Chapter 3

Rosa's oscillation and Miguel's worrying plans

"You two look exhausted, mijos. Didn't you get any sleep last night?"

Rosa choked on her breakfast. She and Miguel were weary indeed, but she hadn't thought it would be so obvious. She gulped some water, abstaining from meeting anybody's questioning gaze at the table.

"The excitement of Día de Muertos lasted longer than you think, Abuelita." Miguel replied, unbothered as he munched his tamale.

Rosa had yet to get used to his slick bearing; surprise was aroused within her by how quick the words had rolled off his tongue. It wasn't a lie, but he kept the truth hidden, which she had been taught that still counted as one.

Does he plan everything three steps ahead? She presumed that was the case. With a secret as big as his, and a family as incessantly rigorous as theirs, there was no wonder that he had become a sneaky escape artist to assure he wouldn't get caught even in the riskiest of troubles. Who did he take after regarding such readiness and underhand guile and mischief?

Elena was silent for a moment, wearing her classic look of suspicion that Rosa was accustomed to all too well. "And what did you do after everyone had gone to sleep?"

She attempted to calm her hammering heartbeat whilst turning to her younger cousin in the seat next to her and hoping her fear wouldn't be perceived. Miguel appeared remarkably collected, no cracks in his perfect mask, yet she sensed his agitation. He flashed a convincing smile as he laid back in his chair. When did he get so good at being reticent? The Miguel she knew always wore his heart on his sleeve.

"We just stayed awake in the ofrenda room, reminiscing."

She fleetingly pondered how many times he had acted like that, how many of his lies had been left undetected over the years since he had started living by his own principles and following his heart.

She had never been a great liar, not only because she didn't possess the ability to distort or completely conceal the truth, but also because she loathed doing it. She firmly believed the truth to be the better and more honourable way to solve things, even when it hurt or when it was nasty.

Thankfully, Elena let it go, and she heaved an inaudible sigh.

"That was close." Rosa spoke after they had emptied their plates and were alone.

"You'll have to get used to sneaking around if you want this to work, prima. Sometimes you will have to lie."

She rubbed her forehead, shaking her head as if she could deny his statement. But that really was the only way to follow her dream.

She urgently needed to find a way to feel less remorseful, otherwise the guilt in her chest would be the end of her! She got herself into learning more about music, then she had to abide by that and accept being dishonest and evasive from time to time.

"But I promise the struggle will be worth it." Miguel conciliated with a heartening grin.

If he could do it, then she could do it too. After all, it wasn't her fault that their family didn't understand the beauty and assets of music. She was resolute not to let herself get seized in their web of restraint again.

"Dante!" her cousin cheered, scurrying ahead and distracting her from the contemplation. He knelt down on the cobblestone street in front of a dog Rosa had seen before. He scratched the perro behind the ears, the animal being visibly pleased.

"Miguel! Get away from that! It could be sick!" She yanked his arm away, but didn't manage to pull him up.

"¡Cálmate, Rosa! Dante is perfectly healthy, see?"

Noticing her incredulous countenance, he rolled his eyes, still rubbing Dante's hairless skin. "You don't have to be like Abuelita all the time, you know? The Rosa who sneaked with me to the plaza last night wasn't so grumpy about everything."

"I'm not grumpy!" She folded her arms with flaring focus. Miguel let out a snigger, which only deepened her frown.

"Sure, you aren't. But my point is that, only a few hours ago, I saw the real you. The real you, Rosa, do you understand? I saw the passionate and vibrant girl that you really are, not someone who is so… so obsequious to our family's demands."

She gasped, and he added: "I don't mean to make you mad, but have you ever wondered who else you could become besides a shoemaker?"

Rosa was rendered speechless; her fury slowly transformed into curiosity.

She wasn't sure who she was yet. She loved helping her familia make shoes because she found the art enticing and useful; it was also fruitful to the community. She had always known that she would become the next matriarch one day (that image still unnerved her because of how many responsibilities the role would bring) and that she would also inherit the footwear business. However, she had never considered being anything else but a shoemaker, a protector and a nurturer for their current and future relatives.

"I'm not saying you should become a musician like I want. You get to choose who you want to be, prima, but just… try to be a little more open-minded, sí? Something that I can guarantee you is that you will discover more of yourself on this path you decided to take."

Rosa tried to respond, but chose to change the topic. "How often do you go to the plaza?"

Miguel ceased scratching Dante. "I think you can imagine."

"But don't you feel bad at all that you are not listening to what they tell us?" Edgy, she clutched her forearm.

It took him a few moments to answer; his reply didn't comfort Rosa, as she had hoped. "No, not really. I do realize that I'm not exactly the best Rivera because of that, but I don't regret learning about music. I never will. It may be forbidden for us, but it's a part of me. It is me! How could I not do it, if it's the only thing that makes me happy?"

Rosa deflated. "The only thing?"

"Y-yeah, I think so." Miguel didn't wrap his head around her sudden despondency. She was staring at him blankly, and he swore he noticed her eyes damping before she set them downcast.

