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“Hi, tío Bruno,” A tiny voice whispered from around the doorframe. Dolores, age eleven, poked her head through to where Bruno stood in the kitchen, pouring what looked like sand directly into one of his pockets. The sound was oddly soothing in her ears. He turned to face her, shooting a tired smile.
“Dolores!” he greeted, yawning, beckoning her over. “Come, come. I'm just replenishing my salt stores. Been busy today.”
She smiled at her uncle, who had lowered his voice upon seeing it was her. He noticed within the first few days of Dolores receiving her gift that she often winced or covered her ears at the sound of conversation. She had since learned to deal with it, sometimes with earplugs, but her tío had never dropped the habit - for which she was grateful.
Dolores wandered into the room to watch.
“You okay, kid?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Sure!” She said in a voice that wavered slightly. She didn’t give him a chance to inquire further. “How about you? I noticed a lot of people trooping in and out of your room.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. “There were more than usual. This is the first time I’ve left the vision cave all day. A few of the visions were pretty neutral, actually, which was good!” He left out the way that the townsfolk always seemed to pick out any inconsequential, less than ideal details and make that the centre of the vision instead. Like the time he told the minister how the church would grow and he would be very well respected, but when he handed over the tablet produced, the only thing the vain man could focus on was the sight of his bald head.
“I heard,” Dolores replied, thinking of the people who muttered about how much of a waste of time it was, and that they would never climb another flight of stairs again. But it beat the furious ones that would often storm out cursing Bruno Madrigal’s name in loud, booming voices. Or worse, the ones that would leave in tears, the wracked sobs echoing in Dolores’ ears for hours after they had gone. “That is good,” she agreed with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She looked at the ground.
“You sure you’re alright?” Bruno asked with a frown. “You look… worried.”
“I’m not worried!” She said immediately, planting her shuffling feet and standing up straighter with a frown. "Why would I be? What would I be worried about?" She let out a hum that was slightly higher in pitch than it should have been.
"I don't know. But if you were, I would tell you that you can always talk to me about it any time, no worries. Hah - no worries! See what I did there?" Bruno chuckled quietly at his own unintentional joke which elicited a broader smile from Dolores.
"I'm not worried," she repeated firmly.
"Okay," he said simply with a sympathetic smile, reaching out to awkwardly pat her shoulder in support. She knew he didn't believe her, but appreciated that he wouldn't push her about it.
Dolores had always been somewhat of a social outcast. She had a reputation at school as being a gossip, and not the fun, popular-girl kind. The other children drew away from her as she spilled all the secrets they only ever whispered into their pillows at night. They turned away from her when she passed, stopped their conversations at the sight of her, even murmured about her when she had left the room. She knew they understood that she could still hear their words; they just didn't care. Some of them, the truly nasty ones, would whisper names as she passed. “Tattle-tale. Freak. Misfit.”
She mentioned it in passing to tío Bruno once, expecting a pat on the back and a “they’re just jealous of your gift. Ignore them, they’ll stop soon enough,” like she got from her abuela. Instead, he grit his teeth and leapt to his feet, storming straight towards the door, fully intending to walk all the way to the school building in protest. She had no idea what he would do when he arrived, but she knew that whatever it was wouldn't help the situation.
“When I get there, I swear they won’t dare to so much as look in your direction!”
“Tío Bruno, please don’t-”
“I cannot believe that no one noticed, that no one said anything to them before!”
“I’m fine, I swear I can handle-”
“They aren’t going to be fine when I see them!”
“What are you-”
“I’m going to tell them exactly what they can do with their words and their whispers; they can shove them right up their-”
“Tío, stop!”
Dolores’ shout made him freeze, hand just brushing the doorknob. The soft-spoken, timid child who had never raised her voice to anyone had yelled at him. He turned slowly to face her, anger evaporating upon seeing her terrified wide eyes.
“Please, let them be. They aren't going to suddenly want to be my friends just because they were told to by the weird girl’s tío. They already call me a tattle-tale; I don’t want to really become one.”
Bruno’s shoulders slumped, defeated. He looked at the ground with a sigh. “I’m- I’m sorry I raised my voice. I just don’t want to see you getting hurt like me.” He moved forward to rap his knuckles on the table. “Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock on wood.”
