Miguel Mejides - Havana Noir

Eladio’s eyes grew so large that for a moment it looked like they might pop out of his face.

“Yes, well, that’s true,” Luis said, laughing bitterly, “it’s the one thing we can do correctly: kill ourselves. But you wouldn’t want to see me add to that statistic, would you, Eladio — make that number grow by one? You don’t want to see if I can kill myself correctly, do you? And if I botch it and end up with bigger problems than I have now?” Luis got a cunning look in his eyes, an expression that Eladio had seen on a couple of previous unpleasant occasions, which meant that his employer was going to use an argument he knew would win. “And after I kill myself, how would you explain a suicide to the señora? How do you think she would feel if she knew I killed myself?”

“No! No! Señor Luis!” Eladio was babbling in an almost incoherent manner. Sweat was pouring down him, dripping off his body in such copious amounts that soon he would be completely dehydrated.

Luis continued giving instructions, so that there would be no mistakes, no unforeseen eventualities. “Tell her I asked you to contact my friends to cancel the dinner — that’s important, you cannot forget that part.” Then Luis added, smiling, almost as an afterthought, “Tell the señora also that I love her — those were my last words.”

“Señor Luis, please, don’t make me do that, please.”

At this moment, Luis knew that Eladio would do as he asked. And Eladio knew Luis well enough to be certain that if he, Eladio, did not do as ordered, his employer would do as he threatened and find another way to end his life. But Señor Luis was clumsy with tools and his method wouldn’t be as quick or as painless as what Eladio could deliver.

With much reluctance, Eladio crossed himself several times and prepared himself to carry out his employer’s wishes. He kissed Señor Luis on both cheeks, then knelt on the ground, head bowed, and asked for Luis’s blessing.

At his advanced age, Luis Rodríguez-López was so frail and thin that twisting his neck was as easily and quickly accomplished as with the chickens, maybe even easier. Blinking back the tears that were flowing down his cheeks, Eladio looked at his employer lying at his feet and realized for the first time: He had really loved the man.

As Eladio stared at the body of the man who had meant so much to him, he could feel in his own heart the reason that Luis had asked him to end his life — not just because he could not serve his friends a proper meal, but because he had become tired of living. Luis had felt it was his time to leave this earth, and he had wanted to do it on his own terms. He needed to be able to control something, and the end of his life was the only thing left. And Eladio was the only person he trusted to do the job properly.

After taking the photographs from Luis’s hands, Eladio carefully laid the body down on the garden bench, arranging his employer’s features in such a way as to make him look as comfortable and peaceful as possible. He wanted María Eugenia to see her husband in the best way, so she would be assured he did not suffer in his last moments. He waited until he felt composed enough to get her and then, with one look back at Señor Luis, headed up to the house.

“Señora María Eugenia!” Eladio called out as he ran toward the house. “Señora María Eugenia!” No response. He called her name again. Now he was frightened, his heart beating so fast he thought it would explode inside his chest.

Eladio went into the main quarters of the house and looked everywhere, to no avail. The house was deserted. He went room to room again, this time searching more carefully. The only thing he noticed amiss was that the photo album was nowhere to be found. Had Luis taken it? He’d had only the three photographs with him in the garden. Where was the album?

Not knowing what to do, he went back outside to the terrace and sat in Luis’s rocking chair. He did it as a reflex, an impulse: It was suddenly the right thing, to take this seat. He remained where he sat, in the chair that belonged to Señor Luis, for the better part of the day, with terrible thoughts coursing through his brain about what he had just done, and fears of what horrible fate could have befallen María Eugenia. Making matters much worse was the fact that the day was exceptionally hot, and knowing how heat affected corpses, he kept having visions of what was happening to Luis’s body.

Rocking in the chair, he felt he was going mad from worry when, finally, he heard the familiar sound of the front gate. He jumped from the chair, ran over to the entrance of the house, and almost wept with joy when he saw María Eugenia slowly making her way up the path. He saw she was carrying the photo album.

“Eladio, hola!” María Eugenia cheerfully waved to him. “I’m home!”

It had been a long time since Eladio had seen María Eugenia in such good spirits. “Hola, señora,” Eladio replied. “I was worried about you, you left without letting us know you were going — you’ve been gone all day.” He knew it was not his place to scold his employer’s wife but he’d been so concerned about her that he was past caring about behaving in a proper way. This day had devastated him.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, Eladio, but I had to run an errand. I needed to do something that I did not want Luis to know about, and I didn’t want to have to tell him a lie. So I slipped out of the house. I’m sure he’ll be happy when he sees what I’ve done.”

María Eugenia stepped closer to Eladio and took one of his hands in hers. She looked so happy, with her eyes sparkling and a huge smile on her face. “You know how worried Luis has been that he can’t find the seafood to serve his friends?” she whispered in his ear, as if telling him a secret, and waved the photo album.

Eladio thought he was going to pass out. It took all the self-control he could muster not to fall to the ground. How could he say to her that her husband was dead? Oh God! He wished it was him lying on the bench in the garden, not Señor Luis!

“Yes, Señora María Eugenia,” he replied. How was he going to tell her? He couldn’t bring out the words; this was worse than what he’d already done. It was starting to get dark and Señor Luis had been lying outside on the garden terrace for close to ten hours.

“Well, I wasn’t supposed to do it,” she said, “but knowing how important it was for Luis to make this dinner perfect, I sold my wedding ring! We were saving it for a time when we had nothing at all to eat. But I knew that this crisis was, for Luis, even worse than starvation. You want to know what I did with the money I got for the ring? It was worth more than I had thought — it was white gold, Eladio, not just regular gold. Luis never told me it was white gold!”

María Eugenia held out the photo album and began turning the pages. “You see, Eladio, I’ve been thinking about the dinner, and all that seafood — the lobsters, the crabs, the shrimp — and how there is nothing to be found in Havana.” She began to laugh triumphantly. It was so strange to hear the señora laugh that all Eladio could do was watch her helplessly. He should have told her immediately, the moment he saw her. It was a mistake to wait. “Well,” she said, “I thought and thought about where Luis was going to get the seafood for the dinner. He would never consider serving anything else, he’s stubborn, we both know that, no?” She leaned over to Eladio and — looking around, as if to make sure she was not being overheard — whispered, “You know Ricardo had to sell his family’s painting of José Martí to pay for last year’s dinner?”

“Yes, señora, I heard that,” Eladio muttered. “Very sad.”

“Well, we don’t have anything like that — only my ring — so I had an idea.” María Eugenia opened up the photo album and looked up at him. “You know, there are three pictures missing — maybe Luis took them — I have to ask him about that when I see him.”