Authors: Roberta Kagan
Chapter 42
Over the next eight months, Alex and Anna learned to speak Spanish almost fluently through daily conversations with the natives, and English fairly well from books Alex purchased. They set aside the waltz, which they’d brought with them from Germany, to learn the
bolero-sun
, a hot rhythmic dance, much like the
rumba
. Even though Raul was much older than he was, Alex made friends with the man, and he and his wife occasionally went dancing with Alex and Anna. However, Alex and Anna tried to save every penny that they could. With an uncertain future such as theirs, money could be a safety net. If they had enough, and could make the right connections, they might be able to buy the visas to America. Still, they both knew that they might never leave Cuba, that for reasons beyond their control they might never see the United States. They had discussed this. It upset Alex more than Anna. He felt that, in America, Jews would be safe. However, both of them had become acclimated to their lives in the tropical paradise. There was no doubt that they were surrounded by beauty, not only not only in the old city, but also just a few miles away in the new city. Alex missed his career; he missed his love affair with words. He’d become fast and efficient at rolling cigars, but he longed to go back to journalism. And Anna secretly yearned to finish her education. But for now these were dreams, and with all that the Jews faced in Europe, they considered themselves fortunate to be earning enough money to live and even put a little away with hopes for a future.
Every month a letter arrived from Uncle Max, and sometimes another from Aunt Edith. They were doing what they could to obtain the Visas, but so far they were being shuffled around without any concrete answers.
Alex began going to the library. He wanted to learn to read and write in English. He read books written in English, and began writing his own critiques on them. Words had always been his strongest allies, and he planned to use them to convince the Americans to approve their visas. And if not, he would try to find a job in the new city working as a writer for one of the tourist papers.
On most Sundays, Alex and Anna packed a picnic basket and walked through the park or along the ocean. They splurged and bought second-hand bathing suits so that they could feel the warm salt water upon their skin. Alex had lost the pale, chalky-white pallor he’d had when he first arrived, replacing it with a healthy bronze glow. Anna, too, had been kissed by the sun. The sunshine and good food helped Alex to regain his health. He gained weight and his body filled out. To look at him, no one would ever know he’d been starved and tortured in Dachau.
For Alex and Anna, every day their love only grew stronger, and spending every night wrapped in each other’s arms was the true highlight of their lives. The landlady gave Anna a box fan, and at night they listened to the hum and the chirping of the crickets. Anna lay with her head on Alex’s chest, gazing out at the full moon.
“Sometimes I wish that we could have a child,” she said. They had taken great care not to conceive.
“I know you do, and so do I, but I don’t think we should until we know what is going to happen with our visas. If we have a baby they might not let us in to America.”
“Do you care so much about leaving here and going to America?”
“Yes and no,” he said. “I love it here. It’s beyond beautiful, but I am afraid that if we stay in Cuba, we will always be poor. And this country is small, not nearly as safe; its government isn’t as reliable as the United States. We are Jews, Anna. We must never forget that if there is trouble, Jews are the first ones that they go after. Besides, there is so much opportunity in America. There, I can work hard and give you the life you deserve.”
“If that is what you really want, I am going to start asking my customers if they can do anything to help us get our visas,” Anna said.
“You mean to tell me that you have not asked them?”
“No…” she said, “I’m sorry.”
‘You don’t want to leave?”
“It’s not that. It’s just that I am comfortable. I feel secure. Our lives are what they are, but at least we know what to expect. After the ship and everything we went through to get here...”
“I know. I know,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“In America, we will be starting all over again, not knowing where to go or what to expect…” she said.
He nodded. “It’s beautiful here, and I am comfortable too. But after what happened in Germany, I’ve learned never to become too comfortable. America, in my mind, is still the safest place for us. The government is stable, Anna…”
“I sent a letter to my parents several months ago. They still have not answered.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset you. I kept waiting, thinking that the letter would come the following day…” Her voice cracking with concern, “It didn’t…”
“But you are upset? If you are upset, you should always turn to me. You know that I’m here for you. Even if there is nothing I can do to help, I will always listen. Oh, Anna, my Anna…” Alex picked up her hand and kissed her palm.
“Do you think they are all right?” she asked.
“Yes, of course they are,” he said, but he knew that he didn’t sound convincing.
“I am afraid for them. Before I left they begged me to write, and promised that they would write too. But they haven’t, Alex.”
“Do you think it might have been the mail? Maybe they never received it. Why don’t you write again?” he said.
“I will try. I’ll write tomorrow.”
“That’s a good idea.” He said a silent prayer that her parents were safe, but after what he’d been through in Dachau, he doubted it.
Chapter 43
Alex followed the news coming out of Germany every day and Anna could see how worried he was. Cuba had its own problems with anti-Semitism, and she knew that Alex was afraid that the Nazis would infiltrate the government there. It was well known that many of Hitler’s SS came to Cuba on holiday. They were accepted, and even welcomed. She decided that it was probably a good idea to start asking some of the officials’ wives if they could help her and Alex get their visas.
