The Red Umbrella Page 5

  “Patria potes-what?” I asked, sitting up straight in bed.

  “Yeah, what is that?” Frankie asked.

  “Nada,” Mamá said. “Nothing either of you has to worry about. Fernando, let’s talk about this later, but Lucía, your father is right. We need you—”

  “I know.” I sighed. “I need to go to the dance.”

  Chapter 8

  POLLS INDICATE CASTRO WILL SOON GO TOO FAR

  —THE PROGRESS, MAY 26, 1961

  “¡Levántate! Look what time it is.” Mamá threw open my bedroom curtains.

  “Ugh.” I put the pillow over my face. Mamá’s famous chamomile tea with tilo and anís had helped me go to sleep even though I was convinced I’d only have nightmares.

  “Let’s see what you plan on wearing tomorrow night,” she said.

  I peeled off the pillow and squinted as my eyes adjusted to the room’s brightness. Did she think I could forget about what happened yesterday?

  “¿Qué te vas a poner? Maybe you can wear that pretty yellow one that you wore to Camila Renderon’s wedding a few months ago.”

  I shook my head and pointed to the pink dress with the white eyelet trim hanging on the door of the closet.

  “Ah sí, bien lindo. Did you try it on to make sure it still fits?” Mamá walked over to check the hem.

  “It’s fine,” I muttered. There was nothing she could say to make me feel better. I was only going to do this because we needed to keep up appearances.

  “No, better let me see it on. I can let out the bottom another inch or so. You’ve grown since you wore it during Christmas.”

  I sat up in my bed. “Mamá, dresses are worn shorter, anyway.”

  “Just try it on. Then we’ll decide. How about shoes? You’re almost the same size as me. You want to wear my pink heels? They’re not too high, and I think they’d look nice with the dress.”

  I smiled at the thought of Manuel seeing me in my best dress and pink heels. I’d look so grown-up. I stretched and walked over to the mirror.

  “Yeah, I guess the heels would be good. What about my hair?” I picked it up into a French twist and looked at myself from different angles.

  “Hmm, sounds like a question for Ivette.” She paused for a moment. “Better ask her when she gets here in a few minutes. I invited her and her mother over for lunch.”

  I let my hair drop as I spun around. “She is? You did?”

  Mamá nodded. “A girl can’t plan for her first dance without her best friend. Plus, I need to mend some fences.”

  I tackled my mother with a huge bear hug. Everything was getting better.

  * * * * *

  “Chica, you don’t look too happy. I thought you’d be more excited about going to the dance.”

  Ivette grabbed a nail file from my dresser.

  “I am happy.”

  “Yeah, sure. You had that fake smile all during lunch. You’d think we were about to take one of Señora Cardoza’s final exams or something.” Ivette plopped onto my bed. “You’re going to get to dance with Manuel. You should be on cloud nine. This is the Manuel. Boy of your dreams, remember?”

  “I know. I am excited.” I flashed a smile so exaggerated that my face hurt. “See?”

  “Better not smile like that. Manuel’s gonna think you’ve gone crazy or something.”

  I opened the bottom drawer of my dresser and started organizing the socks and silk scarves inside. “He may not even want to dance with me. I might just sit there all night.”

  “Ay, you are in a mood!” Ivette stopped filing her nail and looked at me. “I know for a fact that Manuel wants to dance with you before he leaves on Monday.”

  “How can you? You’re not a mind reader.”

  “No, but Raúl asked me if you were going.”

  “So? Why would your brother care?” I continued folding a yellow and blue scarf.

  “Let me finish.” She blew the dust off her fingernails. “Raúl asked me because …” Her eyes twinkled.

  Something was up. Ivette really did know something. “¿Por qué? Tell me!”

  She bounced on the bed. “He asked because his best friend, Enrique, said his cousin only wants to go to the dance if you’re going. And you know Enrique’s cousin is …”

  “Manuel!” I squealed and sprang up off the floor.

  Ivette giggled. “Okay, that’s more like it. This is the Lucía I know!”

  I jumped on the bed next to her. “Is Manuel really leaving on Monday?”

