The Red Umbrella

“I think the noise is coming from over there.” Frankie pointed toward the high school up the street before sprinting past the front of the house.

I glanced around the neighborhood. It was strange that barely anyone was outside. “He’s going to get us into so much trouble,” I said to myself as I ran low to the ground so that Mamá wouldn’t see me.

Soon I caught up to Frankie. He already had his eye pressed against a hole in the school’s tall wooden fence.

“Okay, let’s go.” I tapped him on the shoulder. “Mamá is going to kill us if we get caught.”

He flicked my hand away. “Whoa, wait till you see this!”

“What?”

“You’re not gonna believe it.”

“Let me see.” I pushed him out of the way.

Peering through the hole, I could see several bearded men wearing fatigues. They were unloading boxes from army trucks while others, with rifles slung over their shoulders, walked around belting out orders. They seemed to be setting up some sort of camp behind the high school. Never had I seen so many soldiers. There seemed to be a hundred … or more.

From the middle of the school’s baseball field, a deep voice cut through the surrounding noise. A hush fell over the soldiers as everyone stopped to stare at the small group of men that had gathered near the pitcher’s mound.

“Gusanos, worms,” yelled one of the soldiers, “tell us what we want to know!”

They were shouting at two men in business suits who were holding something behind their backs.

From where I stood, I could only see one man’s profile, but he looked a lot like Papá’s boss at the bank, Señor Betafil. It can’t be him, I thought. He’s such a sweet old man. Always giving us candy whenever we go to see Papá. What would they want with him?

“¡Comunista!” The old man spat out the word.

Another soldier came up from behind and struck him with a rifle butt.

“Oh!” I gasped, and turned away as the old man fell to his knees. I slowly peered through the hole again. Then I realized that the old man wasn’t hiding something behind his back. His hands had been tied!

“Tell us!” The soldier pushed the other man onto the ground and placed a foot on his neck while aiming his rifle at the man’s head.

I couldn’t take any more. I looked away from the fence, but Frankie continued to stare at the scene through an opening at the bottom.

“Frankie, we need to go back.” Mamá had been right … this was bad. Real bad.

“Shhh.” Frankie crawled toward the corner of the fence. “I just want to see if that’s—”

The sound of gunfire splintered the air. Frankie froze. Our eyes met. Neither of us made a move to see what had just happened, and a forced silence fell over the area. Not even the birds made a sound. For what seemed to be a lifetime, but was really a split second, I could only hear the soft sound of the breeze blowing through the palm trees.

Then the intensity of the soldiers’ shouting and laughing swallowed me. I grabbed Frankie by his shirt collar. “Let’s go. Now!”

*  *  *  *  *

Mamá peeked around my bedroom door. “¿Todo bien, mi hija? You’ve been so quiet all afternoon. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

I put down my copy of French Vogue. “Everything’s fine.” I gave her a half-smile.

Before sneaking back into the house, Frankie and I had agreed not to say anything about the soldiers. If Mamá found out, we’d be punished for a month. Plus, for all we knew, the soldiers were just trying to scare Señor Betafil and no one really got hurt. Or maybe it wasn’t even Señor Betafil. And if it was him, maybe it was the other guy who got shot because he’d done something really bad. I’d heard stories on TV of traitors being executed, but those people were trying to harm us. Could that other man have been a traitor? He must have been. The revolution wouldn’t execute innocent men.

Mamá sat on my bed and started brushing my hair. “I know staying home is hard, but you and your brother have been very good.” She reached over and put the silver-handled brush back on my vanity.

I bit my lip and looked down.

“You’re growing up right before my eyes. In a few months, you’ll have your quinces and a year after that I’ll be chaperoning you on dates.” Mamá gave me a little squeeze. “Seems like only yesterday your grandmother, God rest her soul, was chaperoning your father and me.”

I looked out the window. I hated keeping secrets, but what choice did I have?

“Escucha. I think I hear your father.” Mamá patted my hand. “Why don’t you get your brother and wash up for dinner? I made my special flan for dessert. Today I didn’t forget.”

“Sure.” I got up and walked across the hall to Frankie’s room. From the doorway, I watched as he lined up several toy soldiers along the windowsill. He had other groups of green army men scattered on the floor.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” I announced.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, focused on balancing a soldier on top of a lamp shade.

I took a step into his room. “Remember what we talked about. Don’t say a word, no matter how bad you feel.”

Frankie ignored me and kept playing with his toys.

“You know what I’m talking about.” I knelt down next to him and lowered my voice. “What we saw … what the soldiers did. I think they were just trying to scare those men, but still …”

He paused to look at me and then turned back to his make-believe battlefield. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Hijos, where’s your mother?” Papá stood in the doorway wearing his banker’s uniform … dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie.

I jumped up to give him a hug, clinging to him a bit longer than usual, thankful to have him home.

Papá bent down to give me a kiss on the forehead.

I took a deep breath. I loved the way he smelled after coming home from work. A mix of cologne and the cigar he always smoked on the drive home.

“I think Mamá’s in the kitchen,” I answered.

“Y tú, Frankie?” Papá held his arms open. “You getting too big to welcome me home?”

Frankie shrugged.

“¿Qué pasa? What’s wrong, son?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “He’s just tired of being inside all day.” I glanced over at my brother still sitting on the floor.

“Oh, of course.” Papá paused. “Perhaps not going outside at all is a bit drastic.” Papá stooped down and tousled Frankie’s hair. “I’ll talk to your mother. I think playing in the yard would be fine.”

