The Red Umbrella (7 page)

“I brought a couple of polishes from my house. Which one do you like?” Ivette grabbed her purse from the chair next to the window. “Looks like your dad and uncle are home.” Ivette pointed down to the front yard.

I joined her by the window and saw Tío Antonio and Papá talking. I cranked the window open to shout hello, but the sudden harshness of their voices stopped me.

“¡Basta!”
Papá threw his hands up in the air. “I’ve had enough! Papá would be rolling in his grave if he could hear you.”

“Don’t bring in our parents. They were from another era.”

“Antonio, do what you want, but don’t come crying to me when you and your
compañeros
get run out! You are on your own!”

Tío glared at Papá. “Fernando, you’re going to regret this. Soon it’ll be you who comes begging to
me!”
He spun around and headed toward his brown convertible.

I quickly closed the window. Papá was not one to make a scene in public.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry, brothers always fight. You should see my family when all my aunts, uncles, and cousins come over. We can get pretty loud, too. You’re just not used to it because you’ve got a small family.” Ivette put her hand on my shoulder. “He’ll probably be back tomorrow, ready to eat one of your mom’s famous
flans.”

I nodded, but all of my Manuel-induced butterflies had flown away, leaving me with a sick, empty feeling. I’d seen Papá and Tío argue before, but this time was different. And no matter what Ivette said, she knew it, too.

“You look”—Frankie wiped his runny nose on his pajama sleeve—“nice. Kinda pretty.”

“Gracias,”
I said in a sing-song voice, and glided past the sofa. I twirled around, and the full skirt of my pink and white dress floated around me. It reminded me of something Sandra Dee would wear in one of the beach movies I’d seen. The top was sleeveless and cinched at the waist, and it was cut to give the illusion that I had curves in just the right places. Wearing Mamá’s pink heels, I felt so grown-up. With two fingers, I picked up my small white gloves and placed them over the square patent-leather purse that sat on the dining room table. “Mamá, are you ready? It’s almost eight.”

Mamá’s high heels clicked against the floor tiles as she came down the stairs. She wore a perfectly ironed,
cream-colored linen dress, and her eyes sparkled with excitement, as if she were about to go to her first dance. “Put a little more powder on your nose, Lucía. You don’t want it to get shiny by the end of the night,” she said.

“I already put enough on. Can we just go?” All day long I had been imagining dancing with Manuel, holding his hand, maybe having him give me a good-night kiss.

“Not yet. Papá’s not home and I can’t leave Frankie by himself.” She fumbled with the clasp on her bracelet. “Are you sure you don’t want to wear your silver chain with the cross on it? It would look so pretty with that dress.”

I giggled, remembering Ivette’s performance with the chain. “No, it’s okay.” I walked over and checked the clock next to the sofa. Where was Papá?

“Does he know we’re waiting for him?” I asked Mamá.

“Yes, yes. There was some sort of emergency at the bank. I already called, and Eduardo told me your father was in a meeting. That he’d be a little late.” Mamá pointed a camera at me. “Stand still and smile, Lucía. I want to take a picture.”

I posed and waited for the bulb to flash. Another picture for the family album.

A glance at the hallway clock reminded me that if I didn’t get to the dance soon, Manuel might think I wasn’t going at all. I opened the front door, hoping to
see Papá’s car pulling into the driveway. A soft breeze blew through my hair, and suddenly I realized that this would be the first time since Doc Machado’s death that I’d gone outside. I shuddered, unsure if it was the cool breeze that made me shiver or the twinge of fear in my chest. Slow, deep breaths stifled the rising panic. I concentrated on the dance. On Manuel.

As I paced up and down the driveway, a brown convertible parked down the street caught my eye. It was Tío Antonio. Ivette had been right. He was probably here to apologize and make up with Papá. Maybe he could take me to the dance, and then Mamá could stay home with Frankie. That would be even better. I rushed over.

“Tío, what are you doing here?”

He flicked his cigarette out the open window. “I’m just waiting for your father.”

“Oh. Can you talk to him later? I really need to ask you for a favor.”

