The Red Umbrella

by Christina Gonzalez

  “More than you can shake a stick at.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a saying. It means a lot. Actually, something like fifteen million birds will fly through here. You’ll see how people from all over come to see them. It’s like a people migration, too.”

  “And you don’t think that’s cool?”

  Jennifer shrugged. “I guess, but ugh, wait till you have to clean up after them. The birds, I mean, not the bird-watchers. They make a mess on the cars, the sidewalks, everything! It’s disgusting! Betty even got pelted in the head last year walking into school.”

  The image of Betty wiping bird poop from her head was too funny. A loud giggle escaped into the quiet library.

  Immediately the school librarian lowered her pointy glasses and shushed me.

  Embarrassed, I sat up straight in the wooden chair and tried to look studious. Then I caught a glimpse of Jennifer, who was acting like she was dodging bird pellets. Both of us started laughing.

  The librarian pursed her lips and raised a single eyebrow. She normally saw me in the library by myself, scouring the newspapers for stories on what was happening in Cuba. She wasn’t used to seeing me make noise. She cleared her throat and brought a finger to her lips.

  For some strange reason, this made us laugh even more. To avoid being kicked out, we covered our faces with our notebooks. For a full minute, all you could see of us were notebooks bouncing up and down. Finally, we caught our breaths and tried to refocus on choosing my bird.

  Jennifer glanced at her watch. “Look, it’s almost four. Mom said she’d pick us up at about four-fifteen. We don’t have much time left and I want to talk to you about what I should wear to the freshman spring dance. We’re still going, right?”

  I flipped through several more pages of the book. “I think Rita and Susan would kill us if we didn’t go.”

  “Did you tell your parents?” Jennifer asked.

  The mention of my parents made me pause and look up. “Uh-uh. Why risk them saying no? Besides, they already have a lot to worry about.” I looked down at the page again. “I figure teachers will be chaperoning the dance and that should be good enough, right? I can always tell them later.”

  “That’s true. Plus, missing our first high school dance would definitely not be cool.” Jennifer put her hand over the book. “Do you think you’ll dance with Eddie?”

  I felt my entire body tighten up at the thought of dancing with Eddie. Until now, we’d just been friends, but that could all change so quickly. I hadn’t really planned what to do if Eddie asked me to dance or if he tried to kiss me. I didn’t want what happened with Manuel to repeat itself.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to rattle your cage,” Jennifer said. “He has no idea you even like him—”

  “Kind of like him,” I quickly corrected her.

  “That’s what I meant. We’re all just going to have fun and hang out together. He may not even ask you to dance. Don’t think of backing out on me, okay?”

  I took a deep breath and muttered, “Okay.” I tried to focus on the birds on the page again, but nothing seemed to interest me.

  “Lucía, really, just pick anything. Here.” She snapped the book shut and handed it to me. “Now just open it, and wherever it lands, that’s it.”

  She was right. I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I was making everything too complicated. It was just a school project. It didn’t mean anything. There was nothing special about the bird I would choose.

  I grabbed the book and closed my eyes. I popped it open to a random page in the middle, ready to accept whatever fate had in store. Then I saw something familiar.

  A smile inched its way across my face.

  There on the page was a white heron like the one I’d seen on the beach in Puerto Mijares. The book showed how some herons had migration routes that crossed through Cuba and Nebraska. This was it. This was my bird. A bird that lived in both my worlds.

  * * * * *

  When I got to the Baxters’, the table had already been set. The nice white tablecloth we used for Thanksgiving and Christmas was laid out. We were celebrating something.

  “What’s all this for?” I asked.

  Mrs. Baxter was singing as she folded the napkins. “The doctor gave Mr. Baxter the all clear today. He’ll be able to farm again.” She twirled around the table as she fixed each place setting. “I swear, I haven’t heard that man so happy in months. He’s overjoyed, I tell you.”

  Mrs. Baxter’s excitement was contagious. It felt like a party.

