Three months later...
Isabela knew there was something wrong with her, more than a cold or a fever. She developed the alarming sensation of roots planting themselves inside her lungs and gradually stretching out, making it hard to breathe regularly. Over time the cough got more frequent, sometimes causing flower petals to force themselves out of her mouth. Her body would lose its strength so easily that her parents and sisters insisted on her staying home. She was now the cause for concern, and it made her heart heavy with shameful anger. Her mother couldn’t cook up a healing meal, Romona Sandrias didn’t have a natural remedy that could cure her, and no amount of rest would make Isabela feel refreshed or the ache in her chest disappear. She was convinced that this was a cruel joke played by the miracle to send karma her way.
Apparently spitting petals was punishment for her past behavior.
Taking in the stillness of the house, she wandered through the hall, observing the framed portraits of the Sandrias family. She couldn’t help but put herself in the pictures, imagining what it would be like to be a part of a family where expectations weren’t as heavy, where she didn’t have to be flawless. A part of her felt envious, neither Maya nor her younger brother Ignacio were burdened with the demands of a magical family in authority. Maybe that’s another reason Isabela felt resentment towards Maya back then, a similar reason for her resenting Mirabel. It was stupid, and she knew that.
Romona Sandrias worked just as hard as Julieta, being a traditional nurse with the burden of baring children as her husband worked, abuela Nichola and abuelo Manuel had to endure the trauma of fleeing their home, Maya was the oldest just like Isabela, meant to be the role model for the younger generations.
She is so beautiful.
Isabela thought, gazing at a single portrait of Maya on her most recent birthday. Her heart began to flutter with adoration and her stomach filled with a hurricane of butterflies. Involuntarily, she smiled wide, and warmth washed over her cheeks. She felt like a child, fawning over a crush from afar. This feeling triggered a physical pain in her chest that made her cough violently. The odd thing about her ailment was that it made it harder to be around Maya, let alone look at a picture of her. Even though the other symptoms were present around consistently, the coughing and creeping blossoms tormented her more frequently when she was around the one person she was dying to be with.
Maybe she’s sick too.
She pondered, letting the small white petals tumble out of her mouth and into her hands. The roots stretched further, pushing a stem into her throat just for her to gulp it back down.
Through the sound of her lungs rattling, she heard a repetitive knock on a doorframe beside her.
“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock on wood.”
A man with a tattered green rauna muttered before throwing a handful of salt over his shoulder.
Isabela glanced at her tío Bruno, forgetting that he stayed to keep her company. She didn’t remember much about her uncle other than his strange habits, reclusive nature, and the prophecy he gave to her before he left. She remembered her excitement as a sandstorm whirled around them, neon green flashes of scenery that matched the breathtaking yet unsettling glow in his eyes. She saw the exact thing she didn’t want to see, betrothed to a man she didn’t love with children she didn’t want. Knowing that her uncle was troubled even from an early age, she pretended to be happy. She wondered though if that really was how things were going to be.
If Mirabel’s vision showed something different, maybe hers does too.
“Hey tío Bruno, what are you doing?”
Isabela wondered.
She noticed how preoccupied he looked observing the natural crevices in the walls. He turned to give her a nervous smile.
“Oh, nothing. Just your tío being weird, y’know? Anyways, I heard you coughing out here.”
Bruno rambled anxiously, putting a hand over his other arm.
She looked at him, figuring out how to respond. Seeing how worried her uncle was left her both embarrassed and appreciative. Examining the almost black circles under his eyes, ragged clothes, exhausted demeanor, and gaunt stature made any of her problems seem miniscule. She felt terrible making him more anxious than he already was, but grateful he still cared after a decade of isolation. Nevertheless, she was mortified.
“Ay Dios, lo siento.”
She apologized, silently cringing at the coughed-up petals balled in her hands.
“No-no you have no reason to apologize, are you alright?”
Bruno reassured her with tiredness lingering in his voice.
She nodded, desperately wanting to ask him about the vision. She hated to bother him though, knowing visions were probably the last thing he wanted to discuss. He sounded drained and she would be burdening him with past memories and the future simultaneously.
But if she were self-aware about anything, she knew that if she did not ask him now, she never would.
She cleared her throat and straightened her posture instinctively to seem confident,
“Tío, may I ask you something?”
The scratch in her throat became more apparent as he looked at her intently and let out a small “Hmm?”
“I know you don’t enjoy talking about your gift, but I’ve been thinking of the prophecy. The one you gave me.”
His expression changed into one that was hard to read, making Isabela regret every opening her mouth.
“Oh... I-I know it didn’t show your life the way you wanted it to.”
He admitted, seeming as disappointed as she was.
Isabela didn’t understand why he looked so apologetic towards her; she knew he had no control over the things that happened in another’s life.
“Yeah but, I was wondering if you ever looked back at it? Did you see anything past that?”
She pondered, praying that she wasn’t irritating him.
He hesitated before responding,
“No, I haven’t looked at it since I gave it to you. I’m sorry.”
She sighed quietly, still she had a question in the back of her mind that caused the stem in her esophagus to spring back up. Clearing her throat once more, she questioned.
“It’s fine. This might be a weird question, but do you remember seeing a girl in the vision?”
Isabela didn’t remember seeing “the girl” herself, but she sure hoped he did. She dreamed of having her in her life forever, but dreams were often just that. Dreams. She knew better than to get caught up in her own fantasies, though that was a challenging task.
“Besides you, I don’t know. I could look back at it when the miracle returns.”
He responded a bit reluctantly, as a small furry face poked out from his curls.
She cautiously watched the rat crawl on his shoulders, remembering how disgusted her mother and abuela were by them. Since his return, Alma just let him be and he seemed indifferent to her.
There was a thick tension she couldn’t fully understand, and she didn’t really want to.
Her mind wandered as she kept an eye on the rodent playing in her uncle’s hair.
“Isa, you okay?”
He added, snapping Isabela out of her thoughts.
“Si tio, I’m fine. I just need to go back to bed.”
Isabela couldn’t tell if she was comforting him or herself.
She made her way inside her and her sisters’ room and threw the crumpled petals into the trash bin beside her bed. Feeling the small branches expand inside of her, she lied down and clutched her chest. A sharp pain pierced through her as she fought the urge to scream. Her breathing became rapid, and her heart thrashed against her ribs. She let out a few dry coughs as stray tears fell down her cheeks.
In that moment, she felt like she was dying.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’m fine.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She repeated as the growth in her lungs stopped and she could breathe again. Shorter breaths but breathing, nonetheless.
This reminded her of a poem Mariano once read to her, about a man who coughed flowers for a woman that didn’t love him; and a story her mother spoke about a woman who fell to the same condition. Isabela supposed they were just cautionary tales about love, it sounded too ridiculous. It was something out of a fairytale, and it would never happen to the “perfect golden child” of the Madrigals.
It was happening despite her denial of the fact, and it pained her, but not as much as knowing the person who was causing it didn’t share the same burning desires. Besides a mixture of bizarre emotions, Maya caused Isabela an excruciating form of lovesickness.
Translations: "Ay Dios. Lo siento." - "Oh God. I'm sorry."