Cuban Delight

Sergio ran across the hard-packed dirt and slid silently behind a tree. From his vantage point, he could see Carlos’ house. Carlos was at the door, shaking out a small area rug, but looking up to see if Sergio had arrived yet. Sergio let out a soft whistle, and Carlos smiled. Sergio knew that Carlos had gone back into the house. Faintly, he could hear Carlos’ mother calling to the boy to not be gone too long.

Sergio ducked back behind the screen and waited. Soon he heard bare feet running up from the yard and Carlos join him behind the tree.

“Is Pauly coming?”

“Yeah. He has to bring his little brothers, though.” Sergio shrugged.

“It’s ok. Ricky and Ronnie are ok. They just better keep up. Is Isabel coming?”

“No. She said it was gross. Come on.” Sergio pushed off from the tree and cut through the shrubs to the road. Once on the road, the 2 turned and headed out of town.

It was nearing noon, and the sun was almost directly overhead. It was hot, but not dry. The pressure in the air promised rain later in the afternoon, and the two boys hurried from a trot to a run. There was no time to waste.

They neared a small village on the edge of the jungle and slowed to a walk, skirting the thatched hut where the bruja lived. Dust kicked up as they strolled past a palm-shaded patio, coating their already dirtied feet and legs. The sound of laughter and the soft clicking of dominos meet them as they casually walked past.

“What are you boys up to? Isn’t there school today?”

“No. No school. I’m visiting my Abuelita.”

“Good boys. Help her with her garden!”

“We will!” The boys ran off giggling. They were going to visit Abuela Josephina, alright, but they weren’t going to help with her garden.

They continued walking on the side of the dirt road. The heat was so oppressive, even the crickets were silent. Carlos moaned or sucked his teeth occasionally when he stepped on a rock, but it didn’t take too long to get to Sergio’s abuela’s house. Again, they crouched in the shrubs as they got closer to the house. Sergio noticed the blinds were closed, but the front door was open. From years of weekend visits, he knew that Abuela Josephina’s back door was also open. It was the hottest time of day, and she was hoping to catch a sea breeze. The oppressive air promised rain, but it was still a ways off. In the meantime, the weather was hot and sticky. Abuela Josephina was in her room, napping the heat away, Sergio knew, and he gestured to Carlos that the coast was clear.

The boys stepped out of the bushes and walked to the detached garage. The white building wasn’t very tall, barely big enough to hold a car, and in fact, Abuela Josephina didn’t even have a car. The garage was instead filled with the detritus of years gone past. Sergio walked around to the back and used the rainwater barrels to climb up on the garage’s flat roof. He turned and helped Carlos up beside him. Sergio took off his shirt and spread it out on the roof of the garage.

“Get only the good ones. Don’t get them hard and don’t get the ones that fell already.” Carlos was already pulling branches towards himself as he hunted for the perfect fruit.

The mango tree was large and heavy with fruit. Ripened and rotten mangoes dotted the top of the garage roof, making it both slippery and sticky. There was still plenty of ripe fruit left on the branches, and it didn’t take long for the boys to gather over a dozen mangoes on Sergio’s shirt. When they were done, Sergio tied the corners of his shirt together and tossed the bundle down to Carlos, who was already standing on the rain barrel waiting.

Treasure in hand, the boys headed towards the jungle. They didn’t go in too deep, just deep enough to find a small clearing that was out of sight from the road and Josephina’s prying eyes.

As Sergio and Carlos entered the jungle. Pauly and his two baby brothers were sitting in the clearing, waiting. Ricky and Ronnie, twins, cheered when they saw the fruit wrapped in Sergio’s shirt. Their cheering startled a tree frog into answering in its creaky rocking chair voice.

Sergio untied his shirt and laid the fruit carefully on the jungle floor, in the very middle of the clearing. He then joined the others in removing his clothes. Dirty shirts and dusty shorts were dropped in bundles under a tree. Each boy picked a mango, stood in the middle of the clearing, and waited. By the feel of the air, heavier by the second, the wait wouldn’t be long.

Suddenly, as if turning on a faucet, warm rain fell from the sky. The boys looked up, letting the rain fall across their faces and trickle down their bodies. Rivulets of dirt and dust ran down the boys’ legs as the rain cleaned them of the road grime.

As the shower picked up in intensity, the boys gleefully peeled back the mangoes with their teeth and ate. Mango juice ran down their chins and fell on their chests, where it was joined by the warm rain and got washed away. Mango after mango was consumed, and a small pile of mango seeds grew in the center of the clearing.

After the rain and feasting stopped, the boys gathered the seeds and threw them into the jungle. They didn’t want mango trees growing in their clearing. They dressed and together stepped out onto the road where the sweet perfume of mangoes followed them home.