Tío raised an eyebrow.

“Remember how when I was little you’d let me stand on your shoes and you’d dance with me?”

He smiled.
“Sí
, I remember those days.”

“Well, tonight is my first real dance.”

“You need another lesson?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver cigarette box.

“No, but Frankie’s sick, Papá’s stuck at the office, and Mamá can’t leave to chaperone me. So I thought maybe …”

Tío Antonio tapped a cigarette against the steering wheel before lighting it. “So,
mi sobrina
wants her good old uncle to do the chaperoning. And you think your mother will agree to this?”

“Yes, yes.” I bounced up and down. “I’ll take care of it. Please, will you do it?”

He blew out a puff of smoke and nodded.

I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tío. You’re the best!” I raced back toward the house.

Mamá stood in the doorway with her arms crossed.
“¿Qué quiere Antonio?
Is he here to argue again?”

“No, he’s just waiting for Papá.” I saw Mamá’s eyes narrow. “He wants to apologize. He wants to straighten everything out.”

Mamá dropped her arms and her face softened. “I knew he’d come to his senses. Family is family, after all.” She looked over at the brown convertible. “Tell him to come inside. We can wait together until Papá gets home.”

I looked back at my uncle casually smoking his cigarette. “Mamá, Tío says he can take me to the dance and be my chaperone. That way I won’t be late and you can stay with Frankie.”

Mamá waved her hands. “No, no. I think it’s more appropriate if I chaperone you. It’s your first dance.”

“But if we keep waiting, I’ll miss my first dance. Please. You can meet us there after Papá gets home. Just don’t make me be late. Not tonight, please.” I glanced back at Tío and waved.

“Bueno
, I don’t want you to be late.” She thought it over. “Fine, but I’ll take a taxi over there the moment your father gets home. Then your
tío
can come over and talk to your father in private.” She nodded, approving of the idea. “Yes, a little time together alone is just what those two brothers need.”

“Thank you, Mamá!” I turned around, held up a finger to let Tío Antonio know that I’d be back in a minute, then rushed into the house to get my purse and gloves.

Mamá trailed after me. “Lucía, wait, one more thing.”

I quickly stopped to check my reflection in the hall mirror. My pink dress was still crisp, no sign of wrinkles anywhere. My hair still held a few curls at the bottom and there was no shine on my nose. Perfect.

“You do look beautiful,
mi hija.”
Mamá beamed.

I turned and smiled. This night was going to be one I’d always remember.

“Here. I want you to wear these.” Mamá reached for her diamond earrings and unscrewed the backs.

“Mamá, you never take those off.”

“Tonight they’re yours.” She placed them in the palm of my hand. “Now go. Your
tío
is waiting. I’ll be there in a little while.” She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.

*  *  *  *  *

“I promise you won’t have to stay long, Tío.” I held my hair in one hand so that it wouldn’t fly all over the place in the open convertible.

“Not a problem, Lucy.” He adjusted the rearview mirror. “You can always count on me, even if I’m not your father’s favorite person.”

“Why are you in a fight with him?” I asked.

Tío Antonio shrugged.
“La vida.”

“Life?”

“Just the way life is. Fernando and I have always seen things differently. This time, though, he’ll come around. He just needs to learn a few hard lessons.” Tío Antonio took another drag from his cigarette.

I leaned back against the white leather seat. We were approaching the center of town. The park was nearby. I knew Doc Machado had already been buried, but I didn’t want to see the tree or even the park entrance. I turned to face Tío Antonio.

“What’s
patria potestad?”
I asked, partly because it bothered me that my parents had never answered my question, partly because I wanted an excuse not to think about Doc Machado.

“Wow, where’d you hear about that? No, wait, let me guess.” Tío Antonio shook his head.
“Mi hermano.”

I sat, silently waiting.

