At long last we got the word from the cemetery in Hawaii - Laura's burial is set for Wednesday, September 21st. I fly out to Hawaii this Sunday and return in a week. I'm not sure I want to come back to Los Angeles, not for a while. I just don't know where else to go. My brother-in-law James has told me more than a few times that he can't go anywhere in this city - everything reminds him of Laura. I understand too well.
Maybe because we were in a Cuban bakery/cafe, but at lunch the other day I told James and my brother Angel that I wanted to go to Cuba for a month. I had just polished off this amazing pastry - a ball of ground beef inside a mashed potato ball, deep-fried - sort of like shepherd's pie but because of the shape, more like shepherd's balls. I finished one of those, started on a chicken empanada and thought, "I could eat nothing but Cuban food for two weeks straight. With desserts, rum drinks, good music, and a copy of The Snows of Kilimanjaro, I could stay maybe a month." More importantly, I have no memories of Laura and Cuba.
We stopped short of ordering one of each pastry in the display case, but just a little short. Hopped up on sugar and dreaming of sultry nights at El Floridita, I made my way back downtown, mentally packing for Honolulu and Havana.
I need to be more careful with what I eat these days.