“Fernando, I thought I heard you in here.” Mamá joined us in Frankie’s room. She’d put on lipstick and fixed her hair. It made me smile, how she always wanted to look nice when Papá came home.

“Sonia, I need to talk to you.”

Mamá gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Well, dinner is almost ready….”

“It’s important, but …” Papá gestured toward us.

Mamá nodded. “Niños, go downstairs and set the table for dinner.”

“Do I have to?” Frankie asked.

“Frankie…,” Mamá answered.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I know, I know.”

“And no nibbling on the flan,” Mamá warned as Frankie’s stomping turned into a full sprint down the stairs.

“Lucy …” Papá looked at me.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m going, too.”

Frankie’s bedroom door closed behind me. I waited a moment, then pressed my ear against it.

“Well?” Mamá asked.

“It’s the bank. They want me to be in charge—”

“A promotion! That’s wonderful, what did Señor Betafil say?”

I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Señor Betafil with the soldiers at the school. And if Papá got a promotion, that’d mean we could afford an even bigger quinceañera party in November. I smiled. Laura Milian was going to be so-o-o jealous.

“Sonia, that’s the thing…. Betafil didn’t give it to me. It came from Havana; they’ve taken Betafil into custody. They’re holding him indefinitely. He …” Papá’s voice trailed off.

It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I turned around and pressed my back against the door. Señor Betafil was arrested? My heart pounded. There was a ringing in my ears. I was going to be sick.

“Phone for you, Lucy,” Frankie yelled from downstairs.

I didn’t want to believe that the man I’d seen with the soldiers had been Papá’s boss, but it had to be true. I needed to find out more. Who was that other man with Señor Betafil? Why were they there? What had they done? I put my ear to the door again, but now there were just hushed whispers. I felt stupid and selfish for thinking about my birthday party when so much was happening. I tried to convince myself that it didn’t matter if I had a party at all. But part of me kept thinking that the soldiers might leave by November, so I could at least have a little celebration.

“Lucía! I’ll hang up on your friend if you don’t hurry up!” Frankie hollered, snapping me back to reality.

I ran downstairs and took the black receiver from Frankie’s hand.

“Make it quick, ’cause I’m not setting the table by myself,” Frankie warned.

I ignored him and said hello.

“Lucy, have I got some great chisme for you!” It was Ivette. “Can you talk? Do you feel better?”

I faked a small cough. “I’m still a little sick. What’s the big gossip?”

“Well, I heard about it at the Jóvenes Rebeldes meeting.”

“Since when do you go to those meetings? You’ve never been interested in politics. Aren’t you the one who says it’s more important to change your nail polish than change the government?”

Ivette laughed. “True, but my brothers were going, and since you were sick and I didn’t have anything else to do …”

I winced. “Sorry.”

“Oh no, it was great. There were lots of kids from school and, ooh, so many good-looking boys! You have to come with me. We’ll pick out a really nice outfit for you to wear.”

“I don’t know if I can go. Mamá worries about the soldiers and stuff.”

“But these aren’t soldiers … they’re more like wannabe soldiers. You know, Manuel was there.”

Just at the mention of his name, a smile spread across my face. “He was?”

“Yep, and he looked so cute, even in his brigadista uniform. He says he’s leaving in a few weeks to go teach the peasants.”

“Oh.” My heart fell. I knew that the government was calling on all students over the age of thirteen to leave their families and go teach in the countryside for a few months, but no one I knew had actually signed up to go.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back before your birthday party.”

I tried to sound calm. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”

“Ha! Don’t act like you don’t care. You’re talking to me, remember? I’ve seen how you look at him.”

My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Do you think he knows?”

“Nah … well, maybe. He may have failed eighth grade, but he’s still somewhat smart … for a boy. But don’t worry about that. What about the meetings? You sure you can’t go with me? My mother says everyone should go.”

“Maybe in a few days. When my parents settle down a little.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ivette sounded disappointed. “It’s just boring not being able to gossip with anyone. The boys were cute, but the girls there had no sense of style. Most of them were wearing the ugly brigadista uniforms. Ugh.”

I laughed. Ivette always had a way of making me feel better. “And you, Miss High Fashion, what were you wearing?”

“Are you kidding? I had this pretty yellow and white dress that matched my purse perfectly. No one says you can’t rebel in style.”

Ivette chuckled at her own joke.

“Ooh, and I almost forgot to tell you the chisme.” Ivette lowered her voice. “Did you hear about Laura Milian’s dad?”

“No, what?”

“Seems Little Miss Perfect’s father got arrested last night in some big roundup. They picked up a bunch of anti-revolutionaries. Her father’s such a lowlife. What a stupid gusano.”

“What was he doing?”

“I heard that he was writing lies about Castro. You’d think after they shut down his precious newspaper he’d have learned his lesson. It was the talk of the meeting. They said—”

Frankie pulled on the phone cord. “Hang up. You’ve been talking for hours.”

“Hold on, Ivette. Frankie’s being a brat.” I pushed him away.

“Mamá, Papá, Lucía isn’t helping!” Frankie yelled from the bottom of the stairs. “Mamá! Papá!”

“Ivette, I gotta go. My parents think I’m setting the table, and Frankie’s ratting me out.”

“Okay, okay. Call me tomorrow. ¡Besos!”

I hung up the phone and looked up toward Frankie’s room. The door had remained shut. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what they were still talking about.