“Patria potestad
, huh? Okay, well, I think it’s Latin. It means parents have the right to make decisions for their own kids.” Tío brought the cigarette back up to his lips, this time leaving it dangling from the corner of his mouth. “But that’s not why you heard about it.” He glanced over at me. “Some people have this crazy idea
that Castro wants kids to be the property of the state.” He then gave me a little smile and wink. “Like Fidel really wants to deal with thousands of pipsqueaks. Figure out where they should live and go to school.” Tío shook his head. “The whole idea is silly.”

“Yeah, I guess it does sound crazy.”

The convertible turned sharply and I slid toward the passenger door. Tío chuckled. “Careful there, Slick.” He pulled into a parking space in front of what used to be the very exclusive yacht club.
Un nido de parásitos
, a nest of parasites. That’s what the newspapers had called the place before the revolution shut it down and turned it into a public meeting hall and cultural center.

Tío turned to face me. “Okay, I don’t want to sit with all the mother hens inside. You’ll be fine if I stay out here and smoke a few, right?”

I nodded, knowing that this was not going to go over well with Mamá.

“I’ll be here if you need me. Ready for your big night?”

“Ready,” I answered.

“Chica
, you look gorgeous!” Ivette gave me a quick hug.

“You too,” I said.

“Oh, this old thing?” Ivette gave me a wink and spun around in her new dress. If anyone else had worn it, they might’ve looked like one big domino, but Ivette made it work. She was a fashion queen.

I scanned the dance floor. There, under a canopy of white crepe-paper ribbons, ten couples danced as the band played a quick merengue. Next to them, along the back wall, sat the chaperones … all keeping a watchful eye on the dancing. I felt like Cinderella at the ball.

“He’s over there,” Ivette whispered, and pointed to a corner where some potted plants had been decorated with clear twinkling lights.

“Who?” I asked casually.

“Por favor.”
Ivette rolled her eyes.

Then I saw him. Manuel. Walking straight toward us in his light-colored suit and thin black tie. He looked like a movie star … Elvis, only better.

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

“Hi, Manuel. Did you see who just got here?” Ivette asked.

He nodded, scanning me from head to toe.
“Hola
, Lucía,” he said.

A slow Beny Moré song started to play.

“Hola.”
I looked down at the floor.

“I think my brother’s looking for me.” Ivette gave me a little nudge. “I’ll catch you later.”

I stood frozen. Not knowing what to say.

“Would you like to dance?” Manuel asked.

I took a deep breath and nodded.

Manuel took me by the hand and led me to the dance floor. In his arms, it felt like no one else mattered. I floated around the room.

The next song played was “The Twist,” so we let go of each other but continued dancing together. I started to relax.

“Nice not to have to worry about school for a while, huh?” Manuel asked while Chubby Checker’s song told us all to “come on and twist.”

I nodded. “Señora Cardoza was never much fun.”

Manuel laughed and rolled his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes. “Tell me about it. This is the second year
I have to take her class!” He pointed to the side of the dance floor. “You want to get a drink?”

“Okay,” I answered, seeing Ivette and a few others by the punch bowl.

Manuel reached over and took my hand.

It was all I could do not to jump up and down. I felt a sudden urge to giggle … but somehow I faked being calm.

Ivette raised a single eyebrow as we walked over.

“So, I see you’re having a good time,” Raúl, Ivette’s older brother, snickered.

“You bet,” Manuel answered, dropping my hand to get our drinks.

I’d never hated cups so much in my life.

“Ready for our adventure, Raúl?” Manuel asked.

“You kidding? Absolutely. This is going to be the best summer of our lives. Out there, helping the revolution, what could be better?” Raúl took a sip of the punch.

“Maybe we’ll catch some anti-revolutionaries on the way. Break up one of their plots. Show Fidel and Che that we’re true soldiers!” Manuel said.

I thought of Doc Machado wanting to form a peaceful protest. How he’d been killed for that.

“I thought the brigades were only about teaching the peasants how to read. Part of the literacy campaign,” I said.

“Sure, but we all have a duty to the revolution. Getting rid of
gusanos
is part of it. Look at Che. Fidel
put him in charge of the prisons, and he got rid of everyone who’s against the revolution. He is one tough
hombre
… just like me,” Manuel answered.