Memories and Buried Wishes

"Come on, Rosa! Hurry up!" jubilated Lucia, towing her on the open well staircase, both of them giggling, their backpacks weightless from excitement. "I think it's already started!"

"Slow down! We're gonna trip!" laughed Rosa, but her exaltation was shadowed. "Am I even allowed to attend? You know I don't–"

"You're my best friend. I don't see why not. If someone says something, I'll take care of them."

With shortened breaths, they finally reached the festivities room, bigger than any classroom in the entire school. The majority of the seats were occupied.

"There you are, Lucia!"

The man with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache embraced his daughter.

"Are you ready, mija?"

"I practised so much, Papá! Of course I am!"

"I see you brought your friend." Joaquín smiled warmly at a shy Rosa who had halted at the entrance. He gestured to her. "Come! You're welcome here."

Rosa beamed at the reassurance. She'd hoped she wouldn't be judged. She took a seat in the front row what with her height, not bothering to observe the audience for her gaze was under the spell of the instruments of the school band: a piano, two guitars, two violins (one belonging to Lucia), a pair of flutes, a marimba, maracas, bongos and congas. She didn't know all of their names, but her elation wasn't reduced by that cold fact.

The first number of the show started…

Rosa's eyes opened lazily.

She'd dreamt of it.

Once more.

The day she'd been strong-willed enough to allow herself to listen to music and not chastise herself for doing it afterwards; the day her heart and mind had been opened to a different world; the world of rhythm, notes, beats, but more importantly, violins. It was the violin that had captured her attention the most out of all the instruments; it just had something about itself that Rosa had been entranced by.

Despite this having happened more than two years ago, Rosa still recollected everything precisely, down to the most minute detail, from the lustre of the instruments to how wondrous the music had been. She'd been stunned by the unfamiliar yet so pleasant sound of music.

That had been the mind-changing day when she'd started aspiring to learn the violin.

She'd returned home late thanks to losing track of time. Her parents and abuelita had scolded her fiercely. She remembered questioning - anew - why music was not permitted in their family, why they couldn't be "normal" like everybody else in Mexico were. In response, Elena had retold the story of her own grandmother and how her husband had abandoned her and their daughter to follow his stupid dream of becoming a musician, leaving Rosa to make a conclusion.

But Rosa had lost her patience and had revealed to them where she'd been all day, that she believed music was amazing, and that Elena's stubbornness was blinding her from seeing the beauty of it. Her punishment lasted for a week, and the event had never been brought up again. She'd eventually apologized, after much debate with her conscience, the relationships with her parents and abuelita quickly mending.

Rosa rolled onto her back, shuddering as the vivid details of the flashback drew to a close. Gazing at the ceiling, her thoughts were flowing like an endless river.

She'd experienced for the first time what she'd only heard about what they called "heartbreak".

Why was her family so adamantly against music, despite her tatarabuela's story?

The pain of having her passion rejected had only been growing from then on, piling up week by week, month by month, year by year. Every day, she tightened the lid on her longing so it wouldn't overflow and hurl her into even more trouble than before. It seemed that the more she tried to contain her surfeit of desire, the more it slammed into the limits of her self-preservation, yearning to tear them down.

Deep down, that hurt never really faded away; it was still there in her chest like the light of a candle that barely held onto its last tiny flame, but it never dimmed out completely, threatening to melt the walls of her discipline.

Every member of the familia had undergone the same experience at least once during their childhood. Though she didn't want to admit it, it was a bit comforting knowing she wasn't the only one who had had to deal with such circumstances. That was just how things worked for the Riveras.

Regardless of the rules, Rosa couldn't picture herself not being near music. Yet over time, she'd become wary when thinking about it. The memory of what had happened to her was always there to remind her to be cautious and even evasive when life called for it. She feared the family might somehow find out about her intending deeds sooner or later. She'd chosen to spend more time in the shoe shop to keep her mind busy and focused while also working extra in school, away from music, shows and violins.

That didn't work.

Neither of those coping mechanisms had put an end to her contemplating, nor day-dreaming. The new-found wish had simply refused to leave her alone (she was not sure she wanted that to happen).

Gradually, after her twelfth anniversary, she took her first short trip to the plaza in almost two years.

Her contact with music had only been blossoming ever since.

She did feel a lump of guilt and shame for her disobedience, but she genuinely believed that she should answer this call of destiny.

A knock on the door startled her. Fixing her askew headband and retying her ponytail, she went to open.

Her one-year-younger cousin grinned brightly. "¡Hola, Rosa! Are you ready for tonight?"

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "Ready as I'll ever be. What have you been doing, Miguelito? I haven't seen you since lunch."

He shrugged, "Ehh, nothing too grand. But come on, Abuelita has called you to help with the preparations."

Miguel accompanied her in the hallway. "You've been to the market today."

"I have. Why?"

He squinted at her, as if contemplating something serious. She curved an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Did you happen to…" he looked around to ensure no one else had the opportunity to overhear, "stop by in the plaza?"

