Chapter 5

Breaking customs

The following four months flew faster than summer holiday. Something was continually converting within nearly thirteen-year-old Rosa. With each day she practiced her instrument, she felt as if her personality gained yet another layer which helped shape her in ways she couldn't really understand at the moment.

Learning to play was undeniably one of the most amazing long-term experiences she'd been blessed to have. This was the something which had been missing in her life before, not only the general meaning of listening to music. It didn't matter that she was far, far away from attaining her goal of mastering the fiddle, for every second spent in the company of it was like a gentle hand wiping the invisible tears of her soul, or making her heart leap into a dance, or simply aiding her to unwind after a taxing day.

Acquiring prowess on her own was never an option; unlike Miguel, Rosa highly doubted her autodidactic faculty. Although the guitar and the violin were both string instruments, he couldn't be of much avail to her here, so she hung on to the last option.

Discovering a professional violin instructor wasn't as hard as she had expected. All it took was one question asked to her music teacher at school, who was all smiles about a Rivera who wanted to learn music (Rosa had to beg her to stay silent). That's how, after a couple of phone calls, she got in touch with Isabella López.

Isabella was around thirty-two years of age, but her heart was as young as the one of a child. She'd heard numerous positive appraisals about the woman throughout her school years. She was renowned for her hard-working, talented nature and great teaching qualities. The fact that Rosa was now her student did wonders in raising her tenacity to pursue her dreams.

However, the aspiring violinist had plenty of qualms about her at first. The start of the lessons had been… nothing short of frightening, if she was frank. She was terrified lest she be rejected because of the infamous music ban. Surprisingly, Isabella didn't even bring it up; she treated her with respect and amiability in lieu. Fortunately, the more lessons they had, the more she proved herself trustworthy and the more the girl's fears lessened; the young Rivera's heart gradually opened up to her, especially after López guaranteed that her secret was safe.

During her first four lessons (she'd decided to test the waters and not rush into things with one lesson per week), Rosa learned the very basics. It felt unnatural, slightly weird even, to take up something she'd once thought was never going to be possible, mainly because her family abhorred the art of music. She learned not to let herself be distracted by that, though.

What raised question marks in her head was the unknown reason why López refused to accept the normal price for her teaching. She barely accepted any pay at all, much to the girl's amazement! Despite Rosa's obstinate pleading that she took the money she rightfully deserved, Isabella stood her ground, so she had to back-pedal with the promise to not speak to anybody else about the price. Was it related to the music ban? Was she pitied because of it? Rosa made an exception and told Miguel, but he was just as puzzled as her.

Feeling rather guilty, she begged her mamá to give her a pair of brand-new shoes with the pretext that she'd seen a barefooted beggar on the outskirts of the village. Carmen had easily given in to her request, because she had a soft spot for unfortunate people; so did Rosa, but she was unable to shake off the shame her conscience threw at her in sizeable amounts for taking advantage of her beloved mother's generosity. She gift-wrapped the box with a heavy heart and left it with an anonymous thanking note on Isabella's doorstep the next day after school.

Was that considered theft? She didn't want the response. But the pair of resistant shoes served a good deed, right? It wasn't her fault that Isabella was so strangely set about the money.

She was prepared with the most reasonable of arguments for her next violin lesson should she be faced with opposition. She smiled stealthily when noticing her teacher wearing the glossy leather shoes. But if the woman had realized that she was the secret exporter, she didn't say a word about it, which Rosa was eternally grateful for.

The first month was the hardest. A practice routine wasn't easy to find and especially, to stick to. With school, homework, helping out in the workshop and spending time with loved ones and friends, the balance between her new passion and the challenges of each day often sloped in favour of the latter. Hadn't it been for her supportive and reinvigorating cousin, it would have taken longer to create an advantageous schedule. Isabella advised her to practice four times a week by herself, each session of at least thirty minutes.

Her fingers, arms and back hurt because of the stance she needed to maintain whilst playing the instrument. Oftentimes, her hands went numb after finalising a session, and the muscles of her arms pinched painfully. Rosa's comfort relied not only on advancing in her passion, but also on improving her posture and strengthening her upper body.

After about three weeks, the top layer of the skin on her fingertips wore away, and she had to give it time to heal. Miguel said that was the start of her calluses building up, which were going to help her play without any ache as they proceeded developing.

She had to make up excuses when the faint bruises appearing on her neck drew the stares and concern of several of her family members, which luckily faded as she learned to hold the instrument better.

The case wasn't the same with the white-yellowish, firm-becoming surface of her palms. Berto called it "a mark of greatness"; he believed she was seriously invested into the art of making footwear, and never missed an opportunity to voice how proud he was of his little girl, nor to mention that she was growing up so fast. They spent more time together in the workshop than before, her loving papá teaching her everything he'd been taught about the business at her age. Appreciative, Rosa was enjoying it thoroughly, but was always saddened that his beliefs were partly false.

In the second month, she got more comfortable with her violin, and decided to have two practice lessons per week with Isabella to enhance her skills more rapidly. The balance between life and lessons solidified.

