The Red Umbrella

“Thank you, Frankie. That’s very sweet. I’m not very hungry, so you can have mine.” Mrs. Baxter smiled as she gave it back to him.

  “Okay,” he answered, and gobbled it up before she could change her mind.

  “¿Y el que tienes en el bolsillo?” I pointed to his pocket.

  “Es para Mr. Baxter,” he said, walking over to where the men were standing.

  I watched as Frankie tapped Mr. Baxter’s arm. All the men stopped talking to look at him. He then pulled out the napkin-wrapped doughnut from his pocket. Mr. Baxter hesitated for a moment, smiled, and patted Frankie on the back.

  We were ready to go.

  * * * * *

  “Don’t worry, Lucía,” Mrs. Baxter said as we entered the house. “I’m sure the call didn’t come in while we were at church. We were only gone a couple of hours.”

  “But it’s been almost two days since we asked for a line to Cuba.” I touched the white phone in the living room, hoping it would ring. Usually, if the call was to be connected at all, it would happen within twenty-four hours.

  “Hmm.” Mr. Baxter took the Sunday newspaper with him to the back porch.

  “Can I go outside and play with my baseball?” Frankie asked.

  Mrs. Baxter nodded and placed her small white gloves on the fireplace mantel. “But first, change out of your good clothes. Don’t forget to hang the suit back up.”

  Frankie ran to his room.

  The Baxters were good like that. They treated us like we were their own children, which meant we had chores to do, but we were also given freedom to make our own decisions … even if they were the wrong ones. Like when Frankie spent his entire weekly allowance on that baseball instead of putting it toward our Calls to Cuba Fund. I couldn’t really blame him, though. I secretly wanted to spend some of mine on a lipstick. But I knew how difficult it was for Mamá and Papá to make calls to the U.S., so it was up to us to save all our extra money and call them. But the calls were expensive. We had to space them out to every three or four weeks, and we’d only speak for a couple of minutes. Yet that was our only real expense. I couldn’t imagine how my parents were surviving with the little money Papá earned doing odd jobs.

  Mrs. Baxter touched my shoulder. “If we don’t hear from them today or tomorrow, we’ll try again on Tuesday.”

  I nodded, but I didn’t want to wait a few more days. I wanted the call to come in now. It had been almost a month since we’d spoken to Mamá and Papá, and although we’d receive letters from them every few days, I just wanted to hear their voices.

  I stared at the phone.

  Ring. Please ring.

  “Why don’t we listen to some music? I’ll put on a lovely Andrews Sisters album. That’ll get our minds off the waiting.” Mrs. Baxter flipped through the record albums that were stored in a dark wooden cabinet.

  They reminded me of all the ones I’d left in Cuba. My Elvis, Beny Moré, and Celia Cruz y La Sonora Matancera records. I wondered if they just sat in the corner of my room gathering dust. The music started playing, but it was the song of a different generation, of a different country. I once asked Mrs. Baxter if she had any Ricky Nelson records and she just laughed. Said that was for the young, but if I saved up, I could buy some and she’d let me play them … every once in a while.

  I twirled the ribbon wrapped around my ponytail as music filled the room. During the last few weeks, the days had been so hot that my hair was almost always picked up. It was no surprise that Mrs. Baxter kept her hair short. She would cut it herself every few weeks and had even offered to trim mine. But I knew how much Mamá loved my long hair, so I’d said no.

  If only the phone would ring. I glared at it. Ring, I commanded.

  The jarring sound of a call coming in startled me. It worked!

  Mrs. Baxter raced to the phone. “Hello,” she said, almost before picking up the receiver.

  I waited. Every second was valuable.

  “No, Gladys, I can’t talk, we’re waiting for our call to Cuba.” Mrs. Baxter paused. “No, I don’t speak to them, the kids do.” Another pause.

  I pleaded with my eyes for Mrs. Baxter to get off the phone.

  “Gladys,” Mrs. Baxter continued. “Gladys, I have to hang up. I can’t tie up the line. The call could be connected any minute and they’d get a busy signal. No, we never know when the operator will call back with the connection. We’ll talk later.” Mrs. Baxter hung up the phone and smiled at me. “It was Gladys.”

