The Red Umbrella Page 8

  My head seemed to nod on its own, without any instruction from me.

  “All right, I guess you should go up and pack. We’re leaving for the airport in Havana first thing tomorrow.”

  I walked toward the stairs, numb.

  “Lucy,” he called out, “you’re only allowed to take one bag, and a box of cigars that you can sell once you get there, so pack a little of everything, but nothing of value. The soldiers will steal it if they think it’s worth something.” Papá placed his arm around Mamá. “And, mi hija, thank you for not making this any harder.”

  As I left the room, I saw Mamá’s shoulders shake and tears stream down her cheeks. Papá reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He offered it to her while his own tears fell to the floor.

  Chapter 15

  CUBAN REFUGEES SET FOR LONG EXILE—FLIGHTS BOOKED SOLID

  —THE CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR, JUNE 3, 1961

  “Remember to use your manners. Say please and thank you.” Mamá spoke quickly as we walked to the boarding area. “Don’t forget that they are helping us.”

  I watched as passengers, both adults and children, formed a line by a glass partition. We had approached the pecera. The fish bowl. It was a nickname given to the waiting room because of the large glass walls that separated it from the rest of the airport. A soldier with a rifle slung over his back stood at the entrance. No one, except passengers with tickets, was allowed to enter. A little girl ran back from the line to clutch her mother again. Her father chased after her and tried to pull her away. Families all around us were saying their final good-byes.

  “We love you both with all our hearts.” Papá bent down and gave Frankie a hug and a kiss. “We’ll send for you soon.” He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Things will get better and then you’ll come back. Maybe by the end of summer. Until then, you have to be strong and take care of Frankie.” He wrapped his arms around me. “I love you, preciosa.”

  Frankie and I threw our arms around Papá. “We love you, too.” I choked back the tears.

  “Now, what did I say? No more crying.” Papá pulled away. “We’ve all done enough of that, and this is only temporary.” He crouched down to look Frankie in the eye. “Remember, the Catholic Church in Miami is helping us, but if someone asks who’s meeting you, tell them you’re waiting for George.”

  Frankie nodded. “But who’s George?”

  Papá shook his head. “I’m not sure, but that’s what you’re supposed to say. It’s a code.”

  “Like the spy movies, right?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said, smiling, “just like in the movies.” He gave us another hug, then picked up our small suitcases and carried them as far as the soldier standing guard would allow.

  I faced Mamá. Her tears flowed freely.

  “Frankie, pórtate bien. Behave and listen to your sister.” She hugged him and then straightened his jacket. Mamá had told us to wear our best clothing so we’d make a good impression. Frankie had on a suit he’d worn once to a cousin’s wedding, and I’d chosen a yellow dress with embroidered flowers on the edges. “You know I love you with all that I am.” She gave him a big kiss on the cheek and hugged him again.

  “Sonia, the flight…,” Papá called out from a few feet away. “Frankie, vamos.”

  “No!” Frankie clutched Mamá. “I don’t want to go!”

  Papá walked over and pried Frankie away. As they stepped toward the line of passengers, Frankie kept glancing back at Mamá.

  I watched my mother and studied her face. I wanted to memorize everything about her. The feel of her skin, the scent of her perfume. Her eyes, her smile, her hair. Then I noticed something was missing.

  “Mamá, your earrings!”

  Her hand touched a bare ear. “I know, mi hija.” She smiled. “Small price to pay to get airline tickets for you and Frankie.”

  “But they were Abuela’s.”

  “And you are mine.” She put her arms around me. “I love you, Lucía. More than you can imagine.”

  I began to cry. “I love you, too.”

  “Now, you need to go.” She turned me around and nudged me toward the entrance of the pecera. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here until your plane leaves.”

  * * * * *

  The bearded soldier ruffled through my nicely folded clothes and checked all of the suitcase’s pockets. Finding nothing of value, he slammed the bag closed and waved us through.

