The Red Umbrella Page 6

  “You do look beautiful, mi hija.” Mamá beamed.

  I turned and smiled. This night was going to be one I’d always remember.

  “Here. I want you to wear these.” Mamá reached for her diamond earrings and unscrewed the backs.

  “Mamá, you never take those off.”

  “Tonight they’re yours.” She placed them in the palm of my hand. “Now go. Your tío is waiting. I’ll be there in a little while.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

  * * * * *

  “I promise you won’t have to stay long, Tío.” I held my hair in one hand so that it wouldn’t fly all over the place in the open convertible.

  “Not a problem, Lucy.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “You can always count on me, even if I’m not your father’s favorite person.”

  “Why are you in a fight with him?” I asked.

  Tío Antonio shrugged. “La vida.”

  “Life?”

  “Just the way life is. Fernando and I have always seen things differently. This time, though, he’ll come around. He just needs to learn a few hard lessons.” Tío Antonio took another drag from his cigarette.

  I leaned back against the white leather seat. We were approaching the center of town. The park was nearby. I knew Doc Machado had already been buried, but I didn’t want to see the tree or even the park entrance. I turned to face Tío Antonio.

  “What’s patria potestad?” I asked, partly because it bothered me that my parents had never answered my question, partly because I wanted an excuse not to think about Doc Machado.

  “Wow, where’d you hear about that? No, wait, let me guess.” Tío Antonio shook his head. “Mi hermano.”

  I sat, silently waiting.

  “Patria potestad, huh? Okay, well, I think it’s Latin. It means parents have the right to make decisions for their own kids.” Tío brought the cigarette back up to his lips, this time leaving it dangling from the corner of his mouth. “But that’s not why you heard about it.” He glanced over at me. “Some people have this crazy idea that Castro wants kids to be the property of the state.” He then gave me a little smile and wink. “Like Fidel really wants to deal with thousands of pipsqueaks. Figure out where they should live and go to school.” Tío shook his head. “The whole idea is silly.”

  “Yeah, I guess it does sound crazy.”

  The convertible turned sharply and I slid toward the passenger door. Tío chuckled. “Careful there, Slick.” He pulled into a parking space in front of what used to be the very exclusive yacht club. Un nido de parásitos, a nest of parasites. That’s what the newspapers had called the place before the revolution shut it down and turned it into a public meeting hall and cultural center.

  Tío turned to face me. “Okay, I don’t want to sit with all the mother hens inside. You’ll be fine if I stay out here and smoke a few, right?”

  I nodded, knowing that this was not going to go over well with Mamá.

  “I’ll be here if you need me. Ready for your big night?”

  “Ready,” I answered.

  Chapter 10

  CASTRO’S DEAL—PEOPLE FOR TRACTORS

  —THE WASHINGTON POST, MAY 27, 1961

  “Chica, you look gorgeous!” Ivette gave me a quick hug.

  “You too,” I said.

  “Oh, this old thing?” Ivette gave me a wink and spun around in her new dress. If anyone else had worn it, they might’ve looked like one big domino, but Ivette made it work. She was a fashion queen.

  I scanned the dance floor. There, under a canopy of white crepe-paper ribbons, ten couples danced as the band played a quick merengue. Next to them, along the back wall, sat the chaperones … all keeping a watchful eye on the dancing. I felt like Cinderella at the ball.

  “He’s over there,” Ivette whispered, and pointed to a corner where some potted plants had been decorated with clear twinkling lights.

  “Who?” I asked casually.

  “Por favor.” Ivette rolled her eyes.

  Then I saw him. Manuel. Walking straight toward us in his light-colored suit and thin black tie. He looked like a movie star … Elvis, only better.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  “Hi, Manuel. Did you see who just got here?” Ivette asked.

  He nodded, scanning me from head to toe. “Hola, Lucía,” he said.

  A slow Beny Moré song started to play.

  “Hola.” I looked down at the floor.

  “I think my brother’s looking for me.” Ivette gave me a little nudge. “I’ll catch you later.”