"Miguel, there are much more important and more joyful things than music in life."

"Like what?" His incredulous tone was almost challenging.

"Like family. Can you even picture yourself in an orphanage or with relatives who don't care about you? At all? Do you know how many kids out there would give anything to have what we do? Dios, can't you actually appreciate what a blessing they are?!"

That came out harsher than she had intended, but Rosa couldn't bring herself to care. She was terrified that his blind pursuit of music made him incapable of feeling gratefulness for their big, caring family.

"A blessing?! People who keep you from following your heart are blessings?! Do you have any idea how many nights I cried myself to sleep knowing that I will never be supported? That I will never be accepted for who I am? That I might be forced to hide that part of me just to please everyone? I don't even want to make shoes like all of you!"

He was now standing a few inches away from her, his fists clenched, their small height difference making him appear more dominant. Despite that, Rosa held her chin high, even though her cousin's words had cut her deeply, both the hurtful ones and his confession.

She opted for silence though, steeling herself not to allow the immense bubble of affliction and anger to pop at the worst time. If she let Miguel vent to her, he would finally have the chance to get all those agonizing feelings off his chest, which had seemingly been bottling up for years now.

As an older cousin, she had basically been viewing him as her pequeño hermano since the day he had been born, so she was willing to fill the role of a trustworthy person to help him overcome his depression, the absence of that figure in his life having taken an emotional toll on him.

"Do you know how many kids I've seen being encouraged by their families to chase their dreams? Do you have any idea how many times I prayed for things to change?"

There was a profuse pain in his eyes, which, despite her anger and grief, made Rosa's heart shrink.

He went on, his voice lower, dangerously calmer. "But nothing changed. And to think that after I opened my heart to you, after we had that escapade last night, you would still be bound to their side. You were the first one who gave me hope, but now I see that it was all in vain." He spat the last words like venom, and they reached their aim.

"I was a fool to think you'd change, Rosa. Go and be their pawn, you seem to love it. Tell them my secret for all I care! When I grow up, I'll leave this house to live the life I want."

Rosa's cheeks were burning; she was barely aware of the wet tracks trailing down her neck. Her throat was tight, too tight for her to speak anymore. She watched as Miguel covered his eyes and clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to block the sobs shaking his shoulders.

She didn't follow him back into the courtyard. Still frozen in shock, she focused on feeling the gentle breeze wash away the evidence of her pain.

Miguel slammed the door of his bedroom. He threw himself onto the bed and screamed into his pillow as loudly as he could. The noise was muffled enough not to be perceived by anybody in the hallway.

He permitted the tears to cascade, the imagining of what could have been if his cousin had truly been by his side tearing his soul.

Rosa, that traitor! He should have guessed she wouldn't choose him, not when she felt so stupidly guilty for secretly disobeying Abuelita.

He nearly slapped himself at how dumb he'd been. He had committed a huge mistake when he'd agreed to guide her into the world of music. Now, she had every reason to rat on him to the family, who would undoubtedly destroy all his precious possessions. The thought chilled him to his core. He made strenuous efforts not to picture the consequences.

Rosa might relish in seeing him defeated too. That would make the suffering of having his surreptitious belongings taken away unbearable. Or, if she reckoned the blackmail torture to be more amusing and entertaining, she had plenty of information and intelligence to coerce him into doing her chores or worse, making shoes. That's what he'd told her, after all.

But she wasn't the vengeful type, right? No, she couldn't be. She might have acted sternly from time to time and adored to wind him up endlessly to his dismay, but deep down, she had a kind heart, which only wished the best for others, especially for her family.

Wrapping up his trail of musings with a groan, Miguel fell asleep within minutes, the fatigue of so many events catching up to him at last.

Rosa didn't like the undisturbed silence of her room. It was too loud! The stillness of her surroundings was nearly despairing!

Normally, she savoured reading when she was all by herself, but now, the words on the pages refused to register in her scattered brain.

How could Miguel be so naive when it came to family matters? Didn't he realize how broken his parents would be if he left one day? How much he would endanger himself if he ventured into the wide, cruel world?

She had to find a way to make him come around. She wouldn't forgive herself if she failed.

An apology meant a pretty high chance to lessen his antagonising behaviour. Even though Rosa had a feeling that she was the one who had been right during their heated argument, she despised not patching things up with him for too long and keeping a grudge. She already missed his enlightening company.

Although he was a difficult person to deal with sometimes thanks to his stubbornness and strong will, she had the necessary experience when it came to getting through to him.

She only needed to determine the right place and time.

Miguel glanced around the dinner table. Rosa didn't return his look, her eyes glued to her plate, which Elena had crammed with food. There was an empty seat next to her, yet he rounded the table, sitting close to their great-grandmother Mamá Coco instead.

The adults chatted for a while, but neither of them paid attention. They were engrossed in their thoughts. Rosa spoke a few words with her older brother Abel, but except for that, she was as quiet as the breeze outside.

Miguel studied her warily. If his cousin had wanted to, his secrets would have been revealed until now. But Rosa came across to be purposefully inclined to keep the promise she'd made him the day before.

