The Red Umbrella

“Lucía? I’m upstairs. Do you have the medicine?” Mamá called out as the front door slammed behind me.

I ran to my parents’ room, dropped the brown paper bag on the bed, and plowed my head into Mamá’s chest, nearly knocking her over.

“What’s wrong? Why are you out of breath?” Mamá asked.

I started to cry.

“Tell me, Lucía.”

The words didn’t seem to want to come out of my mouth. I shook my head.

Mamá stroked my hair and let me sob in her arms. After a few minutes, she pushed me back and stared into my eyes. “Mi hija, talk. You’re scaring me.” She scanned me from head to toe. “Wait, I think I see what this is about.” She lifted my chin so I’d have to face her.

I waited, praying that she already knew what had happened.

“Is this about the nail polish?”

My heart sank. She had no idea. I looked down as my eyes welled up. The image of Doc Machado with his hands hanging lifeless by his side haunted me.

Mamá smiled and kissed my forehead. “Mi hija, look at your shoes. They’re splattered with bright red dots. You dropped the bottle on your way home, didn’t you?”

I nodded.

She got up from her bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. “It’ll be fine. I have a little extra money in my purse. You can go back and—”

“NO!”

“Lucía, what’s gotten into you? Did something else happen?”

“Mamá, Doc Machado, he’s …” I couldn’t continue.

“¿Qué?” She drew closer.

I gulped for air. My hands trembled. “He’s … dead. The soldiers, they killed him.”

Mamá stumbled back. “¡Ay Dios mío!” She quickly made the sign of the cross.

Then, like a floodgate opening up, words spilled out of me. “Oh, Mamá, he was hung from a tree. I saw him. They left him there, in the park, for everyone to see. It was horrible!”

Mamá rushed over to sit next to me. “But the soldiers didn’t do anything to you, right?”

I shook my head and buried my face in her chest.

Mamá wrapped her arms around me as my body collapsed. All the adrenaline that had rushed through me evaporated. Suddenly I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and breathed in Mamá’s warmth. “I’m never leaving this house again,” I sobbed.

*  *  *  *  *

“Are you sick, too?” Frankie asked, walking into my room.

“Go away.” I rolled over and pulled the covers up to my neck, trying to go back to sleep.

“Did you get my cold? You want to play something together?”

“Get out!”

Mamá promptly appeared in the doorway and guided Frankie back to his room.

“But, Mamá, I didn’t say anything wrong. She’s been in there all day!” Frankie argued.

“You, sir, get back in bed. You’ve got a high fever and you need your rest.” She gave him a slight push into his room and then came back to me. “Lucy, how are you doing? You want to eat something? I can bring your dinner upstairs along with Frankie’s.”

I shook my head.

“Lucy, I called your father and told him what happened. He’ll be here soon. He wants to talk to both of us.” Mamá tucked a tear-soaked strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded, knowing that at home I was safe. I sat up in my bed and looked outside as the sun began to set. This awful day was almost over, and once Papá arrived, everything would get better … somehow.

“Lucía! Sonia!” Papá called out.

“Aquí, Fernando. In Lucía’s room.”

Papá walked into the room and knelt by my bed. He took my hand and gave it a kiss. “Oh, Lucy, how I wish you’d been spared from seeing …”

I nodded, not wanting to think or talk about what I’d seen.

“Why, Fernando? Why’d they do it?” Mamá stood and walked toward the window.

Papá placed my hand against his cheek. “To set an example. Scare anyone who might think of going against the revolution.”

Mamá shook her head and played with one of her diamond earrings. “He was a pharmacist, for heaven’s sake,” she muttered, “not a threat to anyone.”

Papá looked back toward her. “They don’t care. A dialogue. That’s all he wanted. He was organizing a group to talk about some of the changes being made, the rights being taken away that he felt weren’t in keeping with the original ideals of the revolution. He wanted a simple, peaceful protest to give voice to what so many feel is a betrayal of what the revolution was supposed to do. But that was too much for them. ¡Cobardes!”

A giant lump formed in my throat at the thought of Papá doing something against the government. “Papá, promise me that you’ll never do anything like that … ever. Please!”

He turned to face me again, his eyes moist with tears. “Don’t worry, Lucy. Nothing is going to happen to me or to any of us. I’ll do anything to protect this family. But I need—”

“Hi, Papá.” Frankie trudged into the room.

“Come here, mi hijo. How do you feel?” Papá picked Frankie up and gave him a hug.

“Mamá says I have a fever.”

“I know.” He carried Frankie over to my bed and sat next to him. “But you feel good enough to listen to some important things I have to say. Right, little man?”

Frankie nodded. I could see how much he loved to be included in family discussions.

“I was just going to tell your mother and sister that, from now on, I want all of us to sit outside on the porch, every evening. It’ll show that we have nothing to hide from the CDR. We’ll smile and act like everything is fine.”

“Isn’t everything fine?” Frankie asked.

“Of course it is,” Mamá answered.

Papá shook his head. “No, Frankie, everything isn’t fine”—he reached out and grabbed Mamá’s hand—“but it will be.”

Mamá’s shoulders seemed to drop a little and she smiled.

“I still don’t like the idea of either of you going to any meetings, but otherwise we’re going to do everything else our neighbors do,” Papá continued. “And, Lucy, going to the dance on Saturday will help, too.”

“But I don’t want to go anymore,” I said.

Papá pulled me toward him and gave me a kiss on the top of my head. “You have to, Lucy. We need to show that we’re not keeping you away from the revolution.”

“Fernando, if she doesn’t want to, is it really that important? She’s been through a lot.”

“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t needed.” Papá stood up. He paced around the room rubbing his temples. “Sonia, you should know that an army captain came by the bank today. He mentioned that he was surprised to hear that my children weren’t involved with the Jóvenes Rebeldes or Los Pioneros. He insinuated that if I couldn’t teach my children how to be good revolutionaries, then maybe the government should take on that responsibility.”

Mamá covered her mouth. “You don’t think the rumors are true, do you, Fernando?”

“What rumors?” I asked, looking at my parents to try to understand the coded language they were speaking.

Papá ignored my question. “I don’t know if it’s true. Eduardo at the bank swears that his brother saw a document with a government seal on it discussing patria potestad. But who knows?”

“Patria potes-what?” I asked, sitting up straight in bed.

“Yeah, what is that?” Frankie asked.

“Nada,” Mamá said. “Nothing either of you has to worry about. Fernando, let’s talk about this later, but Lucía, your father is right. We need you—”

“I know.” I sighed. “I need to go to the dance.”