  “Look what I made!” Frankie held a drawing of a man in the middle of a cornfield. On the top he’d written “Welcome Back!”

  “He’ll love it. You know, he keeps the picture you made him for Christmas in the drawer next to the bed. Mr. Baxter can be quite the sentimental guy.”

  I chuckled at the thought.

  “No, really. He might not show it, but I know he feels it.” Mrs. Baxter smiled. “He loves you kids.”

  A rumble in the driveway told us that Mr. Baxter had just pulled up.

  “Oh good, he’s here.” Mrs. Baxter clasped her hands together. “I made all his favorites. Liver and onions, corn soufflé, green beans, dinner rolls. We’re having a feast tonight!”

  Mr. Baxter walked in and, without saying a word, took off his coat and hat, like always.

  “I’m so happy!” Mrs. Baxter threw herself around him.

  Mr. Baxter stood motionless for a second, then slowly put his arms around her waist. “Me too,” he whispered.

  Frankie squeezed in between them to show off his latest drawing.

  “Hmm, looks quite a bit like me,” Mr. Baxter said.

  Frankie jumped up and down. “And see, the corn is high. Ready to be picked.”

  Mr. Baxter put a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “I see. You just might make a good farmer one day.”

  “Maybe … or an astronaut.” Frankie stuck out his arms and pretended to fly around the room.

  Mrs. Baxter stifled a laugh. “Oh, Frankie, you’re too much!”

  “Congratulations, Mr. Baxter. I’m very happy for you,” I said.

  “Thank you, Lucía.” He went to his coat and pulled something out of one pocket. “This came for you.”

  Mr. Baxter handed me an envelope with no return address.

  “I’ll read it later,” I said, folding it into my skirt pocket.

  * * * * *

  After dinner, Mr. Baxter decided to survey the fields with Frankie. Mrs. Baxter was on the phone with her friend Gladys, so I settled onto the lime green sofa in the living room to read the evening paper. As I sat down, the envelope in my skirt pocket crinkled. I almost didn’t want to read Ivette’s letter. She really hadn’t responded to most of my letters, and Mamá said Ivette had become the leader of the Jóvenes Rebeldes group in addition to recruiting new kids for the brigades. It was hard to believe that this was the same girl who’d gone to kindergarten with me, who’d spent hours at my house listening to music and planning my outfits, the one who’d bring me the latest fashion magazines when I was sick with the flu.

  I opened the envelope. The letter was very short.

  Dear Lucía,

  Have you completely sold yourself to the materialism of the American society? You are falling into an obvious imperialist Yankee trap. You should be here, with the rest of your countrymen, where even if it’s tough, we’re united in our suffering for a better Cuba.

  It was all propaganda-speak.

  You need to convince your parents to stay in Cuba or none of you will ever be allowed to return. You’ll be people without a country, without a home, because the U.S. will never truly accept you. If you decide to stay where you are, then you are no better than all the other gusanos who’ve abandoned their homeland. Then you deserve to never see this place again. Tell me that you want to be part of the revolution, or else don’t bother telling me anything at all.

  The words stung.

  Not because they were true, but because they we
re such blatant lies. How could Ivette change so much? America had done nothing but help me and Frankie. And here I’d met some of the nicest and friendliest people in the world. People who cared for me.

  My heart ached. I had wanted to go back to Cuba. To my parents. To my best friend. But that didn’t seem possible anymore. That Cuba, that friend, simply didn’t exist.

  * * * * *

  It was dark as I walked in the bitter cold toward the mailbox. I’d just finished responding to Ivette’s letter, telling her how wrong she was … about everything. That in the U.S., I’d found friends, happiness, and something she could never have with the revolution … freedom. It was here that people were free to choose their own path in life, free to speak their mind, free to have a different opinion, free to be themselves … all without fear.

  I wrote about how she might be able to feel the Cuban soil under her feet or the smell the Caribbean Sea as it hit the powdery beaches, but I would carry Cuba with me wherever I went. That no matter what, I’d never stop loving my childhood home.