  I spotted two empty chairs on the far side of the room. “C’mon, Frankie,” I said, taking his hand.

  “Whoa! Get back over here!” a woman in fatigues yelled at us.

  I glanced back and noticed a line of children standing by a wall. Some were only four or five years old, others were teenagers.

  “Are you traveling alone?” the woman asked as we walked toward her. “On visa waivers?”

  I nodded.

  “Then you have to wait here. We’ll let you know when you can go.”

  Frankie and I obediently went to the back of the line. I expected to receive instructions on where we should sit on the plane or how we were supposed to claim our luggage when we arrived in Miami.

  A few minutes later, two soldiers, a man and a woman, came out of a back room. Two teenage girls came out of the room in tears, followed by a boy about eleven years old. The young boy wasn’t crying, or at least I couldn’t tell if he was because he had his shoulders hunched over and seemed to be keeping his head down low.

  “We are conducting random searches for contraband,” announced the male soldier. “Compañera Pérez and I will be selecting a few of you to come with us to ensure that you are not trying to take Cuba’s riches with you.” He paused and looked at everyone from the first little girl in line to Frankie, who was at the end. “If you are hiding something in or under your clothing, I suggest you turn it over to us now. You will be asked to undress.”

  No one moved.

  “Fine.” He looked at the female guard. “Margarita, should it be every fourth or fifth child?”

  My heart leapt to my throat. I started to tremble. Not that I feared they’d find something of value in my clothes, because they wouldn’t. Papá had warned us over and over again about not trying to hide anything. It was the fear of what they’d do once we were naked and nothing was found.

  Frankie stepped forward a little and puffed out his chest. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I won’t let them touch you,” he whispered.

  I smiled and gently pulled him back in line. There was nothing a seven-year-old could do to stop the search, but somehow I felt better knowing that his thoughts were on protecting me.

  “El quinto gusano,” sneered the woman. Slowly every fifth child was pulled out of the line.

  I held my breath as the female soldier curled her lip and pointed to me and Frankie, saying, “Three … four …” Frankie and I were not chosen. “The rest of you … take a seat. You’ll be notified when the plane is ready to leave.”

  A sigh of relief escaped from my lips as the soldiers herded three other kids into a small room. Immediately I felt guilty. One of the girls picked wasn’t much older than Frankie. I looked over at the window separating us from the rest of the airport. I could see Mamá’s tearstained face next to the glass.

  “I’m here,” she mouthed.

  I nodded.

  “Let’s sit, Lucy.” Frankie led me through the crowded room to a couple of empty plastic chairs. We sat down next to an old man who fanned himself with his boarding ticket.

  Frankie put his arm around me. My brother was so little, but he acted so big and tough. I leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “Yuck!” He wiped his face. “Why’d you have to do that?”

  I smiled.

  “Lucía, I thought it was you!” a voice exclaimed.

  I turned to see Laura Milian.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your dad,” she said.

  The old man next to me moved over so Laura could sit down.

  “Ho
w’d you know?” I imagined all the gossip going around town and how, at least, I wouldn’t have to hear the whispers.

  “My mom told me. She mentioned you might be leaving, too, but I had no idea we’d be on the same flight.”

  “Oh.” I recalled how Mamá had acted while waiting for Laura’s mother to come by. It was only yesterday, but it already felt like weeks ago.

  “It stinks when family betrays you. It happened to us, too. I think it was my mom’s cousin who turned in my dad.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  Laura leaned over and lowered her voice. “You know, that your uncle turned you guys in … at least, that’s what I heard. It’s like when my father …”

  I sat still, trying to absorb what Laura had just said. Could it be? No, it was just a nasty rumor. Tío Antonio didn’t even know about the stuff being hidden. And Papá had argued with him, so he certainly didn’t tell him about it. Unless that’s what they were arguing about. But Papá would never have said anything to anyone … not even Tío. I wasn’t even supposed to know. No, it was Ivette who’d betrayed us. But how could I clear Tío’s name without admitting that I’d confided in Ivette in the first place?

