Chapter Text
She didn’t like it. Not a bit.
It was no secret to anyone that of all the deceased Rivera, Victoria was the one who least accepted Hector in the family. Everyone knew it was going to happen, but that didn’t avoid Mamá Imelda’s scolding. And Rosita didn’t like it.
It was true that she and her beloved niece could seem opposite poles; where Rosita was short and chubby, Victoria was tall and thin; Rosita was positive, cheerful and always found pleasure in interacting with other people; while Victoria was serious, calculating, practicing and preferred the company of her books to another human being’s.
And yet, they were so similar at the same time. Rosita enjoyed the silence despite her sociable nature, which is why she enjoyed her time in the garden so much, where she could take care of her plants and simply relax in silence. It was not strange that this activity was often joined by her niece. Contrary to what most would believe, Victoria had a good hand for gardening, although she preferred to simply sit with a book in hand on the edge of the central fountain while her aunt got her hands dirty.
Nor was it unusual that Victoria often joined her at some point while cooking, or that they would sit together when they worked in the shop, making occasional observations of each other's work.
Rosita was used to her niece’s silent presence, to the point where she could classify her quiet behaviors and recognize when she was concentrated, angry, disappointed or sad. Rosita knew her bebita better than anyone.
And that's why she didn’t like the current situation. Mamá Imelda was giving her the same monologue about how she should try to accept Hector's presence, while Victoria just looked down in embarrassment. Or at least that's what others might think; but Rosita knew that look well; it was not shame, it was sadness and anger. Rage against herself for not being able to raise her voice and tell her part of the story.
It was true that Hector was working hard to fit into the Rivera routine, and was even learning to make shoes to be able to join the family business. Everyone could see his desire to belong to them and his desire to recover the lost years.
But apparently nobody remembered the time when a little girl walked barefoot through the dark corridor to reach her aunt's room in fear of the monsters in her room. No one remembered the girl crying silently in her room after receiving a scolding.
Nobody remembered the little girl who tried to be brave when she got hurt, but in whose eyes her true pain and fear were reflected. The girl who at night wept with fear until she fell asleep in her aunt's arms when her mother got hurt.
Yes, Hector was trying, but couldn’t anyone see that Victoria did too? The young woman was just having a difficult time. After all, Oscar and Felipe knew music at some early stage of their lives, just like Julio and herself. Victoria did not, she was born, grew up and died under the silence and hatred towards music. Since an early age she learned to hate a man she never knew, to never mention his existence or ask about him.
She learned to just sit down and follow Mamá Imelda's instructions, like a soldier waiting for her commander's orders in the battlefield.
And now, everything she knew, everything she believed in, was being taken from her. Her entire world had turned upside down, how did they expect her to simply smile and put aside the ideals she had lived with for years, in a couple of months?
It wasn't fair. Rosita listened sometimes when Julio approached to try to " ablandarle el coco " to his daughter in the afternoon, or the looks with sympathy that the twins gave her after a scolding like this, even Hector had made an effort to give her space to try to minimize such scolding. But she knew that the worst thing for her niña was when Mamá Imelda looked at her with disapproval, she knew that with that only settled the insecurities that Victoria had been carrying with her since she was alive.
It was not that the head of the family was cruel to her granddaughter, of course not, Mamá Imelda loved Victoria as she loved the rest of her family. It was simply that Victoria had always been afraid of being a disappointment to everyone, especially to the woman she admired so much.
- Couldn’t you at least try?
Rosita looked up. It was not common for something to take her to her limits, or to face the frightening matriarch of the family of her own free will; but seeing her bebita with her head down and with a look Rosita knew quite well, she couldn’t help it.
-Mamá Imelda, I think that was enough- she said as she approached both women. As soon as the words came out of her mouth she regretted it, but she couldn’t back down. Not now.
She ignored the amazed expressions of her brother and the twins and the matriarch's outraged gaze as she put a hand on Victoria's shoulder.
- Mija, why don’t you go to help me in the garden? There are some geraniums that can not be tamed
Victoria looked at her with a clear question in her eyes, “what are you doing?”, but Rosita reassured her with a motherly smile. Victoria looked between her aunt and her grandmother, and deciding that it was worth taking the exit her aunt had just offered, got up and walked quickly to the back garden.
Rosita said nothing, waiting for the clear question she knew would come from Mamá Imelda's mouth.
-What was that? - Asked the matriarch, putting her hands on her hips
-I just ... I think it's better to give her a break-
-Sorry?-
-This has also been difficult for her, don’t you think? -
-Rosita ... - Julio spoke, but he was not heard.
-All her life she was told to hate music, she was taught to hate a man she never knew. She never asked about him for fear of making you mad, Mamá Imelda ... and now it is expected that in a few months she will throw all that away and just smile and start calling him grandfather? Don’t you think it's too much for her?- Rosita looked shyly at the matriarch.
What if she se pasó de la raya ? Not only would it get her into trouble, it could also make things worse for Victoria.
Mamá Imelda just looked at her for a long moment, before looking at the door through which her granddaughter had left.
- ... I think you're right- she said at last -I haven’t been fair to her-
- Maybe you should let her calm down for a moment, and let her adapt to her rhythm - suggested Rosita.
Mamá Imelda just looked at her and nodded before going back to work. Nobody said anything while they returned to their jobs. The tension was still palpable, but Rosita had a girl to comfort and could not waste any more time.
When she went to the garden there were no traces of Victoria, but again, no one knew her niña as well as she did. The skeleton of wide bones walked to the far corner of the garden, where there was a small shed where the tools were stored. It was too small for anyone to fit squarely in, but there was a gap between the fence and the back wall of it that easily accommodated two people.
As expected, Victoria was sitting there with her back against the wood of the shed. The woman in glasses looked at her with a plea in her eyes that made Rosita fall automatically to her knees to sit next to her.
Victoria waited for her to get comfortable before leaning her head on her aunt's shoulder. She felt a pair of arms that once were big and fluffy, but had not lost their soothing touch, even decades after being just bones.
Neither of them said anything, but it was not necessary; after all, Victoria knew that her cry for help had been heard and all her insecurities were being lovingly cared for at that precise moment.
Rosita turned her head to plant a small kiss on the forehead of her niece, because, no matter how much time passed, at what age they had both died or how much of an adult woman Victoria was, for Rosita she will always be the little girl who sat on her lap telling numbers with her while they were making inventories, the one who judged her with her eyes every time Rosita said an apparent foolishness, but who in the end enjoyed the crazy stories of her aunt, who always seemed willing to absorb everything that others could teach her.
Victoria smiled a little at the gesture and clung more to her aunt's bony hips.
By the time they re-entered it had already gotten dark, and if someone found it strange that Aunt and niece shared a room that night, nobody said anything.
Rosita smiled when Victoria was finally asleep in her arms. Skeletons do not cry, but the feeling was the same, heavy and exhausting. She looked at her and for a moment she saw again a 5-year-old girl who had woken up with nightmares, but who was too ashamed to ask for help from her parents, so she chose to go to her aunt. As in those days, Victoria had fallen asleep with her glasses and her chongo ; and although Rosita knew that this time she had no skin to hurt herself, she carefully removed her glasses and undid her top knot before passing her bony fingers through her niece's hair.
Victoria sighed a little in her sleep and stuck closer to her aunt. The other woman's smile widened.
There was still no one, in this world or in the one of the living, who knew her bebita better than she did.