It had been two days since Papá came home and four since Ivette left with the brigades. In under a week, my whole world had changed.
“Can’t we go for a little while?” Frankie held his beach towel in one hand and his fishing pole in the other. “It’s summer.”
Mamá shook her head. “I already said no, Frankie.”
Frankie gave Mamá his sad-puppy face. “What if Papá takes me?”
“He’s not even home right now.” Mamá pulled back the kitchen curtain and looked out the window.
“Please, Mamá, Lucía can take me. You’ll go, right, Lucy?” He glanced over at me as I finished my lunch.
I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was run into soldiers, brigadistas, or anyone from school. After what happened at the dance and Papá’s arrest, I wasn’t sure how I’d be treated.
“Frankie, por favor, give it a rest.” Mamá opened the back door just an inch and looked outside. Frankie stomped out of the room.
“What are you looking at?” I asked, noticing my mother’s odd behavior.
“Nada.” She closed the door. “I’m just waiting for Alicia Milian. She’s supposed to stop by.”
“Laura’s mother?”
Mamá picked up my empty plate and took it to the sink. “Mmm-hmm.”
“I didn’t know you were friends.”
“Hmm.” She snuck another look out the window. “Not really friends.”
“Is Laura coming over, then?” I gulped down the last of my lemonade.
Mamá looked at me as if she’d just noticed I was talking. “¿Qué dijiste? You asked about Laura?”
“Mamá, what’s going on?”
“Nada, I said. But why don’t you go upstairs with your brother. Laura’s not coming and her mother’s only dropping something off for me.” She began to dry some of the dishes.
“Everything okay?” I asked, remembering how much she and Papá had argued the night before. They’d thought I was asleep, but I could hear their muffled voices going back and forth until well past midnight.
“Sí, everything’s fine.” Mamá dried her hands and pulled back the curtain. “She’s here.” She took off her apron and straightened her blouse. “Now go!”
* * * * *
That night, Papá called Frankie and me into the living room. He was pacing back and forth. Something was terribly wrong.
“Mi hija, sit down.” He gestured over to the sofa. “Please.”
“What’s going on?” I looked over at my mother, sitting in the armchair, hands crossed on her lap. A vacant look in her eyes.
Frankie came into the room bouncing a ball. “¿Qué, Papá?”
“Come here, Frankie.” Papá tousled Frankie’s hair, then took the ball and placed it on the floor next to the table. “Sit over there, next to your sister.”
Papá’s somber mood frightened me. “Did something happen?”
“No, but after …”
My heart thumped loudly in my ears. “Are they going to arrest you again?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“Does it have something to do with that man who came by a little while ago?” I thought about the short man wearing a hat who’d stayed in the shadows of our front porch talking to Papá.
“Please, Lucy, don’t interrupt. This is hard enough.” Papá looked away.
Silence filled the room.
He took a deep breath and knelt down in front of Frankie and me. He reached for our hands.
“Hijos, you’ve both heard us talking about how the government wants you to be more active in the revolution.”
Frankie and I nodded at the same time.
“Your mother and I don’t want that for you. We fear that it’ll change you. You’ll begin to accept what they tell you as the truth. We don’t want to lose you to something like that.”
“You won’t lose us,” I said softly.
Papá smiled and looked over at Mamá. She stared at the floor.
“You think that now. But Frankie’s young. He won’t even realize it.” Papá touched my cheek. I noticed a slight tremble in his hand. “And you, mi hija preciosa. They won’t even let you finish school if you don’t join the revolution.”
He stood, put his hands in his pockets, and took a few steps back.
“This is so hard,” he muttered.
“Papá …” I leaned forward, afraid that I already knew what he was about to say.
“Your mother and I have decided …” Papá walked over and put his arm on Mamá’s shoulder. She sat frozen in place. “We’ve made plans for you to leave Cuba … tomorrow.”
My heart stopped.
“You and Mamá, too, right?” Frankie asked.
My head spun. Leave Cuba? Tomorrow?
“No, Frankie, your mother and I …”
“They’re not going with us.” My fear turned into anger. “You’re sending us away, aren’t you? Like some of the other kids. How can you do that?”
Papá’s eyes glistened. “Lucy, we have no choice. You know they won’t let us leave with you. Alicia Milian was able to get us some visa waivers for you and Frankie, but …”
“Wait. So where are we going?” Frankie asked.
“To the U.S.,” Papá answered. “It won’t be for long, but you’ll be safe until things get better here.”
I jumped up. “No! You didn’t even ask us! I won’t be shipped off!”
Frankie slowly realized what was about to happen. “We don’t know anyone there. I can’t speak English.” He turned around. “Mamá!”
Mamá kept her eyes focused on the floor.
“No! I won’t do it and you can’t make me!” Frankie darted out of the room.
I wanted to do the same. Scream, yell, beg, whatever it took.
Papá turned to me. “Lucy, please understand. It’s the only way to protect you.” He placed his hand on my back, but I pulled away. “Mi hija, you’re old enough to know that it’s our only real choice. These brigades are only the beginning. Hundreds of children have already been sent to Russia and Czechoslovakia on supposed scholarships. And it won’t end there.”
“But, Papá …”
He shook his head. “Soon all kids will be forced to leave their families to go work in the fields cutting sugar cane, and then they’ll be sent away to government schools. We won’t have any say as to what happens to you or Frankie.”
“But if you send us to the U.S., we still won’t be together.”
“True, but I’d rather have you safe, living with a good family in the U.S., than staying in your own country with these godforsaken soldiers.”
The slow realization that nothing I said or did could change his mind washed over me.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy. It has to be this way.” Papá walked over and stood by Mamá, who had not yet looked up.
My head seemed to nod on its own, without any instruction from me.
“All right, I guess you should go up and pack. We’re leaving for the airport in Havana first thing tomorrow.”
I walked toward the stairs, numb.
“Lucy,” he called out, “you’re only allowed to take one bag, and a box of cigars that you can sell once you get there, so pack a little of everything, but nothing of value. The soldiers will steal it if they think it’s worth something.” Papá placed his arm around Mamá. “And, mi hija, thank you for not making this any harder.”
As I left the room, I saw Mamá’s shoulders shake and tears stream down her cheeks. Papá reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He offered it to her while his own tears fell to the floor.