  “Ahem.” Frankie tapped me on the shoulder. “Are you still in there, Lucy?”

  I realized that Laura had stopped talking and they were both just staring at me.

  “Uh, yeah.” I faced Laura. “What makes you think it was my uncle?”

  She shrugged. “My mom’s cousin, Magda, the one who turned in my dad, came by to try to convince my mom to sign me up for the brigades … show people that we didn’t agree with my father. Anyway, she mentioned how it was her duty to turn my dad in. Said others were doing it too … like your uncle.”

  “Tío wouldn’t do that,” Frankie said. “Would he?”

  “Nah, it wasn’t him,” I answered. It was all secondhand gossip.

  “Well, Magda was pretty convinced. She said he bragged about it at a CDR meeting. How he knew because your dad used to hide stuff under loose tiles when they were kids.”

  A sinking feeling started deep in my stomach. It hadn’t been Ivette. She’d told me the truth … and now it was too late. She was gone and now I’d be leaving, too.

  I looked over at my parents standing by the window. Someone had to tell them about Tío. About what he’d done.

  “Stay here, Frankie,” I ordered. “Don’t move.” I walked over to the glass partition.

  “It was Tío who turned Papá in,” I said in a low, quick voice.

  Mamá shoo her head. I could see her lips form the word “qué.”

  The noise in the room and the thickness of the glass wouldn’t let us hear each other.

  I looked at Papá. I wanted him to read my mind. Slowly I mouthed the words, “It … was … Tío.”

  Papá nodded. I could see the pain in his face. He stared at me and said, “I know.”

  An announcement was made. “Flight one ninety to Miami is now boarding.”

  Mamá tapped on the glass. “Look for me.” She grabbed Papá’s hand. “We’ll be outside.”

  “How will I know where …” A crowd of people pressed against the window, pushing my parents out of the way. Everyone wanted a chance to say a final good-bye.

  “Lucy!” Frankie’s voice pierced the noise of all the passengers getting ready to board the plane.

  “Coming!” I glanced back at the many tearful faces against the window. There were none that I recognized.

  “Lucy!” Frankie shouted again.

  I weaved through several people already gathered by the boarding gate. Frankie was sitting exactly where I left him.

  “They’re taking us into the plane first.” Laura pointed to a pretty stewardess who stood with a group of children. “We need to go over there.”

  “Okay. Ready, Frankie?” I asked.

  Frankie’s silent tears gave me my answer.

  * * * * *

  It was a bright, clear day outside. Not a cloud in the sky. I stared through the plane window at the palm trees in the distance. It didn’t seem real. Like a painting was hung inside the plane showing us a glimpse of Cuba. I pushed my nose against the glass. Mamá and Papá were out there … somewhere.

  “Can you see them?” Frankie unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over my shoulder.

  “No.”

  A small crowd of people had gathered on the airport roof.

  “Are they there?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I can’t tell. It’s too far away.”

  “But you told me that Mamá said to look for her.”

  “I know. I’m sure she’s over there.” A sadness washed over me. I wanted one last glimpse, one more connection with my parents.

  The plane engines began to hum and we started to slowly roll forward.

  “Look!” Frankie pointed to the rooftop.

  There, in the middle of the small crowd, against the bright blue sky, a big red umbrella opened up. Mamá’s umbrella.

  That big stupid thing had never looked so beautiful. A smile edged its way onto my face. Mamá had found a way to say good-bye.

  I didn’t know when I’d be coming back home, so I studied everything about that moment. The trembling of the plane, the deafening sound of the engines as we lifted off the ground, the view of Havana’s high-rises set against Cuba’s rugged landscape, and the ever-shrinking red dot on top of the airport roof.

  I caught my breath and simply whispered, “Adiós.”

