Love Sick

Eva

The Ocean
Twenty Years Ago

Nausea twisted within my stomach as the treacherous waves tossed the crowded raft of my people. Wails of torment filled my ears as I watched people drop like flies, sickness ailing their weak and dehydrated bodies.

"Almost there mijita, you're almost there." I heard my mother croak, the mere sound of her voice chilling me to the core. Her olive skin was now burnt from the beating sun, draining the pigment from her normally dewy skin. Her voice was no longer the smooth flow of honey, but a raspy tone begging for water, water that we all desperately needed.

"Mami." I cried, fear instilled in my heart as I stared at her sunken face, my trembling hands reaching out to her, but my father shook his head gravely and pulled my hands away, just as he had done once my mother began to fall ill.

"No puedes mija." He warned, laying my mother back onto his lap, dabbing her forehead with a damp piece of a jacket that he had stolen from one of the corpses, his own shirt had been dipped in seawater and tied around my forehead for protection from the beating sun.

I felt a tear roll down my face in defeat, along with the pounding in my head from the small rations of water that we had decided to share amongst the raft passengers.

"La Tierra!" A frail woman cried, pointing towards a crowded bank of people, my father's eyes widened as he gathered my moaning mother into his arms, urging me to help the desperate passengers row towards the beach.

I crawled towards the oars and felt my weak legs shake under my weight, sliding beside an expecting woman, her bones void of fat except for the round middle that rested on her lap, both of us clinging to the oars for dear life.

"Mijita, pull." She instructed, my arms shaking as I tried to contribute, my muscles burning as the men tried to pull us farther, the wails growing louder as we approached land.

"Ayudame!" Different people called, the raft slowly inching towards the shore, quickly draining the energy from my small body.

"Mas! Necesitamos mas!" The woman encouraged, her arm wrapping around my waist to keep me upright, allowing me to rest on her side while pulling the heavy oar, others taking hold of it to hasten the speed of the boat.

Men began to rush the sea, causing frightened tears to spout as they raced towards us, their heavy gear and equipment reminding me of the ruthless peacekeepers of Cuba.

"Mami!" I cried, my arms still moving in the exhausting motion as the men grabbed the boat and began to pull it ashore, causing wails to spill from my lips.

"Evita, no lloras! Por favor-." My mother tried to soothe, getting cut off by a painful wail as she hacked a mouthful of blood onto my father's lap.

Foreign languages filled my ears as the men pulled us ashore, one of them lifting the young pregnant woman off of the raft, causing a petrified scream to release from my lips as I tried to hang onto her comforting grip.

"My wife! Please, help my wife and my daughter!" My father cried, the language confusing me as he handed my mother over to one man in garb who resembled the dangerous men who occupied my country.

"My daughter! She's dehydrated! She's only six years old!" He cried, but I tried as hard as I could to fight the man, feeling him lift me gently into his arms.

"No! Papi! No!" I screamed as he rushed me into a strange looking van, laying me on a strange looking bed inside, strapping me on it gently. "It's okay sweetie, you're safe." A young woman said in a soothing tone, but her words came out in jumbles, only recognizing a few words from my father's studies as he prepared for us to flee Cuba.