  I stood frozen. Not knowing what to say.

  “Would you like to dance?” Manuel asked.

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  Manuel took me by the hand and led me to the dance floor. In his arms, it felt like no one else mattered. I floated around the room.

  The next song played was “The Twist,” so we let go of each other but continued dancing together. I started to relax.

  “Nice not to have to worry about school for a while, huh?” Manuel asked while Chubby Checker’s song told us all to “come on and twist.”

  I nodded. “Señora Cardoza was never much fun.”

  Manuel laughed and rolled his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. “Tell me about it. This is the second year I have to take her class!” He pointed to the side of the dance floor. “You want to get a drink?”

  “Okay,” I answered, seeing Ivette and a few others by the punch bowl.

  Manuel reached over and took my hand.

  It was all I could do not to jump up and down. I felt a sudden urge to giggle … but somehow I faked being calm.

  Ivette raised a single eyebrow as we walked over.

  “So, I see you’re having a good time,” Raúl, Ivette’s older brother, snickered.

  “You bet,” Manuel answered, dropping my hand to get our drinks.

  I’d never hated cups so much in my life.

  “Ready for our adventure, Raúl?” Manuel asked.

  “You kidding? Absolutely. This is going to be the best summer of our lives. Out there, helping the revolution, what could be better?” Raúl took a sip of the punch.

  “Maybe we’ll catch some anti-revolutionaries on the way. Break up one of their plots. Show Fidel and Che that we’re true soldiers!” Manuel said.

  I thought of Doc Machado wanting to form a peaceful protest. How he’d been killed for that.

  “I thought the brigades were only about teaching the peasants how to read. Part of the literacy campaign,” I said.

  “Sure, but we all have a duty to the revolution. Getting rid of gusanos is part of it. Look at Che. Fidel put him in charge of the prisons, and he got rid of everyone who’s against the revolution. He is one tough hombre … just like me,” Manuel answered.

  “You don’t really mean that anyone who doesn’t support Fidel should be killed, right?” The image of Doc Machado, hanging, flashed before my eyes.

  Manuel looked at me and then back at Raúl. “Well, no, I mean only if they deserve it.”

  Somehow, Manuel didn’t look like a movie star anymore. He started looking more and more like all the other brigadistas.

  He leaned over and whispered into my ear, “Tranquila, you’ve just got to say what they want to hear.”

  I pulled back and looked into his eyes. Maybe it was the same thing my family was now doing. Playing the game.

  I smiled and nodded, understanding what he meant.

  “So, you ready for Monday, Ivette?” Manuel asked.

  Ivette almost spit up the punch she was drinking. She started to cough.

  I looked back at Manuel. “What else is happening on Monday?”

  “Didn’t she tell you?” Raúl patted his sister on the back. “She joined our brigade troop. We’re all shipping out together. First we go to Varadero for some extra training, then we get our assignments.”

  I stared at Ivette, who had started to regain her composure. “¿Qué? You joined the brigades?”

  “I—I
,” Ivette stammered.

  “And you didn’t tell me? You’re leaving in two days and you didn’t even tell me!”

  “I didn’t even know until a couple of days ago. I wasn’t planning on leaving so soon, but Mother thought it was best if I went with Raúl.” Ivette rolled her eyes. “She says it’s my duty. I was going to tell you yesterday, but I didn’t know how. Then my mother told me what you’d seen in the park and that you were upset. I thought I’d just tell you after the dance. I didn’t want to make you feel worse.” She reached for my arm.

  I yanked it away. “I can’t believe you. Keeping something this big from me. I thought you were my best friend.”

  “I am.”

  I looked around. “I need to get some air.”

  Manuel took my hand. “C’mon. We’ll go outside.”

  I followed him out a side door, happy to leave Ivette and her lies behind me. The crisp night air felt good as it filled my lungs. Slowly it doused my anger.

  “Don’t blame Ivette. It’s hard to say good-bye, even if it’s only for a few months.” Manuel led me to a bench near the golf course.