  Chapter 16

  ARRESTS INTENSIFIED IN CUBA PROVINCE

  —THE HARTFORD COURANT, JUNE 3, 1961

  “Flight crew, prepare for landing,” the pilot announced.

  The words pulled me out of my daze. I stared out the window as several large hotels came into view. Even from up high, they all seemed bigger than I’d imagined. It was like I had assumed that only Havana had tall buildings.

  As the plane flew over the beach, the people down below looked like ants wandering in and out of the water. They seemed so carefree. I’d never been on a plane before, and seeing things from this altitude gave me a new perspective on how small we really were.

  I closed my eyes and imagined Mamá and Papá were with us. I wished they could see all of this and that we were just here on a family vacation.

  I opened my eyes to the sounds of a little girl sobbing a few seats in front of me. It was no use pretending this was an ordinary trip. We weren’t choosing to come here, and we had no idea when we’d be going back home.

  It had been less than an hour since we’d left Cuba, and for the first time, I was entering a different country, a different world, a different life. I remembered Mamá’s umbrella. It was no longer here to protect us, and neither was she.

  Frankie leaned over my lap to get a better look out the window.

  “Whoa, look at that building! It has to be at least a hundred stories high, don’t you think?” Frankie pointed to the skyline.

  “More like twenty … and we have buildings like that in Havana,” I said.

  From the air, the beach reminded me of Cuba with its coconut palms, turquoise water, and white sand, but as we went farther inland, the rest of Miami looked very different. Everything seemed to be set up in perfect lines and squares. And just past the tall buildings, everything was flat. There were no lush green mountains or rolling hills falling into the sea.

  My stomach somersaulted as the plane dropped again. We were about to touch down and step into a country we didn’t know. Would it really be like the movies I’d seen, with beautiful people everywhere, or would it be a place full of hate and race riots like the Cuban newspapers described?

  I wiped my sweaty palms on the armrests and pushed Frankie back into his seat.

  The cars and roadways underneath us grew larger. The tires screeched as they hit the ground, then the plane roared to a stop.

  My heart pounded. We had landed in Miami. But we had no money, no family, no friends here. How would we know where to go? I ha
d studied English since the third grade, but it had never been my favorite subject in school. Would people understand me? Would I understand them?

  I leaned back in my seat, thoughts swirling.

  I’d always wanted my parents to give me a little more freedom. Now I was about to experience complete independence.

  My stomach churned.

  * * * * *

  Frankie gripped my hand as we walked through the terminal.

  “There they are.” Laura pointed to a group of people standing behind a thick rope. “The welcoming committee.” She smiled and lowered her voice. “Guess it’s better than the Committee for the Defense of the Revolution.”

  I nodded and looked around. It was nice not to see any soldiers. We continued to walk toward the crowd.

  “My mom’s godfather, Ernesto, is meeting me. Who’s here for you?” Laura asked.

  I bit my lip. “Um, we’re, um …”

  “We’re meeting our friend George,” Frankie said, giving me a smile.

  “Oh, that’s good.” Laura waved at a short, pudgy man and a woman with gray hair pulled into a bun. “There’s Ernesto and his wife now.” She gave me a quick hug. “I’ll see you back home in a couple of months. Good luck, okay?”

  “You too,” I said as Laura walked into the open arms of Ernesto and his wife.

  And with that, another tie to Cuba was gone.

  “So, now what?” Frankie asked.

  I glanced around. Most people were being hugged and greeted. I could see people rush by, but everyone spoke English so quickly that I could only understand a couple of words.

  Two teenage boys joined us as we stood by a row of blue leather chairs, waiting for something to happen. In less than a minute, everyone had seemed to figure out where they were supposed to go, except for us. We only knew to ask for George.

  But who were we supposed to ask?

  A tall, thin man smoking a cigarette approached us. With his dark brown suit, he looked like he might be going to a business meeting. Maybe he would know about George. I hoped he’d speak English slowly.