Flight to Freedom (11 page)

Virgencita, Mother of God, I know that I do not always faithfully recite my prayers. I sometimes forget before going to sleep, but please take care of Papi.

Everyone is here watching television, even Abuelo Tony, who doesn't go out much at night because of his health. We have not heard from Papi, but that is not unusual. On the weekends he leaves, he does not phone or return until Sunday afternoon or evening. It is so hard to wait.

If Papi has been arrested, Tío Pablo thinks he will call to let us know. We might also learn who has been arrested if the news announcers recite the men's names. The names may also be in the morning paper, but tomorrow seems such a long, long way off.

Mami is taking this very calmly. Abuela María, though, is very upset. She paces the room and has called her cousin in New Jersey twice. He works for the government in a town up there, and she thinks he may have connections to help us. When she says this aloud, Tío Pablo rolls his eyes.

No word yet. The news show at 11 P.M. did not reveal any names, either. I am too tired for words.

When I woke this morning, Mami was gone and Abuela María was making coffee in the kitchen. She told me that all the grown-ups had left for Key West very, very early. “Does this mean Papi was arrested?” I demanded. But Abuela just put her hand up to stop my words. She insisted I sit down to breakfast. I ate, though my stomach was all in knots.

Close to midmorning Mami called to say they had found Papi and would be driving back later in the day. Did that mean Papi was returning with them? Where
were they calling from? Was he one of the seven men arrested? I was full of questions, but Abuela still wasn't certain about—or wasn't telling me—any answers.

The rest of the day took forever. I finished my homework and played Parcheesi with Ana Mari. Abuelo Tony took us for a walk and tried to cheer us up. “Things happen for a reason,” he kept telling us. But what things? I hate not knowing. I also phoned Jane and Alina several times, but was too embarrassed to tell them about Papi at first. I was scared that if their mothers found out my father had been arrested, they would not be allowed to be my friends.

By nighttime, though, I broke down and told them. Both wanted to come over to console me, but Abuela said this was not the right time. Instead we talked on the phone, and they kept telling me not to worry, that everything was going to turn out all right. But now it's time to go to bed—I can hear Abuela yelling for us to turn off the lights—and I still don't know where my parents are or why my father was in Key West. If my head was not pounding so hard and my stomach wasn't rumbling so furiously, I think I would have the energy to pray.

Papi was home by the time we returned from school. I ran up to him and gave him a big hug. I was so relieved to see him. Then I asked a million questions. He said he was not arrested with the seven men, but he was in a second boat a few yards away with two others, so he was taken in for questioning. He looked like he hadn't slept all night.

Mami didn't look any better, and she was very angry. Just a little while ago, they had a huge argument, the same argument they've had a million times. She wants him to quit the training.

“What if you do go to Cuba?” she asked. “What if you and Pepito are in the same battlefield but on opposite sides?”

Papi didn't answer. All he said was that it was his duty to fight for the liberation of his country and that he could not look in the mirror if he turned his back on those who remained on the island.

I don't know what to think. I can understand how Mami feels. She wants Papi to be home with us, to help her start a new life here. When he goes away on weekends, I sometimes think he is being selfish. But then, when I look at things from Papi's side, I also realize
why he does what he does. He loves Cuba very much, and he hates to see the island with a bad government.

Oh, I am so confused!

I found out that Ileana still belongs to that peace group at school. Her school notebook is full of flyers Tommy wants her to hand out before the first school bell rings. She drew up the flyers herself. I warned her to be careful around Mami, but she ignored me. She wasn't mean about it, but she said I was too young to understand that sometimes a person must speak out for what she believes in and not worry about what others are going to say. Ileana feels it is important to take action, not just sit and hope for something to happen. Does this sound familiar? Now I know how Mami feels when Papi ignores her warnings.

I got the invitation for Jane's birthday. It is scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow, after Easter break. I
showed it to Mami and she promised to bring it up with Papi. I also gave her all my school papers with good marks for the week. I figure it can't hurt to show her what a good student I am.

An almost perfect mark in mathematics—a 95. I could have gotten 100 if I had not made a stupid arithmetic mistake. Next time I will check my work more carefully. Of course, I made sure to give this paper to Mami as well.

Palm Sunday. We were able to get several dried fronds at church, and Abuela María and Abuelo Tony are teaching me how to weave them together to make special holy decorations for the door. Efraín is especially talented at this. He made a crown for Ana Mari, and she now wants to wear it to her First Communion in May, which made us all laugh because she doesn't understand the frond will dry and become too brittle to do anything except hang by the door to bless a room.
Efraín said he learned to do fancy frond weaving in Cuba from a little monk who used to make all kinds of elaborate weaves and sell them in front of the cathedral. I'm not sure if Efraín is telling the truth. He exaggerates just to see how gullible we are.

Efraín is such a jokester. He and Ileana rushed home from work today and insisted we turn on the radio immediately. Efraín claimed he had heard a news bulletin about the United States invading Cuba. As you can imagine, that got Papi and Tío Pablo all excited. They not only turned on the radio, but the television set, too. They even phoned their friends and relatives. No one had heard anything, but everyone else also tuned in to the news. Abuela María started to clap, but Mami cried because she was worried that Pepito would have to fight against the American marines. All this discussion and listening for news lasted well over an hour until Efraín shouted, “April fool!” It was all a joke. We didn't even know there was such a day as April Fools'. In Cuba practical jokes are usually played out on December 28.

I thought it was very clever, but none of the grownups was amused. Papi said certain subjects should never be joked about, and the liberation of Cuba is one of them. Afterward Efraín felt terrible and he hung his head as if his best friend had died. I tried to console him, but it didn't work.

