The Red Umbrella Page 4

  “Ugh, yuck!” Frankie whispered, and returned to his room.

  I sat back and tried to absorb everything I’d witnessed. The newspapers had stories about people hoarding money and property. They accused these people of being greedy anti-revolutionaries. I’d read how the revolution wanted the working class to save their money. It was only the lazy rich who had to share with those who had less. So why was Papá so worried? We certainly weren’t rich. Plus, Papá had worked hard every day of his life, and although he wasn’t a fan of the revolution, he most definitely wasn’t an anti-revolutionary. No one could really fault him for trying to protect what was ours. Could they?

  Chapter 6

  CASTRO HOLDS LIFE CHEAP

  —THE CHARLESTON GAZETTE, MAY 25, 1961

  “Lucía, Frankie woke up with a fever.” Mamá poked her head into my room. “I need you to go pick up some medicine for him at Machado’s Pharmacy.”

  I was just about to complain about being woken up when her words made it all the way to my brain. During the last few weeks, errands had been my only way out of the house. “Está bien, Mamá. I’ll be ready in cinco minutos.”

  I quickly jumped out of bed, grabbed some clothes, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and gave myself a light spritz of perfume. “I’m ready!” I yelled before Mamá had a chance to change her mind.

  Mamá waited for me by the front door. “Just go to the pharmacy and come straight home. No side trips to Ivette’s or anywhere else, understand?”

  I nodded as she handed me some money.

  “I’ve given you enough for some baby aspirin and camphor, but there’s a little extra there, too.”

  “Uh-huh.” I tapped my foot, eager to leave. Running errands had never been high on my list of fun things to do, but at least it gave me a chance to breathe some fresh air and get away from Mamá’s watchful eye. Plus, there was a chance I’d run into some friends along the way.

  “You can buy yourself a pretty nail polish or some face powder.” Mamá fought back a smile.

  “Okay, sure.” Did she expect me to jump for joy over face powder? If I were allowed to cut my hair short or wear makeup, then maybe …

  A huge smile broke out across Mamá’s face. “You’ll want to look nice for the dance on Saturday.”

  It took a moment to sink in. I couldn’t believe it … she was going to let me go! I threw my arms around her neck. “Thank you, Mamá, thank you!”

  She squeezed me back. “I spoke with your father last night. You deserve to have a little fun. You are fourteen; we’ve got to let you grow up a little.” She pulled away and looked me straight in the eye. “But I’ll be there chaperoning.”

  I did a little dance in the doorway. “That’s okay.” I jumped up and down. “I love you so much!”

  “Well, thank your father, too, when he gets home. But now I need that medicine, so go!”

  I turned and skipped to the sidewalk. It felt like I could float all the way to town. When I finally reached Machado’s Pharmacy, I headed straight for the cosmetics counter, where Doc Machado’s sister, Señora Garra, sat on a stool facing the front window.

  “Buenos días, Señora Garra.”

  Señora Garra spun around to face me. “Oh, Lucía, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like a bottle of Mademoiselle Pink nail polish.” It was a color I’d seen advertised in one of my fashion magazines.

  Señora Garra’s attention went to the front door as someone else came inside. She glanced over at me and gave me a slight smile. “Perdóname, what did you ask me for?”

  “Mademoiselle Pink polish.”

  Señora Garra stole another glimpse at the door.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Sí, sí. Machado’s just running a little late this morning. As for the polish, we haven’t had that in a while. But we do have some other very nice shades of light pink. Is this for anything special?”

  I looked down and felt my cheeks get warm. “Um, for a dance.” I wasn’t sure why I was embarrassed to say this out loud.

  “Oh my! I can’t believe it!” She shook her head. “Seems like only yesterday you were in a baby carriage.” She held up one finger and eased off the metal stool. “I have one bottle left of a color that’ll be just perfect for you. It’s a little more red than what you were asking for, but it’s just right for a young lady growing up.” She bent down, took a small bottle off the bottom shelf, and placed it on the glass countertop.

