Flight to Freedom

by Ana Veciana-Suarez

  Friday, 10th of November

  For homework I have to write a three-hundred-word essay about exploration in space because yesterday a Surveyor spacecraft landed on the moon. How in the world will I do that? I wish I were living on the moon!

  Wednesday, 15th of November

  Good news and not so good news: I received a perfect score on my mathematics test. Only one other person in my class, a boy named Derek, got the same grade. I am so proud of myself.

  But on the essay I did not get a grade at all. Srta. Reed wrote, “Good try.” Jane tells me not to worry about it, that I am too hard on myself. Yet I find English to be a confusing language, especially to write. In Spanish we rarely use the first-person pronoun to begin a sentence, but not so in English. I have to continuously remind myself to put the I when writing about what I am doing or thinking. When I read it back to myself, the composition makes me sound conceited with so many I’s sprinkled all over.

  Thursday, 16th of November

  Ileana is asking for trouble. She told Mami she was joining a sewing club at school but instead joined another club. Its name is Students for Peace. I am not sure what the members do, but I can tell you it has nothing to do with sewing. The only way I found out about this peace club is because the papers fell out of Ileana’s notebook when we were moving our stuff to pull out the sofa bed this evening. It was a flyer in pink bubble letters and it said, STOP THE VIETNAM WAR. She grabbed it as soon as I saw it. At first she didn’t want to tell me what it was. Then I told her I knew it had to do with that boy in the car, her friend who plays football, and she got so mad her lower lip jutted out as it usually does when she pouts. She pinched me, too, and said I was a busybody gossip, always watching everybody quietly and then scribbling in my diary. “Well, that’s better than sneaking around,” I shot right back. She called me a smarty-pants know-it-all and said that if I told Mami or Papi, I would have to sleep on the hard, cold floor the rest of my life. Then she turned off the light, and I had to go to the bathroom to write.

  Friday, 17th of November

  Ileana said she was sorry. I’m not sure if I should forgive her. I told her I would think about it.

  Our marks came home today. I received an A, which is the top mark here, in mathematics. Also in science. I did not do as well in my other subjects, but I will not think about it because it will make me not want to try anymore.

  Saturday, 18th of November

  I miss Pepito, sometimes more than others. If I am busy with schoolwork, I do not think so much about him or about what our lives used to be like. I concentrate on the task. But on those days that I am home doing nothing but cleaning or setting the table or folding laundry, things that require no brainpower, my mind goes back to our old house and my other school, to my friends, but especially to Pepito. Is he lonely because we are not there? Is he angry at us? Does he think about us as much?

  Sunday, 19th of November

  When Papi returned tonight from his military training camp, he brought back a brown bag full of wrapped packages, one for each of us. I got a doll that looks a lot like one I left back in Cuba. This one is much smaller and prettier, though, with embroidery on the collar of her blouse. I like her, but the truth is that I am too old to play with dolls. In my room at home the dolls were more decoration than playthings. I would have rather received fishnet stockings. Or perfume. Of course I won’t say this to Papi. It would hurt his feelings.

  Ileana received a small bottle of perfume that smells just like the jasmine we had in our yard in Cuba. Ana Mari got a pink and white tea set. She wanted to set it up, but Mami said it was too late and we needed to go to bed pronto. Papi had a package for Mami, too, but she refused to open it. She kept her lips shut tight.

  The weekends Papi goes away, Mami just mopes around the house and makes little comments about how she is going to raise her daughters not to depend on men. She says that in this country we will receive opportunities she never had, and good for us. Abuela María chuckles at this. “Man proposes and God disposes,” Abuela mutters. I guess that means we can plan and plan, but it is up to God what really happens. If that’s true, then it makes me not want to do anything. Why try so hard at school? Why work long hours like Papi and Tío Pablo? Why bother to train with the militia? It doesn’t make sense. That’s my opinion.

  Monday, 20th of November

  You wouldn’t believe what I saw today when Mami sent me to the pharmacy to buy headache powder. First of all, Mami never ever sends me anywhere alone. She does not let me out of her sight. Even when Ana Mari and I play outside, we must stay in the backyard. So I was surprised that she gave me one dollar and told me to walk to the corner, then turn left, and walk another block to the pharmacy. I know exactly where the pharmacy is, but I listened to her directions to make her feel better. As I was returning home after buying the powder, I saw a blue car with big tires parked at the corner. Inside there were two people, and I was sure one of them was Ileana. So I stopped walking in that direction and hung around the sidewalk to watch. It was hard to see anything, but I inched closer, sticking next to the bushes, just like a spy. (I guess Ileana’s right about me being a busybody!) From where I stood, I could hear Ileana’s laughter. She has one of those contagious laughs that tinkle like choir bells. I could also hear voices and see silhouettes moving, but nothing else. I was at a bad angle, and the sun was shining in my eyes.

