4: To Hear, To See

It was amazing how just a few months between them could lead to a world of difference in how they were treated.

Actually, Dolores knew it had nothing to do with their age. But when they were young, it had easier to blame the fact that Isabela was older for the discrepancy that she had seen. Abuela was kind to all her grandchildren. But to an observant one like Dolores, it was clear that Isabela was the favorite. Around her, Abuela would smile just a little wider, pay just a little more attention, be just a little more affectionate.

But it wasn't just within the family. In town, everyone would coo over Isabela whenever she walked by, calling her a perfect angel and the like. Meanwhile, they only spoke to Dolores if they needed to listen for a lost child, or their neighbor's gossip. Both the girls were getting to the age where they cared about people's opinions of them. Luisa was too young to understand, and always busy with the work she was given. Camilo and Mirabel were literal babies.

Isabela and Dolores were the same age, living in the same house. Theoretically, they should be best friends. But how could they be, when there was this glaring inequity between them?

Isabela was the golden child. Her Gift brought joy and beauty to the people around her. Dolores was just…the other one.

To make matters worse, every sliver of hope she had that things would improve had already been dashed. Isabela had approached her one day, gushing about the amazing prophecy that Tío Bruno had given her…the promise of a perfect life handed to her on an emerald platter. Dolores' mind had run with her upon hearing that. Tío Bruno—in the rare moments he was actually around—was one of the few who never seemed to favor either of the eldest girls over the other. If he could give a great prophecy to Isabela, surely he could spare one for Dolores, right?

Wrong. It seemed that even the immovable hands of fate (and perhaps Bruno himself) favored Isabela to Dolores. (And she would bet good money that her future lost love would be betrothed to none other than Isabela—between the two of them, it was obvious which one a boy would want to marry).

Dolores never said anything about this, of course. She was the quiet one, a listener, not a crier. And Isabela was nice and amiable enough to her that Dolores could try to be friends—there was no use being the instigator of a family conflict.

Even if it did sting.

Even if she grew frustrated with hearing Isabela in her room, constantly fussing over her own image. Perfect, it has to be perfect, she would whisper.

Dolores listened, and said nothing.

But nothing could remain hidden forever.

It was on a normal, sunny day that the proverbial spark was lit. It started off as an innocent situation: a group of children their age—a mix of girls and boys—was looking for someone to even out their numbers for a game of football.

"I'll play with you," Dolores volunteered.

One of the girls in the group had given her a teasing, but not malicious, grin. "You sure? We get pretty loud when we play. Won't that hurt your ears?"

"Hm," Dolores had replied. "I can hear you people yelling and screaming anyway, all day and every day. This will be no different. I'll be fine."

"If you say so," the girl laughed. Then she turned to one of the boys. "Oye, Julio! Dolores said she'll play."

The boy, Julio, turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, um, actually, Ronaldo is trying to convince Isabela to play with us." He nodded to another boy, who was currently talking to Isabela with an idiotic grin on his face. "He totally has a crush on her. Blech."

Isabela didn't even look like she wanted to play, but she nodded all the same.

The other girl sighed. "Sorry, Dolores. Maybe you can play next game."

And then Dolores made her fatal mistake. She rolled her eyes, bitterly, and scoffed.

Isabela noticed.

Dolores didn't even give her s chance to say anything, instead sticking her nose in the air and stomping off with a huff. Even for a stupid football game, Isabela was the first choice and Dolores was just the other one. The one they'd only turn to if her cousin wasn't around, and drop her once she was.

She heard Isabela excuse herself from the other kids, with her practiced politeness. She heard Isabela's footsteps as she caught up to her. She heard Isabela gulp before speaking.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dolores replied calmly. She didn't look at her. "Why aren't you playing with them?"

"I don't really like playing football. I-it gets my clothes and hair all messed up. You can have my spot on the team if you want."

"No thanks."

"But you said you wanted to play—"

"Not if the whole team wishes I was you instead."