  I glanced down at the envelope I was about to mail. A wave of sadness swept over me as I realized that my friendship with Ivette was ending. It had died a slow death over the past few months, and now it simply couldn’t survive the different choices we were making. I knew that after reading my letter, Ivette would not write to me again.

  I pulled open the mailbox, placed the envelope inside, and lifted the little red flag. I slowly turned around and trudged back through the snowy night into the warm and brightly lit Baxter house.

  Chapter 35

  CUBA READIES PROPAGANDA SPECTACLE—1,183 PRISONERS GO ON TRIAL THURSDAY

  —SAN MATEO TIMES, MARCH 24, 1962

  The school gym was transformed. Instead of wooden bleachers and a huge scoreboard, all I saw was a world of large paper birds hanging from the rafters and five-foot cardboard flowers lining the walls. There were giant butterflies and ladybugs scattered among the blossoms. It was as if springtime had arrived in cartoonland. It was colorful, and a bit tacky, but I loved it.

  “Lucía, over here!” Jennifer shouted above the music. She was talking with Doris and a few other girls who were on the decorations committee for the dance.

  I walked toward them. Jennifer, with her slim yellow dress and blond hair, looked as bright as the sun itself. The other girls also looked like they were wearing their best spring dresses.

  “Hi, everybody. The place looks great,” I said.

  “Ooh, I love your dress!” Doris exclaimed.

  “It turned out gorgeous!” Jennifer agreed.

  I looked down at the peach dress I was wearing. It was a simple sleeveless dress with a round collar and an A-line skirt. I had made it myself from a Simplicity pattern and cinched it at the waist with a white patent-leather belt borrowed from Mrs. Baxter.

  I gave them all a mock little curtsy.

  For a girl who’d had her first sewing lesson in home economics only six months earlier, it really was pretty nice.

  “C’mon. Let’s sit on the bleachers and see if we get asked to dance.” Jennifer pulled me by the hand.

  I resisted. “Instead, why don’t we—”

  “No excuses. Rita isn’t coming ’cause she’s sick, and Susan’s already on the dance floor twisting away.” She gave my arm a tug and I followed her to the stands.

  As we walked over, I caught a glimpse of Eddie hanging out in the corner of the room with Nathan and a few others. They all looked nearly the same in their dark suits and thin ties, except Eddie towered over the other boys.

  Jennifer and I sat on the first row of bleachers, next to a few other girls, and waited. I’d just gotten comfortable watching everyone else on the dance floor when Jennifer gave me a little nudge.

  “Here they come,” she whispered.

  My heart sank as I saw Nathan and Eddie walking toward us. I kept remembering what had happened with Manuel. I didn’t want a repeat of that night.

  “Hi, girls,” Eddie said.

  “Hello, boys,” Jennifer answered, twirling a strand of her hair.

  Quiet.

  It was an uncomfortable silence.

  Eddie elbowed Nathan, who was standing in front of us shuffling his feet.

  “Um … uh … yeah … so,” Nathan stammered.

  Eddie looked over at Jennifer. “So, Jenn, did you try to match the theme? Like Miss Sunshine or something?”

  “What?” she asked.

  “No, I mean Nathan and I were talking about how you both looked nice and stuff. You with your yellow dress and all.”

  “Like sunshine? Is that supposed to be funny, Eddie?” Jennifer crossed her arms.

  “No, no. Hey, forget it. That just didn’t come out right. Don’t be mad. You want to dance?” He held out his hand. “I do a mean twist.” He showed us his dance move and we all giggled.

  And there it was.

  Eddie had asked Jennifer to dance and not me.

  Jennifer hesitated, but I nodded for her to go ahead.

  “Okay,” she said, standing up.

  “Nathan, why don’t you dance this song with Lucía and we can switch partners afterward. That okay, girls?” Eddie cautiously looked at the two of us.

  “Sure,” I answered.