  Because they were taking so long, I began to worry that Mami might wonder why I was delayed. Finally, just as I was deciding to backtrack and cut through an alleyway (which Mami has told me to never do because you don’t know what lurks there), Ileana got out of the car. She leaned in through the passenger window and said something, then as she straightened up she threw her head back, and her hair fell like black waves. She looked like a movie star. That’s when she saw me. She turned completely around to face me, and her jaw dropped. I’m not exaggerating, either. It dropped to the floor. I walked over to greet her, and she still couldn’t get any words out of her mouth. I told her I thought she was supposed to take the public bus home after her “sewing club” meetings. She didn’t reply to that except to ask me if I was going to tell. I said no, I wouldn’t, but as we walked home, I asked her to tell me about her boyfriend.

  His name is Tommy. He graduates from the high school this year and is planning to go to a town in the middle of this state to study at the university. I’ve never heard of that place, but it is spelled this way: Gainesville. He brings Ileana home every week after her so-called club meeting. (If our parents find out, she will be in big, big trouble.) She says he is very handsome and has blue eyes like that movie star, Paul Newman. He is a head taller than she is, so that means he is taller than Pepito. I don’t know what they can possibly talk about since her English is worse than mine, but she insists they understand each other well enough. When she spoke, her voice rang out, like a song. That’s how happy she sounded. I told her that she should invite Tommy to visit her at home, properly and with a chaperone, but she shook her head hard. She says I’m too young to understand.

  What is there to understand? If she keeps sneaking around, someone’s going to catch her. You don’t have to be sixteen to figure that out.

  Wednesday, 22nd of November

  Patricia is not a nice girl. She never seems to have anything good to say about anybody. Today I did not have lunch with Jane because she was absent. She and her mother left early to drive to Tampa for tomorrow’s holiday, when los americanos roast a big turkey and give thanks. After lunch, Patricia told me that I should be careful of girls like Jane. She says Americans call Cubans “spics” because they speak Spanish, and they also sing a song called “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” behind our backs. The boat-rowing song is sung in rounds, and it has something to do with the Cubans who float over in rafts. I don’t believe Patricia. That sounds awfully mean, to make fun of people because of the way they come to this country.

  Thursday, 23rd of November

  This is the Thanksgiving holid
ay, on which we show our gratitude for all the good things God has given us. Tía Carmen seasoned the turkey last night and began roasting it very early this morning. She also made something called stuffing. The wife of the owner of the Laundromat showed her how to do all this last year. I had never eaten turkey, and do not like it much. It tastes like very dry chicken. Papi says that in Cuba turkey is called guanajo, and of course we all laughed until we had tears in our eyes because you call a person guanajo when he is silly and foolish. I did not like the stuffing either, but I very much enjoyed something called a sweet potato casserole that Efraín’s boss sent home with him. It is similar to our boniato. So good!

  We had black beans and rice, too, my favorite, and Abuela María baked a flan. Efraín said we should have had something called pumpkin pie because that is the typical dessert of this holiday. Tomorrow he will buy one and bring it home. So many different tastes! So many new things! I wish sometimes not everything was so new. It’s nice to have old things, too—holidays and friends and places you know so well that they are already inside your heart. I like it when things are comfortable and familiar.

  After dinner, Ana Mari told us the story of the first Thanksgiving. She learned it in school. Then she showed us drawings from her art class of the people called Pilgrims. It was very interesting.

  Saturday, 25th of November

  Big fight. Huge fight. Ileana wanted to go to a party, and Mami said that she could. That was two days ago. Then Papi found out and he said no, absolutely not, because he does not know the friend giving the party or her parents. Mami then convinced Papi that Ileana deserved to go because she is sixteen, seventeen in less than a month. Mami planned to go as a chaperone, but when Ileana found out about this, it was like someone had let all the chickens out of the coop. Even Abuelo Tony got into the argument, but I’m not sure which side he was on. That’s how bad it was.

  Ana Mari and I were told to play in the backyard, but we listened through the open windows as much as we could. In the end, Ileana did not go to the party. Tía Carmen said she was being hardheaded, which is true. Tía Carmen says that we must adjust to the new ways slowly, and we should let Papi do the same little by little. She suggested that Ileana take a chaperone for the first few parties. Then, as he gets used to new customs, Papi might allow her to go places with Efraín, who would be a good protector. But Ileana will not have anything to do with the idea. She said she would be the laughingstock of the school because nobody takes chaperones. That is not true because Patricia’s older sister does, but I did not dare open my mouth. Ileana cried and cried. Her eyes were puffy like a frog’s.

  Tuesday, 28th of November

  We are moving to our own house. Yes, yes, we are! We will be renting a two-bedroom house that is just around the corner from this one. I have not seen it, but Mami says it is well kept but small. Who cares? At least we won’t be living like sardines anymore, taking turns at the dinner table and wiggling and jiggling when somebody is in the bathroom and we have to relieve ourselves.

  I am very happy we will be moving, but I think I will miss my uncle and aunt, and my grandfather and my grandmother. But I will especially miss watching television with Efraín. He has introduced us to shows like Gomer Pyle and Bonanza and The Andy Griffith Show. I especially like The Flying Nun because sometimes the characters say words in Spanish. In school the other students talk about these shows, and because I know what happens and who the characters are, I can participate. It makes me feel less strange.

