Read Online Before We Were Free by Julia Álvarez - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Julia Álvarez
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Dog,” or the merengue band singing “Compadre Pedro Juan” and “Last Night I Dreamt About You.”
(And I would die if I didn’t get to dance with Sammy!)
Tío Toni is back. Every night, visitors drop in to see him. They sit on our patio, talking for hours. Sometimes, they walk off to his
casita
for more privacy. Mr. Washburn often joins them.
Papi and Tío Toni usually speak in English with Mr. Washburn. They both went to school in the States, Papi to Yale, which poor Mami always mispronounces
“jail.”
The first time she met Mrs. Washburn, Mami bragged that her husband had gone to jail. The consul’s wife smiled tensely and said, “Oh, dear, that’s too bad,” which baffled Mami completely, as she thought Yale was the school where the best families in the United States educated their sons.
Tío Toni always joins us for meals, not that he eats much. Sometimes he tells about what happened to him in the last few months. How the SIM raided one of the meetings he was at with friends, how he managed to get away, but rather than come home and put his family at risk, he went into hiding, going from one safe house to another, never sleeping more than a few hours a night. He’s still real nervous all the time, jumping up whenever the door bangs or Lorena drops silverware on the floor. He’s attentive to everything, noticing Lucinda’s rash and Mundín’s bitten nails. It’s
una vergüenza,
he keeps saying, his jaw tensing, a shame that children can’t be children anymore in this suffering country.
Papi is nodding little nods like those dogs with springs in their necks that people put in the back windows of their cars. “Democracy,” Papi says, “but democracy is only the beginning. Education is the key.”
Mami hushes them both with her eyes. We have to be careful of being overheard by someone on the SIM secret payroll. Lorena was recently caught “cleaning” the desk drawers in Papi’s study.
Papi and Tío Toni are so brave. It makes me want to be like Joan of Arc, a courageous girl who heard heavenly voices. But unfortunately, unlike Saint Joan, I’ve yet to hear a voice tell me what I can do to help my suffering country.
“I hear there’s going to be a big fiesta next door,” Tío Toni says at dinner one night.
“Aren’t you coming, Tío?” Lucinda seems surprised that our handsome uncle would pass up a party. He’s a great dancer and extremely popular with the ladies.
“I think it’s best if your
tío
doesn’t say
pío
.” Tío Toni laughs. Best to lay low. Besides, he hasn’t been invited. Mr. Washburn has to turn in his guest list to the Foreign Ministry every time he has a gathering. It would look bad for the American consul to be hosting a man who has only just been pardoned by the government.
“I wish I could be there,” he adds, winking at Lucinda. “I’d like to see that trail of broken hearts.”
“Ay, Tío, don’t start,” Lucinda scolds, pretending to be disgusted.
“I mean it,” Tío Toni persists. “You will be the queen of the ball.”
I glance over at Lucinda, and I’m surprised at how pretty she is. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and her dimples show when she smiles. Lucinda reminds me a lot of the oldest girl on the
Mickey Mouse Club
show I’ve seen on the Washburns’ television. “Hi, I’m Annette!” the girl calls out.
“And this
señorita
isn’t far behind,” Tío Toni says, winking at me. My uncle claims I’ve grown up in the months since he has been gone. In fact, I’m not a
señorita,
as I haven’t gotten my period yet. But odd things are happening to my body. My breasts have swollen into two small buds that hurt if anyone bumps into me. I’ve also grown a whole quarter inch since Christmas. Maybe I’m not going to stay small forever, like poor Monsito, who never gets enough to eat.
Inside my heart, odd things are happening as well. By now, I’m almost one hundred percent in love with Samuel Adams Washburn. The one
(And I would die if I didn’t get to dance with Sammy!)
Tío Toni is back. Every night, visitors drop in to see him. They sit on our patio, talking for hours. Sometimes, they walk off to his
casita
for more privacy. Mr. Washburn often joins them.
Papi and Tío Toni usually speak in English with Mr. Washburn. They both went to school in the States, Papi to Yale, which poor Mami always mispronounces
“jail.”
The first time she met Mrs. Washburn, Mami bragged that her husband had gone to jail. The consul’s wife smiled tensely and said, “Oh, dear, that’s too bad,” which baffled Mami completely, as she thought Yale was the school where the best families in the United States educated their sons.
Tío Toni always joins us for meals, not that he eats much. Sometimes he tells about what happened to him in the last few months. How the SIM raided one of the meetings he was at with friends, how he managed to get away, but rather than come home and put his family at risk, he went into hiding, going from one safe house to another, never sleeping more than a few hours a night. He’s still real nervous all the time, jumping up whenever the door bangs or Lorena drops silverware on the floor. He’s attentive to everything, noticing Lucinda’s rash and Mundín’s bitten nails. It’s
una vergüenza,
he keeps saying, his jaw tensing, a shame that children can’t be children anymore in this suffering country.
Papi is nodding little nods like those dogs with springs in their necks that people put in the back windows of their cars. “Democracy,” Papi says, “but democracy is only the beginning. Education is the key.”
Mami hushes them both with her eyes. We have to be careful of being overheard by someone on the SIM secret payroll. Lorena was recently caught “cleaning” the desk drawers in Papi’s study.
Papi and Tío Toni are so brave. It makes me want to be like Joan of Arc, a courageous girl who heard heavenly voices. But unfortunately, unlike Saint Joan, I’ve yet to hear a voice tell me what I can do to help my suffering country.
“I hear there’s going to be a big fiesta next door,” Tío Toni says at dinner one night.
“Aren’t you coming, Tío?” Lucinda seems surprised that our handsome uncle would pass up a party. He’s a great dancer and extremely popular with the ladies.
“I think it’s best if your
tío
doesn’t say
pío
.” Tío Toni laughs. Best to lay low. Besides, he hasn’t been invited. Mr. Washburn has to turn in his guest list to the Foreign Ministry every time he has a gathering. It would look bad for the American consul to be hosting a man who has only just been pardoned by the government.
“I wish I could be there,” he adds, winking at Lucinda. “I’d like to see that trail of broken hearts.”
“Ay, Tío, don’t start,” Lucinda scolds, pretending to be disgusted.
“I mean it,” Tío Toni persists. “You will be the queen of the ball.”
I glance over at Lucinda, and I’m surprised at how pretty she is. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail, and her dimples show when she smiles. Lucinda reminds me a lot of the oldest girl on the
Mickey Mouse Club
show I’ve seen on the Washburns’ television. “Hi, I’m Annette!” the girl calls out.
“And this
señorita
isn’t far behind,” Tío Toni says, winking at me. My uncle claims I’ve grown up in the months since he has been gone. In fact, I’m not a
señorita,
as I haven’t gotten my period yet. But odd things are happening to my body. My breasts have swollen into two small buds that hurt if anyone bumps into me. I’ve also grown a whole quarter inch since Christmas. Maybe I’m not going to stay small forever, like poor Monsito, who never gets enough to eat.
Inside my heart, odd things are happening as well. By now, I’m almost one hundred percent in love with Samuel Adams Washburn. The one
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