The Red Umbrella

“Today I’m having real fun,” I mumbled to myself.

I pulled open the bedroom drapes and took a look outside. The brightness of the morning sun blinded me for a moment. Then, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized what a perfect day it was. The cloudless sky, the slight chatter of birds in the fruit trees, and the warm breeze that brushed past my cheek … there was no place I’d rather be, although Ivette and I did talk about visiting Paris or Rome someday. We’d been best friends since kindergarten, and I couldn’t imagine exploring those cities without her. But for now, we’d have to be happy spending the day walking around downtown Puerto Mijares. We could catch a movie or even a double feature. Something by Fellini was probably playing.

I thumbed through my closet and picked out a pleated emerald-green skirt with a crisply ironed white shirt. It wasn’t too fancy or too casual. After all, you never knew who we might run into in town. But choosing a headband was a bit harder. I loved my bright yellow one, which would stand out against my dark hair, but the green and white polka-dot one matched my outfit perfectly. This was a decision better left for Ivette. She was my fashion guru.

A thumping on the stairs let me know that Frankie was on his way to the kitchen. The warm, sweet smell of café con leche had wafted its way up to me, and my stomach growled in response. Breakfast was probably already on the table.

I wondered if everything was back to normal after the strangeness of the night before. The house had felt so quiet, and it was odd for both Mamá and Papá to choose to hear news reports on the radio instead of watching TV with us. But the bright sun chased away those shadows. Why worry when the day held so many possibilities? I grabbed my pink robe and headed downstairs before Frankie could devour everything Mamá had made.

“Mamá, today I’m catching the biggest fish in the ocean. I can feel it,” Frankie said, stuffing a freshly fried croqueta in his mouth.

“Buenos días.” I walked into the kitchen to find Mamá slicing a loaf of bread.

“Oh, Lucía, you’re up. Good, I was waiting for you to come downstairs. I need to talk to the two of you.”

I stopped in my tracks. Babysitting Frankie the day before was one thing, but spending the entire school break with a seven-year-old was completely unfair. This unexpected vacation was supposed to be enjoyed with my friends. I looked for Papá, who usually agreed with me. There were only two plates on the table, and the white serving platter in the middle held only six small, ham-filled croquetas, barely enough for Frankie and me.

“Where’s Papá?” I asked.

“He had to go to work early.” Mamá put down the knife and walked over to the table. “I have a favor to ask the both of you. It’s about—”

“So he already left?”

“Yes, they called him from the bank early this morning.” Mamá pointed to the chair next to Frankie. “Mi hija, siéntate.”

A wave of disappointment came over me. I was going to get stuck with Frankie again. He’d tag along all day as Ivette and I walked around downtown. I sank into the seat next to my brother.

“Niños, it’s about the revolution. You know things in Cuba have changed, especially in the last few months.”

Air. I felt like I could breathe again. This was a talk about the revolution and not about more babysitting. I smiled at my mother. “Mamá, we know. We hear about it in school all the time.” I took the same nasal, monotone voice of my revolution-loving social-studies teacher. “Comandante Fidel is making our lives better. He has replaced corruption with a new system of government that has brought much happiness to all the Cuban people. We are living in a great time. Everything will be fair and equal for all citizens.”

“Well, it’s not really about being fair. That’s why I wanted to—”

“It is fair. Señor Pedraza, our new principal, showed us.” Frankie reached for some orange juice.

“Eh? What do you mean he showed you?” Mamá raised one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows.

“Señor Pedraza showed us with a secret experiment.” Frankie took a big sip of juice. “Last week, before the school closed, he had us all pray that everyone would have ice cream when they got home. He told us to pray really hard … and I did, because you know how much I love ice cream.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Mamá answered as Frankie grabbed another croqueta.

“So, everybody prayed, but the next day, only a couple of kids said they had any. Señor Pedraza said that didn’t seem very fair.”

I laughed. “Yeah, but that’s because—”

“I’m not done with my story!” Frankie glared.

“Sigue, tell me what happened next.” Mamá spun her wedding ring around her finger. The diamond disappeared and then reappeared with each turn.

Frankie took a deep breath and turned back to Mamá. “Well, Señor Pedraza told us to close our eyes again and this time to ask Comandante Fidel for ice cream. A few minutes later, a lady brought enough for the whole class. Señor Pedraza said that El Comandante wouldn’t leave anyone out. If one kid was going to get ice cream, then it was only right that we all got some. Now, I think that was super fair.” Frankie licked the croqueta crumbs off his fingers.

