New Worlds - Havana

 

“You no tell the truth! You do know how to dance.”



Mercedes laughed as she twirled around her partner. Tall, dark and handsome, with the chiseled features of a movie star, he was amazingly light on his feet.



“Not really.” He smiled. “The footwork is much like another dance I once knew.”



“The tango?”



“No. Sword fighting.”



He turned, as the throbbing beat of the music faded, and quickly made his way through the crowded room to where his companion waited.



Mercedes shivered, and rubbed her bare arms.  For all his youthful appearance, he had eyes as old as Methuselah.





****



“Did you enjoy yourself?” Jack grinned as Will, face flushed, slipped into the seat next to him.



Wiping his brow with a napkin, Will glared at Jack. “You owe me for that.”



“Why?” Jack crossed his leg and lit up a brown Cuban cigarette. “You dance quite well. I especially liked that cha-cha move you did at the end.” Blowing a smoke ring towards Will he added with a chuckle, “Won’t be able to keep the girls away, not with those moves.”



Will threw the bunched up napkin at Jack, knocking his hat off. Jack had insisted in dressing for the occasion and had picked out the white linen suit and straw hat just that morning.



“If we are going to blend in, we must look the part,” was his explanation, though Will was quite convinced Jack just enjoyed the whole charade. It was as if Jack set up their excursions with the express idea of living each moment to the fullest.



Not that Will was complaining. Each visit ashore was eagerly anticipated, this one especially, as they had been to Havana together once before. That time though, their welcome had not been quite as warm. Positively unfriendly, in fact.





****



Mercedes strolled along the Malecón, the walkway where the city met the sea. The soul of Havana, the Malecón was the true pulse of the city, the place where people came together - to sit on its low walls, enjoy the sea breeze, to play music, kiss, fish, socialize, drink and smoke cigars. Mercedes closed her eyes and breathed deep the scent of the city, a heady mixture of sea, humanity, dust and tobacco, swirling around her like a seductive, sweet perfume.



She was surprised to see, when she opened her eyes, the two men from the tavern standing nearby, looking out over the moon-lit water of the bay. Engrossed in conversation, they did not notice her in the shadows. The older one was explaining something to his companion, with sweeping gestures, waving his bejeweled hands towards the bay and the dark shape of the Morro Castle at the entrance to the harbor.



The men moved on down the Malecón in the moonlight, heads bent towards each other with the familiar closeness that comes from old friends… or lovers. Mercedes sighed and turned away. There was something mysterious, even otherworldly about them. She would liked to have known them better.

 

****



“I have been told,” Jack said, “that each night, the ghost ships of every nation that ever attacked the great El Morro line up in the dark to try again.” He waved a vague hand towards the 16th-century castle protecting the harbor.



“They never succeed, of course. Even in the afterlife.” His tone was so matter-of-fact, it was as if he'd witnessed the event the previous night.



Will raised a quizzical brow. “And you’ve seen all this?”.



“Sometimes, if I've had enough rum.” Jack laughed.



They resumed walking, drinking in the intoxicating sights and smells of a warmHavana night. Will had a moment of déjà vu as they navigated the shadowy, cobblestone streets and narrow lanes of old Havana. In another lifetime, another century in fact, they had been pursued down these same streets, taking sanctuary in…



“The Catedral de la Habana.” Jack recited, as if from memory. “Constructed was started by the Jesuits in 1748, who unfortunately weren't around to see it finished in 1777 – since Spain’s King expelled them from Cuba in 1767. Fortunately, we were not Jesuits.”  He paused, smiling, drumming his fingers lightly on his chest, while waiting for Will’s reaction.



“Or Catholics,” Will added.



****



“I have a confession to make.” Jack said casually over his shoulder from where he stood on their room’s small balcony, overlooking the rooftops and the sea beyond.



“Again?” Will came out to join him, handing Jack his drink. Rum, straight up, no ice. Will sipped his own, a newly acquired taste. Rum and Coca-Cola, with a dash of lime, appropriately called a Cuba Libre. “What is it you need forgiveness for this time?”



Jack turned and slid an arm around Will’s waist, drawing him close for a lingering kiss. “I paid that girl to dance with you.”



“Why?”



“I wanted to watch you dance.”



“But you’ve seen me dance before.”



Sighing, Jack raised a hand and let it drop. “I was also hoping you might teach me.”



“Then I will teach you.”



Music drifted up from the street below as Will slipped in front of Jack, moving soft and supple, swaying to the beat, his movements both seductive and hypnotic.



“If you want to learn, you have to watch. Watch me, Jack. Watch me," he whispered, his eyes half closed. His body pulsed to the music but his sleepy eyes remained steady on Jack. "Do you understand? Watch me.”