Rosa's eyes bugged out for a moment, but she quickly set a straight face.

"No. How could I have done that?"

Miguel smirked. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because I saw you?"

"You what?!"

"I was shining shoes near the plaza, but you didn't notice me."

Her ears switched to red. "Were you spying on me?"

It was his turn to roll his eyes. He scoffed, "How could I have spied on you when I had no idea you'd be there?"

She became suspicious. "When did you return home?"

"About half an hour after you I believe."

That meant he hadn't witnessed the unfortunate confrontation with Eduardo, which she was relieved to realise.

Her tone softened. "Miguel, please don't tell the family. They'd be raging should they find out."

His voice matched the dignity of hers. "Don't worry, I won't. You can count on me."

"Not every time," she muttered under her breath. The power of her gaze intensified. "If you say something, I'll beat you with my shoe! You don't understand…"

"I think I understand far better than you think," Miguel frowned. "Or than anybody else in this house. Haven't you realised anything from all the times I got caught during my journeys through the plaza?"

His eyes shone.

"Tonight, after Día de Muertos is over," was all he added before turning on his heels, winking at her.

For some reason, Rosa's stomach did a backflip, despite how puzzled she was left feeling, wondering what mischief he was up to this time.

As it happened every year, the celebrations for Día de Muertos were less vibrant for the Riveras than other townspeople due to the lack of music and dancing in their home. Although various songs and lively beats resonated from the parades in the streets and from the neighbours' houses, apart from conversations and laughter, nothing else was there to accompany the silence of the hacienda.

It was definitely fun and joy-arousing to hang out with family members and simply appreciate the moments when they were together to celebrate life, death, and the importance of la familia, but in the last couple of years, Rosa had started to feel the absence of music more strongly than before.

She used the excuse to step out of the courtyard in order to watch the parades pass by. Children were running around with sparklers, their faces painted calavera-style. She just wanted to get a glimpse of a violin or a twirling dancer, or even just dance shoes - the Riveras had stopped crafting those a long time ago.

Her nineteen-year-old brother Abel poked his head through the gates.

"Rosa! We're going to the graveyard to leave the rest of the offerings. Are you ready?"

"Sí, hermano."

She followed him back into their home, leaving the sight of the parade with a jab of despondency.

The way to the cemetery wasn't long, but if there was one thing besides honouring their ancestors that got Rosa to smile was the fact that music was unavoidable on this night and no matter where they went, the Riveras couldn't escape it, much to Elena's dismay.

As they were leaving the offerings, her mind wandered to whatever Miguel's plan could be. They all returned home shortly after and cleaned up the tables before going to bed.

No matter how tired she was, Rosa knew she'd not fall asleep.

Soon enough, about half an hour later, a familiar knock woke her from her musings. She opened the door and nearly gasped at Miguel's calavera-painted face; the make-up was simple: only a few dots curving under his black eye-sockets and some marks on his forehead that were overlaid by his bangs. She ushered him inside and checked the corridor, listening for any steps. When she heard none, she retreated, closing the door.

She turned to him, her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing? Día de Muertos is over."

He merely grinned, shrugging. "I'm going to the plaza."

"Wha- Now?!"

"Yes, now!

"Are you crazy?! It's 1 a.m!"

"I know! That's the thing. I'm going dancing."

Rosa frowned. "You can dance?"

"I like to think I can."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine by me. Come and I'll show you!"

The offer shouldn't have felt so tempting. She shook her head to clear her mind of the thought.

"Miguel, we'll get caught and be in huge trouble! That could mean over a month of being grounded."

He arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "So?"

"What do you mean "So?"? You know Abuelita, you know our parents, and how strict the rules are. No…"

"...music. Yeah, yeah, I got it." He rolled his eyes.

She squinted. "You never seem to get it. There hasn't been a month in these last years that you haven't been in the plaza at least once."

"Or a week," he grinned again, a sly, challenging smile that put her patience to the test.

She sighed as he grasped her shoulder, his features serious.

"Rosa, when will you learn to live? You think I haven't noticed? The way you light up when there's music around, like that girl playing violin today in front of the shop, or that you tap your fingers to a beat that comes from the outside before Abuelita shuts the window?"

Rosa pursed her lips, her head drooping. Temptation was growing dangerously much and ridiculously fast. It felt as if she didn't listen to music tonight, when it was in every corner of their small town, in every person's heart, then she would burst from the suppressed longing that yearned to be satisfied.

She wished to be free of constraint, of rules, of the need to preserve conformity, no longer having to lie to herself that she was alright with the ban when all it had been doing was tear her apart bit by bit, month by month for more than two years already.

"I'll teach you how to dance," Miguel whispered.

She bit her lip. "We'll get back when I say."

He didn't seem to agree, but gave up anyway.

"Fine."

She relaxed, releasing the tension in her chest.

"Deal."

He smiled, slowly getting two tins of black and white shoe polish out of his pockets. "Finally! Now sit down! We need to disguise you and make you be in tune with the party!"