  It was a light berry-colored polish. Perfect for the dress I planned on wearing.

  “I’ll take it!”

  “Anything else you need?”

  “Children’s aspirin and camphor.”

  Señora Garra peeked out the store window. “Somebody sick?”

  “Frankie has a bad cold.” I opened the little bottle and put a drop on my fingernail. The color made me feel glamorous. I’d fix my nails the moment I got home.

  Señora Garra walked back over with a small brown bag and dropped the polish inside. “Hope Frankie feels better. Tell your mother to call if she needs to speak to Doc Machado. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

  I nodded, paid, and left the pharmacy with dreams of dancing with Manuel.

  The rumbling of the cars passing by, the hum of conversations too distant to really understand, and the jingle of bells as people entered stores created a rhythm that soon became the soundtrack to the dance I was imagining. Manuel would have his hand on my back and we’d glide around the dance floor like in the movies. He’d look into my eyes and whisper how I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Then the music would end and he’d continue holding my hand for the rest of the night.

  As I rounded the first corner and passed the hardware store, I peeked inside the bag to take another look at my purchase. That’s when I smacked right into Laura Milian.

  “Lucía!” She turned our collision into a light hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

  “Oh.” I was surprised she was even talking to me. “Hi.”

  “What have you been up to lately?”

  “Me?” I shrugged. “Nothing much.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” She smiled. “Guess we have a lot in common nowadays, huh?”

  I gave her a blank stare. Laura Milian and I had nothing in common. She was queen of the popular crowd and I, well, I had Ivette.

  She lowered her voice and gave me a little nudge with her elbow. “You know what I mean. People not really talking to us anymore because we don’t go to the Jóvenes meetings and all.”

  I remembered that Ivette had told me that Laura’s father had been arrested for spreading anti-revolutionary lies. That was probably why her friends had all stopped talking to her. “No, that’s not really happening to me.”

  Laura looked surprised. “Oh. Well, anyway, it’s nice to talk to you. Are you going shopping or something?”

  “No, I’m on my way home. I had to run a quick errand.” I felt the shape of the bottle in the bag. Laura would probably think it was silly or unfashionable. I decided not to show her.

  “Oh well. Maybe we can do something later. I know we’ve never hung out or anything, but things are different now and I thought, maybe …”

  I had to admit, I liked the idea that one of the coolest girls in school wanted to be my friend. Then again, she was now a former popular kid, which was probably the only reason she was talking to me. Plato de segunda mesa, as my mother would say. “I don’t know. My parents aren’t really letting me do much.”

  Laura’s face fell.

  I could see the disappointment in her eyes. I’d always had Ivette to count on, but she didn’t seem to have anyone left. “Well, maybe one of these afternoons or something,” I offered.

  “Okay.” She perked up. “Hey, you said you’re going home, right?”

  I nodded.

  Laura got a little closer to me. “I wouldn’t go down Central Avenue. Something was happening over there a few minutes ago. There were a ton of soldiers, and that many
of them can’t be good. I think …” She paused as an old man passed by us. “Just be careful.”

  “Sure.” I glanced down at my watch. “My mother’s waiting. I’ve got to get going.”

  “Oh, right. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I said, and turned to head home.

  It was strange the way Laura was speaking before that old man walked by us. A bit overly dramatic and, like my parents, a little too paranoid for my taste. I shook the thoughts about Laura Milian away and concentrated on Manuel again. I glanced at the little spot of reddish pink on my nail. The color seemed to sparkle under the dazzling morning sun.

  I crossed the street, opened the pharmacy bag, and pulled out the polish. I held it up, admiring the truly perfect shade. I was going to look so pretty. I couldn’t wait to tell Ivette that I’d be able to go with her to the dance. She’d be so happy for me.

  By the time I passed the old courthouse, with its large front steps rising to meet the columns near the front doors, I realized I’d been walking down Central Avenue. It was the way I always went home, but Laura had said there were a lot of soldiers in the area.