  Sunday, 3rd of December

  We are all moved in. Our new house is a pale coral color, and it has pretty rose bushes that Abuelo Tony said will produce beautiful blooms if somebody takes care of them. I share a room with my sisters and sleep on the top bunk bed, Ana Mari at the bottom. Ileana gets her own bed and she has hogged up both nighttable drawers. At least we all have new bedspreads of yellow chenille. Tía Carmen bought them for us, for our good grades. I wish I had my jewelry box from home.

  Mami spent the weekend scrubbing and scouring from top to bottom. We helped with our room and with the bathroom. Tonight she complained about her aching back, but I think she is happy to be here. She was humming along with Efraín’s portable radio all day. We do not have a television set yet, but Mami says maybe the Three Kings will bring it for Los Reyes Magos on the sixth of January. She will have to convince Papi first because he insists we should keep our possessions to a minimum. “It will be easier to return to Cuba if we don’t have to worry about too many belongings,” he reminds us constantly.

  Monday, 4th of December

  Mami has a new boss at the shoe factory, and she is a Cuban lady who came over in 1960 with her husband and two sons. Mami says the new forelady did not know any English and had never worked before she arrived in this country, but she has managed to be promoted every few years and now runs the entire factory.

  “Girls,” Mami told us right before we went to bed, “there is a beautiful lesson in that story, and I hope you learn it.”

  Thursday, 7th of December

  Finally! We have received news from Pepito. My mother laughed hysterically when she found the letter at Tía Carmen’s after she returned home from work. Then, even before opening it, she began to cry. Abuela María and Abuelo Tony tried to console her, but she would not stop. Actually, it was not crying but a wailing that pierced my ears. Ana Mari, who doesn’t need any encouragement to break into her own tears, cried with Mami. And nobody had even read the letter! Tío Pablo was called, but he could not help. It was as if somebody had opened the door to a dam and all this grief could not stop pouring from my mother’s eyes.

  Eventually Tío Pablo was able to rescue the letter from Mami’s grasp and he opened it and began to read it aloud. This seemed to calm her down. It was short and somewhat mysterious. “My dearest family,” it began. Pepito, believe me, would never write anything so corny. He assured everyone that he remains in good health. He asked after his “little sisters who are so dear and precious.” This is Pepito writing?

  He did not mention anything about his military service, not even where he is stationed. He also did not say anything about the increased food rationing, but he wrote about the birth of a baby to one of our cousins and about my Abuelo Pancho’s rheumatoid arthritis, for which he is being treated free of charge—Tío Pablo snorted loudly when he read this—at a state-run clinic.

  When Papi arrived from work, the letter was reread aloud. Twice, in fact, and both times everyone kept trying to dissect and analyze each line for hidden meanings that might have escaped the government censors. My mother was inconsolable during every reading. Yesterday my brother turned nineteen. Alone. Far from us. As a conscripted miliciano.

  There was other important news, too, which Tío Pablo read to us from the newspaper. The world’s first successful heart transplant was conducted in South Africa by a doctor named Christiaan Barnard. Abuela María said, “What will they think of next!”

  All night I have thought of the man with the transplanted heart. And sí, I will admit that I cried, but just a bit and very quietly. The man with the transplant is just like me—or should I say, I am just like him. My heart, the one now beating in my chest, feels like it belongs to someone else. It has been transplanted here, and everybody seems to want to force it to feel something it cannot feel. I may know a little more English, and I may now have a friend or two, but I do not belong here, in this country with street signs I do not always understand and people who do not understand me.

  Friday, 8th of December

  Jane got in trouble at school because of something another girl said about me. It was so unfair. Jane now has to complete an extra page of mathematics homework. We were working quietly when Claudia—that’s the girl’s name—said that it was a good thing I got good grades in class because I sure didn’t know how to dress. I was so upset by this remark that I didn’t know how to reply, but Jane said it was a good thing Claudia had a quick tongue because that way she could keep her buckteeth inside her mou
th. Claudia then shouted something I did not understand, and Jane called her a stupid hillbilly. That’s when Mrs. Boatwright came into the class. She had been outside talking to another teacher and only heard what Jane said, not a word by Claudia. I wanted to talk to Mrs. Boatwright after class, but Jane wouldn’t let me. She said that if I did, the other pupils would think I was a tattletale.

  Speaking of tattletales. Tonight, after everyone was asleep, Ileana woke me up and asked me to sneak out with her to meet Tommy because she was scared of going alone. I couldn’t believe my ears, and of course I went. Though it was past 11 P.M., we met him at the corner and took a ride to the airport to watch the planes land and take off. Tommy and Ileana kissed in the backseat while I sat in the front, very bored and very nervous. Finally I turned around and told them we needed to return home. Tommy was not happy.

  “Your sister needs a boyfriend,” he told Ileana.

  I wouldn’t dare.

  Saturday, 9th of December

  Today we traveled downtown on a public bus. I was very sleepy from being out late, but the streets were decorated for Christmas, with silver bells on light poles and red garland draped over storefronts, so I paid attention. On one corner there was even a man dressed up as Santa Claus with a red kettle. He was sweating in the outfit because it was so hot.