She was flabbergasted when finding out that Miguel didn't know how to read sheet music. She gladly offered to teach him in return for all his help. To say he was delighted would be an understatement.

During the third and fourth months, she could play beginner-friendly songs and use the bow more dexterously, which boosted her self-assurance.

She joined Miguel to the plaza sometimes, though she didn't go there as often as he did, both out of fear and respect for her family. They usually listened to music while Miguel polished people's shoes and she played the role of the Riveras' business emissary, scribbling down details in her tiny notebook when various customers approached her to solicit commissions.

When neither of them was busy, they simply stood in a shady corner of the plaza and reveled in the ambiance the lively place provided.

The first time her cousin had tried to persuade her to dance again, she unwaveringly turned him down, appalled of the eyes that would notice them. Miguel being Miguel, he capered right in the centre of the square, despite her frantic warnings about the rumours he could stir up between the villagers. For the sake of her sanity, she refused to put up with his stubbornness and let him have fun, mentally stating that if he got caught, it was his issue, not hers. But her pride slowly got swallowed at the apprehension that she'd be partly responsible for his misbehaviour.

And he did get caught one time, although while he was listening to an energetic band of mariachis. Elena had been searching for him along with her oldest and youngest sons, Berto and Enrique. Rosa was buying some candy when they noticed Miguel, but they didn't spot her, as she'd been fast enough to cower behind the vendor's stall. They dragged him all the way home, where he received yet another stern lecture.

Rosa came into his room thirty minutes later. She hadn't mustered the bravery to protect him from them. When she reflected on it, she didn't recognize that girl whose selfishness she despised enormously. She'd been there too, she should've been caught too.

She promised herself not to let it happen again after a heartfelt apology. Miguel wasn't upset with her, more like grateful she'd not been remarked. Yet she still made out a flicker of disappointment in his eyes; that particular second slashed deeper into the wound caused by her cowardice.

She suggested they watch his favourite movie together with a ton of popcorn to forget what had transpired. She thanked her prayers were answered when she wished her primo goodnight and he returned her smile.

Rosa attempted to keep him from visiting the plaza too soon after, advising that he ought to be cautious and remain home, but her pleas were unlistened to. She followed him to keep an eye out for getting in trouble again, because he was so absorbed in what that place had to offer that he forgot to check his surroundings every once in a while.

She hadn't expected that to be the afternoon she'd let her hair down. Upon arriving, she couldn't contain herself any longer at the memory of that special night, and jumped into the dance with her spirited cousin. There were more people than usual in the plaza, so the chances of getting recognized weren't high.

They swirled and skipped and laughed for what seemed like forever, but Rosa had no clue how much she'd later regret letting her guard down.

She didn't realise how fast time flowed, but what she was sure about was that the moment she heard the sharp call of her name, she froze in place, praying it wasn't real.

But it was… Tía Gloria was storming through the crowded place, which made some people scramble out of her way, while others were too stunned to do anything else but goggle intrusively when noticing Riveras in the music-filled plaza.

Rosa died of humiliation as she and Miguel obediently followed their aunt home, who, after ensuring they hadn't been harmed in any way, voiced her frustrations loud enough for the whole town to hear. Heads turned after them, stares lingered and whispers grew louder with each step they took. It wasn't the right moment to think about all the rumours which would be surrounding them for days to come at school. Try as she might, she was unable to dim out the whipped-up awkwardness just as she found the situation unbearably mortifying, both for her family and for her ego.

The cousins kept themselves at a safe distance behind Gloria, out of fear of having their heads blown by a flying chancla if they stood too close, even if the woman almost never used it as a weapon, as opposed to Elena.

Miguel slithered his hand in her shaking one, and she squeezed it tightly. He was making visible efforts to keep his cool, but his fingers were trembling; she knew he was concerned about their little hiding spot in the attic. Not only his guitar was there, but her violin too. Her racing heartbeat was hard to ease.

Sorrowful, he met her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"We're very disappointed in you two."

Elena's words bounced on the walls of her mind, reverberating strongly, gut-wrenchingly in her heartstrings.

She'd been chiding them for ten minutes, and Rosa felt her limits weaken. It was already tough not to run and lock herself in her room because of so much shame, despite knowing that admitting her mistakes was the right thing to do. Sealing her right forearm, she gathered her thoughts and feelings for a better mental preparation.

The presence of Abuelita, her parents, Miguel's parents and Tía Gloria wasn't easy to handle. So many deploring eyes and displeased shakes of the head… She felt as if she was awaiting her decapitation. Next to her, Miguel wasn't doing any better.

Creeping through the opening in the door, Abel was watching the whole scene. His face was alarmed, strained. She nodded at him imperceptibly, hoping to alleviate his worries, despite feeling stripped to the bone.

"You embarrassed our name…" the old woman harshly continued.

"How exactly did we embarrass you?" Miguel cut in, crossing his arms, his eyes darting to each member before lingering on their abuelita. He squinted his eyes as if challenging any plausible arguments that were to be made.

