The Red Umbrella -
: Chapter 36
“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.
Mejor precaver que tener que lamentar. Same thing Mamá used to say. It was like a mother’s unwritten motto.
I looked down at my hands. Mrs. Baxter and I had painted our nails berry pink a few days before, and for the first time, I didn’t cry remembering the scene at the park. I’m stronger now, I thought.
“Oh yes … hold on.” Mrs. Baxter motioned for me to come inside. “She’s here. Un momento.”
Un momento? Why was she speaking in Spanish? We hadn’t placed a call to Cuba.
Mrs. Baxter held out the phone. “Lucía, it’s your mother.”
I quickly grabbed it, my heart racing. Mamá had never phoned us. It was almost impossible to make that type of call from Cuba, especially now that Papá wasn’t working.
“Mamá?” I held my breath.
“Sí, Lucía. Soy yo. Mi hija, I only have a minute, but your father and I need to tell you something.”
“¿Qué?” It had to be bad for her to call. I felt like I should be sitting down.
“My exit visa was approved this morning. I was told I have seven days to leave the country or I have to stay indefinitely.”
I wanted to do a little dance. My parents were coming. Finally, after almost a year, I’d get to see them again. “Mamá, that’s great! Can you and Papá get plane tickets? Do you need money? I have some saved up.”
“No, that’s not it. I mean, yes, we will need some money, but it’s just … it’s just …”
“What?” I asked.
“My visa got approved, but they won’t approve your father’s.”
Everything around me stopped. The clock ticking in the hallway, the crackling on the phone line, the sound of the wind blowing through the open front door. I was in a soundless tunnel.
“Lucía? Lucía, are you still there?”
I slowly nodded.
I heard Mamá talking to someone else. “I think she hung up.”
Papá came on the line. “Lucía Margarita Álvarez, ¡habla!” Papá’s voice snapped me out of my daze.
“I’m here, I’m here.”
“Oh, Lucy, listen, your mother doesn’t want to go. I’ve already told her that I will not have her stay here. She needs to be with you and Frankie.”
“But, Papá, what about you? You’re not even well yet. Mamá says you can barely walk on that leg.”
“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry. I will get to my family. It may not be as quick as I like, but I’ll get there. I love you, Lucy. Now talk to your mother.”
Before I could respond, Mamá was back on the line. She was crying.
“Lucía, I don’t know. If your father makes me go …” She sighed. “Well, I was thinking we’d live in Miami to be closer to Cuba and other exiles, but it seems like you have friends there in Nebraska.”
I’d go anywhere to be with my parents, but I had already started a life in Grand Island. “Mamá, come here. We’ll figure things out.”
“But your father.” Mamá’s breathing was heavy. “You know they’re doing this on purpose. First separating us from you and your brother, and now making me choose between my husband and my children. They want to destroy the family so that the only thing people have left is this stupid revolution. ¡Los odio! ¡A todos! I hate them all!”
I tried to stay calm. She was right. They were doing this to make life difficult for those who didn’t love the revolution above all else. “Mamá, fly to Nebraska. Trust Papá. He’ll get to us. But you have to come. They may never let you out again.”
“I know, I know.” She sounded like a little girl.
“I’ll take care of everything. You’ll see.”
“Está bien. I love you, Lucía. I’ll see you in a few days.”
My heart was breaking. I wanted both my parents to come over, but more than that, I knew how afraid Mamá must be at the thought of leaving Papá behind. “Te quiero, Mamá. Give Papá a kiss for me.”
I slowly hung up the phone and looked up at Mrs. Baxter’s expectant eyes.
“My mother is allowed to leave, but not my father.”
“Oh, Lucía!” Mrs. Baxter opened her arms.
I didn’t hesitate. I ran straight into them, and then we both cried.
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