fail by design

Contemplation

Closing the door behind her, Isabella's mind was racing.

How did it all come to this?

Growing up wasn't easy, per say, but every family has their roles, and Isabella's was the easiest. Máma had been in charge of everyone's health, a healing mother figure to all that talked to her. Her pápa supported his wife; a man who complimented her in every way, a silent supportive figure whose advice was usually on point. Tía Pepa and Tío Félix, a cluster of wild emotions and the only one who was able to calm her rampant mind. Her role as the oldest was often one viewed with envy, her powers of beauty and perfection matched with every flower she grew. Isabella was well aware of her sisters and cousins opinions, being a "perfect golden child". Dolores was born months after, her ears picking up every word, contrary to her silence. Then Luisa's role of a strong protector, someone who ran herself ragged in an attempt to be useful, carrying burden upon burden. And then came her youngest sister, "the giftless one". Before the collapse, Isabella tried not to pay too much attention to Mirabel, her ceremony shocking the community and family, fear invading them like a vine of ojo de poeta, choking them in the lack of air.

But then there was Antonio, who's ceremony became a catalyst for the following events. Nearly sixteen years younger than her, even more quiet than Dolores. A fortune that proved their fears were all for nothing, all until Mirabel's revelation.

And of course, Camilo. In an attempt to block out all prior memories, in addition to not spilling secrets that were not her own, she tried to ignore him as well, taking his teasing with a grain of salt, using her powers to draw him away.

But now she sat in her room, Dolores curled up on her bed beside her, and for once she didn't know what to do. Her entire world was turned upside-down, twice in less than a year.

"Do you remember," Dolores' hoarse voice broke through the silence. "Do you remember why we decided not to tell him?"

And she could. Isabella remembered the year that Bruno left, the pressure settling heavily onto their shoulders. Her hand intertwined tightly with her cousin's, locking eyes and promising that it wasn't their business.

After a moment, she responded, "Would it have ever changed anything? He already knew, when we assumed that he forgot. He was too young for the memories to remain, and we understood it wasn't our place. We had our obligations, Dol. It's not our fault." That much was true. She could try to justify it to herself: she was the most removed from interaction with Camilo. But Dolores was pretending to be his sister for years. It wasn't her place.

"We're the oldest, Isa! We should have known that it wasn't fair!" Her cousin's movement distracted her, red-rimmed eyes locking with her own. "We've been aware of the truth for years. Even if he didn't remember, was it not still our fault? Keeping this secret has been tearing me apart, he deserved to know the truth. At the very least, we could've told him and kept it from our parents!"

Isabella sucked in a breath. She didn't know how to respond. Camilo's revelation had stunned them all, the words he had spat, malice falling around them similar to the wood and brick of their home only months ago. That cloud of dust was suffocating them, threatening to ruin the dynamics once again. Try as she might, the roles she was so used to were slipping through her fingers, everything collapsing once again.

When Mirabel had come to her, seemingly in a rush to hug her and to forget their past, Isabella's world had halted for the first time. Hidden anger had rushed through her veins, and from there sprouted the first unintentional, the first ugly, non perfected plant, changing the way she thought of everything. Her freedom had been chained to her since birth, perfection to please Abuela. Dolores had been caught on the same thorned vine, silenced for her entire life.