Every time Anna had the opportunity, she asked her customers. Most said that they did not interfere in their husband’s business affairs, and brushed off her request to discuss their latest party or the newest fashion.
One afternoon an old woman came into the shop, perhaps seventy-five, maybe eighty, but she kept her hair coiffed in a teased-up do that stood high on her head like a crown. Her hands were parchment-white, with raised, thick, purple veins, and she wore long crimson nails that curved under her slender fingers. Her name was Benita Garcia, and everyone at the salon both feared and disliked her. She was a strong woman who demanded immediate service, and expected excellence at every turn. Benita’s reputation for cruelty included being the cause for several of the hairdressers leaving and going to work for a competitor, just to get away from her. However, even though she’d been asked to leave and not return by Claudia, Benita continued to patronize the shop. When Anna had done her shampoos, she demanded a long massage, and then after Anna had taken the knots out of her long, thin hair, she expected her neck and shoulders rubbed. Some of the girls complained, and even refused to comply because she was known to forget to tip, even though everyone knew she was very rich. But nobody could say where her money came from. Several of the girls speculated she’d been born an heiress, but no one knew for sure. Anna never refused any of Benita’s requests. She’d always shown Benita the respect the older woman demanded, never arguing with her or expecting a tip for her services. Then, when Anna was promoted to the manicure table, she spent extra time massaging Benita’s old arthritic hands, and allowed Benita to take as much time as she needed to select the perfect nail polish. Because of all of this, Benita had always liked Anna, and even occasionally remembered to give her a small tip.
Anna dared not ask Benita for help with her visas. She knew the older woman could be caustic, and expected a refusal followed, by a reprimand, and heaven knew what else. If Anna said the wrong thing, or asked the wrong question, Benita could see to it that it cost Anna her job, or worse.
On a busy Friday morning, Benita came into the shop without an appointment. Claudia simply did not have room to fit her into the schedule with any of the hairdressers or manicurists. Benita responded by throwing a tantrum.
“I have been a customer of this salon for years. You mean to tell me that you cannot take me today? I have a very important dinner tonight with my husband’s colleagues, and their wives. I need to have my hair and nails looking perfect,” Benita said, banging her fist on the reception table.
“I’m sorry. I cannot help you.” Claudia hoped that Benita would leave the salon permanently and go to another one; she’d had enough of this old woman’s antics.
Again Benita hammered the reception desk. “Do you hear me? I need to have this done…today!”
“There is nothing we can do for you here,” Claudia said. All the other customers grew quiet, watching the old woman’s outburst.
Anna, seated at the manicurists table just a few feet away, had just finished polishing a customer’s nails. Gingerly, she got up and went to the reception desk.
“May I offer to help?” Anna said.
Claudia looked at her, relieved, wondering what Anna could possibly do.
“I have been watching the girls do Benita’s hair since I started working here. I can forgo my lunch hour today and do her hair and nails. Of course, that is if it’s all right with you,” Anna said.
“Do you think you could do it right? My hair I mean?” Benita asked.
“I believe I can,” Anna said.
“If you want her to try, I would agree to it,” Claudia said.
“It’s not like I have much choice, but if I don’t like it…well… I am not going to pay for something I don’t like.”
Anna worked on pure commission, so Claudia waited for her to decide.
“It’s up to you, Anna,” Claudia said
“I will try for you, Mrs. Garcia.”
“All right, I suppose. What else can I do? Well, don’t just stand there; let’s get started.”
Anna felt the sweat bead under her arms. Benita Garcia demanded perfection. But Anna did her best, and by the time she’d finished, Benita sat looking in the mirror. She glanced at Anna, and a smile came over her wrinkled face.
“You know, Anna, you never cease to amaze me. You have more patience than anyone I have ever met. In fact, I hate to admit this, but sometimes I push people just to see how they will respond. I suppose it is just age that makes me ornery. However, you have done a wonderful job today.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate your loyalty as a customer to the shop.”
“You’re about the only one who does. They think I don’t know that they talk badly about me and that they wish I would leave this shop forever. Of course I know. Nothing gets by me.” She laughed. “But they don’t have the guts to throw me out permanently. They’ve asked me to leave, but always welcome me back when I show up. Ahh, well, at least they all know who I am; I’m not just some person who comes to get their hair done and remains anonymous. I’d rather have everyone talk badly about me than just not talk about me at all.”
Anna was not sure how to respond, so she just smiled. “I am glad you like your hair and nails.”
“Anna, there is something I would like to discuss with you, but not here. It’s a bit of a secret. Can you meet me after work, for a cup of coffee, perhaps? I won’t have much time to spend with you, because I have that dinner to attend, but a few minutes are all I will need.”
Anna tilted her head and looked at the old woman, bewildered. What could Benita Garcia want with her?
Benita smiled, then winked, “So, you’ll be there?”
