop worrying about the money.  Evelyn said he’s made millions playing poker, and he’s generous with it wherever we go.  Even if I hadn’t noticed that before, it’s been obvious here in Cuba.  It’s refreshing to be with someone not as obsessed with money as Harry had been.  Or not having to worry about it all the time like when I was by myself.

“Fabulous,” he says, pulling away from me and walking back to the other side of the bed to grab his phone.  “I’ll call my agent and make the arrangements.”

Chase gets on the phone and I wander out onto the porch to get some fresh air.  The evening is still warm, but there’s a refreshing breeze in the air that keeps it from being stifling.  Cuba really has perfect weather.  At least the people have that going for them.  The trip has been amazing and beautiful, but in some ways a little bit depressing.  There is a lot of poverty here.  Chase took me to a couple of other, smaller towns in the days following our trip to Viñales, and although the people there seemed just as happy and satisfied with their lives, they have so very little.  Chase had another backpack filled with the rest of what he’d brought, and passed it all out, along with more cash, very liberally.  It filled my heart to see him do it, because it seemed very genuine, like he really wanted to help the people. 

But the most unfair part of it is that it’s not like the people are lazy, or undeserving.  The people here work harder and longer than anyone I’ve ever met back home and yet here we are, about to fly off to another part of the world where Chase can play a game for millions of dollars while I sit and have someone rub my feet or put cucumbers on my eyes.  It hardly seems fair how the ups and downs of your life are dictated more by where you’re born in the world than what you can do with the skills you’re born with. 

I hear the sliding glass door open and close behind me, and Chase’s arms circle around my stomach. 

“I hope we can come back here some time,” I say. 

“For sure.”

“Thank you for bringing me.  Thanks for showing me more than just… this.”  I motion to the beach and ocean in front of us.

“Of course.”

“I feel guilty.  We have so much and they have so little.  It doesn’t seem fair.”

“It’s not,” he agrees.  He’s quiet for a moment, and then I feel his face nudge against the back of my head.  His voice is softer now.  “We’re born into the world as it is, and in the grand scheme of things there’s very little we can change about how it works.  Certainly not in the short term, and often not in a lifetime.  And to be honest, I’m more of a live in the moment kind of guy, so I have to leave a lot of that big picture stuff to other people.  But that doesn’t mean that I can’t do my part to change the lives of individuals in some small way.  I’ve been fortunate enough to find something I enjoy doing that also makes me a lot of money, more money than I need.  I could spend it myself, I guess.  I know a lot of guys that do.  Or, I can do something more meaningful with some of it.  That’s why I come to places like this, why I don’t stick strictly to the resorts.  If I can help a few people each time, it’s my way of giving back.  I might not be able to improve the whole world, but I can at least improve someone’s world.”

I squeeze his arms around me, pulling him tighter.  That was the right answer.  If I had doubted my feelings towards him before, he’s just solidified them.  I turned around, still holding onto his arms to make sure he doesn’t let me go.

“I love you, Chase Anderson.”  His eyes light up, and a smile starts to break across his face, but my lips don’t give it time to finish before they’re on top of him.  He kisses me back as my fingers begin to pull urgently against the front of his pants.  All of a sudden I’m anxious to demonstrate my own version of generosity.