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of Papa's letter which told of the roots of the great ceiba that have run under the house for three hundred years, and which have now gone up to break the tiles in his bedroom. He had to repair them, but he certainly could not cut the roots because it would damage the tree that had the house on the brink of breaking in two, he had to make sure to tie it together with iron bars. It was funny what happened between them, the tree and him, but he was a "partisan" of the tree which would have made everything easier, if only the tree had known...

I was still smiling at the memory of this love-struggle story, when I saw Papa leaving the House and heading towards the ceiba, no, towards me. "Daughter, we have to go," he says. "Go? And where?"

"I'll tell you later, Daughter. We have to go now." "

You and I?" 

"Yes, you and me." 

"Now?" 

"Yes, now. Right away. Please." 

"But I can't now," I smile at him. "I'm waiting for Juan Veranes."

"Telephone to tell him not to come" and his tone was decisive.

I get up. Here, because I am his guest, because he calls me Daughter, he thinks he has rights over me, I think slamming the door. On the phone Juan tries to calm me down, but fails.

When I leave Papa is sitting in the car, Juan the driver is behind the wheel, the engine is already running. Selfish, possessive, tyrannical, I think and curl up in the corner.

The car slowly exits the Finca, but does not go towards Havana. It doesn't matter where we go. If he thinks I'm happy to be with him because he wants to be a tour guide, he is wrong. If he hopes that now he will...