My Man in Havana

Today, at 12.48pm, my heart broke.   

I’d watched the Gatwick departures listings, online from my office, from the moment you arrived at the airport.  Watched as Virgin flight VS063 was going to take you away from me.   Away from those two wonderfully special days we had managed to spend together.   Nowhere near enough days, but enough to know, for us both to know, that what we had felt two years ago, that flicker of something special, was still there and had grown into something beautiful. 

I’d watched as your flight, which should have taken off at 12.15, was listed as on the runway for 33 minutes more.   In my mind I had a fantasy that the reason it was delayed was that someone on board that flight to Cuba had shouted that they needed to get off, that you had decided you couldn’t leave and were on your way to my small town, or even that I would look at the office door and see you standing there. 

We have spoken, often, of the moment when you and Adrian wandered out to the bar at the hotel in Puerto Banus, two years ago.   It was after 10pm and there were only a handful of guests there enjoying the warmth of the evening.   Sue and I were drinking wine, overlooking the pool. 

We still laugh at the way Sue can gather people together with her ready banter and soon two men joined us.   Whilst she was busy finding out why each of them were staying at the hotel, where they come from, what they do, I glanced over to where you had sat down.    You were way over in the corner, almost in the shadows, but I could feel you looking back at me.   I tried not to look, but I needed to see if you were still there.   Sue had noticed you both too and suddenly, and now famously, she shouted over to ask if you were alone and suggested you both come over.    You did and perhaps her best line of the night was after you told her you were from Cuba, she asked if you were a couple of drug dealers.   I am laughing as I write this even now. 

Seeing you closer took my breath away a little, as it did again when we met last week.  But that night, with all those other people around us, I could only look and couldn’t bring myself to say much – Sue does have that effect, rather overwhelming people with her large personality, but I love her for it anyway.   So while they were all chatting away about, well I can’t remember what they were chatting about if I’m honest.   I just remember looking into your eyes, whenever I could, and feeling …..something.   

All too soon, although I believe it was after 2am, we went off to our own beds – you with Adrian and I with Sue, but I lay awake for a long time thinking about how you look, wondering what  your story was; wife? partner? children?    The next morning we bumped into you at breakfast and then later around the pool, but again, we were the quieter ones and I watched you through my sunglasses.   Your body, toned, just as I had imagined it the night before.  

If only we had arranged to see you in the evening, as we found out the next morning you had gone for dinner alone, whilst we were down in the Port, surrounded by those awful English men, in Spain to play golf and pick up women.   Not my type at all.    It would appear that my type is a handsome man from Havana!    

We met at breakfast, but you were leaving, going home via Mexico, with no time to chat further, other than swapping email addresses, a promise to stay in touch and kiss goodbye – the Spanish way – on both cheeks.

Amazingly, we have kept in touch, fading at times, but then you suddenly appear just when I think you have forgotten about me.  And always we talk about that night and how we both felt there was a mutual attraction. 

And then, a couple of months ago, you told me you were coming to the UK to see your Sister.  I was, of course, excited by the news, but wondering what it would be like when we met.  Would we have anything to talk about?

I was still thinking that way when I was on the train to London last week, not nervous, but excited to see you.   My plan was to get to South Kensington earlier than 12noon, so that I could be sitting, calmly, waiting for you and I wanted to see you through the London crowds before you saw me.   As it turned out I was late, train issues, and you were in Starbucks waiting for me on a seat right by the window.  You were every bit as beautiful as I remembered and we kissed, politely, whilst I apologised for keeping you waiting.  

I had hoped the sun would have been shining for your first trip to England, but our weather, as ever unpredictable, instead sent us a grey, cloudy sky with the threat of rain and rain it did!  As we walked and talked our way around Kensington Gardens, stopping for you to take photos of the Royal Albert Hall and for me to take your photograph next to the Albert Memorial.   I tried my best to explain the love that Queen Victoria had for her husband, Albert, and, devastated at his death, she had the memorial built in his memory.  

Walking on to the Italian Fountains and more photographs before we stepped onto the street.    At which point the heavens opened.   Even I, as a born and bred English person, have never seen rain quite like that.   We laughed as we huddled under my umbrella – thank god I brought it – and decided it would be a good time to find somewhere for lunch.   A French Restaurant in Lancaster Gate – expensive, but worth it for the time spent drying out and talking about our respective lives and what has happened to us in two years.   I would have paid twice that to be able to sit opposite you and look into those eyes, properly, for the first time that day.   Listening to your soft voice with your lovely accent and watching your face when you are searching for the right word.   Josue, you say your English is not good – believe me it is very good and you have shamed me into learning some Spanish. 

We emerged into a sunny afternoon and so I took you to the perfect place to be in London when the sun is shining – Covent Garden – lively, busy, trendy and colourful.   A couple of street performers, which the former fruit and vegetable market is famous for, were entertaining the crowds. 

We squeezed through the crowds outside and managed to find a space outside a pub.  I wanted you to have a good view over the market square.   

Wandering down into Trafalgar Square I explained about why people gather there on New Year’s Eve to wait for Big Ben to chime in the New Year and how I have jumped into those fountains on a cold December night, just because it was the thing to do and ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes.   I took a photograph of you sitting by those fountains, tanned and beautiful in your white shirt and I look at that photo often now that you’re gone. 

