Meanwhile, in Havana, Abuela sat in her rocking chair and prayed the rosary. The white beads of her rosary passed gently through her fingers as she fervently prayed each Hail Mary. She had first prayed incessantly for the safe arrival of her family, and now she prayed that she could be reunited with them soon. Those first anxiety-ridden days, knowing her family was out at sea risking their lives, kept her from any sleep. She had consoled so many women who had come to church crying desperately because their families had been lost at sea. For one long week, she had been in their shoes, pacing around her small apartment alone, praying to God that they would make it all right.
As planned, the day after her family had left, she burst into the police headquarters pretending she didn’t know where they had gone.
“Please, tell me. What have you done with them?” she asked the young man in a military uniform, who had no idea what she was talking about.
“My daughter, her husband, and my grandson have disappeared!” Abuela said frantically. “They couldn’t have all disappeared at the same time. The government must be questioning them somewhere, but why?” she begged to know.
Abuela hated how the government forced families to lie just to survive, just as she was lying right now. Cubans had to lie every day about their true feelings. They even had to steal food to survive. Many shop owners and farmers secretly separated a small stash of items for themselves and their family or to sell in the black market before they gave their crops to the government.
Then Abuela received a call from Maricusa, her sister, in Miami.
“¡Hola! Maria Elena,” Maricusa said. “You wouldn’t believe what I am going to tell you, but your family is here in Florida! What a surprise we had when the Coast Guard called us!”
Abuela chose her words carefully. “¡No me digas! I have been scared to death not knowing where they were,” Abuela said as rehearsed, knowing that her phone call might be overheard. “How could they possibly leave me here alone without family?”
“Well, Maria Elena, you know how young people are, but please don’t be too hard on them when they call you. They are en route to Maryland,” Maricusa said, sounding giddy with happiness.
Then Abuela heard static in their phone line, and she knew the conversation was going to be cut off. What a bad actress her sister had been. She would have never survived in this communist Cuba, Abuela thought.
“Thank you for calling, Maricusa!” Abuela said very solemnly. Then when she hung up, she looked at her ceiling and thanked the Lord. She felt like dancing all around the empty apartment. They had made the dangerous voyage and survived! She had to remember to control her happiness so her neighbors would not hear her bursting into laughter and shrieks of joy.