  We sat down.

  “She never seemed to be into the revolution. I feel like I don’t even know her. And when did she join? She could’ve told me then, right?”

  Manuel smiled. “You know you really look very beautiful tonight, Lucía.” He pushed a strand of hair away from my face.

  Suddenly I realized that I was outside, on a beautiful clear night, with a million stars twinkling above me, sitting on a bench next to Manuel. The Manuel. My heart started pounding so hard that I was afraid Manuel might be able to hear it.

  Slowly he leaned over and put his lips on mine. I felt the electricity run up and down my spine.

  Who cared about Ivette? I had just had my first kiss … and it was perfect!

  After a moment, I pulled back and smiled.

  “We should go back in. People will wonder where we are,” I whispered.

  Manuel inched closer to me. “Why? Your mother isn’t even here yet.” He kissed me again, but harder this time.

  I turned my head. “Manuel, I don’t—”

  “Shhh.” He pushed me against the edge of the bench’s arm. “Don’t you want me to remember you while I’m gone?”

  “Yes, but …,” I whispered.

  The look in Manuel’s eyes told me he wasn’t listening. He licked his lips and leaned over me.

  “Manuel.” I tried to get out from under him. “Please don’t.”

  He laughed and tightened his grip. He straddled me to keep me from moving. One of his hands slipped down my neck toward my chest. As he tried to kiss me again, I twisted away, my knee accidentally catching him squarely between the legs.

  “Uh!” Manuel grunted as he fell to the ground. He glared up at me. “You stupid gusana. You’re a worm just like your father!”

  I jumped off the bench and ran toward the front of the building, tears building up in my eyes.

  I quickly spotted Tío leaning against his convertible, talking to a soldier. I wiped my eyes and calmly walked toward them.

  “Tío, I want to go home,” I said, a little out of breath.

  He looked at his watch. “Now? It’s still early. Go back in and have some fun.” He turned his attention back to the soldier.

  I grabbed his arm. “No, Tío. I want to leave now.”

  He gave me a stern look. “Lucía, I brought you all the way out here. Now I’m having an important conversation with Capitán García. We’ll leave in a little while.”

  I turned around, not knowing where to go. I couldn’t go back to the party and face Manuel, and I was too afraid to walk home by myself. I’d have to hide in the bathroom. I rushed into the building and ran toward the bathroom door.

  “Lucy!” Ivette chased after me.

  I grabbed the handle and hurried inside.

  “Lucía, please.” Ivette followed me in. She pulled me by the elbow, spinning me around. “You’re crying! What’s wrong? What happened?”

  I shook my head. Everything had gone wrong. I’d acted like a little girl in front of Manuel, and now I was humiliated.

  Ivette peered into my eyes. “I’m sorry for not telling you about the brigades. I should’ve. Talk to me.”

  I balled up some toilet paper and wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, too.” I looked at myself in the mirror. All dressed up, pretending to be grown-up, and inside I couldn’t even handle a kiss. In between blowing my nose and splashing water on my face, I told Ivette everything that had happened, play-by-play. When I was done, I expected her to tell me that next time I’d be more prepared, that I wouldn’t get so scared by a boy trying to make out with me.

  “¿Qué se cree él? Does he really think he’s all that? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!” Anger blazed across Ivette’s eyes.

  “No,” I said, looking down.

  “You sure? I can really make his life miserable … somehow.”

  I shook my head. She was truly my best friend. “I just want to go home, but Tío won’t leave.”

  “Okay, stay here.” Ivette yanked open the door. “I’ll find my mom and tell her we both feel sick. That we must’ve eaten bad shrimp or something.”

  I nodded and leaned against the bathroom sink. How could this night get any worse?

  Chapter 11

  THE RED PLOT CONFIRMED

  —CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE, MAY 27, 1961

  On the drive home, I kept my eyes closed. Ivette’s mom probably thought I really was sick, but all I was doing was replaying the entire scene with Manuel over and over again. The way we’d danced and held hands. How he changed when we were alone. The scorn in his face when he called me a gusana. How could someone seem so perfect and then rip out your heart?

