29 JANUARY 1961

Sundays were the hardest days for Jackie. There was nothing to keep her busy and no hope of getting letters from home—only one letter had arrived since she had come, and she had sent it herself in the beginning of December! (And she hadn’t forgiven her parents for not calling her on her birthday. Or any day after.) No school, the grocery store closed, her friends occupied with their families. It was the day of “rest,” if only she were able to. She almost wished Victoria’s family were the churchgoing kind, just to have something to do.

On Sundays, with Victoria’s whole family present, politics were inevitable. Jackie couldn’t rudely walk away from the dinner table without dinner. Besides, she didn’t want to go hungry, and Victoria’s cooking was improving. Today it was some kind of mashed potato thing with meat and vegetables underneath. The potatoes were a bit lumpy and the vegetables a bit soggy, but the overall flavor made up for it.

Five bites in, Tío Ernesto cleared his throat and set the fork down. A record. Usually he started with the political conversation as soon as the six of them crowded around the table meant for four.

“While Eisenhower was still in office, he approved the funds and military training for Cubans living here to join a special top secret unit that will be sent to Cuba to overthrow Fidel.” Tío Ernesto avoided catching anyone’s eye as he spoke.

“If it’s top secret, how do you know about it?” Inés asked.

Nestico answered without swallowing. “Because Cubans are a bunch of gossiping know-it-alls. No one can fart without the whole island knowing about it.”

Jackie spat out half her mouthful onto the plate. The rest of the table burst into laughter. Even Tía Isabel, who she expected to scold her for spewing food, let out a couple of unladylike chuckles.

“It’s true,” Tío Ernesto said between laughs. “Not only do Cubans know everything, but we know everyone, too. Go to any Cuban gathering and you’ll get the scoop. Where do you think the local newspapers are getting their headlines? Straight from the Cubans.”

For a few seconds, Jackie felt at home with her extended family. Mima, Pipo, and Mamalara were just in the other room, out of sight but not out of presence. In fact, it could have easily been Pipo who’d made the farting joke.

But then Tío had to go and ruin the illusion.

“This secret unit is recruiting as many Cubans living here as they can, and the U.S. will provide all the training and arms. They’re in communication with a group of contrarrevolucionarios left on the island, who will join us once we strike.”

The next lump of potatoes lodged in Jackie’s throat. She understood what her uncle was not saying. And Victoria next to her, judging by the fact that she had stopped breathing, had come to the same conclusion. Contrarrevolucionarios like Alto.

Jackie didn’t know whether to be proud or concerned for her cousin. He had always been like a real-life version of a spy, similar to the heroes in the radio plays she used to listen to. He had taught her how to throw a punch, but he had also helped Victoria rescue the kitten that grew up to be Gnomo. If she were older, she would be exactly like him. At least then she’d be doing something. If she were older, she would have stayed in Cuba until her whole family could leave.

“That sounds dangerous,” Tía Isabel said.

“Fighting is always dangerous,” Tío Ernesto stated, as if he were discussing nothing more serious than the weather.

“How does Al—I mean, how do the contrarrevolucionarios know whom they can trust over here?” Victoria stabbed at a carrot as if questioning its loyalty. “History is riddled with deception and corruption. How do people here know the group on the island won’t betray them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that would never happen.” Tío Ernesto dismissed his daughter as if it had been the stupidest thing in the world. Something inside Jackie bristled. It had been a valid question. Had Nestico made it, being the boy and therefore the one whose voice mattered, Jackie knew her uncle would have answered differently.

Tío Ernesto continued, “The public is experiencing repression and the loss of loved ones. Even Fidel’s initial followers are seeing the light. Trust me, Cubans on the island are as ready to fight for freedom as we are.”

Nestico spoke again with a full mouth. “Are you going to fight, Papi?”

“¡Ernesto, no!” Tía’s screech rang so loud, she made a dog bark across the street. Jackie wasn’t the only one at the table rubbing her ears as a result.

Tío Ernesto stood up, his dinner only half finished on the plate. “I have to fight for my country. Here, I’m just wasting time and talent. In combat, I can be useful.”

Jackie had never thought her uncle would surprise her. He was so proper and rigid with his purpose of providing for his family, she never would have imagined he felt he wasn’t doing enough. Under other circumstances, the same pride and worry she’d felt for Alto would have now transferred to her uncle. Along with a respectful bond; she also hated feeling useless. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him for disrespecting Victoria just yet.

“But you can’t—you can’t leave me,” Tía whined. “Who’s going to look after the family? Provide for them?”