“Like you?”
Bruno reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of salt over his shoulder, chasing back the bad luck that the conversation brought. “Sure. I mean, yeah, people are mean.” He stepped back and fell down onto the sofa, patting the space next to him to invite Dolores to sit.
“What do you mean?” she asked, perching next to him. “You don’t have magical hearing. People don’t avoid you just in case you have somehow learned to hear thoughts as well. You don’t get blamed every time a rumour begins, just because you’re probably the one who started it since you spread all the other secrets. They don’t throw things on the ground that will make a bang just because they know it will make you jump, and they don't rattle cans and shout until you get overwhelmed and have to leave.”
“No,” Bruno agreed, and his heart broke for her. “But I am the one who has magical sight. I look into people’s lives. I see snapshots of their most private, most personal, sometimes most tragic memories. Well, future memories. People avoid me because I am the bringer of bad luck, the one who ruins their days and kills their goldfish. Some of them don’t let me buy from their stalls or even step through the door of their shops in case I curse them with my presence. They talk about the horrible things that they asked me to tell them, and then they blame me for making it happen. They see me in the street and turn the other way, and they whisper. They always whisper. And I am so, so sorry that you have to hear those whispers about you, because no one should ever need to hear that. And I want you to know, sobrina, that they are not true and they never will be, because you are strong and kind and passionate and brave and true and you are so much better than they ever will be. And I should know.”
Dolores’ eyes had welled up with tears by the time Bruno had finished speaking. One escaped, rolling down her cheek. She hastily scrubbed it away. “I’m sorry," she whispered. "About what they do to you.”
“Eh,” Bruno waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle it.”
Dolores let out a small huff of laughter. She had just told him the exact same thing. “Maybe we aren’t so different, after all.”
“Both social misfits, right? We can start a club,” Bruno bumped her shoulder and she smiled, leaning her head against his shoulder.
The pair sat in companionable silence for a while, before Dolores spoke, so soft that it was almost inaudible.
“Thank you, tío. And you’re all of those things, too. The good ones, I mean.”
“Heh. Thanks, kid.”
“Te quiero.”
“Yo también te quiero mucho, Dolores.”
Bruno had later made it very clear that if the girl ever needed any help, or if it ever got too much for her, he would very happily step in. The intense gleam in his eye made Dolores mildly alarmed about what he had in mind, but nonetheless, she assured him that she would speak to him if she needed to, glad to have someone who would always be in her court. Which was what made her speak now.
"I overheard some girls at school," she said slowly, addressing Bruno.
"Oh yeah? If they’re bothering you-"
“No, it’s okay,” she interrupted quickly. Yes, they are. “They were just talking about boys, y’know, and one of them just said something that… Actually, it doesn’t matter, it’s silly, thinking about it and you look tired, I don’t want to bother-” She took a step backwards but Bruno reached out and caught her arm.
“First off, I’m absolutely fine, don’t worry about me. And second, there is nothing you could tell me that I would think was silly. Boys are- I mean, boys are a cool topic to be talking about I guess? Boys are great! Go boys!” He threw a fist up into the air enthusiastically with a facial expression that betrayed the fact that he was largely uninterested in boys, just trying to encourage her. She stopped moving away with a snort. “Go on. What about boys?”
“Well, one of them just got a boyfriend. And someone else was planning to ask their crush out at the weekend, and another of them was talking about how they’ve found the love of their life already and then I walked by and they started whispering about how I would never have that because no boys ever want to talk to me because I can’t keep my mouth shut and I was just wondering if you could possibly tell me if they could maybe be right?” Dolores’ words got progressively quieter and faster as she spoke, worried that her tío would laugh at her and send her on her way. It was a small, insignificant problem compared to some of the terrible ones that Bruno was asked to make prophecies about and he almost certainly had better things to do.
But the man only shot her a tiny, sad smile, and said, “I promise you, Dolores, that boys aren’t going to ignore you forever. The kids in your school are childish and mean, but not everybody is. You’ll find someone if you keep looking, and he will love you for who you are.”