  “Sí. He’s all excited. My brother’s going, too.”

  “He is? Aren’t your parents worried? Him being by himself and everything?”

  Ivette looked down at my pink bedspread and started twirling a snagged piece of string stuck to one of the corners. “There isn’t too much to worry about. It’s very organized and it’s for the revolution. Teaching the peasants to read with all the other brigadistas. My parents say all students should spend some of their time doing that since they’ve had the privilege of receiving a good education in the cities.” Ivette shrugged. “I don’t really care about the teaching, but the traveling to other places, meeting new people … that part does sound pretty cool. It’s not Paris or Rome, but it’s a start.”

  “I guess.” I didn’t want to talk or even think about the revolution. “So, what did you decide to wear to the dance?”

  “Ooh, my mother bought me this white dress with little black polka dots. It’s got a patent-leather belt around the waist. It makes me look like I’m at least seventeen. Very ooh-la-la sophisticated!”

  “A new dress, huh?” I wiggled my fingers at her. “Well, aren’t we fancy!” I laughed. “People might confuse you with one of the rich girls.”

  Ivette gave me a smirk. “Ha, ha. I guess Papá’s new job with the government does have some perks. Plus, it’s kind of a gift before I …” She bit her bottom lip.

  “Before what?”

  Ivette searched my eyes. “Nothing,” she said, and looked away.

  “Ivette, what’s going on?”

  “Nada. I got the dress because it’s my first real dance, that’s all.” She rolled off the bed and opened my top drawer.

  “Are you sure? Is there something else?”

  “Nope. Nothing else to say except … what jewelry are you going to wear?”

  I shrugged. “You’re the expert. What do you think?”

  Ivette dug into my wooden jewelry box and pulled out a gold chain with a white daisy on it. “Well, this just screams out ‘I’m a little girl,’ so forget this one.” Next, she picked out a silver necklace with a small cross. “Oh no. We can’t make you holy and untouchable. You’ll never get your first kiss that way.”

  I blushed and nervously started to giggle.

  “Can you picture it?” She draped the chain around her neck and swayed to imaginary music. “Hi, Manuel. Oh, of course I’d like to dance, but be careful if you hold me too close, because not only is my mother chaperoning, God is watching and you’ll be sent straight to hell.” Ivette couldn’t hold back her laughter. “No, this is definitely not the right necklace!”

  I threw a pillow across the room and hit her in the arm. “You’re terrible!”

  “Who, me?” Ivette dropped the chain back in the drawer. “Let’s ask your mom if we can borrow something. I’m sure she’s got something nice. I mean, this is like a dress rehearsal for our quinces.”

  I thought about how Papá had hidden all the good jewelry under the loose tile in the living room. “No. We can’t.”

  She gave me a puzzled look. “Why not? What good is nice jewelry if you don’t wear it? I’m sure your mother will say yes.” She came back to the bed and sat cross-legged in front of me. “You’re really acting weird today.” Ivette pushed me back by the shoulders so that I fell against the large pink pillows on my bed. “You need to let your hair down and relax. You’re way too tense.”

  Doc Machado’s silhouette and lifeless hands flashed before my eyes. I shook my head. I wanted to tell I
vette what I’d seen. I took a deep breath.

  “Ivette?”

  “Yes, señorita?” She was now practicing how to dance the cha-cha-cha with my teddy bear.

  “Yesterday, I, um, I …”

  She kept moving to the imaginary song in her head. “Go ahead, spit it out. I can dance and listen at the same time.”

  I couldn’t say it. The words just wouldn’t get out of my mouth.

  “Nothing, never mind.”

  “You’re just nervous about the dance. C’mon. Let’s go to your mom’s room and see what she’s got that you can borrow.” Ivette started walking toward the door.

  I jumped up and pulled her toward the mirror. “Mamá doesn’t keep her stuff there anymore. Look, what should I do with my hair?” I piled it on top of my head and let a few wisps fall around my shoulders.

