Mid-morning Checo’s crew trudges toward the administrative garages. Christopher’s first look inside the gates of the walled community he is amazed to see shops and even restaurants. They walk by a hospital. It’s a small town in here. There are warehouses for food, a commissary, cafeteria, on-base dormitories and separate homes for married administrators. The most elaborate building is El Jefe’s hacienda wrapped in Spanish Colonial curves. Christopher stretches for a glimpse of a Saltillo tiled courtyard. Well-armed guards in jeeps and on foot enter and exit the compound for island patrol. Women and men walk dirt streets on errands. A guard in a rusty jeep stops Checo. Christopher wonders will there be a confrontation? Trouble? After a whispered conversation Checo reaches deep in his pockets taking out two packs of cigarettes. After handing them to the guard the jeep speeds off in a cloud of dust. “What just happened?” Christopher asks one of the older inmates. Head down, his eyes on the street, the man replies, “The guard told Checo; putas, the prostitutes, will be at the dock tomorrow. Guards, group leaders, the administration have the privilege to buy time with the girls.”
Christopher’s eyes widen, “Prostitutes?” The old man nods. He is already shuffling off. He doesn’t want to be seen talking to the gringo. Thoughtfully scratching his head Christopher wonders will the puta boat be a way to sneak off the island?
• • •
Dawn crests the horizon and Christopher has a spot on the bluff where he can watch the comings and goings of the dock. He settles beneath a group of banana trees for an unencumbered view of the show below. The boat, a fifty-footer, has already moored. As the sun illuminates the horizon even at this distance Christopher can see it needs care. Orange rust has begun to leak down the white hull. A dozen girls stand scattered behind the Captain. Clothing varies from peasant girl to slutty street walker. Wrapping his arms around his knees he contemplates who put the Captain in charge of the putas?
Men are lined up in order of importance. Testosterone fueled feet stamp and men jostle each other impatiently. The Captain sets up shop on the dock under an umbrella. Later, a young woman climbs off the boat to bring the Captain a beer and the restless men grow silent. Christopher leans forward to get a better view.
Luxurious dark hair falls past her shoulders in waves. Long limbs are toned and smooth. He guesses her age somewhere between eighteen and twenty years old. Her eyes are wide and clear. Her features and body stunning in their symmetry; they are a study of balance, complexity and openness. Infinitesimally small explosions, bursts of light, open then recede. Like dainty bubbles of Champagne they pop, fizzling bright and agile. The air sparkles around her!
Losing his balance he tumbles forward. She looks up the hill. He lays in her sight line now. Christopher wheezes in surprise when a white swan appears at the woman’s side. Five feet tall her plumage brilliant white, her wings fan out, stretch and then settle. Almost as tall as the woman so many feelings roll off the swan Christopher cannot keep up. Fiercely protective she will fight on land, water or air. She is delicate yet strong, kind yet willing to be tough. The swan lengthens her neck, circling the woman, peeking around at Christopher. He stops breathing. Yet his heart pounds loudly. He’s entranced with both the swan and woman. He blinks and the woman stands alone, looking at him. Christopher scrambles back beneath the shade of the banana trees. He hears the Captain say, “Nina, mija, mas cervesa por favor.”
The breath whooshes out of Christopher like he has been hit in the stomach. This beautiful young woman is the Captain’s daughter? Why would he involve her in his world of prostitution? A daughter should be protected from loveless acts. Irate with the Captain, caught in the woman’s beauty, Christopher watches her scrub the decking hair falling down in strands while she cleans. She’s a hard worker. Beautiful…… Did she see me? Did she smile? I think she smiled at me! Not to be outdone he blows her a kiss.
• • •
After this strange introduction Christopher opts to rest. Free days are for repair, to fully recover from his injuries. He journey’s inward, a meditation designed to retrieve pieces of his spirit that were broken off , traumatized in his beatings, imprisonment, the theft of his car. Closing his eyes he counts each inhale and exhale. His mind and heart settle. His attention drifts. In the partial wakefulness of the dream he searches for lost parts of himself. He adds a prayerful wish. Guide me. He floats. In the distance sail images related to him. Like a magnet he draws them closer. His spirit recognizes each reflection even while it appears to be debris. One picture of his Chevy battered and broken reflects the many hours he spent restoring it only to have the connection brutally severed. In his inner vision he cleans and restores the car. It melts into the growing sphere of health surrounding him. Taking the view of his beaten body he images his ribs healed. Bruises fade. The likeness of him stands straighter, filled out with muscle and strength and something akin to the vitality of the dolphins. When the impression of him bursts with health he draws it inward, melting into the field that composes ‘Christopher.’ And so it goes he floats in inner space and collects the broken and frayed pieces of himself. With his intent and inward vision he heals parts of the soul broken off in the trauma of beatings and imprisonment. The screen door bangs. Checo enters talking with Ave Bonita in soft coos. She cackles softly in his ear. Drowsy, Christopher thinks, Checo’s pet; friend, guardian, defender and an alarm system warning of dangers. Her claws would make a formidable ally. In a spurt of adrenalin he realizes Checo’s return marks the end of the day. The boat must be leaving. He jolts upright. Jumping from the bed he sprints out the door. He arrives out of breath at the bluff above the dock just in time to see her toss bow and stern lines onto the boat. “Date prisa Juanita, hurry,” the Captain shouts over a crude loud speaker. Juanita jogs to the bow. She turns and looks directly at Christopher. She smiles. Hands to lips, she blows him a kiss. Laughing Christopher blows a return kiss. Sassy girl.
Walking the dirt trail to the food tents lost in thought he wonders, am I having a happy moment? Possibly involved in a school boy crush? I have a crush on the daughter of a man who runs a prostitution ring? Have I lost my mind?
Yet a light step accompanies him as he heads to dinner. Checo standing on the porch entrance blows him a kiss. He must have seen me. Christopher’s apprehension soars. He keeps his head down walking past Checo. Ignoring the man’s gesture, as an afterthought he calls out, “Hey Don Juan! When is the boat returning?” “Not soon enough gringo,” Checo laments. “Not soon enough. They only come once a month, occasionally twice a month. Why can you afford a girl?”
“No,” replies Christopher in his sternest voice.
Ave Bonita squawks at him.
The sound startles Christopher and he jumps.
Maneuvering around Ave Bonita, he slaps Checo on the back, “You’re an ugly man Checo… And I mean that in a brotherly way,” he adds. Laughter erupts in the tent.