Elena glared at him ferociously, but he didn't surrender. Rosa prodded him. It was the lack of prudence which had once got her grounded and immensely hurt for defying the rules. The last thing she wanted was for him to experience the same pain.

He pressed on. "Did a few hours of music kill us, Abuelita?"

You're getting nowhere, primo.

"Rules are rules, mijo." Enrique intervened.

"Have you ever thought that maybe your stupid rules are hurting some of us?"

"They're not our rules, your Mamá Imelda set them long ago. And we all must respect them in order to respect her. There's nothing good for you to learn by going there to see. All those lazy músicos who waste their and others' time by singing without purpose." Elena repeated for the umpteenth time in their life with burning fury. She either ignored or didn't heed the last part of his question; not knowing for sure drove the girl more anxious.

Miguel turned red, and was about to snap hadn't it been for Rosa to hold him back with a firm grip of his elbow.

"Rosa," - She flinched at the second mention of her name. - "We expected more from you, mija. You're older, you should be more responsible than this. You are good children. What happened?" Carmen's concern briefly overtook her anger.

"I made her come with me."

All eyes focused on Miguel, either surprised or infuriated. Rosa's jaw half-dropped. She unfairly got away once, she didn't want to let it happen again, to let him endure all the rebuke when she was at fault as well. They'd face the consequences together, and no matter how rough they'd be, bearing them would never be impossible, and certainly not long-lasting.

"That's not true!" - Miguel was astonished by the boldness of her voice. - "I wanted to join him, it's my fault as much as - if not more than - it is his."

"Prima…"

The silence that followed was both frightening and tense. Berto was the one to break it. "Both of you will be grounded."

His daughter didn't need to see his frowning face to feel his stare. It burned into her forehead. She didn't have the courage to look up at him, at any of the adults. Their disappointment was excruciatingly overt, yet the words were also somewhat plaintive.

"For two weeks, you will go to school, return straight back home and do your homework before lending a hand in the workshop. You won't go anywhere else, do you understand?"

It always scared Rosa when her papá was this stern, even when his wrath wasn't directed at her. She wished this humiliating lecture to be over without further ado.

The other grown-ups accepted the punishment to be enough, or at least for now, and they were free to leave, their heads bent down.

"We'll have to apologize later."

The exhausted cousins were on the rooftop, gazing at the marvellous view of the night sky speckled with stars.

"Yeah, we kind of messed up now." Miguel sighed.

"Kind of?! Really, primo, that's what you think?" she incredulously snapped.

"Come on, Rosa! You can't say you expected this sort of thing to never happen."

She raised her eyebrows so much he backed down. "Or… you didn't?"

Instead of trying to prove her perspective, she went on. "You're talking about this as if it means nothing. As if us getting caught isn't that big of a deal."

"Well, it isn't! Why are you so upset anyway? Two weeks will fly by and then we'll continue where we left off. If not even sooner than that."

Rosa's slack jaw met his carefree grin. "You're not seriously thinking about that, are you? Tell me you aren't!"

"Don't be so worried, I've been caught before, prima. It doesn't affect me as much as it used to. And you'll get used to it just like I did."

"But this is my first time!" she exploded, the anger at her own foolishness finally spilling. "I've always been a good girl, and now… My family reputation, my school reputation, they're ruined!" She hugged her knees to her chest, shielding her face.

Miguel perceived that he'd gone too far. He wrapped his arms around her, but she pulled away, so he tried to enlighten the atmosphere. "But they don't know about our instruments."

"Not yet."

"Don't think that way! Be positive! We'll get out of this, we didn't get caught after buying your violin, nor on Día de los Muertos. We'll continue to love and play music no matter what they say."

"You can continue."

Miguel blanched. "W-What?"

"You're on your own, primo. I quit doing this. I tried, I really did, but it's just too much for me. Sure, it's nice and everything, but I realized-"

"Rosa, you can't be serious!" He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Wake up! You love music!"

"You wake up, Miguel!" She coldly swatted his hand away. "What happened isn't something we should forget."

She got up, looking him dead in the eye. "Dreaming is beautiful, but reality won't allow you too much of it. We are NOT musicians, we are shoemakers, through and through.'' She added the family's mantra for further effect.

Miguel was as silent as the peaceful night for a couple of intense moments. "Rosa…" he pleaded, reaching for her hand.

"I don't wanna hear it!" She swiftly turned on her heels and headed to the tree, her eyes stinging. Before departing, she glanced back at him. "Primo, I love you, and I want you to be safe. As an older cousin, I advise you to take a break from your music and focus more on family life."

She waited for a reply, but received none. Her next words were barely a murmur. "It's not meant to be, Miguel. I always knew it, and you should too. Wake up for once, and live what you were given to live!"

With that, she climbed down the thick trunk of the tree, her cheeks too warm and her vision too blurry. She didn't look back and got ready for bed quietly.

She didn't rest for hours on end, not until she heard the door opposite to hers shut at an unknown time during the night.

She cried herself to sleep.

A/N: Thank you for reading!