  Ivette stood behind me and looked into the mirror. “Nah, don’t do that. Leave it down, but curl the ends. It’ll look pretty with the dress’s neckline. But you definitely need a nice necklace. Does your mom still have that gold chain with the tiny hearts hanging from it? That’d be perfect.”

  “I already told you, I can’t.”

  “If your mom put it in the bank, then just ask your dad to pick it up tomorrow morning. He’s got the keys to the place.”

  I lowered my voice. “It’s not at the bank. Look, you have to promise not to tell, okay?”

  Ivette nodded.

  “Papá stashed away some of our stuff … for safekeeping. Just in case.”

  “In case of what?” Ivette twisted her mouth. “Isn’t that exactly what Fidel says we shouldn’t be doing? We’re supposed to be open with the revolution. Let them know what we have, in case there’s a better use for it.”

  “What’s a better use for a necklace? My parents have worked hard for what they have, whether it’s in the bank or in the floor.”

  “In the floor?”

  I quickly shook my head. “Nada. Listen, your parents bought you a nice dress with money they’ve saved, and my parents are just saving up for whatever they want. It’s basically the same thing, right?”

  “I guess.”

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room. I glanced down at my hands and saw the ragged edges of my cuticles. I changed the subject back to fashion. “By the way, have you seen these things?” I lifted up both hands. “I was going to wear white gloves, but I think I should have a nice manicure underneath.”

  Ivette immediately perked up. “But of course! Those nails have to look nice. You need to have them pretty for when Manuel holds your hand.” She smiled and everything seemed to get back on track.

  I let out a nervous laugh. It was crazy how just mentioning Manuel got me all jittery, as if butterflies were fluttering around inside of me.

  “I brought a couple of polishes from my house. Which one do you like?” Ivette grabbed her purse from the chair next to the window. “Looks like your dad and uncle are home.” Ivette pointed down to the front yard.

  I joined her by the window and saw Tío Antonio and Papá talking. I cranked the window open to shout hello, but the sudden harshness of their voices stopped me.

  “¡Basta!” Papá threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve had enough! Papá would be rolling in his grave if he could hear you.”

  “Don’t bring in our parents. They were from another era.”

  “Antonio, do what you want, but don’t come crying to me when you and your compañeros get run out! You are on your own!”

  Tío glared at Papá. “Fernando, you’re going to regret this. Soon it’ll be you who comes begging to me!” He spun around and headed toward his brown convertible.

  I quickly closed the window. Papá was not one to make a scene in public.

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Don’t worry, brothers always fight. You should see my family when all my aunts, uncles, and cousins come over. We can get pretty loud, too. You’re just not used to it because you’ve got a small family.” Ivette put her hand on my shoulder. “He’ll probably be back tomorrow, ready to eat one of your mom’s famous flans.”

  I nodded, but all of my Manuel-induced butterflies had flown away, leaving me with a sick, empty feeling. I’d seen Papá and Tío argue before, but this time was different. And no matter what Ivette said, she knew it, too.

  Chapter 9

  THOUSANDS REMAIN IN CUBAN PRISONS

  —DAILY CHRONICLE, MAY 27, 1961

  “You look”—Frankie wiped his runny nose on his pajama sleeve—“nice. Kinda pretty.”

  “Gracias,” I said in a sing-song voice, and glided past the sofa. I twirled around, and the full skirt of my pink and white dress floated around me. It reminded me of something Sandra Dee would wear in one of the beach movies I’d seen. The top was sleeveless and cinched at the waist, and it was cut to give the illusion that I had curves in just the right places. Wearing Mamá’s pink heels, I felt so grown-up. With two fingers, I picked up my small white gloves and placed them over the square patent-leather purse that sat on the dining room table. “Mamá, are you ready? It’s almost eight.”

  Mamá’s high heels clicked against the floor tiles as she came down the stairs. She wore a perfectly ironed, cream-colored linen dress, and her eyes sparkled with excitement, as if she were about to go to her first dance. “Put a little more powder on your nose, Lucía. You don’t want it to get shiny by the end of the night,” she said.