Isabela stopped, her jaw dropping. Shoot. Dolores hadn't meant to let that slip. She kept walking.

But no matter how fast she walked, she couldn't escape from the problem. As soon as she got home, Dolores hurried to her room and shut the door behind her. She panted, her mind running wild with speculation of what would happen now. Without thinking, she found herself running over to the side of her bed, but sinking down to sit on the floor instead. Why had she said that?

It was quieter in here, yes, but that didn't mean the entire outside world was shut out. Dolores could still hear. She could still hear everything.

"I just saw Lola run past here. Is she okay?" Tío Augustin.

"I don't know. She seemed fine when I saw her earlier. I'll see if I can talk to her." Papà.

"What's going on?" Tía Julieta. And Mamà is with her.

"Lola seems upset about something. I just saw her run into her room and slam the door." Papà.

"Eh? Why?" Mamà. Thunder. "Did she look hurt?"

"I didn't get a good look. Let's just go upstairs and talk to her."

"Is something the matter? Why are you all standing standing around here?" Abuela. And now Tío Bruno is shuffling out from behind a door.

Dolores was causing a commotion. She didn't want to cause a commotion.

Casita's front door is opening. Isabela's footsteps.

"Isa! Oh, cariño, what's the matter? What happened?" Tía Julieta.

"I don't know…" Isabela. She's upset. "Dolores is mad at me, but I don't know why. The other kids wanted me to play football with them, but I told Lola she could play instead and she just yelled at me."

"I-I don't understand," Mamà. "Why would she be mad about something like that?"

"I don't know, um…I think because she wanted to play first but the other kids wanted me instead."

"Oh, I see," Papà. "She must have felt left out then, huh?"

Dolores felt her face flush with shame. One tiny little slip. That's all it had been. Couldn't they just leave her to wallow in peace? Why did they have to talk about her?

"She's jealous. Of Isa." Tío Bruno.

"Jealous? Over a football game?" Abuela.

"I-It's a little thing, but, uh, little things—they hurt sometimes, you know? Especially for a kid. And Dolores can be sensitive sometimes, like her mom."

More thunder. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing! I-I just meant that—she just inherited your sensitivity, that's all."

Boom. Shouting. Wind and rain. Panicked footsteps scurrying.

"Pepa, calm down!" Abuela. "And Bruno, stop talking, you're making things worse."

"Sorry…sorry…"

"Why are you even here?" Mamà. She's so loud. "You chose now of all times to come out of that stupid tower of yours?!"

"Pepi, Pepi, amor, it's alright." Papà. His voice is always soothing. "Our Dolores just needs some tender love and care from her parents, is all. She'll be better in no time, I'm sure."

Tío Bruno is quietly hurrying away while no one is watching him.

"Félix is right." Abuela. "Pepa, please get rid of this storm and go see to your child. Everyone else, go back to what you were doing. There's no need to cause such a fuss."

Mamà is taking deep breaths. Clear skies, clear skies. She is walking up the stairs. Muttering. Angry. "Leave it to my idiot brother to shove his foot all the way down his throat. What is his problem with me?"

"Pepa, please, let's just focus on the matter at hand…" Papà. So sweet.

The footsteps pause in front of the door…

A loud sniff. Dolores flinched. That wasn't from her mother, that was her. She quickly wiped her face of the tears, gritting her teeth as she waited for her parents to enter her room. This was the exact thing she'd wanted to avoid. Now, thanks to her tío's big mouth, everyone knew about her resentment toward Isabela. Jealousy. Such an ugly word.

A knock on her door. The creak as it opened. Dolores did her best to focus on the sound. It was calming. Pepa stuck her head in first, then Félix. Dolores looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, knees tucked against her chest. Her parents were giving her soothing smiles to hide their anxiety. Félix was doing a better job at it.

"Hey, Lola," Pepa began softly. They both came in sat down on either side of her. "You certainly came storming in here, didn't you? Is something wrong?"

Dolores huffed. "Mamà. I heard you all talking downstairs. You already know what happened." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. It's so stupid. Getting mad about a football game."