Dolores nodded, eyes still fixed to the floor. “But how do you know? For certain?”
“I mean, I don’t. But I know you, and I know that there are hundreds of boys out there who would be lucky to have you. You’re bound to run into some.”
She paused, taking a breath. “Could you look?”
“For boys for you to date? I think, I think that would be a bit weird, even for me.”
“Tío,” she complained. “You know what I mean.”
The man let out a weary sigh, massaging his temples. “Kid, I know you really want to know and everything, but I’m not sure-”
“Please?”
Bruno looked at the girl. A mistake, he realised, as she gazed at him through sad, lowered eyelids with a slight pout that made her look like a lost puppy. He bit his lip as she batted her eyelashes. He took a deep breath.
“Fine,” he forced out at last, and the joyful expression she offered was almost enough to make him glad he agreed. Almost. “But you have to promise not to blame me if it’s not what you hoped for.”
“Of course I won’t,” she frowned, offended that he even thought she might. “You just see it, you don’t make it happen.”
“Pfft. Try telling that to all them.” He waved an arm vaguely in the direction of town. Dolores understood.
On their way up the mountain of stairs to get to the vision cave, Bruno realised what he had agreed to. What if the vision told her she would never find love? Dolores would be crushed. It would be affirming everything the bullies in her class had been talking about behind her back. Or, perhaps worse, what if she found love and then lost it? How could he explain to a mere child that she would be left heartbroken? Bruno knew his visions had a reputation for being overall rather negative. What if he screwed this one up?
“It might not be the answer you’re looking for,” he told her, trying to put her off. “And it might not make you feel better.”
“I know, but isn’t knowing better than getting my hopes up forever? This way, I’ll know if I should bother wasting energy on boys.”
“I- I don’t think you can choose not to fall in love whether you want to or not.”
“How do you know?”
“I’ve had this gift for a long time, kid. You're not the first person to come to me asking about their future love-life.”
Dolores was quiet. Bruno wasn’t sure if it was because she was lost in thought or because she was trying not to waste her breath which was needed to walk up so many steps. This was an occasion where he silently cursed the height his room had grown to. It seemed to grow taller every day. He remembered that as a child, it had barely even been a single storey high.
“Tío?”
“Sí, Chiquita?”
“Why did you never end up with anybody, like mamá or tía Pepa?”
Bruno snorted at the childlike bluntness of the question. This was why he loved kids - they get to the point and say what they mean. When he does that, he gets labelled odd and ‘socially awkward’.
“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t care much about that kind of thing, really.” And it was true. He didn’t enjoy socialising with strangers, although he was forced very regularly when they came to his room demanding visions. He was perfectly fine on his own, content just to continue as he always had, surrounding himself with his family.
“But what about kids? Don’t you want any?”
“Aren’t you a kid? Don’t you count anymore?”
“No, silly! Me refiero a un bebé propio.”
“I don’t need a baby of my own when I’ve got you guys! Hey, I love being your tío. And Isabela’s, and Luisa’s, and Mirabel’s, and Camilo’s.” He paused, taking in the distant expression on his niece’s face. She was biting on her lower lip anxiously. He suddenly understood why she had started this line of questioning. “Sobrina, love can be amazing when you find it. I’ve seen it. But boys don’t have to be your only source. I mean, you could have a girlfriend too if you wanted, but that’s beside the point. Your family loves you very much, whether you fall in love and have kids like your tía and mamá or you grow old and become a tía yourself, like I did. It doesn't determine your worth.”
Dolores nodded slowly, taking this in. They carried on up the rest of the stairs in contemplative silence, until they neared the top and Bruno remembered why they were there.
"Are you sure you want to do this? I don't know if you've heard - well, you almost certainly have - but I don't have the strongest track record for positive prophecies and I don't want to tell you something that you'll regret knowing later."
"I won't regret it," she insisted once more, out of breath.
Bruno let out a sigh of relief as they made it up to the temple doors, his aching body drooping. God, he hated those stairs. Literally the only good thing they have going for them is that sometimes it puts people off who came for visions. Sometimes. And they do add to the mysterious, foreboding atmosphere of the room.
