Grief that Runs a River

Chapter Eight: Shh, It's a Surprise

Dolores motioned Mirabel to come closer.

"Hey Mira, meet us in my room after breakfast," the older woman mumbled into her cousin's ear.

She looked beyond Mirabel, carefully listening and watching if someone was in there. When she deemed the coast was clear, she patted the younger's cheeks and walked away as if nothing happened.

As usual, Mirabel didn't have a chore but to stay out of the way.

Abuela nodded at Dolores and took Isabela by the arm. The pair went to the town talking about a certain Mariano Guzman. Mirabel knew Mariano, she often played at their house when she was young and confined by her father.

The cousins ran towards Dolores's room.

As they closed the door, Dolores coughed to get everyone's attention, "So you all know that Isa will turn fourteen in five days. Abuela and the adults are going to throw her a party. So this is the plan."

As her prima mayor explained everything, Mirabel couldn't help but fidget. Isabela has been avoiding her, and irritable whenever she's around. She can't remember what she did wrong but at this party, she would make it up to her.

"Mirabel? Are you even listening?" Luisa poked her.

"Oh yeah! I'm gonna get the dress from the seamstress and probably get some gift for her on the way home."

Dolores clapped her hands quietly as she could, "Well that's everything. Go on to your chores before Abuela finds out we've been talking too long."

—

A day before the celebration, Mirabel went to town to pick up her sister's dress. She knocked on the door and came in.

"Ay Mirabel! Hija! Come in, come in." Señora dela Cruz ushered her inside. "You're starting to look like your mamá. How is your Abuela?"

"She's fine, señora. I'm here to pick up Isabela's dress for tomorrow?" Mirabel politely diverted the conversation. The sooner she gets it, the sooner she can go home.

"Come this way, hija."

The mannequin wore the most beautiful dress Mirabel had ever seen.

The dress looked magnificent. The way it glimmers at every turn, the flow of the embroidered flowers of reds and pinks, and the way it looked perfect, just as perfect as Isabela was. Abuela spent as much as she could on the eldest grandchild, the favorite.

Mirabel couldn't help but wonder, if this is the dress Isabela will wear tomorrow, how grand would it be for her quinceanera? Probably grander.

"I'll be taking this home today, señora. How much will it be?" She reached for the money in her mochila.

"No tienes que hacerlo, Mirabel. Your family has already done a lot for mi familia. Keep it." (You don't have to, Mirabel)

"Muchas gracias, señora dela Cruz! I'll be going now!"

On her way home, she spotted a cute flower shop that sells a variety of plants.

"Holá?" She called out, she scanned the room looking for something to buy her sister. She assumed that Isabela wanted something different other than the multitudes of pieces of jewelry, and encyclopedias of plants. She must be tired of those.

"Hey! So what are you looking for?!" The shopkeeper seemed too enthusiastic for Mirabel.

"Oh, I'm sorry, you must be startled," she paused. "I'm Cattleya Triana, or you can just call me Laila." She held out a hand to the child, and Mirabel shook it uncertainly.