Later I called Jane and played a trick on her. I made up this story about meeting Juan Carlos again when Abuelo and I took a walk. I said that he had invited me to the movies, which of course is the biggest, fattest lie in the world. He doesn't know either Jane or I exist, and besides, I would never be allowed to go out anywhere by myself, and certainly not with a boy. I had her believing every little detail until I couldn't come up with any more, and that's when I singsonged, “April fool!”

I finished the book Efraín brought me from the library, and I plan to read two more during Easter break. It makes the time go by faster.

Abuela María is also teaching me to cook. This afternoon I watched her make
picadillo
and helped by
chopping up the onions and slicing the green peppers. It is not as easy as it looks, working with the knife, and I do things slowly because I'm scared of slicing off my finger.

To be honest, it's not so much the mixing of ingredients that I like as the bustling about in the warmth of the kitchen and the mouthwatering smell of the seasoning. I also enjoy listening to my grandmother's humming, which remains constant whether she's chopping, stirring, or slicing.

You should have seen Saint Michael's today. Mass was packed with people standing along the aisles and all around the back. Everyone was dressed so pretty. All the girls wore white patent leather shoes and matching purses, little straw hats and white gloves. It was such a fashion display that I felt like a country bumpkin. Tía Carmen said that next year, when we have a little more money, she will take us shopping for Easter dresses and hats. But Papi told her that next year we would be taking Communion in Cuba.

We are living in dark times, that is what Abuelo Tony says, and everybody agrees. First there is the war in Vietnam. A week or so ago, President Johnson announced on television that he was stopping the bombing in North Vietnam, a move my father considers terribly wrong. (“To cave in to the Communists like that,” Papi groaned, shaking his head. Actually, if it were up to him, he would prefer
los americanos
transfer their attention from Vietnam to Cuba.) But for all this talk of peace, the fighting continues, and so do the marches of young people who think
los americanos
should not be there. Ileana wanted to join some of her friends in a peace march through Bayfront Park next weekend, but my parents will not even consider it.

I do not know what to think about this war so far away. To me, war is bad—all war. We should not kill people. We should sit down and talk about problems and try to come up with a solution. Mami agrees; so does Ileana. My sister said, “If the old men who send the young men to war had to go themselves, I bet you would see a lot more peace treaties.” But Papi says that only force changes people. When he says this,
then I change my mind because I think of what is happening in my country. You have to take back what is yours, grab it away, because nobody ever just returns it.

Also today in school we watched the memorial services for Martin Luther King, Jr., the Negro leader who was assassinated last Thursday. It is so sad. Srta. Reed cried during Mr. King's funeral. Her family is from Chicago, and there have been riots there and in other cities because of the assassination. It is scary to see the fires blazing in these neighborhoods, the mothers weeping, and the young people marching with their fists in the air. Due to all this commotion, Mami is afraid for Papi because there have been a few problems between police and residents in the neighborhood near Jackson Memorial Hospital. My father likes to tease her by saying that if he dies in this country, we need to make sure his ashes are sent back home. Mami does not think this is funny.

On the weekends he does not work overtime, Papi continues to train with his friends. Mami warns Papi that if he is charged with a crime, she will not visit him in jail or go to court. Even I don't believe that!
Honestly, though, my father is too old to be waging any kind of war. He is forty-five years of age and losing his hair. Ileana makes fun of the way he parts his hair now, trying to make the side tendrils cover the thinning on top.

I finally screwed up enough courage to ask Papi myself about going to Jane's slumber party. When I explained to him what it was, I could tell Mami had already spoken to him. He pretended to make a serious face, but then he said…YES!

I think—oh, how I hope!—I may have a good chance at traveling with Jane this summer.

We had so much fun at the slumber party. I gave Jane a diary as a birthday present. It is a little bigger than this one, and the cover is made of cloth with a bright orange-and-yellow paisley print.

During the party we ate pizza and ice cream, and
Jane painted my nails a bright red. Another girl from school, Sophie, cut my bangs. We hardly slept the whole night. I like this American custom.

Back home, Mami harrumphed when she saw my bangs—they
are
a bit crooked—and she made me remove the nail polish. I am not old enough for that, she says. Well, it was fun while it lasted.

Remember how Papi always tells stories about Cuba during dinner because he is afraid we will forget our homeland? Well, now he has come up with the idea of playing a game. He asks questions about Cuban geography, history, and landmarks, and the person who answers the most correctly gets a reward at the end of the meal. Yesterday it was a guava pastry. Today it was an entire meringue.

Of course Ileana has won both times, which I consider unfair. She is older and has studied more. Then she won't even share any of the desserts because she says she deserves every bite. Tonight Ana Mari cried because she did not get one single question right. Mami told Papi that he needs to be more realistic
about our knowledge, especially Ana Mari, who only had one year of schooling in Cuba.

I must admit that even when I lose I still enjoy myself. I like how excited Papi gets when we are playing the game. His eyes shine, and he twirls the tips of his black mustache. Sometimes he even jumps from the table, forcing Mami to say, “Please, José Calixto, we are at the dinner table.” But you can tell she doesn't really mean it. It's almost like old times.

We received a letter from Pepito. He says that sometime in May or June he will be spending a weekend with my grandparents in Havana. This really lifted Mami's spirits because she is hoping we can talk to him by telephone for the first time in almost a year.

Pepito also wrote that he has grown two inches since we last saw him and hopes to send us a photograph soon. It will be very interesting to see how he has changed. He asked after us girls, too, and wrote that he plans to attend the University of Havana to study engineering. This came as a big surprise to all of us because he always talked about being a pilot.