  I nodded. Maybe I could do it again. I stared hard at the phone. Ring. Ring!

  Nothing.

  “Why don’t you help me prepare a nice Sunday lunch?” Mrs. Baxter held the kitchen door open for me.

  I hesitated. It would mean stepping away from the phone.

  “I’ll turn down the music. We can hear the phone from the kitchen.” She walked over to the large piece of furniture that housed the family’s record player. Just as the singers were saying “Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream,” the phone rang. Mrs. Baxter once again ran toward me and answered the call.

  “Yes … we placed the call a couple of days ago … go ahead. Hello, un momento.” She smiled and handed me the phone. “Lucía, it’s your father. I’ll get Frankie.”

  I was on the clock. I could only afford three minutes and had to leave time for Frankie to talk. I grabbed the phone.

  “Papá?”

  “Hola, mi hija. How are you? How’s your brother?”

  A sense of joy filled my heart at the sound of his voice.

  “Bien, Papá. We’re both fine. We’ve been learning a lot of English.”

  Papá chuckled. “You’ll be my little Americanita pretty soon. So how’s life on a farm?”

  I felt my shoulders drop. Just hearing his voice filled me with a sense of calm. Letting me forget for a moment the miles of separation between us. “Good. The corn in some of the fields around here is already higher than my waist, but they say by October it’ll be about seven feet high. But tell me I won’t see that. That we’re going home.”

  “Ay, mi hija, I wish I could.” He sighed. “Maybe soon … I don’t know. Things here are …” A clicking noise on the line reminded us both that the soldiers could be listening. Papá’s voice became a little stiffer. “Things here are the same. Let’s just say people like your tío are the ones making all the decisions, but your mother and I are managing.”

  “But how?” I wrapped the phone cord around my fingers, trying to feel the connection between us.

  “We have friends.” I could almost hear the smile on his face as he spoke. “And I’ve been finding jobs painting houses and fixing roofs.”

  I overheard Mamá say something in the background.

  “Yes, yes. Your mother wants me to tell you that she’s now taking in some sewing and ironing. She’s a working woman! Here, hold on, she wants to speak to you.” He paused for a moment. “Te quiero, Lucy.”

  I took a deep breath. I was not going to let Papá know how much my heart was breaking. “I love you, too.”

  “Lucía, it’s Mamá. Your mother. How are you, mi hija?”

  I smiled. How could I not know it was her? “Hola, Mamá. Estoy bien. Frankie’s doing fine, too. Mrs. Baxter’s been teaching us lots of English.”

  Mrs. Baxter had returned and now beamed at the mention of her name.

  Mamá continued talking. “I’m glad you’re learning so much, Lucía. You’re remembering to use your manners, right?”

  “Of course, Mamá. Have you heard from Ivette? I need to talk to her … to apologize.”

  “I know. I think her brigade gets back in August or September. The public schools will start again by then.”

  “Oh. Well, I sent her a letter, but I’ll try again.”

  “Mi hija, remember that all the mail goes through censors, so she might not even get it. Plus, she may not be the same girl who left a few months ago. Las cosas cambian.”

  “But not everything changes. Anyway, I’m not the same girl, either, but we can still be friends … I t
hink.”

  “What do you mean you’re not the same?” Mamá’s voice had a worried tone.

  “I’ve just grown up a little. Frankie and I living here, by ourselves, it’s different. Not in a bad way, though.”

  “Lucía, I’ve seen those Elvis movies where the American teenagers go crazy. A mi no me gusta eso. You know I don’t approve of that type of thing.”

  I twisted and untwisted the phone cord. How could Mamá think that movies and TV showed what things were really like?

  “I know, Mamá, but things aren’t like that here.”

  “Seriously, I don’t want you dating boys, or thinking that just because we’re not there, that means …”

  I shook my head as Mamá kept talking. She was still trying to tell me how to act, even though she was so far away. Yet the last thing I wanted to do with the few seconds we had was argue.