He removed the lid of the white polish and dug his fingers in it.

Rosa sat on a chair, wringing her hands as he started covering her face. "You really think that skull makeup will conceal our identities?"

"A lot of people will be there, Rosita. They won't really pay attention."

She smirked. "Like that time word travelled about a mariachi who'd offered you his guitar to play?"

Miguel froze before scowling scornfully at her. "What do you know?"

He unlidded the other tin and smudged his fingers with the black polish before applying it around her eyes and onto her lips.

Dejection took over him. "Why are you - look up! - such a conformist most of the time?"

She needed time to respond. "I don't wanna disappoint our family."

"Yet you're unhappy."

"Sí… But they are not."

"They wouldn't want you depressed."

"They wouldn't care about this reason!" she flared up, making him flinch backwards. "Sorry."

He got back to work. "I wish you could have the courage to follow your heart, that's all."

The silence that followed made Rosa thoughtful; she kept quiet until he finished. He took a step back to admire his work before proudly declaring "Done!" with a satisfied smile.

She put her glasses on, her misery partly washed away. "Let's see what masterpiece you've turned me into."

She looked into the mirror and nodded in asseveration. It was a regular calavera make-up, just like his, but it did make her look a lot more different than her usual self. She mugged at her reflection.

"Do you like it?" came Miguel's eager tone.

"It's beautiful, but… you can't beat tía Gloria's skills," she replied with a smug smile.

He raised his palms in surrender, giving a lopsided grin. "I'm not saying I can do that, she'll always be the best."

Rosa chuckled, the memories of their awesome aunt colouring their faces on previous Días de los Muertos making her twinkle in amusement.

Their appearance was indeed different now, she meditated. If one didn't look close enough, they could easily be mistaken for two random kids from Santa Cecilia, when they were in fact part of the Rivera family, the most well-known people in town.

Their disguise was essential if they wanted their plan to work. If they were discovered, things could end up really messed up, as their family would find out pretty quickly what they intended to do, thanks to how much everyone loved gossiping.

Rosa knitted her brows, banishing the worst-case scenarios out of her mind.

She was suddenly overwhelmed by nervousness. She began pacing, steering to the open window and inhaling the chilly air of the night to try to cool herself off.

This was crazy, yet she was animated and thirsty for adventure as she unleashed her intrepid spirit. She hoped they would triumph. She took a violet hoodie out of her wardrobe before sliding it onto her arms and doing the zipper up to her chin.

Miguel pulled his hood over his head, adjusting it carefully. Rosa knew she had to enhance her disguise too, therefore letting her hair loose and braiding it in two pigtails.

At long last, they were ready to go, but she turned to her cousin and questioned, grabbing his arm, "Miguel, have you ever done this before? I mean, I know you've been sneaking to the plaza since forever, but have you ever done it at night?"

Her edgy expression was in contrast to his, as he just smiled from ear to ear and light-heartedly responded: "Well, there's a start for everything, right?"

Her jaw dropped, astonished by his boldness, if they appraised the circumstances. Miguel had always been a trouble-maker, but she had had no idea he could be up to such daredevil-like plans. Or at least she thought it was high-level danger, because he didn't seem to be as concerned, but there was still a glint of fear in his eyes.

She had always been the more obedient one when it came to rules, while her cousin definitely relished and yearned to have an out of the ordinary adventure. He was infamous in the family for his audacity and stubborn, headstrong personality.

Until that moment, Rosa had taken pride and joy in being the more disciplined and the more responsible cousin, but now, when Miguel's rebellious and defiant nature would help them bond, would help to get her closer to a dream she had been denied for so long, she was able to appreciate things otherwise. She saw Miguel in a different light.

"There's a big chance that people won't recognize us, otherwise…" He couldn't finish, not venturing to think about the consequences of their possible fiasco. "Besides, Día de Muertos is only a few hours a year, so having a little fun tonight won't do any wrong, right?" He wiggled his brows.

She did her best to seem unimpressed, but her stern look was betrayed by a content smile. She was elated to do this alongside her awesome cousin. Despite experiencing trepidation and plenty of fright, she gladly welcomed the sensation of adrenaline.

She was ready. They were ready.

Rosa then surveyed the room as he made sure everything was just the way it should have been, making it appear as if there was someone sleeping on the bed.

"You've done the same to your room, haven't you, Miguel?" she queried, hoping to brighten up the tense atmosphere.

"Sí, prima, of course I did. Need I remind you I'm not as stupid as you think I am?" Miguel eyed her over his shoulder with a slight frown, but she just gave him a sassy shrug and snickered:

"I just had to make sure your head is in the right place at the right time."

Miguel sighed with a small smile. He couldn't ask for a more nagging yet fun, caring and responsible cousin, who enjoyed teasing him endlessly because she was older. They had a special connection of theirs.

"Come on now, let's get going. We don't want to miss the fiesta," he urged.

The two cousins held hands and with that, they crept their way out of the Rivera household and ran onto the shimmering streets of Santa Cecilia.