“Of course I will meet with you. We close at 6:00 tonight. I hope that is all right. I will come immediately after we close,” Anna said. Alex would be a little upset at her being late to celebrate the Sabbath, but Mrs. Garcia’s proposal intrigued her; she wanted to know more.
“There is a little cafeteria right around the corner, the one right by the park where the men play dominoes? Are you familiar with that place?”
“Yes, of course, they are famous for having the best coffee in Havana.”
“Meet me there. Don’t be late. I will be waiting.”
At the workday’s end, Anna hurried through clean up. She wanted to get to the coffee shop as quickly as possible so that she could get home before dark. All day she contemplated what the old woman might have on her mind. She decided that Mrs. Garcia probably planned to offer her a job doing her hair and nails privately. Claudia usually frowned upon taking customers from the shop and doing their services at home, but Anna knew that Claudia would be glad to be rid of this particular customer. And for Anna it meant full payment for her work, not just commission, making it a nice sum of extra money. She and Alex could use the cash. Every penny they saved was a penny closer to getting to America. And Alex still did not know that all of their previous savings had been stolen. Because Anna knew how delicate Alex could be, she had continued to put off telling him. However, before Anna mentioned anything to Claudia about taking this customer privately, she would first meet with Benita Garcia to be sure that is what Mrs. Garcia had in mind.
When Anna arrived, Benita was sitting outside under an umbrella, drinking a cup of thick black Cuban coffee. She had another mug filled for Anna sitting on the table waiting. Anna sat down and glanced at the contents of the cup; it looked like wet mud.
“That was rather brave of you today, Anna, to agree to take care of me, even though you have very little experience doing hair, and I can be such a pain in the ass, and then to sacrifice your lunch hour too.”
“I wanted to see to it that you to had everything done for tonight. You said you had an important dinner.”
“You have always been kind to me,” Mrs. Garcia said. “You are good girl, not like the others. They are such trash. Hmmm, I know trash when I see it. I know class too. I can tell you were raised properly.” Benita sipped her coffee, blowing on it first to cool it down. “Your parents should be proud. I would tell them myself, if you would like. Are they here or still in Europe?”
“I suppose you know that I am from Europe by my accent?”
“Of course, dear, you speak broken Spanish with a German accent. It is rather obvious.” Benita raised her eyebrows; then she smiled.
“I suppose it is,” Anna said, looking down into her coffee cup.
“What is it Anna? Something is wrong…tell me. I am not a patient woman, but you may just find that contrary to popular consensus, I can be a very good friend, to someone who deserves that friendship.”
Anna had never discussed everything that happened on the
MS St. Louis
and all that had taken place before she’d boarded. She doubted that Mrs. Garcia even knew she was Jewish. But something told her to tell the woman the entire story. How her parents had sacrificed everything to get her out of Germany, even that Alex had been in Dachau, and his entire family had been murdered. Anna looked into Benita’s dark eyes, and suddenly she realized that the mean old woman was merely an act. This woman was kind and compassionate, and maybe too kind, so she hid what she thought was a weakness by being hard and uncompromising.
“I know you are in a hurry, but I will be as brief as possible. I am going to tell you something I have never told anyone,” Anna said.
Mrs. Garcia nodded. “Go on Anna… I’m listening.”
A breeze rustled the trees; Anna ran her index finger along the top of the coffee cup. She bit her lower lip, swallowed, and began to speak.
Then Anna told her the entire story, from the time she left her beloved parents in Germany, until Manny had paid for her and Alex to leave the
MS St. Louis
.
Mrs. Garcia sat, silent, looking directly into Anna’s eyes. She did not speak until Anna had finished.
Then Mrs. Garcia nodded, blew on her hot coffee, took a sip and spoke.
“So you and your husband are trying to get visas into the United States and you are having a difficult time?” Benita Garcia asked.
“Yes.” Anna nodded. “We are trying. My uncle is in America and he is doing what he can to assist.”
“I see,” Benita Garcia said, wrapping her red-nailed fingers around the warm coffee mug. “I think I might be able to help. I don’t know if you will need some money. But if so, can you get any?”
“I will contact my uncle and see what can be done. My husband and I have a little bit saved. We have both been working hard and saving everything we could. But recently our apartment was broken into and the thief took everything. My husband doesn’t know. He is an emotional man. It stems from his time in the concentration camp, and I just haven’t had the heart to tell him. ” Suddenly Anna was crying.
Benita Garcia nodded again.
“I understand,” she said, “Don’t tell him. After his being tortured in a camp, I can see why he is an emotional wreck. Let this just be our secret for now, and let me see what I can do. Give me a week or two. I’ll come into the shop and ask for you when I have some information.”
“Mrs. Garcia…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.” Benita Garcia had turned back into the hard old woman hiding her feelings. She got up slowly and for the first time, Anna noticed how arthritic she was. Then Benita Garcia bent over and stretched her back, patted Anna’s shoulder, and left.