  Frankie pulled on my arm. “Hurry up. It’s my turn.”

  I nodded and raised a finger to let him know it would be just one more moment.

  “Mamá, I have to go. Don’t worry, we haven’t even made any friends. We live on a farm, miles away from the city.” I twirled my long ponytail in my hand.

  “Está bien, but I want you to be happy, too, and make some nice friends. I love you, Lucía, I just worry. Don’t wear makeup, either.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, sí, Mamá.”

  “And don’t wear your skirts too short.”

  “Sí, Mamá.”

  “And no high heels.”

  “Sí, Mamá. I love you.”

  I handed the phone to Frankie before she could say anything else.

  Mrs. Baxter stood by, looking at her watch. “Fifty seconds,” she said.

  Frankie started talking about a mile a minute. He wanted to know if they’d received his drawing of the fireworks he’d seen on the Fourth of July. Then he went on to describe every one of them. What a waste of a phone call!

  Then again, I couldn’t believe Mamá had spent her time with me telling me how to behave. It was like she didn’t trust me. She’d sent us to a different country by ourselves, but she was worried about my wearing makeup? Here I was, taking care of Frankie and myself … and I was doing a pretty good job. I certainly was old enough to make my own decisions.

  “Mrs. Baxter?” I said.

  “Frankie, you need to hang up now.” Mrs. Baxter touched Frankie’s shoulder.

  He nodded and said his good-byes.

  “Yes, Lucía?” She turned to face me as Frankie rubbed his eyes and hung up the phone.

  “I want you to cut my hair … short. Really short.”

  Chapter 26

  CUBA EXILES ADJUST TO NEW LIVES

  —ADA EVENING NEWS, SEPTEMBER 5, 1961

  The sun had been up for about an hour, and we’d already gathered the eggs, fed the chickens, had breakfast, and been waiting at the bus stop for over ten minutes. Mrs. Baxter had warned us to leave the house extra early so that we wouldn’t miss the bus on the first day of school.

  I glanced over at Frankie. He was wearing a pair of dark blue pants that Mrs. Baxter had hemmed for him, with a crisp white shirt and light tan jacket. The only thing slightly off was his penny loafers, which were two sizes too big, but he’d stuffed cotton in the tips so that they wouldn’t slip off. He didn’t seem to have a care in the world. For him, school was going to be a place to find a few other boys who liked to play catch.

  I, on the other hand, wasn’t too sure about going to school. What if people made fun of the way I talked? If I looked strange to them? What if no one spoke to me and I was ignored all day?

  Two large headlights shined in the distance.

  “You’ll be back on the bus after school, right?” Frankie asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And everyone at my school will be my age, right?”

  “Yes, more or less. Don’t be nervous. Everything is going to be fine. We’ll both be fine.” I smoothed my hair. It had grown about an inch since I cut it, but it was still just a bit under my chin. I’d flipped the ends and chosen a wide orange headband that matched the checkered dress Mrs. Baxter had fixed for me.

  The bus whistled to a stop right in front of us.

  This was it. I was about to walk into American teenage life.

  Frankie boarded the bus first and said good morning to the driver. I was proud of how quickly he’d learned English during the last few months, although Mrs. Baxter really hadn’t given us any option.

  When I reached the top of the steps, I noticed that at least one person was sitting in each seat. Frankie and I wouldn’t be able to sit together as I’d hoped. I pushed Frankie a little farther down the aisle, past a few teenage boys who had taken over the first two rows. The bus was strangely quiet, and I could feel everyone’s eyes on us.

  The bus driver closed the door, and Frankie made a beeline for the back, where a boy his age was tossing a baseball. I watched as Frankie told the boy something and then sat down. The two of them started talking. It seemed Frankie had already made a friend.

  I took a few steps toward a pretty dark-haired girl who sat toward the middle of the bus on one of the large bench seats. She was whispering something to the redhead in front of her, and both wore dresses somewhat similar to mine. The dark-haired girl even had a headband just like the one I was wearing.

  I took a deep breath. At least, I’d made the right choice in selecting which clothes to wear. I smiled at the girl.