"Hmm, but it's not just about the game, is it?" Félix asked softly.

Dolores slowly shook her head. No point in lying about it now.

"Lola, you know we love you more than anything, right?" Pepa asked, stroking her daughter's hair gently. "Isabela is wonderful, but you're special in your own way too. Even if the others don't see it, we do. Your family. You'll always be number one in our hearts."

"I know, I know," Dolores sighed. "I love Isabela, I do, but I just feel like she gets everything sometimes. Everyone in town likes her more than me. She's prettier than me, her Gift is nicer than mine, and…" she sniffed again, looking at the floor.

Her parents shared a look. Dolores fidgeted.

"Look, it's fine," she said. "I'm gonna go apologize to her later. I'm sorry for causing so much trouble."

"…Félix," Pepa said after a beat. "Do you think you could go grab a fresh papaya from the kitchen? Julieta picked some this morning. I think Lola could use something sweet after all this."

Dolores' ears perked up. She did enjoy a fresh papaya.

Félix raised an eyebrow. "Is that really going to…?" He stopped, noting the look on his wife's face. A silent communication seemed to pass between them, something Dolores had previously observed but still didn't understand. Then he smiled. "Alright, no worries. I'll be right back." He patted Dolores on the shoulder and stood up to leave.

Once he was out the door, Pepa re-adjusted her position. "Okay," she began. She was, strangely enough, smiling. "I want to tell you about something, Lola. But it's a secret, so you can't tell anyone."

Dolores' eyes widened and she leaned forward.

"When I was a kid—a little older than you, about 12—I felt the exact same way about your Tía Julieta."

Dolores blinked, surprised. "Really?" She whispered. "But you two always get along so well."

"Yes, we do now. But back then? Ah, I used to be green with envy." Pepa gave a wry smile, a far off sort of look in her eyes. "It was the same as what you just said. I felt like everybody liked her more. Juli was gentle, and graceful, and never had a mean word to say about anyone. Me, on the other hand, I was loud and volatile, and my temper could flare up any second. I could tell that people were walking on eggshells whenever they spoke to me, because they thought that one wrong move could cause a hurricane. To them, I was a ticking time bomb. But Julieta was an angel. Her Gift made everyone happy, and seemed to have no downsides at all. Everyone was happy around her. Boys liked her better than me. I tried to convince myself that it was okay, like you. She's my sister, I shouldn't be jealous of her. But it was impossible not to be."

Dolores listened intently, nodding along. Now that she thought about it, it made sense. Her tía was not only kind and obedient, but her Gift was always beneficial and easy to control. It made sense that in her younger years, she would have been viewed as the perfect princess, much like her own daughter was now. Dolores frowned. "So…what did you do?"

"Well, one day, I finally snapped. I can't really remember the details. But I was in a bad mood, she tried to comfort me, and I just couldn't take it. How could she ever understand what I felt? She would never know what it was like to have such a burdensome gift. Or that's what I thought, anyway." Pepa grinned. "We got into a fight. I forgot what exactly was said, but I do remember that I learned a lot about my sister that day."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that she had to get up before sunrise every day so she could cook enough food for everyone. And she went to bed late for the same reason." Pepa sighed. "And the fact that she felt she could never take a break for even a second, because she was so afraid someone would get hurt and die while she wasn't looking. And that she felt the town was taking her for granted, never being careful to take care of themselves because they knew one bite of an arepa could heal them instantly. And, on top of all that, she had to be the oldest sister and take care of the two of us. And—"

Pepa paused to catch her breath. She cleared her throat. "You understand my point. She was dealing with things I hadn't even considered. She even said that she was jealous of me because my feelings were actually respected, even if out of fear. And after that…" she smiled. "After that I took her into my room and we both just started to cry." Pepa chuckled. "It was safe for me to make my storms in my room, you know? So I cried and screamed and kicked up a storm, and I think for the first time ever, Julieta was allowed to do that too, with me. Once we let out off our steam, we were closer than ever."

