to the story he was telling. How his face had darkened at Quitanoâs threats; and how, when he said, âEducation is the key,â Maria had nodded to herself: âSÃ, la educación es la llave.â
There were many times when Abel wished to tender his resignation, but who would then speak for the children? Who would then trumpet: âEducation is the keyâ ? Certainly none of the other gentlemen sitting around the table. New medals seemed to grow on their chests at each meeting, their cars grew longer, sleeker, their mistressesâminor starletsâmore bejewelled. Haciendas began to spread on the outskirts of the city, behind high walls and electric fences. Soon no one knew in which one Quitano lived; he moved like a medieval monarch around his palaces.
âHere,â Quitano said to Abel one day, âhere is a present from the government.â It was the keys to an estate on the far side of the island.
âNo,â said Abel, who had just seen his budget increase by a miserable two million pesos. âI cannot accept.â
âOh, come on. This is not the peopleâs money. No one is taking it from your precious education.â
âWell, whereâ¦?â
âFrom friends of this government.â
âAnd who are they?â
âUnited Nickel. Yes, a big American company is our friend. Our best friend, Abel. Our best friend for a future.â
âYours, I think.â
ââDo not dare to accuse me.â Quitanoâs voice echoed down the corridor.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
All this time, of course, Rafael was enjoying a privileged lifestyle. But it wasnât enough to blind him from the poverty, illiteracy, and lack of opportunities that lay outside the haciendaâs walls. And what he did not see, Maria gave him eyes to see, so the lines of his poetry became cleaner and sharper. He had freed himself of his family name, preferring instead to publish under his motherâs name, Portuondo. Perhaps, he thought, well-chosen words would be able to cut through the tangled mesh of interests that bound his father.
Rafael and Maria were not the only ones to see how Abel had aged in his ministry and how betrayal was beginning to show in his eyes: how genuinely sorry he seemed to be that he could make nothing happen. Yet still he travelled through the countryside; still he spoke with passionâand with apologyâto teachers, parents, children, and to community leaders. Often his wife, Mercedes, accompanied him now. She had been a teacher herself once and, whereas teachers and parents could admire the fervent belief Abel had for his cause, children loved Mercedes for the unaffected warmth of her concern. âYou should be the politician!â Abel said to her more than once.
Word began to spread of a good man trussed up in a corrupt situation.
But word also spread to Quitanoâs sharp ears of this paragon who was gaining popular support. Worse, that his ponce of a son, RafaelââThe ungrateful wretch who casts off the family name as if it is something to throw in the gutter!ââwas involved in student politics and that Abel was making no effort to curb his enthusiasm. The universities, he thought, needed watching more closely.
But Abel was not the innocent Quitano took him to be. He was aware of the danger he was in and would have been careless if it were a danger he faced on his own. Putting his family in danger was another matter entirely. He made arrangements for his wife to leave the country for the safety of Miami. It was ostensibly a holiday, but Quitanoâs contacts told him of the long-term lease taken on a property. It was the excuse he wanted. He had Abel arrested on charges of corruption and political intrigueâthat should tarnish the troublesome saint. Word reached Rafael that he and Maria should immediately go into hiding. He dropped his literature studies.â¦
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
There is