The Red Umbrella Read Online Free PDF Page B

while, you forget there was ever a bad smell. I could tell this was already happening with Mamá since I was now allowed to go into town by myself to do quick errands.
    Finally, the timing was perfect to bring up the dance. I’d caught Mamá humming while she folded some of the laundry.
    “Mamá, can I talk to you about something?”
    “Of course.” Mamá put aside the clothes that needed to be ironed.
    I twisted a long strand of hair around my finger. “I know I’m not supposed to date until I’m sixteen, but I’m allowed to go to dances, right?”
    Mamá stopped, looked at me, and smiled. “Well, I suppose so … with a chaperone, of course.”
    I decided to take the plunge. “Mamá, a bunch of my friends are going to a dance at the Yacht Club this Saturday. I want to go. There’ll be a bunch of chaperones there.”
    “That’s only four days away. Plus, I thought the government closed down the Yacht Club. Called it a symbol of the elite.”
    “Yeah, but it reopened as a cultural center. Anyone can go there now.”
    Mamá started folding one of Papá’s undershirts.“Humpf, doubt that. If you’re not an ‘appropriate revolutionary’ they won’t let you in. Anyone who dares to disagree with Che or Fidel can’t keep their job, let alone go to a social function.” She picked up another shirt. “But I do remember going to parties there when I was your age. Abuela used to sit in the corner with all the other mothers.” Mamá clutched the shirt against her chest. She had a faraway look in her eyes. “I guess it’s my turn to chaperone you now.”
    “So is that a yes?” I wanted to bounce up and down. I didn’t care if Mamá was going to be there too. I was going to dance with Manuel!
    “I don’t see why—”
    Papá stormed into the room. “Where’s my hammer?”
    Mamá and I both jumped. “Fernando, you scared us to death! What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
    “My hammer, where is it?” Papá yanked open a drawer in the cabinet next to the sofa. “This’ll do.” He took out a flat-edge screwdriver.
    “Fernando,
¿qué pasó?
What has you like this?”
    Papá looked at Mamá’s worried face and took a deep breath.
    “Nothing, Sonia. Don’t worry. I just don’t have much time. I have to get back to the office right away.” Papá glanced over at me. “Can you go upstairs and make sure your brother isn’t getting into too much trouble?”
    “Sure,” I muttered. I’d become used to my parents’ behind-closed-doors conversations. After going up the first few steps, I stopped and crouched down in the stairway. From that vantage point, I couldn’t be seen, but I could still watch and hear a little of what was happening.
    Papá moved the wooden coffee table, lifted up the rug, and tapped the tiles underneath with the back of the screwdriver. One of the taps sounded more hollow than all the others. Papá immediately began chiseling around the tile.
    “Fernando,
por favor
, what’s going on? Tell me.”
    Papá wouldn’t stop chiseling. “Sonia, they’ve announced that citizens can no longer have any holdings. The government is confiscating everything.” Papá lifted up the tile and placed it onto the rolled-up rug. “Look at this. Me, a banker, hiding money underneath my home because I can’t trust my own bank.” Papá pulled out a bunch of papers from the hole in the floor and waved them in the air. “All our savings in stocks … useless! Now not only are we limited to how much money we can legally have, we can’t even own shares in corporations!” Papá emptied his wallet and shoved some cash into the floor.
    “But they can’t do that, can they? Just take it away? We’re investors in those businesses.”
    Papá shook his head. “They can and they are.”
    “Still, we should keep those papers. Things might change.”
    “Ha!” He threw the stock certificates back into the hole. “I’ll keep them just in case, but I’m telling you, they’ll only be