  “¡Ay! ¿Qué habrá pasado?” Ivette’s mother exclaimed as she pulled the car into the driveway.

  I opened my eyes to see two police and military vehicles parked in front of my house. Thoughts of Señor Betafil and Doc Machado filled my head.

  I jumped out of the car and ran to the front door, Ivette and her mother only steps behind me. “Papá! Mamá!” I shouted.

  A soldier opened the door.

  “¡Mi hija! We’re here!” Mamá called out.

  Inside, soldiers were making a mess of the house. There were drawers emptied out onto the tables. Furniture was moved. The loose tile on the floor was lifted up.

  Papá sat at the dining room table with his hands cuffed behind him.

  “Ven acá, Lucía. Stay with me.” Mamá sat on the sofa holding Frankie, his eyes wide with fear.

  A policeman stood over them. Hands on his rifle.

  I rushed over and sat next to Mamá.

  “¿Por qué …?” I tried to absorb everything. “Why are they here?”

  Mamá opened her mouth to speak, but Ivette and her mother walked into the room.

  “Sonia, ¿qué pasó? What did you do?” Ivette’s mother asked.

  “We did nothing,” Mamá answered.

  The officer chuckled. “Nothing, eh? Illegally withdrawing items from the bank, hoarding cash and jewelry. Probably working with the underground.” He looked over at Ivette’s mother. “That sound like nothing to you, Marcela?”

  “I tried to warn them.” She pulled Ivette toward her. “You see. This is what I’ve been telling you. You can’t trust people like this.”

  “People like this?” Mamá stood up. There was fire in her eyes. “You mean good people who you’ve known your whole life. People who don’t follow every little thing Fidel says. Who actually have minds and question what is happening?”

  Ivette’s mother threw up her hands. “Vámonos, Ivette. There’s no getting through to them. They’re just like the Yankee imperialistas.”

  Ivette stood frozen by the doorway as her mother walked out. She stared at me and then at the hole in the floor. I couldn’t tell if her gaze was one of pity, fear, or guilt. She slowly turned to leave.

  Mamá smoothed back her ha
ir and sat down. “How could anyone have known about the jewelry?” she muttered. “No one knew. We never said a word … to anyone.”

  I looked over at Ivette walking out. She knew. She’d heard me say it was in the floor.

  I stood up. “I need to talk to Ivette. Can I go outside a moment?”

  The police officer motioned for me to go ahead, but I wasn’t talking to him. I looked at Mamá and she nodded. Guilt washed over me as I realized that this was all my fault. If only I hadn’t trusted my best friend.

  I hurried outside and grabbed Ivette by the shoulder before she stepped off the porch.

  “Lucy, I’m so—”

  “Save it!” I said in a low voice. “I know it was you! How could you? I thought you were my friend!”

  “What? You don’t think I—”

  “You’re the only one who knew. You lied about the brigadistas, about leaving. Did you think this would get you bonus points with your new comrades? I’m sure you and Manuel will have a big laugh about all of this!”

  Ivette’s mother honked the car horn, and Ivette motioned for her to wait just one more minute.

  “Lucy, you’re not serious. We’re best friends—”

  “You said it was wrong for us to hide our things.”

  “Yeah, but I’d never—”

  “No one else knew.” I shook my head. “Only you. And look what your mother thinks of us!”

  “So, this is the thanks I get after defending you for weeks! Fine. I certainly don’t need to stand here and be accused of something I didn’t do! Go back to your traitor family. See if I care!” Ivette stormed off the porch and ran back to her mother’s waiting car.

  “I never want to see you again!” I shouted as the car pulled out of the driveway.

  I turned and walked back into the chaos.

  Papá was being told to stand up.

  “Wait!” I ran toward him.

  A soldier blocked me.

  “Tranquila, Lucy. They just want to ask me some questions at the station. Everything’ll be fine.” Papá tried to smile.