Maresol

 

Maresol awakened and sat up violently, hitting her head on the low ceiling just above the bunk.  Terrified, she looked all around her, pulling the blanket up to her chin.  Where was she?  This wasn’t Cuba.

A handsome young Norte Americano sat at the table in the middle of what appeared to be a boat.  He was looking down at a magazine on the table, but then looked up and noticed her sitting on the bunk.  He stood up and Maresol cowered backward on the bed, remembering her grandmother’s favorite saying to her – “The devil is very handsome.”  The handsome young man called out something in English that she didn’t understand and an old Americano on deck came down and smiled at her.

“She’s awake, Grandpa.”

“Yeah, good.  Tough girl.  You been giving her water right along, right?”

“Yeah, every fifteen minutes.  She’s had almost a gallon so far.”

The old man smiled.  “Good.  Thirsty sponge, isn’t she?  She probably needed it.  She was close to dying of exposure when we found her.  Has she said anything yet?”

“No.  She just now woke up.  Look at her, she looks terrified.”

Maresol was shaking all over, but she wasn’t sure whether it was from terror or thirst.  Who were these two Americanos?  Where was she?  What were they going to do to her?  Holy Mother of God, where have you sent me?

She drew the blanket up to her nose and moved further back on the bunk.  Despite her terrible fear, she was suddenly overwhelmed by an even more terrible wave of raging thirst.  “Water – water please?”  She croaked through her still parched lips.

“What’d she say, Grandpa?”

“More water, I guess.”

The young Americano poured another cup of water into the glass sitting next to him there on the table and brought it over to her.  Her eyes were wide and frightened, but she nevertheless longed for the cup of water.  When he brought it to her, however, she hesitated and looked at it for a moment.  Then she shook her head and moved further back on the bunk.

“What’s the matter with her, Gramps?  I thought she wanted it.”

“Here, let me have it.”

Tim backed up and gave him the still full glass of water.

“She doesn’t know us yet.  She’s about scared out of her wits.”  He brought the glass of water up to his lips and smiling pleasantly at her, took a sip.  “See,” he said gently, in a tone of voice one would use to comfort a hurt child.  “It’s okay.  We wouldn’t hurt you.  Now here.” Grandpa gave her the cup.  “You drink.”

Maresol hesitated for a moment, but then took the cup from him and drank the water down greedily.  She sighed.  She never tasted anything so good in her life.  She held the cup out, her hands still shaking.

“More – more water, please?”  She asked.  Her eyes begged.

The old man smiled at her and took the empty cup, shaking his head slowly.  “Not yet there, young lady.  No more for now.  You’ll throw it up.”  He handed the cup to his grandson, who set it down on the table behind him.  The old man sat down on the bunk opposite her and attempted to make introductions, pointing first to himself.  “Grandpa,” he said and then he pointed to his grandson.  “Tim.”

Maresol continued to hold the blanket up in front of her, but now only to her chin and her eyes darted back and forth between this old man and his young partner.  Grandpa pointed to her with a questioning look on his face.

“Maresol,” she said.

“Mary soul?”  Tim asked.

“Mar-ee-saal,” she said, sounding it out phonetically.

“Maresol,” Grandpa said, smiling broadly.  He held out his hand.  “Welcome aboard the Rose.”

Maresol cowered back some more and the blanket came back up to her nose for a moment.  “Water.”  She pleaded.  “More water, please.  I’m about to die of thirst.”

“What’d she say?”

Grandpa shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I wish one of us could speak Spanish.”

Maresol pointed at the gallon of water on the table.  “Water,” she said.  “Water.  More water, please!”

“Ah, she wants some more water,” Tim said and poured her another glass, giving it to her.

Maresol took it from him, almost snatching it from his hands and drained the cup in several desperate gulps.  She held the cup out for more, but then suddenly the room started to spin and her head hurt terribly.  She moaned with her hand up to her forehead, trembling all over.

“There, there, Maresol,” Grandpa said gently.  “Time to rest now.”  He reached over to her and helped her lie back down again.  Maresol suddenly felt too miserable to care that the old Americano was so close and once again, everything went dark.

“What are we going to do with her, Grandpa?”

“I don’t know.  We can’t take her back to Cuba – or to Florida, for that matter.”

“We going to take her to Michigan with us?”

“Don’t know.”  Grandpa shrugged.  “We’ll have to think on it for a while.”

“How about Nassau?  I was looking at the map this morning.  The Bahamas are kind of on our way, aren’t they?”

Grandpa thought for a moment.  “Well now, that’s an idea.  They’re a British possession, so we wouldn’t have to worry about the police.  Still have to duck the local Mafioso, however.”

“You think they got that e-mail too?”

Grandpa nodded.  “More than likely.  It’s a worldwide network nowadays.  That e-mail probably went out all over the world.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”  Grandpa sighed.  “Well, doesn’t look like we got much choice in the matter.  We got to do something with her.  We can’t take her all the way to Michigan with us.  We don’t have enough food or water.  Nassau, it is.  She may even have some family around there.”