โIsabel and her grandfather set her papi in a chair in their little kitchen, and Isabelโs mother, Teresa Padron de Fernandez, ran to the cabinet under the sink. Isabel hurried after her. Mami was very pregnantโshe was due in a weekโs timeโso Isabel knelt down to find the iodine.โ
Isabelโs father, Geraldo Fernandez, had always been a handsome man, but he didnโt look it now. There was blood in his hair, and the area around one of his eyes was already turning black. When they pulled his white linen shirt off him, his back was covered with welts.
Isabel watched as Mami cleaned his cuts with a washcloth. Papi hissed as she disinfected them with the iodine.
โWhat happened?โ Isabelโs mother asked.
An Industriales baseball game played on the television in the corner, and Isabelโs grandfather turned down the volume.
โThere was a riot on the Malecรณn,โ Lito said. โThey ran out of food too fast.โ
โI canโt stay here,โ Papi said. His head was bent low, but his voice was loud and clear. โNot any longer. Theyโll come for me.โ
Everyone was quiet at that. The only sound was the soft crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd on the television.
Papi had already tried to flee Cuba twice. The first time, he and three other men had built a raft and tried to paddle their way to Florida, but a tropical storm turned them back. The second time, his boat had a motor, but heโd been caught by the Cuban navy and had ended up in jail.
Now it was even harder to escape. For decades, the United States had rescued any Cuban refugees they found at sea and taken them to Florida. But the food shortages had driven more and more Cubans to el norte. Too many. The Americans had a new policy everyone called โWet Foot, Dry Foot.โ If Cuban refugees were caught at sea with โwet feet,โ they were sent to the US naval base at Guantanamo Bay, at the southern end of Cuba. From there, they could choose to return to Cubaโand Castroโor languish in a refugee camp while the United States decided what to do with them. But if they managed to survive the trip across the Straits of Florida and evade the US Coast Guard and actually set foot on United States soilโbe caught with โdry feetโโthey were granted special refugee status and allowed to remain and become US citizens.
Papi was going to run away again, and this time, whether he got caught with wet feet or dry feet, he wasnโt coming back.
โThereโs no reason to go throwing yourself onto a raft in the ocean,โ Lito said. โYou can just lie low for a while. I know a little shack in the cane fields. Things will get better. Youโll see.โ
Papi slammed a fist on the table. โAnd how exactly are they going to get better, Mariano? Do you think the Soviet Union is going to suddenly decide to get back together and start sending us food again? No one is coming to help us. And Castroโs only making things worse.โ
As if saying his name made him appear, the baseball game on television was interrupted by a special message from the Cuban president.
Fidel Castro was an old man with liver spots on his forehead, gray hair, a big bushy gray beard, and bags under his eyes. He wore the same thing he did every time he was on televisionโa green military jacket and flat round capโand sat behind a row of microphones.
Everyone got quiet as Lito turned up the volume. Castro condemned the violence that had broken out on the Malecรณn, blaming it on US agents.
Papi scoffed. โIt wasnโt US agents. It was hungry Cubans.โ
Castro rambled on without a script, quoting novels and telling personal anecdotes about the Revolution.
โOh, turn it off,โ Papi said. But before Mami had reached the set, Castro said something that made them all sit up and listen.
โWe cannot continue guarding the borders of the United States while they send their CIA to instigate riots in Havana. That is when incidents like this occur, and the world calls the Cuban government cruel and inhumane. And so, until there is a speedy and efficient solution, we are suspending all obstacles so that those who wish to leave Cuba may do so legally, once and for all. We will not stand in their way.โ
โWhat did he just say?โ Mami asked.
Papiโs eyes were wide as he stood from the kitchen table. โCastro just said anybody who wants to can leave!โ
Isabel felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest. If Castro was letting anyone leave, her father would be gone before the sun rose the next day. She could see it in his wild look.
โYou canโt go now!โ Lito told Papi. โYou have a family to take care of.
A wife! A daughter! A son on the way!โ
Isabelโs father and grandfather yelled at each other about dictators and freedom and families and responsibility. Lito was her motherโs father, and he and Papi had never gotten along. Isabel covered her ears and stepped
away. She had to think of some answer to all this, some solution that would keep her family together.
Then she had it.
โWeโll all go!โ Isabel cried.
That shut everybody up. Even Castro stopped talking, and the TV went back to showing the baseball game.
โNo,โ Papi and Lito said at the same time. โWhy not?โ Isabel said.
โYour mother is pregnant, for one thing!โ Lito said.