They made eye contact at one point, with Miguel being the first one to break it as rapidly as it happened.

When she didn't find him in his room, she immediately knew where to head.

As expected, Miguel was playing his guitar in his hideout. Gathering herself, Rosa trailed the thin curtain aside, sitting behind him.

There they were, in the same spot, barely more than a day after her course-changing discovery.

"What do you want?" he snarled with a scowl as he faced her, placing his guitar onto the wooden floor. He was still a little testy, but otherwise composed.

"Miguel, listen to me. I'm sorry about what happened between us, and I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you." she sincerely owned up to her faults.

"Is that so?" Resentment was pouring from his voice. She regretted having hurt him so much that he was now shutting her out. The fallout they had had just after bonding so deeply ached her an awful lot.

He lifted his chin, regarding her with piercing half-lidded eyes. The simple gesture was provoking, condescending even, and she had to keep her temper in check. She gritted her teeth.

"Why don't you make fun of me, huh? Why didn't you use all the information to your advantage?"

"Really, primo? Is that what you think of me? That I'm heartless? That I would spoil your joy of music when it's something that I've always loved too?"

Her face held so much distress that Miguel couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself at how he'd treated her. "Lo siento, I…" he faltered, scratching his neck, "I don't have an excuse for yelling at you earlier, I apologize, prima. I didn't mean what I said."

"So, you won't leave home?" she perked up as if forgetting their quarrel.

But Miguel's uncertainty dispirited her. "No lo sé. There's so much time until then. I guess I'll see."

"Pero, you can change your mind anytime." she persisted, securely banishing the scenarios of him shoving off from their home. She scooted closer and took his hand, sliding her thumb over his knuckles soothingly.

"We'll find a way for you to play… here. Here, in Santa Cecilia. Oh Miguelito, just imagine how wonderful that would be! The Riveras, free of their ban at last. We'll be able to go to the plaza without a worry, you'll write songs, we'll celebrate just like the two of us did last night. I'm very sorry you feel so lonely, but your familia is here for you, you only have to open your eyes."

Her pure relief, along with her undaunted hope wounded the boy's sensitive heart; he was thoroughly softened by her pleading.

"Please don't leave us! Think about how much your mamá and papá would miss you. Your parents said they're trying to give you a sibling as well, wouldn't you want to see him or her grow up and get to know them?"

"That would be a dream come true." Miguel nodded as he looked at their intertwined fingers. Silence fell upon them. He spread out his hand and so did she. Rosa's hand fit into his, while the margins of his palm and digits slightly exceeded hers.

Put them beside each other, and one would easily notice the traits they shared. The same lean figures, the same round-shaped faces and big eyes, nearly the same tone of complexion and height.

"You can't leave us." she whispered one last time. "We share the same flesh and blood, a family… is not a real family if there's someone missing. They would all be torn then."

"We are already torn, prima." His tone was low, but she grasped whom he was referring to.

Their great-great-grandfather, who had left his wife and three-year-old daughter to pursue his musical dreams, had never returned home. Having been hurt by his abandonment, their Mamá Imelda had banned music from their family and had learned to make shoes to be able to provide for her child. The business had developed along with the help of her continuously growing family, and it had been passed from generation to generation. The prohibition of music had unfortunately remained unchanged.

"And we needn't add up to that." she wrapped up the idea.

"Rosa," he said after mere peaceful minutes, "I have to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Why are you so afraid of music?"

She shifted her position, suddenly uncomfortable. "I'm not afraid of music itself, but…"

"You fear getting in trouble." he completed for her.

She hesitated. "Sí."

"If you don't want to, I'm not forcing you to-"

"No! I do want to support you, it's just that I can't decide between this and Abuelita's rules. I don't wish to disobey her, but-"

"You're not happy like this either."

She bit her lip, whining as she cleaned her glasses with the hem of her white shirt. When she placed them back on, Miguel was watching her with pity. Rosa abhorred that kind of look, it made her feel helpless like a little child, which she didn't stand.

"I'm trapped, primo, I'm trapped and I want to do both, but it kills me that it's not possible! It's not wrong of me to wish things were different, right?" she cried, more crestfallen than ever.

Miguel pulled her close. She didn't fight him, instead melted into his affection.

"Of course it's not, Rosa. Remember what you said, that we will win against this. It'll just… take some time… and patience, but don't you dare give in to despair, entiendes? One way or another, te prometo."

She nodded into his shoulder, her breathing regaining steadiness.

"Now how about a song, hm? That'll cheer you up!" He beamed, taking hold of his guitar. "Should I go with a slow beat? Romantic and mushy, just the way you like it?"

She tittered, nudging his arm. "Hey! What's wrong with that, more exactly?"

He shrugged with a lopsided grin, showing off his dimple as his fingers jumped onto the strings and he launched into the mellow melody.

Rosa gently swayed her upper body, shutting her tired eyes as Miguel's tender voice drowned out all of her concern. She lost all touch with reality as the music invaded every fibre of her being.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!