  Then I realized what had just happened and smiled.

  Eddie was one clever boy.

  * * * * *

  For the next hour, we danced to the latest rock ’n’ roll songs. It was fun. When the song “Runaround Sue” came on, we all pointed to Sue Ellen Padgett, who tossed her hands in the air and spun around for us, as if on cue. The only ones who acted like they were completely bored were Betty and her group of followers. But eventually even they caved in and joined us on the dance floor. No one could resist the music and laughter. Eddie and I danced most of the songs together, and he kept making me laugh with all his silly moves. Everything was fine until “Blue Moon” started to play. It was a slow song.

  I stood still on the dance floor as all the couples around me paired up to slow dance.

  Eddie got closer.

  All I could think was, Oh no, is everything going to get ruined?

  He leaned in and whispered, “Want to go get something to drink and leave the slow dancing to the lovebirds?”

  My shoulders dropped and I smiled. “Definitely,” I said.

  I crossed the dance floor without Eddie even trying to hold my hand. He only touched my back to make sure I didn’t get bumped by a few dancing couples. I was feeling more and more relaxed being with him. He really was a good friend.

  I watched him as he served us both something to drink. He had a bunch of freckles that covered his face, and his eyelashes seemed to fade toward the tips. He wasn’t movie-star handsome, but there was definitely something attractive about him.

  “What? Do I have something on my face?” he asked, handing me a cup.

  “Oh no. I was just thinking about something.” I’d been caught staring and I could feel my cheeks turning red.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” I looked over at Susan, who’d sat down on a nearby bleacher to catch her breath. She was fanning herself with a napkin.

  “Seems like even Miss Dancing Queen had to take a break,” Eddie said, pointing at Susan, who was now in the process of pulling her curly brown hair into a ponytail.

  I looked up at Eddie. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “You give everyone nicknames, why not me?”

  Eddie shrugged. “Don’t know. With you it’s different.” He looked down at his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s hard to come up with just one word that really describes you.”

  My heart fluttered a little. He was so sweet, but I could see that he was uncomfortable. I needed to get us back to how we’d been just a few moments earlier. I gave him a light punch in the arm. It was the only thing I could think to do.

  “What was that for?” He playfully rubbed his arm as if I’
d really hurt him.

  “Just for being Eddie.” I smiled. “C’mon, let’s take Susan a drink before she faints.”

  “Hmm, with a swing like that I might have a name for you after all … Champ.”

  I grinned, because tonight that was exactly how I felt.

  Chapter 36

  ONCE-PROSPEROUS CUBA SINKS UNDER SOCIALISM

  —WISCONSIN STATE JOURNAL, MARCH 26, 1962

  “You want to drive?” Mrs. Baxter dangled the keys in front of me.

  She already knew the answer.

  “Yes, ma’am!” I said.

  “Oh, wait. Let’s leave a note for Mr. Baxter.” She took out a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. “You never know, he may come in from tilling the field a little early, and wonder where I went on a Monday.”

  Vacation on a school day … teacher workdays were the best.

  I glanced at my watch. It was almost one o’clock, and although Frankie had already been picked up and taken to a friend’s house, I still had to get to Grand Island before the matinee started. Jennifer had decided to celebrate her birthday with a movie, just like we’d done with mine, except this time several people were meeting us at the theater to see West Side Story … including Eddie and Nathan. Afterward we’d all go to the malt shop for cheeseburgers and milk shakes.

  Mrs. Baxter followed me out to the porch, handing over the keys as she closed the door. “You know, I’m so happy Gladys started our weekly canasta games again. Ever since her daughter moved away, she’s been in such a state. I can only imagine what they said about me when Carl moved away.”

  Just as I stepped off the porch, the phone inside rang.

  “It’s probably Jennifer wanting to know if I already left,” I said.

  The phone rang again.

  Mrs. Baxter turned around and went back inside. “Just in case, I should answer it. Could be Frankie. Better safe than sorry,” she said over her shoulder.