Pepa finished her story and shrugged. "Every now and then she would approach me and ask to do it again, when things just got to be too much for her. For both of us. Just screaming into pillows for a while in my room. It was the best sisterly bonding we could ever ask for."

Dolores took a deep breath. She nodded in understanding. "So…you think Isabela might be the same thing? And we should go cry in her room about it?"

Pepa laughed, a light drizzle coming from above them. "Well, I don't know, I think you should come up with your own solution. But yes, I do think you should try and understand her. You may learn a lot about your cousin. It doesn't mean that your feelings aren't valid, of course, but I think if you and her opened up to each other, you'll both see things in a new light. And…perhaps this is presumptuous of me, but…" she shrugged. "I'd love it if you and Isa became just as close as me and Julieta one day."

Dolores cracked a smile. That did sound nice. Maybe she would give it a shot later, after she had calmed down. But for now, she would just relax with her parents, and with that yummy papaya she could hear her Papà climbing up the stairs with.

Perfect, it has to be perfect…

Dolores heard Isabela's voice before she even went into her room. The words gave her a moment's pause. Why was Isabela always obsessed with looking and being perfect? Did she like the attention?

Anger flared up inside Dolores again, but she shook her head to get rid of it. No. She was here to make amends. Steeling herself, Dolores pushed the door open and flew into Isabela's bedroom.

"It has to be—whoa!" Isabela gasped, mid-pose. She stumbled, whirling to face the door in surprise, her arm still in the air. Dolores blinked in bewilderment. Had…had Isabela always had a life-size plant sculpture of herself just standing around? That she used to practice her poses with?

"Um…what are you doing?" Dolores asked, forgetting why she was here.

"Nothing!" Isabela squeaked. With a hurried wave that was definitely not graceful, she summoned a vine that destroyed the sculpture. Well, that answered that question. "Just, uh—Señor Santiago wanted to paint a picture of me to hang in the town square, so I'm practicing for it. But, anyway, um…you can come in."

Isabela was acting strange. Her voice carried its usual melodic lilt, and her footsteps moved at the same pace, but now, Dolores could see the way she subtly fidgeted with her fingers, and how her eyes seemed to be darting around nervously. Dolores hesitated for just a moment before shutting the door behind her and entering into the rose-covered room.

What was she here for again? Right, an apology. Dolores took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for earlier, by the way," Isabela said.

Dolores' own words fizzled out on her tongue. "Wh—huh? What for? I-I'm the one who was mean."

"Well, I—I mean—" Isabela took a breath and re-composed herself. "I didn't know you were…um, jealous of me. I didn't mean to make you feel left out."

There was that ugly word again. Dolores bit her lip. "That's not your fault. I don't mind if other people like you, it's just…I just never get the same amount of attention of you, and I thought people only cared about me when they wanted me to listen to something, and…"

She trailed off. There was an awkward pause.

"You know, the other girls at school don't like me either," Isabela mumbled. "They always think I'm too perfect. I didn't know you felt that way too. I'm sorry."

Dolores shook her head. "No, no. Jealousy is wrong. I'm the one who's sorry." She paused. "But, like…I don't get it. No offense, but you do act super perfect all the time. Just now, you were practicing a pose. And I always hear you fussing over how you look and how you move—why do you do that?"

Isabela blinked, as if she didn't understand the question. As if the answer was obvious. "Well, I—I have to. Abuela said that—I'm the face of the family, and the miracle. Since I'm the oldest, and my Gift makes people the happiest, I have to show people that the family is doing perfectly, or they'll think the magic will go away and we'll be in danger."

Dolores rapidly blinked her eyes at this information. "Wh-what?"

Yes, she'd heard Abuela say something like that to Isabela before, but she thought those had been words of pride and encouragement meant to build her up. Not—whatever this was.

Isabela nodded. "Yeah. That's why I wasn't sure if I'd be able to play football with the other kids. Abuela hates it when I get all messy and dirty. But I couldn't say no, either, that would be impolite."