Victoria sank low in her chair. Jackie remembered that before they left, Tío had expected Victoria to take care of the family if he was denied exit. At that time Jackie knew her cousin was scared, but also proud to help her family if needed. Now Victoria seemed tired just thinking about it.

“I’m not leaving you high and dry.” Tío Ernesto remained standing with his arms folded across his chest. “I have been working extra hours and saving for almost two months. The fact that Victoria and Jackie have jobs helps too.”

“No!” Victoria’s fork banged against the plate. While Jackie had practically licked the plate clean, except for the part she had spat out, Victoria’s dinner had barely been touched. “The money we’re saving is ours. We need it.”

“We do.” Jackie folded her own arms in defiance. True, if the battle was successful in overturning Fidel and his control, then they wouldn’t need to get Mima out of Cuba; they would be back with their whole family. But if the Cuban volunteers failed, that would be more reason to get Mima out.

“Niñas, behave. You’re being ungrateful,” Tía Isabel said. “Talking back like that to the man of the house is completely uncivilized and unladylike.”

Jackie’s fists clenched in her armpits. Ungrateful? She’d show her aunt who was uncivilized.

Now it was Victoria who rose to her feet, flinging her napkin onto the table. “If you expect me to take care of this family, then you need to treat me as an equal. Not as a child, not as a girl, and definitely not as your idea of a ‘proper young lady.’ ”

Jackie jumped to her feet, linked her arm through Victoria’s, and quoted a line she’d heard in a radio play. “You say it, Sister Suffragette!”

The rest of the table gasped—Nestico with a deliberately wide mouth so everyone could see his half-chewed food.

Victoria’s body faltered slightly, but Jackie kept a tight, sturdy hold on her. Victoria squeezed her arm back, and her posture became more assured. Jackie understood her cousin better now. Miami hadn’t been this great utopia for Victoria, but rather an unbalanced familial yoke on her shoulders. She had been emotionally and physically taking care of the family by feeding them and tending to the younger siblings. Victoria’s initial desire to spend all her time with Jackie was Victoria’s way of asking for help and support. Jackie should have seen it, sympathized more with Victoria, who was expected to behave like an adult—a parent, even—but still treated as a child. Jackie would keep her own friends and school life, but that didn’t mean that Victoria had to do everything on her own. They could share the burden.

“And when I get married,” Victoria added, “it will be because I love the man, not because he comes from a suitable family. I say this again: our wages are not going toward providing for this family. That is not our job.”

“I second all of that.” Jackie grinned. Finally, she had rubbed off on her cousin!

“You two rebelling and not wanting to help your family won’t keep me from fighting for our country,” Tío Ernesto vowed.

“They’re saving up to get Tía Larita a passport out of Cuba,” Inés confessed before clamping her hand over her mouth.

“Inés!” Jackie and Victoria scolded her. So much for talking when they thought she had been asleep. As a unit, they slumped back into their chairs.

They had agreed not to tell Victoria’s parents of their plan to save for a passport for Mima for this reason: they didn’t want to be discouraged or told that two niñitas couldn’t do it.

Tía Isabel brought the cloth napkin to her face as tears for her sister streamed down her cheeks. Inés cowered in her chair. Nestico let out a loud burp.

After a few moments of letting the news digest, Tío Ernesto nodded his slow approval. “You’re right. On all fronts. It’s not your job to provide for this family; it’s mine. And it’s not your job to take care of the family, which you have done anyway. I’ve been wrong to continue treating you like a little girl. Both of you.”

Now it was Jackie’s turn to gasp. Victoria’s father had barely ever acknowledged her and had definitely never shown her any respect.

“The passport is a good reason to work and save,” Tío Ernesto continued. “Larita and Alto would be proud. I’ll keep my ears open for a forger. But I don’t want you girls looking for one yourselves. Someone who makes counterfeit passports is ultimately a criminal and possibly dangerous.”

“Yes, we know,” Victoria said with her eyes averted. Jackie noticed that she hadn’t actually promised to stop looking for a forger. Good. Not that they knew where to look, but that didn’t mean they would shut out any potential leads that came around.

“Good, so it’s settled,” Tía Isabel said, with the authority that normally was only heard from Mamalara. “The girls can’t provide for us, which means you will have to stay here, Ernesto.”

But Tío Ernesto wasn’t having it. He shook his head—not angry, but more determined than ever. “Once I have enough saved up, I’ll enlist. There’s no stopping me.”