From there a short walk to the Houses of Parliament and we were standing right by Big Ben at 6pm,  as it chimed the hour.   You were mesmerized by it and watching your face I realised then just how much I take my own country for granted and that these things are a source of wonder to people coming here for the first time.   There are so many other places I want to show you, if only we had the time. 

We sat on a wall and at the half-hour chimes you said you had something you needed to say to me and I will never forget those words.    You said that two years before you had a strong urge to kiss me and that, today, you still had that feeling.   I barely let you finish what you were saying and turned your face to mine and kissed you.   We kissed hard and passionately, just as I knew it would be, in all the times I had imagined your lips on mine.   

All day I had stopped myself reaching for your hand while we walked the streets of London, as I wasn’t sure what your reaction would have been, but in that moment, you made it easy for us to touch and how good that felt.   

Sadly though, it was time for me to think about going home – I can remember feeling so strongly that I didn’t want to go anywhere, unless it was with you.

We had already arranged to meet again when you returned from Madrid, but agreed that I would come alone, rather than bring Sue, which we had spoken about before.   Neither of us wanted anyone else to be there when we met again.

I barely slept on Friday night, excited to see you and to make the most of another day, our last day, together.  I was sitting at a bar waiting for you, and this time I saw you first.  

I suggested breakfast and you tasted your first Full English – a fry-up.   And all the while we slipped into the easy way of talking we seem to have, about your trip to Madrid and my 10 days waiting for this moment. 

The bus trip was a whirl of London landmarks and the commentary, with that awful music, telling you things I can’t remember about my capital city.   Funny that I have chosen to do bus tours in other cities I have visited, but never my own.    I’m glad to have shared that with you.    We held hands, we kissed.  

We got off the bus at the London Eye as I’d thought it the perfect place for you to get a good view of London.   It proved more than perfect, as I had brought Prosecco for us to have a toast 135 metres above the Thames.   I have lost count of the number of times we kissed in that half-hour, close to the window, looking at the view, you standing behind me and kissing my shoulder.  If only we had been alone, rather than with the passengers there with us.    I have a photograph you took of us there together with the buildings of East London behind us – it makes me smile. 

I wish we could have gone round again, just you and I.   Instead we got on the boat which was another part of our tour.   Taking us along the Thames from the Eye to Tower Bridge and after a brief look at the Tower, we found the nearest pub for a drink.    It was a busy, but we spent a lovely hour talking some more about our lives.   You asked me to tell you a bit more about me.    I want to know everything about you.    How you look in the morning, how you look when you’re sleeping and how you would look making love to me.  But there, with all those people around us, we spoke about our school and work and I tried to explain the meaning of the pub name – Hung, Drawn and Quartered – not easy as they are old English words describing torture. 

We were due to meet with your family and began to walk in the direction that would eventually find them via St Paul’s.   I wanted to show you as it was one of the places I used to work.   We wandered in and listened to the choir singing Evensong – beautiful, but sombre -  It took longer to find your family than it should have done to get there as we walked the length of Oxford Street and into Piccadilly Circus.  

 It was so good to meet some of the people who mean so much to you and who you have spoken about and they invited me to join you all for dinner in Chinatown.    However, as we walked along Regent Street, towards Hamley’s, we noticed how quiet we had both become.   For me it was the realisation that we now had to be on our ‘best behaviour’ – no more holding hands, no more spontaneous kisses – that you were going to be leaving the next day and there would be no more time for us to be alone and to say a proper goodbye.   It makes me cry to think about it still.     I realised then, as much as I didn’t want to waste a chance to spend more time with you and how I didn’t want this day to end and how lovely it would have been to know your family better, I was truly struggling not to show my emotions and couldn’t trust myself not to cry in front of them.    And so, in that moment, I told you I was going to get my train – a decision I deeply regret now – but I was so close to tears.  I know you could see that and I was overwhelmed to see that you were upset too.   Your green eyes, like mine, showing your sadness.     

I managed to control myself enough to make my apologies to your Sister.   We kissed in the lift going back down to the street, but then we had reached the point I had been dreading all day.   I wanted our goodbye to be long and lingering.    Actually I didn’t want to say goodbye to you at all and instead to be able to spend endless days with you.  As it was we managed to kiss, but I was worried that your family might see us and so, hardly able to speak, I tasted your lips for one last time and walked away.   You couldn’t see then how much I cried - my journey home a blur of tears, but also of happy thoughts about how easily we talk and wondering what we could be to one another if only time and 4,500 miles were not standing in our way. 

I wish we had been able to spend one more day together, but that time was for your family – just as it should be – and that’s one thing I have come to love about you Josue, the love for your family.   And so I spent the day with friends and although I was there in body, talking with them and enjoying the sunshine, my mind and my heart were with you.  

I woke in the early hours today, the day you are leaving for home.    I missed a call from you which would have meant I could have heard your voice, but I read your message, calling me your Dear Love, telling me to take care and saying that you think you love me.   All the things I wanted to say to you, but I do know, as strange as it seems from only having two days together, that I do love you and I know, as I knew two years ago, that I will see you again my love.