The Red Umbrella by Christina Gonzalez

crowd of people pressed against the window, pushing my parents out of the way. Everyone wanted a chance to say a final good-bye.
    “Lucy!” Frankie’s voice pierced the noise of all the passengers getting ready to board the plane.
    “Coming!” I glanced back at the many tearful faces against the window. There were none that I recognized.
    “Lucy!” Frankie shouted again.
    I weaved through several people already gathered by the boarding gate. Frankie was sitting exactly where I left him.
    “They’re taking us into the plane first.” Laura pointed to a pretty stewardess who stood with a group of children. “We need to go over there.”
    “Okay. Ready, Frankie?” I asked.
    Frankie’s silent tears gave me my answer.
    *  *  *  *  *
    It was a bright, clear day outside. Not a cloud in the sky. I stared through the plane window at the palm trees in the distance. It didn’t seem real. Like a painting was hung inside the plane showing us a glimpse of Cuba. I pushed my nose against the glass. Mamá and Papá were out there … somewhere.
    “Can you see them?” Frankie unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over my shoulder.
    “No.”
    A small crowd of people had gathered on the airport roof.
    “Are they there?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “I can’t tell. It’s too far away.”
    “But you told me that Mamá said to look for her.”
    “I know. I’m sure she’s over there.” A sadness washed over me. I wanted one last glimpse, one more connection with my parents.
    The plane engines began to hum and we started to slowly roll forward.
    “Look!” Frankie pointed to the rooftop.
    There, in the middle of the small crowd, against the bright blue sky, a big red umbrella opened up. Mamá’s umbrella.
    That big stupid thing had never looked so beautiful. A smile edged its way onto my face. Mamá had found a way to say good-bye.
    I didn’t know when I’d be coming back home, so I studied everything about that moment. The trembling of the plane, the deafening sound of the engines as we lifted off the ground, the view of Havana’s high-rises set against Cuba’s rugged landscape, and the ever-shrinking red dot on top of the airport roof.
    I caught my breath and simply whispered,
“Adiós.”

Chapter 16
    A RRESTS I NTENSIFIED IN C UBA P ROVINCE
    — T HE H ARTFORD C OURANT , J UNE 3, 1961
    “Flight crew, prepare for landing,” the pilot announced.
    The words pulled me out of my daze. I stared out the window as several large hotels came into view. Even from up high, they all seemed bigger than I’d imagined. It was like I had assumed that only Havana had tall buildings.
    As the plane flew over the beach, the people down below looked like ants wandering in and out of the water. They seemed so carefree. I’d never been on a plane before, and seeing things from this altitude gave me a new perspective on how small we really were.
    I closed my eyes and imagined Mamá and Papá were with us. I wished they could see all of this and that we were just here on a family vacation.
    I opened my eyes to the sounds of a little girl sobbinga few seats in front of me. It was no use pretending this was an ordinary trip. We weren’t choosing to come here, and we had no idea when we’d be going back home.
    It had been less than an hour since we’d left Cuba, and for the first time, I was entering a different country, a different world, a different life. I remembered Mamá’s umbrella. It was no longer here to protect us, and neither was she.
    Frankie leaned over my lap to get a better look out the window.
    “Whoa, look at that building! It has to be at least a hundred stories high, don’t you think?” Frankie pointed to the skyline.
    “More like twenty … and we have buildings like that in Havana,” I said.
    From the air, the beach reminded me of Cuba with its coconut palms, turquoise water, and white sand, but as we went farther inland, the rest of Miami looked very different. Everything seemed to be set up in perfect