Dolores stared at him, patiently waiting for him to get on with her vision. He sighed again, for what seemed like the eightieth time that day, and began his circle of sand, Dolores in the center.
"Why do you make the circle?" she asked curiously. "Do you need it to have the vision?"
"Not in here. Not really. The vision is kind of projected into the sand, so I do need some to be able to see more clearly and not just in my head - which causes horrible headaches when I do it like that, by the way - but it doesn't need to be in a circle and there is already such a lot of sand here that it wouldn't matter. But it's nice to have the ritual of it, y'know? Also, this way the wind stays in the circle and doesn't ruin my bedroom next door like one of Pepa's tornadoes."
His niece laughed as he struck a match and lit the central pile of leaves. Dolores attempted to imitate the sound with her mouth.
Bruno, having lit all the piles, sat down with his legs crossed, and she followed suit. "Before we begin, are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure you want to see this?"
"Yes."
You couldn't be firmer than that.
"And are you sure you want to watch? Like, in here with me? It can be scary."
Delored just nodded firmly. "I won't be scared."
Bruno inhaled deeply and tossed a (slightly larger than normal) handful of salt over his left shoulder, and then wind began picking up around them. His vision tinged green, and he knew that his eyes would be glowing. He hoped Dolores wasn't afraid. He reached out his hands with what he hoped was a reassuring look, and she took them gladly. She would never admit it, but he could see the anxiety in her eyes. He just hoped he wasn't making a big mistake in showing her this.
The wind rose and rose, whipping his hair into his face. The sand grew taller and then enclosed them entirely in a spinning dome. Dolores winced, the noise hurting her ears, and Bruno bit his lip. He should have made her wait outside.
"There!" Dolores said, dropping his hand to point at an image of a beautiful young woman standing in the doorway of Castia.
"It's you!"
"I'm… older."
"That is normally how the future works," Bruno jibed. "Oh! Who's that?"
Vision-Dolores was leaning against the doorframe with a wistful expression on her face. She gazed out, staring at a figure in the distance, walking up the path. He was good looking by traditional standards.
"That's my true love!" Dolores said delightedly.
Bruno made no comment, knowing that these visions could change quickly.
"Alright, well, I guess that's all we need to-"
"Wait! Let him get closer! I want to see who it is!"
The vision changed suddenly, and now they were in the kitchen. The whole family was lined up at the dining table, smiling at the man who was down on one knee.
"Yes!" Dolores bounced with excitement. "He's proposing!! Oh, this is so romantic!" She let out a joyful hum.
But as the vision progressed, Bruno's heart sank. Because the girl with silky smooth hair sitting on the chair with the gorgeous man at her feet was not Dolores. It was-
"Isabela!?"
Her voice squeaked in dismay, and Bruno ended the vision in a panic. It was going so well, how could he have let this happen!?
The tablet fell into the sand between them. Bruno reached for it but Dolores snatched it away, staring, heartbroken, at the final image - a man on one knee in front of her cousin, with herself standing in the background behind him forlornly.
"Dolores, chiquita, I am so, so sorry! If I'd have known-"
She put up a hand to stop him, swallowing and putting on a brave face. Her words were even softer than usual, even more gentle. "I know it's not your fault. I made you do it. And at least now I know that I will fall in love and that everyone at school is wrong."
Bruno was floored by the positive spin she had managed to put on the situation.
"Plus," she added with a smile, "it is unbelievably romantic."
"It is?"
"Duh, of course - haven't you read any romance novels? The lovesick girl pining after the man who is just out of reach, promised to another woman?"
"... I guess?"
Dolores rose to her feet, Bruno following her cue. "It's not exactly what I wanted, sure, but it's more than I hoped for. Thank you, tío." She enveloped him in a hug, her eleven-year-old frame almost as tall as him already.
Bruno wondered how he had ended up being comforted by the child who's prophecy had just confirmed she wouldn't get the man of her dreams instead of the other way round, but he was glad, if not slightly suspicious, that she seemed at least somewhat okay with it. Whether she would have the same opinion in the morning, or next week, or in a year, or even in ten year's time… Bruno couldn't say.
He just hoped, as he did on an almost daily basis now, that his vision would be wrong.