  I spun around.

  The street was empty … too empty.

  My heart raced.

  Where were all the soldiers? Where was … anyone? Either Laura had lied or something was very wrong.

  I saw the city park up ahead. I could cut through there, cross over to José Martí Boulevard, and get home that way.

  I closed my fist over the bottle and ran down the large tree-lined promenade. My eyes focused on the flowered park entrance. I made a sharp turn past the blooming azaleas and stopped short.

  I gasped in horror.

  There, from the oak tree on the corner, hung the body of Doc Machado! A scream escaped from the back of my throat and I dropped the little bottle. It shattered against the sidewalk, leaving a pool of red next to my shoes.

  I didn’t know what to do. My heart beat so loudly I couldn’t think. I wanted to fall down, but my legs wouldn’t bend.

  A police car drove by slowly … watching.

  The next thing I knew, I was running. I didn’t know where I was headed until I saw Papá’s bank in front of me. I wanted to run inside and have him hold me in his arms, but something made me pause. I inched toward the large front window and peered inside. Papá sat at his desk, calmly talking with a few soldiers. I turned and leaned against the glass. A group of young brigadistas walked by, laughing. There seemed to be soldiers, or kids pretending to be soldiers, everywhere. I took a deep breath, got my bearings, and took off running again. This time, I didn’t stop until I was home.

  Chapter 7

  THREE INVADERS FACE CASTRO FIRING SQUAD

  —THE SALINA JOURNAL, MAY 25, 1961

  “Lucía? I’m upstairs. Do you have the medicine?” Mamá called out as the front door slammed behind me.

  I ran to my parents’ room, dropped the brown paper bag on the bed, and plowed my head into Mamá’s chest, nearly knocking her over.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you out of breath?” Mamá asked.

  I started to cry.

  “Tell me, Lucía.”

  The words didn’t seem to want to come out of my mouth. I shook my head.

  Mamá stroked my hair and let me sob in her arms. After a few minutes, she pushed me back and stared into my eyes. “Mi hija, talk. You’re scaring me.” She scanned me from head to toe. “Wait, I think I see what this is about.” She lifted my chin so I’d have to face her.

  I waited, praying that she already knew what had happened.

  “Is this about the nail polish?”

  My heart sank. She had no idea. I looked down as my eyes welled up. The image of Doc Machado with his hands hanging lifeless by his side haunted me.

  Mamá smiled and kissed my forehead. “Mi hija, look at your shoes. They’re splattered with bright red dots. You dropped the bottle on your way home, didn’t you?”

  I nodded.

  She got up from her bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. “It’ll be fine. I have a little extra money in my purse. You can go back and—”

  “NO!”

  “Lucía, what’s gotten into you? Did something else happen?”

  “Mamá, Doc Machado, he’s …” I couldn’t continue.

  “¿Qué?” She drew closer.

  I gulped for air. My hands trembled. “He’s … dead. The soldiers, they killed him.”

  Mamá stumbled back. “¡Ay Dios mío!” She quickly made the sign of the cross.

  Then, like a floodgate opening up, words spilled out of me. “Oh, Mamá, he was hung from a tree. I saw him. They left him there, in the park, for everyone to see. It was horrible!”

  Mamá rushed over to sit next to me. “But the soldiers didn’t do anything to you, right?”

  I shook my head and buried my face in her chest.

  Mamá wrapped her arms around me as my body collapsed. All the adrenaline that had rushed through me evaporated. Suddenly I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and breathed in Mamá’s warmth. “I’m never leaving this house again,” I sobbed.

  * * * * *

  “Are you sick, too?” Frankie asked, walking into my room.

  “Go away.” I rolled over and pulled the covers up to my neck, trying to go back to sleep.

  “Did you get my cold? You want to play something together?”

  “Get out!”

  Mamá promptly appeared in the doorway and guided Frankie back to his room.

