Havana Best Friends Read Free Page A

wife …”
    “I’ve got to pee,” Marina mouthed to Elena as Sean considered his reply.
    “Excuse us for a moment,” Elena announced, rising to her feet. They left their cocktails on the tray and disappeared down the hallway.
    Pablo sighed with relief. “I want you have good time. I don’t know if you can … send wife back to hotel?”
    Sean shook his head. “No, Pablo, I can’t,” articulating slowly, making it easier for the bald man. “Marina has this fiery Latin temperament. She’d get pretty mad if I did that to her in public. When I said ‘wild’ I meant, you know, a nice meal, drinks, driving around, maybe going to a nightclub. I might return soon – alone – then you can take me to the best places to refine my ‘sense of taste.’ Okay?”

    From the toilet seat, Marina examined the bathroom. The usual plus a bidet. An old plastic shower curtain frayed at the bottom, a circular swing window by the bathtub. Two gaping holes by the sink indicated where a towel rack had been. Marina wonderedwhat purpose a plastic bucket full of water served. No toilet paper was in sight and she fished for a tissue in her handbag.
    After zipping her skirt up, Marina inspected the ceramic soap dishes recessed in the wall alongside the bathtub, by the sink – where a sliver of soap survived – and next to the bidet. Then she turned to the toilet-paper holder. The four pieces were level with the light-blue glazed tiles on the wall. In all probability they had been there since the tiles were installed.
    Marina flushed the toilet. Aside from a little gurgling, nothing happened. So that was what the bucket was there for. She poured half its contents into the toilet bowl, closed the lid, looked around. She filled a glass jar by the sink with water and washed her hands. She was inspecting her face in the medicine-cabinet mirror, shaking the drops off her hands to pull out a fresh tissue, when there was a knock on the bathroom door. Marina said, “Come in,” and Elena turned the knob and handed her a towel.
    “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there weren’t any in here.”
    “It’s okay.”
    “We have running water from 5:00 to 7:00 p.m. only. It’s when I shower and fill up all the buckets and pans in the house.”
    “Why is the water restricted?” Marina asked as she wiped her hands dry.
    “For two reasons, according to the president of the Council of Neighbours,” Elena said, watching Marina’s manicured hands with envy. “The system of pipes supplying water to the city is in ruins; half of what’s pumped into it is lost underground. So, the cistern never has water for more than three or four hours of normal consumption. Secondly, the pump that fills the tanks on the roof of the building is too old and breaks down frequently, sothe neighbour who tends to it turns it on two hours a day only.”
    Marina returned the towel to Elena. “Such a nuisance. Life here seems to be fraught with problems.” Feeling her way.
    “It is, it is. Inconveniences, nothing tragic, but you may have to wait two hours for a bus, two months for a beef steak, save for two years to buy a decent pair of shoes.”
    “And to live in a place like this?” Marina asked as she produced a lipstick from her purse and turned to the mirror.
    “Well, maybe two centuries,” Elena said with a wide grin. “Apartment buildings like this are a thing of the past. This one was built in 1957. It’s ugly, looks like a big box, but back then we had professional construction workers and those guys knew their business, they built to last.”
    “It’s a great apartment,” Marina said once she’d pressed her lips together and capped the lipstick. “The rent on a place like this in Manhattan? No less than five thousand dollars a month, as much as eight thousand in a nice area.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. This could use some refurbishing, though. You haven’t made any repairs, have you?”
    “Never. But it’s in good shape. No cracks or