  She quickly scooted to the aisle side of the seat to let me know that I wasn’t going to be sitting next to her.

  My heartbeat quickened. Would everyone on the bus act the same way?

  I felt a tap on the back of my right arm.

  A girl with hair so blond that it looked almost white motioned for me to join her.

  I followed her to a seat near the front and quickly sat down, in case the girl changed her mind.

  “Hi. I’m Jennifer. You’re the girl from Cuba, right?” she asked.

  I nodded. Did everyone know about me already?

  “I’m Lucía. How do you know I’m from Cuba?”

  Jennifer smiled. “In Grand Island, everyone knows each other’s business. Plus, I got back into town last week after spending the summer at my grandma’s in Idaho and I saw you at St. Mary’s. The kids there thought you wanted to be left alone, since you never came outside by the fountain and always stayed in the social hall after Mass.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at my notebook.

  “Doesn’t matter. I figured you were just shy or something. They should’ve introduced themselves to you anyway.”

  I felt my shoulders relax a little.

  “Are you in ninth grade, too?” I asked.

  “Yep. There’s about five or six of us farm kids that get picked up to be taken to Central High. Everyone else in here goes to either Grand Island Junior High or Brian Washington Elementary. Hey, do you have your schedule with you? Let’s see if we have any classes together.” Jennifer took her schedule out and waited while I did the same.

  She compared the two while I looked out the window. The rows of green cornstalks had grown to over five feet high, and in the morning breeze they seemed to form ripples, like waves in the ocean. I missed Puerto Mijares. Mamá had told me in her last letter that Ivette was back in town, since classes had started their regular schedule in Cuba, too. I’d already written Ivette several times, asking her to forgive me, but she hadn’t replied.

  “We have first period, which will also be our homeroom, plus lunch and two more classes together. It’s perfect ’cause, you know, it’s all new for me, too. Not the people, but going to high school. We can walk in together, ’cause you know what they call us freshmen?” Jennifer’s blue eyes twinkled. “Fresh meat.”

  I smiled. I liked this girl.

  “Holy moly!” Jennifer was still reading my schedule. “You’ve got Honors Algebra II with Mrs. Armistedge. I heard from my older brother that she’s super tough. You must have done really well on yo
ur placement test.”

  I shrugged. I’d learned a lot back in Señora Cardoza’s algebra class, and in math you didn’t need to know much English. It was strange. Part of me felt like it was only yesterday that I was sitting in my classes in Cuba, but at the same time, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “You see her over there?” Jennifer pointed to a girl with silver-tipped glasses sitting a few rows behind us. “She’s super smart in math, too. She’ll probably be in that class with you. Her name is Doris and she’s really nice.”

  The girl had her face buried in a book.

  “Doris!” Jennifer waved at the girl as the bus stopped again.

  Doris looked up, gave us both a slight wave, then went back to her reading.

  Suddenly I felt someone tickle me under my ribs. “Hey, guess who!” a deep voice said.

  I spun around to see a tall boy with beautiful greased-back brown hair.

  “Oh!” He jumped back. “I thought you were someone else.”

  The dark-haired girl who wouldn’t let me sit with her started to laugh.

  “Charlie, did you think that was me?” she called out, patting the seat to have this boy join her.

  He tossed up his hands. “Sorry, Betty, from behind she kinda looks like you.”

  “You are so silly!” I watched as she put her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. “I guess you got confused because she’s wearing one of my old dresses. You know, the ones I give to the needy.” She then looked straight at me and flashed a fake smile. “Isn’t it cute that they gave it to her to wear on the first day of high school?”

  Suddenly I hated what I was wearing. I wanted to tear it off my body. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me so that I could disappear.

  “Don’t worry about her. She thinks she’s God’s gift to Grand Island, but it’s all in her head.” Jennifer smiled and gave me a nudge. “It’s pretty much the only thing that’s in there … she’s as dumb as they come.”

  I turned around and faced forward. I’d been on the bus for about five minutes and already I knew who my friends and enemies were going to be.

  * * * * *