  “I already put enough on. Can we just go?” All day long I had been imagining dancing with Manuel, holding his hand, maybe having him give me a good-night kiss.

  “Not yet. Papá’s not home and I can’t leave Frankie by himself.” She fumbled with the clasp on her bracelet. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear your silver chain with the cross on it? It would look so pretty with that dress.”

  I giggled, remembering Ivette’s performance with the chain. “No, it’s okay.” I walked over and checked the clock next to the sofa. Where was Papá?

  “Does he know we’re waiting for him?” I asked Mamá.

  “Yes, yes. There was some sort of emergency at the bank. I already called, and Eduardo told me your father was in a meeting. That he’d be a little late.” Mamá pointed a camera at me. “Stand still and smile, Lucía. I want to take a picture.”

  I posed and waited for the bulb to flash. Another picture for the family album.

  A glance at the hallway clock reminded me that if I didn’t get to the dance soon, Manuel might think I wasn’t going at all. I opened the front door, hoping to see Papá’s car pulling into the driveway. A soft breeze blew through my hair, and suddenly I realized that this would be the first time since Doc Machado’s death that I’d gone outside. I shuddered, unsure if it was the cool breeze that made me shiver or the twinge of fear in my chest. Slow, deep breaths stifled the rising panic. I concentrated on the dance. On Manuel.

  As I paced up and down the driveway, a brown convertible parked down the street caught my eye. It was Tío Antonio. Ivette had been right. He was probably here to apologize and make up with Papá. Maybe he could take me to the dance, and then Mamá could stay home with Frankie. That would be even better. I rushed over.

  “Tío, what are you doing here?”

  He flicked his cigarette out the open window. “I’m just waiting for your father.”

  “Oh. Can you talk to him later? I really need to ask you for a favor.”

  Tío raised an eyebrow.

  “Remember how when I was little you’d let me stand on your shoes and you’d dance with me?”

  He smiled. “Sí, I remember those days.”

  “Well, tonight is my first real dance.”

  “You need another lesson?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver cigarette box.

  “No, but Frankie’s sick, Papá’s stuck at the office, and Mamá can’t leave to chaperone me. So I thought maybe …”

  Tío Antonio tapped a cigarette against the steering wheel before lighting it. “So, mi sobrina wants her good ol
d uncle to do the chaperoning. And you think your mother will agree to this?”

  “Yes, yes.” I bounced up and down. “I’ll take care of it. Please, will you do it?”

  He blew out a puff of smoke and nodded.

  I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tío. You’re the best!” I raced back toward the house.

  Mamá stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “¿Qué quiere Antonio? Is he here to argue again?”

  “No, he’s just waiting for Papá.” I saw Mamá’s eyes narrow. “He wants to apologize. He wants to straighten everything out.”

  Mamá dropped her arms and her face softened. “I knew he’d come to his senses. Family is family, after all.” She looked over at the brown convertible. “Tell him to come inside. We can wait together until Papá gets home.”

  I looked back at my uncle casually smoking his cigarette. “Mamá, Tío says he can take me to the dance and be my chaperone. That way I won’t be late and you can stay with Frankie.”

  Mamá waved her hands. “No, no. I think it’s more appropriate if I chaperone you. It’s your first dance.”

  “But if we keep waiting, I’ll miss my first dance. Please. You can meet us there after Papá gets home. Just don’t make me be late. Not tonight, please.” I glanced back at Tío and waved.

  “Bueno, I don’t want you to be late.” She thought it over. “Fine, but I’ll take a taxi over there the moment your father gets home. Then your tío can come over and talk to your father in private.” She nodded, approving of the idea. “Yes, a little time together alone is just what those two brothers need.”

  “Thank you, Mamá!” I turned around, held up a finger to let Tío Antonio know that I’d be back in a minute, then rushed into the house to get my purse and gloves.

  Mamá trailed after me. “Lucía, wait, one more thing.”

  I quickly stopped to check my reflection in the hall mirror. My pink dress was still crisp, no sign of wrinkles anywhere. My hair still held a few curls at the bottom and there was no shine on my nose. Perfect.