A story by Leslie Blanco (fiction, ‘07) appears in The Coachella Review:

Havana, Cuba
December, 1960

Alejandro Bravo was twelve when he first saw her from the window of a bus. She was underneath the canopy of laurels on the Paseo del Prado, no cameras or reporters around her, as if she was a normal person like everyone else. White dress. Platform heels. Chin-length, platinum-blonde hair curled back and reflecting the sun. He pressed himself against the window and craned his neck. The bus was stuck behind truck after truck of farm workers being brought in for a rally at the Plaza de la Revolución. CUBA SÍ, YANQUI NO! That’s what the workers were already yelling, and he felt ashamed that she was hearing it too. She must have been sitting there the whole time he and his family had been in traffic, but he only caught the flash of the white dress, like the sparkle of a jewel, when the bus started to turn onto a side street.

How was this possible? On Friday he’d seen her in Let’s Make Love and he’d thought it might be the last time.  … continue reading here.

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