Free Before We Were Free by Julia Álvarez Page A

house after the party.
    “I can’t believe it!” Mami is saying.
    “Nobody was expecting him,” Papi agrees. “Washburn got a call at the last minute. El Jefe wanted to drop in and congratulate the young lady. Imagine! How could he refuse? Washburn says before he could even think to come over and tell us to break it up, the SIM were at the door. If it hadn’t been for our little messenger here . . .” Papi reaches out a hand and I take it.
    I feel so brave and proud—even if the evening was a disappointment. I never did get a chance to dance with Sam. Mami made me stick to her side as if someone was going to pounce on me.
    “We’ve let ourselves get careless!” Mami continues as we climb up the driveway toward our house. Tío Toni and his constant flow of visitors have to go somewhere else. “They’re putting our children’s lives in danger.”
    “Where can they go?” Papi argues back. “This is probably the safest place for Toni right now. For all of us.”
    Just then, we hear the clang of Lorena trailing behind us with an armload of empty platters. Mami always says that one thing Lorena never learned at the Domestic Academy is how
not
to make a racket.
    “We have to find a way to let her go,” Mami whispers to Papi. It won’t be easy. We can’t get on Lorena’s bad side. Out of spite, she might report any number of curious things to the SIM. In fact, Mami has been bribing her with old clothes and tips and extra days off to keep her happy with our family. There is only one way to get rid of her, and that is to enlist Chucha’s help in scaring the young woman. It’s no secret to any of us that Lorena is really superstitious and squeamish. She won’t wash her hair or cut her nails on Friday. She can’t stand the sight of blood. She never sleeps faceup because she believes the devil will take her soul. She is deathly afraid of seeing the dead and has all kinds of charms pinned to her bra to keep a ghost from coming near. Needless to say, she is terrified of Chucha, who dresses in purple like a
bruja
and sleeps in a coffin.
    Up ahead, Chucha stands at the door to her room, watching our progress. She must have crossed over earlier and turned on the lights to guide our way. Seeing her there, backlit, in her long gown, I feel that no harm will come to us as long as Chucha is around. Recently, she told me of a dream she had in which first Lucinda, then Mundín, then Mami and I sprouted wings and flew up into the sky.
    “What about Papi?” I asked worriedly.
    “Not everyone can be a butterfly,” Chucha replied.
    The morning after Susie’s party, a black limousine with palace plates rolls up our driveway and delivers a bouquet of roses tied with red, white, and blue ribbons, the colors of our flag. The little card reads:
    Para la linda Lucinda,

flor de la patria,

de un admirador.
    “ ‘For the beautiful Lucinda, flower of the nation, from an admirer.’ ” Mami flings the card to the floor as if it’s contaminated. “I told you to keep that shawl over your shoulders,” she scolds Lucinda. Poor Mami is so desperate, she has to find someone to blame.
    Lucinda bursts out crying the minute she realizes the roses are from El Jefe. Her neck is more inflamed than I’ve ever seen it. “He’s not going to take me away, is he, Mami? Oh please, Mami, don’t let him take me away.” Lucinda looks as scared as “the little baby” who sometimes crawls into bed with her at night.
    Mami hugs Lucinda so tight, her hairband falls off. Normally, Lucinda won’t permit Mami to give her these bone-crunching hugs. Now she collapses into Mami’s arms. “That man gets near
mi
señorita, I’ll cut off”—Mami glances over at me—“I’ll cut off his hands,” she vows.
    “We’ll protect you,” I join in. My voice sounds small and silly even to me. Lucinda bursts out crying again. I feel like crying myself.
    Midmorning, Susie and Mrs. Washburn drop in. They saw the palace limousine turn up our drive and