She gulped, the wringing of her hands slowly getting more intense, the lilt of her voice slowly breaking apart. "So it—it was a tough choice. I can't say no or I'll be rude, but if I play, I have to be extra careful to make sure I don't mess myself up, and that will make the other kids frustrated with me. Either that, or I play properly, but I have to make sure I have time to fix myself up before I go home. So then I realized that you wanted to play and I thought it would be the perfect way to say no without being rude, because then I was being nice and handing the role to you instead—but then you got mad and jealous and I—"

Isabela' eyes met hers. For the first time, Dolores could see how wide her eyes were. How stressed and panicked she looked.

"I—I don't know what I did wrong!" Isabela finally cried. "I-I thought…I thought I worked it out perfectly! I thought I mad everyone happy. Lola, what did I do wrong?"

Dolores stood frozen for just a moment. Hesitantly, she reached out and took her cousin's hands in her own, a feeble attempt at calming her. "You didn't do anything wrong. You did your best. Isa, you don't have to be perfect all the time. Nobody's perfect, remember?"

"But I have to," Isabela whimpered. "I shouldn't do or say the wrong things, or—or Abuela will give me this disappointed look. I don't want her to get mad at me like she does with Tío Bruno sometimes. It—I—" she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to stop her stammering and speak cohesively. "It has. To be. Perfect."

Dolores had heard those words plenty of times. She'd heard Isabela fussing over herself every time she passed her room, assuming it was nothing but an exercise in vanity. But now, really seeing the look on her face? This wasn't arrogance. It was pain. It was fear.

Dolores' powers were still growing. It would be a long time before she could decipher someone's feelings based on the sound of their heartbeat, or hear someone's eye twitching from across the house. But even when she could, nothing could compare to truly seeing the image of her cousin's face in front of her, spelling out all her secret emotions without saying a single word.

Dolores could hear everything. But, God, had she been blind.

She surged forward and pulled Isabela into a tight hug. "Lo siento," she gasped. "I mean it, Isa. I'm so sorry. I had no idea what you were going through. I was only thinking of myself."

Isabela let out a sob. "But I—I didn't even notice that you were upset. I thought that just because you're my prima, you'd like me no matter what. I took you for granted. You could just do and say whatever you wanted, and I thought you were happy."

Dolores sniffed. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you anymore. A-and…you don't have to act perfect around me, okay? You can get dirty and mess around and say whatever you want, and I won't tell Abuela, or anyone, okay?"

"R-really?"

"Uh-huh." Dolores pulled away and held up her pinky with a smile. "Let's pinkie promise, okay? I won't tell anyone about the not-perfect things you do. I promise."

Isabela grinned. "And no more making the other person feel left out. Even if everyone else doesn't notice you, I promise I will."

Dolores nodded eagerly. "And…no more jealousy."

"No more jealousy, ever."

They wrapped their pinkies around each other and gave their hands a quick shake. The deal was sealed. Dolores wiped her eyes, exhaustion and relief flooding through her tiny little body.

After a moment of silence, Isabela spoke up again. "Can I tell you another secret?"

Dolores nodded.

"I actually do like football." She shrugged. "I just can't play it often because…you know."

Dolores grinned. "Why don't we play a one-on-one game? Right now?"

"How?"

"In here. That way, you can't get messed up because you'll just be covered in flowers, not dirt. And even if you do, you can fix yourself up quickly in your room. You won't have to worry about it while you play at all."

Isabela's smile brightened. "Hey…yeah! That's a great idea!" Isabela started bouncing on her feet slightly. "You're so smart, Lola. But where will we get a ball?"

"I think I saw one outside that our papàs use sometimes. I'll be right back, okay?"

Dolores finally left the room, eyes still wet from crying, but a big grin on her face. Her mom had been right. She and Isabela now understood each other much better than before, and if this was any indication, a scrappy game of ball away from prying eyes might just become their own little tradition.

Somewhere in the house, the candle burned a bit brighter.