Mamá shook her head. “It’s not so simple.”

“Yeah, goofball. God doesn’t give you everything you ask for … if He did, I’d be allowed to wear makeup.” I gave Mamá a playful look.

“All I know is that we got to eat ice cream, and that never happened when Padre Martín was in charge.”

“But you understand that Fidel isn’t better than God, right, Frankie?” Mamá asked.

Frankie slowly nodded.

Mamá stopped playing with her ring and rubbed her hands together. “I thought this whole Fidel thing would’ve been over by now. That everything would return to normal in time, but …”

I poured myself some café con leche. “Don’t worry, Mamá. Nothing really changes around here.”

Mamá bit her lip and shook her head. “No, Lucía, things have changed … in big ways, even here.” She paced around the kitchen. “First they kick out the priests, then they close the schools, and now …” Mamá paused to watch the orange-striped curtain flutter in the kitchen window. She nodded as if in response to some silent question. “Your father and I have decided that you two need to stay home for the next few days.”

“What? But there’s no school!” I couldn’t believe what Mamá was saying.

“I know, but your father and I talked it over.”

“What about if we go together to the beach? We were there yesterday,” Frankie argued.

Mamá combed his hair with her fingers. “Mi hijo, it’s not safe. I don’t want to get into it right now, so just do this for me and stay inside. Understood?”

Frankie crossed his arms and pulled away from Mamá’s touch.

I thought for a moment. “Does this have to do with the soldiers that drove by the beach yesterday? Is that what has you worried? It’s not that big a deal. We don’t have any anti-revolutionaries in Puerto Mijares. Nothing will happen.”

Mamá’s jaw dropped and she quickly made the sign of the cross. “You ran into them? ¡Dios mío!”

I rolled my eyes. “So that is why you’re acting like this!”

“You don’t know …” Mamá looked away.

“But I have plans with Ivette. I have to go out!”

“Ivette can come over here,” Mamá offered.

I pushed back my chair. “What for? To be a prisoner with me? Ivette wants to go downtown, go to the movies, hang out at the beach. No one knows when we’re going to have to go back to school; we have to take advantage of the time now.” Anger rose in my chest as I saw that Mamá was not going to change her mind. “You convinced Papá to do this, didn’t you?”

“No, Lucía, he’s actually the one—”

“You always treat me like a little kid, like Frankie. You won’t even let me cut my hair!”

“Lucía, you have such beautiful long hair, cutting it would be a disgrace. A few inches shorter would be fine, but why cut it to look like everyone else?”

“But it’s my hair!” I tried one last time. “Mamá, please, let me go with my friends today.”

Mamá shook her head. “I said no.”

“Call Papá,” I demanded.

Mamá raised her hand to end the discussion. “No. Your father and I both agree on this. I don’t ask much from either of you, but you will do as I say.” Her voice got a little louder. “Now promise me that you will not leave this house. Promise me!”

Frankie nodded.

“Lucía?”

It was pointless to argue.

“Fine,” I muttered.

*  *  *  *  *

My fun-filled day dragged slowly by as the morning blended into the afternoon. I had called Ivette right after breakfast and pretended to be sick. I didn’t want to admit that I was being held hostage by my irrational mother.

“Listen,” Frankie called out from the window seat, where he’d been reading a comic book. “Did you hear that?”

I walked over to him. Something was causing the window to rattle.

“It’s them, isn’t it?” he asked. “The soldiers.”

“I don’t know.”

Frankie glanced around. He pointed toward the back door.

I paused to consider it, but then shook my head. “Mamá doesn’t want us outside. We might get caught.”

“C’mon, it’s just the yard. We’ll just go, take a look, and then sneak back in. Mamá is upstairs cleaning our rooms. She’ll never know.” Frankie tossed aside the comic book and stood up.

I grabbed him by the arm. “We promised.”

“I had my fingers crossed.”

“We don’t know what’s out there.”

“Exactly!” Frankie twisted around and broke free of my grasp.

“Francisco Simón Álvarez, get back over here!” I said in my loudest whisper. “Or I’ll tell Mamá.”

“Fine, be a tattletale. But I’m still going, and it’ll be your fault if something happens because you let me go by myself.” Frankie dashed out the back door.

I had to make a decision. Keep my promise or follow Frankie. What if there was some sort of danger and Frankie got hurt because he was alone? I stopped thinking and darted out the door.