THE IMMIGRANT

It’s 10:00 a.m. on Thursday morning while walking down the long jet bridge at Santiago de Cuba’s only airport, Grabiel began to wonder if this decision to leave his home was the correct one. He had spent the last two years getting to know his fiancé, Jeff; and even though he was excited for the final moment that had been anticipated; the fear of leaving everything he had ever known was beginning to bear down on him.

As he began to step onto the aircraft, he felt his heart proceed to beat faster as if his heart had become the rhythmic downbeat of a reggaeton song that he had listened to for so long on the island of Cuba. The sight of the narrow aisles seemed to go on forever like the story of the poverty and despair he was finally escaping. His mind darted between the actuality of the journey he was beginning as he embarked to the United States for his new life and the land, he was saying farewell to.

Ahead of him, Jeff turned around to the sounds of heavy breathing from Grabiel; instinctively asking “Are you ok?”. He knew that Grabiel would find this tough. This was the first time Grabiel had ever entered a plane. The first-time leaving Cuba. The first time going to America. Grabiel looked as white as the sand on the beaches of Varadero in Cuba and made it clear that he was questioning the choice.

“Si, est..oy bien, mi amor,” Grabiel stammered. Despite the lack of knowing the English language, Jeff could often translate what he was saying.

Jeff reached behind and firmly took his hand. “Te amo.” Two little words and it seemed that was all that was needed in that moment for Grabiel.

Sitting in the seats beside each other, 8A and 8C, Grabiel began to reflect on this decision. Leaving his family was difficult. He knew this would be hard. He began to think of the nights in which the power would go out, so more frequently than not. He would stumble throughout the house to find light only to catch a glimpse of the cracks and missing pieces of the roof as if the builder just said “fuck it” and left it halfway done. The mosquitos would, nightly, ravish his body with bites leaving mountain sizes welts along his sun glistened skin. As he recalled on the days he would go to get any food he could manage on the little funds he would make from his job as a librarian and the kids he would see along the way; withering away because they hadn’t eaten in days, he began to tear up and before he knew it; the tears flowed from his eyes like streams delivering water to the oceans.

“Todo bien Grabiel?, Jeff said. Still holding his hand, he could see what Grabiel was thinking. No words even needed to be spoken. As if almost telepathically saying to each other, we are in this together.

Grabiel leaned in and kissed Jeff. He had never been shy about public affection. The kiss was firm. The taste of his lip balm, tasted of cherry and the coke he had drank before the flight. The kiss did not need translation. It stated without equivocation, I’m ready.

Jeff Motsinger began his career as an artist manager developing biographies, promotional materials, and copy for aspiring independent musicians. After twenty years as an artist manager in the music industry, Jeff transitioned to become a flight attendant with American Airlines and recently began pursuing his bachelor’s degree in media communication at Full Sail University. Jeff’s passion for knowledge and helping people continues to push him beyond his limits to grow as a professional and as a human being.