โThereโs no food to feed the baby here anyway,โ Isabel said. โThereโs no food for any of us, and no money to buy it with if there was. But there is food in the States. And freedom. And work.โ
And a place where her father wouldnโt be beaten or arrested. Or run away.
โWeโll all go, while Castro is letting people out,โ she went on. โLito too.โ
โWhat? But, Iโ No,โ Lito protested.
They were all quiet a moment more, until her father said, โBut I donโt even have a boat.โ
Isabel nodded. She could fix that too.
Without saying anything, Isabel ran next door to the Castillosโs house. Luis, the older boy whoโd saved her from the policemanโs nightstick, wasnโt home from work yet, and neither was his mother, Juaneta, who worked at the cooperative law office. But Isabel found Ivรกn and his father, Rudi, right where she thought theyโd beโworking on their boat in the shed.
It was an ugly blue thing cobbled together out of old metal advertisements and road signs and oil drums. It barely qualified as a boat, but it was big enough for the four Castillosโand maybe four more guests.
โWell, if it isnโt Hurricane Isabel,โ Seรฑor Castillo said. He had white hair that he wore swept back on his head, and even though there was no food, he had a middle-aged paunch to his belly.
โYou have to take us with you!โ Isabel said. โNo, we donโt,โ Seรฑor Castillo said. โIvรกn, nail.โ โPeople are rioting in Havana!โ Isabel said.
โTell me something I donโt know,โ Seรฑor Castillo said. โIvรกn, nail.โ Ivรกn handed him another nail.
โMy father was almost arrested,โ Isabel said. โIf you donโt take us with you, theyโll throw him in prison.โ
Seรฑor Castillo paused his hammering for a moment, then shook his head. โThereโs no room. And we donโt need a fugitive on board.โ
Ivรกn looked at him funny, but only Isabel saw it.
โPlease,โ Isabel begged.
โWe donโt have any gasoline anyway,โ Ivรกn said. He put a hand to the motorcycle motor theyโd mounted inside the boat. โWeโre not going anywhere soon.โ
โI can fix that!โ Isabel said.
She ran home again. Her father and grandfather were still arguing in the kitchen, so she slipped in the back way. She grabbed her trumpet, gave it one long, sad look, and ran out the back door. She was already in the street when she stopped, ran to her backyard, and snatched up the little mewling kitten too. With the trumpet in one arm and the kitten in the other, she ran the few blocks to the beach, where she banged on the door of a fisherman her grandfather knew. His gas-powered fishing boat rocked gently at a little pier nearby.
The fisherman came to his door, licking his fingers and frowning. Isabel had caught him at dinner. Fried fish, it smelled like. The kittenโs nose
sniffed eagerly at the air, and it meowed. Isabelโs stomach growled.
โYouโre Mariano Padronโs granddaughter, arenโt you?โ the fisherman said. โWhat do you want?โ
โI need gasoline!โ Isabel told him. โIzzat so? Well, I need money.โ
โI donโt have any money,โ Isabel said. โBut I have this.โ She held out the trumpet. Isabel regretted that its brass was a little tarnished, but it was the most valuable thing she owned. The fisherman had to take it in trade.
โWhat am I going to do with that?โ he asked.
โSell it,โ Isabel told him. โItโs French, and old, and plays like a dream.โ The fisherman sighed. โAnd why do you need gasoline so badly?โ
โTo leave Cuba before my father is arrested.โ
The fisherman wiped his lips on the back of his hand. Isabel stood for what seemed like hours, her insides churning like a waterspout. At last, he reached out and took the trumpet.
โWait here,โ he told her.
Isabel held her breath, and soon the fisherman came back with two enormous plastic jugs of gasoline. Each one came up to Isabelโs chest.
โIs it enough?โ Isabel asked.
โTo get you to Miami? Yes. And back again.โ Isabelโs heart soared, and she hopped up and down.
โThankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!โ Isabel told him. โOh, and you have to take the kitten too.โ She held the wiggling creature out to him, but the old fisherman just stared at it.
โIzzat so?โ the fisherman said.
โPlease,โ Isabel said. โOr else someone will catch her and eat her. But you have fish to eat. She can eat the scraps.โ
The fisherman eyed the cat suspiciously. โIzzit a good mouser?โ
โYes!โ Isabel said, though she was sure that even a mouse would give the scrawny thing trouble. โHer name is Leona.โ
The old fisherman sighed and took the squirming kitten from her. Isabel smiled, then noticed how big and heavy the gas cans were. โOh, and I also need you to help me carry these back.โ