ROMANCE
FORETOLD

Call this the chronicle de un romance annuciado.

Cosmic hint number one: A little girl find a shiny silver coin nestled in the grass. “Bacardi,” it reads on one side. The other bears the image of La Virgen de la Caridad. Not far away, in his humble yard, a teenage boy finds the same kind of rare, limited-edition Cuban coin. Cosmic hint number two: One day on her way to school, the girl meets the bus driver’s son, Emilio. “Ay,” she says to herself, savoring the name, “Emilio. I’d love to marry someone named Emilio someday.” Turns out, her fellow coin collector in the nearby yard had that same name. And this Emilio would find her one day, years later when she was 17, a budding guitarist with a honey voice. Savoring the sweet, oval notes of her song, he decided he wanted her in his life. (He was working at Bacardi at the time.)

After making a little music together, this boy and this girl were married. Gloria and Emilio Estefan formed one of the world’s most formidable music empires, earning her two Grammys and selling more than 60 million records. More important, they forged an ever deepening personal bond, a love affair that has withstood celebrity and tragedy, the pull of fame and the tug of material distraction, decisions made and dreams delayed. In marriage and motherhood Gloria seemed to grow younger and stronger. And, in a word of flash liaisons, their 20-year marriage is still ticking. How did this happen?

Not in the way society would have believe. This is not the story of a Svengali and his creation. It is a tale of mutual inspiration.

“Some women are of the notion that the minute you get married, you have to put yourself behind what your husband wants,” says Gloria who, at 41, is one of the highest-paid artists in the nation. “The true love relationship allows both people to grow to their full potential. In love, you’re not there to squelch and control.”

One of the unique elements of their relationship, says Gloria, is the blurring of roles. “Emilio is not a male chauvinist. He’s an open-minded man. This comes from taking on a lot of responsibility at a young age. He had to clean the house, take care of his family, wash and iron and cook. He broke that stereotype long ago.”

Women nowadays, adds her husband, are not fragile, moldable creatures. They are partners, “Gloria represents la mujer del año 2000 in every way,” says Emilio on a night that illustrates their equal footing in marriage. He’s at Disney World with four-year-old daughter Emily, while Mami is in New York, filming scenes with Meryl Streep for 50 Violins, her first movie project.

Emilio’s feminism developed in adolescence. He was 15 when he moved to Miami from Cuba, via Spain. He lived in an apartment packed with 15 cousins and aunts and got a job in the mail room at Bacardi. Nights, he played accordion for tips at a small Italian restaurant. Weekends, he ran errands for the viejitas on his block.

His troubadour moonlighting grew into a combo act as he picked up members for a band he called the Miami Latin Boys. With Emilio on congas, they played at weddings, bar mitzvahs, and quinces. The best gig of all was a Cuban wedding in Hialeah, where Emilio bumped into a girl he had heard sing in church. Dragged to the wedding by her mother, Gloria was shocked when Emilio asked her to join the band onstage. She delivered a reluctant version of two old ballads, “Sabor a mí” and “Tú me acostumbraste.” The crowd gave her a standing ovation.

Emilio was even more impressed – he did not let up until Gloria agreed to join his band. Eventually, the Latin Boys became Miami Sound Machine. And, on September 2, 1978, the conga player and the lead singer became husband and wife.

From the start, their relationship was rooted in common experiences. Both were children of the Cuban diaspora, both were forced to care for ill parents, both grew up before their time. But, says Gloria, what has kept the fire in their love is not the commonalities but the differences.

“We’re lucky we have personalities that balance,” says Gloria. “[He] rouses me out of my complacency, and my calmness stops him from having a heart attack.”

She also believes their love has been blessed by good timing. “The fact that we fell in love before all this celebrity is significant,” she says. “When you’re famous, it’s hard to trust that people love you for you.”

And it doesn’t hurt that her man can make her laugh. She remembers one “momentous day,” July 4, 1976, the bicentennial. The band had a gig on a party boat docked in Biscayne Bay. During a break between sets, as fireworks streaked the sky, Emilio, who was not yet her boyfriend, turned to Gloria and said, “You know, it’s my birthday today. Why don’t you give me a birthday kiss?”

“What? You were born on the Fourth of July? What a coincidence,” Gloria came back, surprised.

Emilio didn’t give up. “How about just one, on the cheek?” he asked innocently.

As Gloria leaned over to kiss Emilio’s cheek, he turned his head and kissed her on the lips.

“That lying heap.” Gloria laughs now. “Well, there were fireworks that night – inside and out.”

There was no great crescendo toward marriage, no big plans, just a deepening friendship with a lot of delicious chemistry and cariño. “I knew from day one that I wanted to be with him. For the rest of my life,” she says emphatically. “And it has been an incredible marriage.”

That’s not to say their challenges have been minor. The most devastating moment was the day on March 1990 when the Estefans’ tour bus crashed on a snow-covered Pennsylvania road, smashing Gloria’s back. The horror of that day lingers in his voice when he retells the story. The operation left Gloria with two titanium rods in her back, awakening in pain in the middle of the night, crying as she tried to take baby steps. Emilio bathed and dressed her, caressed her aching limbs.

“He was there for me 10,000 percent,” says Gloria, who made a miraculous recovery, returning to the stage within one year. “Sometimes people can’t handle it. [But] if the love you have is real, there isn’t anything it can’t accomplish.”

Even having another baby. Even if it requires fertility doctors, ovulation checks, and headstands after making love.

Most of all, says Gloria, love means respeto.

“The one thing we have never done is insult one another, no matter what, no matter how bad the argument is. The minute you cross that line, you’re in trouble,” she says.

Emilio, 45, still sees the shy young woman he first met. He sees her humildad in the way she reads to daughter Emily at night, in her sweet words to son Nayib. There’s just one difference. “She’s sexier now than ever before,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s not a lying heap at all.

THE ESTEFANS’

Top Ten Hints for Keeping Love Fresh

10. Laugh.

9. Don’t cast yourself in a stereotypical role; blur gender lines.

8. Communicate.

7. Do that (horizontal) conga.

6. Be thankful for what you have.

5. Be self-sufficent and don’t cling.

4. Respect and trust each other.

3. Surprise your love with unexpected gifts and romantic touches.

2. Approach life as a team.

1. Love each other madly, unconditionally.

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