Hardships and Regrettable Changes
-5 months later-
Rosa had put on her best outfit. A blue and white rebozo over a white cotton blouse and an orange skirt with a ruffle and floral motifs embroidery. Miguel had chosen a charro suit and sombrero.
All they were missing were dance shoes, but their family didn't make those because of their affiliation with music.
"You think we'll be good at this, primo?"
"Definitely! We've been practising for so long, it's time we knew how much we progressed."
All those who wanted to dance went onto the rink.
The music started on the rhythm of cumbia, and 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.
She didn't realise how fast time flowed.
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 Rosa's heartstrings.
Their grandmother had been chiding her and Miguel 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, and Miguel's parents 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, her cousin 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.
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 and dancing in the plaza do anything to us, Abuelita?"
You're getting nowhere, primo.
"Rules are rules, mijo," intervened Enrique.
"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.
Carmen's concern briefly overtook her anger.
"Rosa," - her daughter flinched - "We expected better from you, mija. You're older, you should be more responsible than this. You are good children. What happened?"
"I made her come with me."
All eyes focused on Miguel, either surprised or infuriated. Rosa's jaw half-dropped. She didn't want 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 it is his, if not more."
"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 busted 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."
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."
Rosa sighed. The thought of giving up music felt like giving up a part of her body. The past months since Día de Muertos, music had become a part of her being, a part of her heart.
Yet her family wouldn't approve.
Ever.
"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 eyesight too blurry. She 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.
Just as she pulled the quilt over herself and turned off the lamp, she felt something rush from her chest towards her throat before a fretful snivel shook her.
Rosa concealed herself under the comforter and pillows.
She cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, Rosa wasn't ready to face everyone; she didn't think she'd ever be. But she couldn't hide, that would've been embarrassing.
After washing her face more ardently than usual, she put on her spectacles before changing into her school uniform. She undid her long braid, her hair falling in wavy strands down to her waist.
The events of the previous day crashed into her like a high-speed train. She was a disappointment, a shame for the family. They'd given her the best life and that's how she'd repaid them? By carelessly not abiding by the single rule Mamá Imelda had set long ago? The thought of disrespecting the adults and especially her tatarabuela made chills run down her spine.
How could I be so stupidly enamoured with something forbidden?
In spite of the Día de Muertos stories she'd been told in her childhood, Rosa didn't truly believe in the existence of a place called the Land of the Dead , or the bridge which united the two worlds for that one most important holiday of the year, or how the passed away ones visited their living families by crossing that bridge.
Still, she promised herself to write an apology letter and leave it on the ofrenda when the big day would arrive, in hopes of alleviating some of the guilt of her deeds. If her great-great-grandmother really existed on the other side of the world, then she wanted to be on good terms with her for the time when Rosa herself would cross over.
A revelation made her stomach churn. She'd betrayed Miguel. Her dreamy, cheerful cousin who'd welcomed her with open arms into his realm of music and possibilities. She'd abandoned him, she'd let him down just like she'd done with the rest of her familia.
What did he think of her now? Did he despise her? Unwillingly, Rosa admitted she kind of deserved it. Raising his hopes, then giving up on everything they'd poured their hearts into for eight months and a half had definitely taken a toll on his sensitive soul; she was terrified of how much her betrayal could've destroyed him, after he'd cherished all his dreams to her.
Will he ever forgive me?
She was frighteningly conscious of the ghastly abyss expanding between them. She hoped it wouldn't extend beyond fixing. They'd bonded and had become closer to one another in such a short time, regarding not just music, but everything else as well. Now she felt a sense of selfishness for throwing her relationship with Miguel away to honour the rules and to protect herself from further hurt. Easy to say, hard to do.
The thought of not stepping foot near music ever again felt out of place, after eighteen weeks of enthusiastically and systematically living with it almost to the fullest.
It was still early enough that the rest of the Riveras hadn't started their day, so Rosa had no trouble sneaking into the ático - dark and smelling of burned wax as always, but not less welcoming. With the help of a match, she lit a few candles before her eyes glided to her case.
After undoing the clasps and opening the case without a sound, she wistfully admired the soft glow of the violin before picking it up.
It was suddenly weird to hold it, a feeling that was hard to dismiss. She patiently stroked the strings, the bridge, the pegs and the glowing wood with unhurried motions. She wanted to store this sensation, to secure it in the back of her mind with ten padlocks, for she'd never play ever again. Ever…
That one word felt overwhelming already.
She hadn't realised how much her desperate eight-months-ago self had been longing to have everything she'd just had twenty-four hours prior. Music, a violin, a good teacher, dances in the street… Miguel's utter trust and brotherly friendship and support…
All of that… Gone and never to come back.
Rosa had heard about life's unexpected twists and turns, and this was among her first ones.
Maybe I'm overthinking. Perhaps I'm overreacting.
Yet her heart was split in two, and emptiness started building up. One half bleeding for losing Miguel, the other for disobeying her family.
With numb hands, she rosined the bow carefully. She'd allow herself one final jot of joy before saying good-bye to music. Nobody would hear her anyway.
She placed the violin atop her shoulder, her chin on the chinrest and her phalanges on the fingerboard. Her right arm contracted with the bow, but that was when her body stopped. She didn't manage to play a single note, her muscles frozen with tension. She willed her mind, but it still didn't work.
She shuddered.
Somewhere far, far away, Rosa knew fairly well that there was nothing truthfully wrong with loving music. It had never harmed anyone, not even Mamá Imelda; her husband's decisions had.
Family comes first. She'd been taught that since she could walk, most likely. She didn't remember the first time she'd heard those words; it was like she'd been born knowing them by heart.
Family did come first. And if music made them un happy, then she'd do everything in her power to make them happy, regardless of her wishes and interests. Perhaps yearning to play music was just a childish phase which would fade over the years, as she'd mature.
Hopefully, that will be the case with Miguel too.
She strained not to acknowledge her intuition gainsaying her topmost desire.
Still in the performing position, Rosa focused all her strength in her playing. Slowly, her fingertips and arm started moving, creating a simple tune. She banished the fact that she'd never get to learn more than that. The stiffness in her fingers gradually dissipated, and she was able to play more fluidly. A simple song to gauze her bleeding heart.
She only ceased when she had to wipe her cheeks.
With quivering hands, she placed a long kiss to the cool polished wood of her instrument before gently depositing it in the case alongside the bow and closing it, propping it against one of the walls of the hideout before leaving the attic with a numb heart…