  “But, Mamá, I didn’t say anything wrong. She’s been in there all day!” Frankie argued.

  “You, sir, get back in bed. You’ve got a high fever and you need your rest.” She gave him a slight push into his room and then came back to me. “Lucy, how are you doing? You want to eat something? I can bring your dinner upstairs along with Frankie’s.”

  I shook my head.

  “Lucy, I called your father and told him what happened. He’ll be here soon. He wants to talk to both of us.” Mamá tucked a tear-soaked strand of hair behind my ear.

  I nodded, knowing that at home I was safe. I sat up in my bed and looked outside as the sun began to set. This awful day was almost over, and once Papá arrived, everything would get better … somehow.

  “Lucía! Sonia!” Papá called out.

  “Aquí, Fernando. In Lucía’s room.”

  Papá walked into the room and knelt by my bed. He took my hand and gave it a kiss. “Oh, Lucy, how I wish you’d been spared from seeing …”

  I nodded, not wanting to think or talk about what I’d seen.

  “Why, Fernando? Why’d they do it?” Mamá stood and walked toward the window.

  Papá placed my hand against his cheek. “To set an example. Scare anyone who might think of going against the revolution.”

  Mamá shook her head and played with one of her diamond earrings. “He was a pharmacist, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, “not a threat to anyone.”

  Papá looked back toward her. “They don’t care. A dialogue. That’s all he wanted. He was organizing a group to talk about some of the changes being made, the rights being taken away that he felt weren’t in keeping with the original ideals of the revolution. He wanted a simple, peaceful protest to give voice to what so many feel is a betrayal of what the revolution was supposed to do. But that was too much for them. ¡Cobardes!”

  A giant lump formed in my throat at the thought of Papá doing something against the government. “Papá, promise me that you’ll never do anything like that … ever. Please!”

  He turned to face me again, his eyes moist with tears. “Don’t worry, Lucy. Nothing is going to happen to me or to any of us. I’ll do anything to protect this family. But I need—”

  “Hi, Papá.” Frankie trudged into the room.

  “Come here, mi hijo. How do you feel?” Papá picked Frankie up and gave him a hug.

  “Mamá says I have a fever.”

  “I know.” He carried Frankie over to my bed and sat next
to him. “But you feel good enough to listen to some important things I have to say. Right, little man?”

  Frankie nodded. I could see how much he loved to be included in family discussions.

  “I was just going to tell your mother and sister that, from now on, I want all of us to sit outside on the porch, every evening. It’ll show that we have nothing to hide from the CDR. We’ll smile and act like everything is fine.”

  “Isn’t everything fine?” Frankie asked.

  “Of course it is,” Mamá answered.

  Papá shook his head. “No, Frankie, everything isn’t fine”—he reached out and grabbed Mamá’s hand—“but it will be.”

  Mamá’s shoulders seemed to drop a little and she smiled.

  “I still don’t like the idea of either of you going to any meetings, but otherwise we’re going to do everything else our neighbors do,” Papá continued. “And, Lucy, going to the dance on Saturday will help, too.”

  “But I don’t want to go anymore,” I said.

  Papá pulled me toward him and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “You have to, Lucy. We need to show that we’re not keeping you away from the revolution.”

  “Fernando, if she doesn’t want to, is it really that important? She’s been through a lot.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t needed.” Papá stood up. He paced around the room rubbing his temples. “Sonia, you should know that an army captain came by the bank today. He mentioned that he was surprised to hear that my children weren’t involved with the Jóvenes Rebeldes or Los Pioneros. He insinuated that if I couldn’t teach my children how to be good revolutionaries, then maybe the government should take on that responsibility.”

  Mamá covered her mouth. “You don’t think the rumors are true, do you, Fernando?”

  “What rumors?” I asked, looking at my parents to try to understand the coded language they were speaking.

  Papá ignored my question. “I don’t know if it’s true. Eduardo at the bank swears that his brother saw a document with a government seal on it discussing patria potestad. But who knows?”