Growing Wiser (With Sunlight & Fertilizer)

by This_Catnik

Summary:

Casita had fallen, the Candle was extinguished, the Miracle broken, and their Gifts were gone - seemingly for good. Luisa had failed to prevent any of this, had failed in her sole purpose of protecting her home and family. As the Madrigals rebuild their house, Luisa finds she must learn who she is in the wake of so many changes. Can she put together the broken pieces of her identity?

Luckily, her family isn't going to let her try to shoulder that burden alone.

Work-in-progress, will update tags as I go. Related to the other stories in the series, but none of them are required reading for any other. They're just all sharing my particular interpretations of the Madrigals.

Current chapter: Mirabel & Isabela are up to no good

Chapter 1: Aftermath

“YOU HAVE TO STOP, MIRABEL!”  Abuela shouted.  Casita groaned, as if in pain.

Mirabel was in the courtyard, facing off with a coldly furious Abuela.  Luisa shrank into herself, fear and shame welling up from her gut at the shouting. She felt the too-familiar rise of bile in her gut as her breath grew shallow and the bitter-metal of adrenaline coated her tongue. (She should say something.  DO something.)  But her throat was parched and her mouth full of iron and she couldn’t speak.  Her feet were too heavy, anchored to the flagstones.  She was too weak now to even move herself, as if her whole body were an unbearable slab of stone.

“The cracks started, because of you.  Bruno left, because of YOU!”

Luisa couldn’t move.  Abuela was wrong.  Casita was crumbling, but that did not scare her so much as Abuela’s wrath.  She was scared for Mirabel, and if she was strong she should do something… (SAY something, Luisa!  Don’t just stand there!) But she wasn’t strong.  

“Luisa’s losing her powers!  Isabela’s out of control.  Because of YOU!”

She couldn’t talk.  She couldn’t remember how to shape words.  (SAY something.  It’s Mirabel, your little sister.  It’s your job to protect her.)  Luisa braced her arm at the elbow, dropping her gaze to the fractured floor. Isabela stood beside her, a twin statue as the awful shouting continued.  Both of them were silent.  

Luisa watched it play out, watched herself stand in silence, and could not change it.  No matter how much she shouted at the image of herself.

“I will never be good enough for you, will I?  No matter how hard I try… ”  

Oh, Mira.  Luisa shifted and looked away in shame when her sister looked over at her and Isa.  Mira, I’m sorry.  I wasn’t strong enough to protect you.  I failed you, too.

Mirabel continued.  “Luisa will never be strong enough.  Isabela won’t be perfect enough.”

Luisa wasn’t strong enough.  Luisa just STOOD there, frozen and silent.

Her giftless, fragile, overlooked, precious little sister.  Her clever Mira, who never asked anything of Luisa but her time.  Her hermanita , who sang songs and made butterflies from thread and followed Luisa as she worked without ever a complaint.  Her sister was facing Cerberus.  Her sister was there, weakness and all, unbent, unbowed, against the crashing rocks.  Mirabel was fighting, while Luisa just STOOD there and didn’t help her..

“ ...Bruno loved this family.  I LOVE this family, you’re the one who doesn’t care!”   Mirabel raised her voice as the ground shifted.  Tiles shattered to the ground.

Luisa stumbled and the fight continued, with Casita growing more unsteady by the moment.  

“The miracle is dying, because of YOU!”

CRACK.  

The floor split asunder, the yawning chasm breaking Casita in two, breaking the whole encanto in two with a terrible noise that filled her ears.  Luisa was swallowed by the chasm, still unable to move, and she was falling into a cold darkness, helpless, useless, alone… .

*******

Someone was shaking her shoulder.

“Lu.  Lu, wake up.”

Luisa tried to process the voice, and groggily pulled her shoulders inwards. She mumbled an incoherent protest.  She was cold and… sore?  Sore, with tension twisting her back and cramping her limbs.

“Lu, you were having a nightmare.”

Isa.  That was Isa’s voice.

“I’m not having it anymore.”  Luisa grunted, not opening her eyes.  She could feel the makeshift pallet underneath her, a layer of blankets and rugs between her and the stone floor.  They were in the church.  They had been sleeping in the church since…

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  Luisa felt Isabela’s hand touch her forehead.  “That’s the third night in a row.”

“M’fine, Isa.”  Luisa grumble-sighed and cracked her eyes open.  Her sister was leaning over her, a look of concern in those dark eyes.

“I’m allowed to worry about my big-little sister.  Plus, you kick.”

“Lo sie- ” Luisa started to apologize, but Isabela shushed her.  “I didn’t mean to kick you.”

“I know you didn’t.  Wanna talk about it?”

Luisa shook her head.  

“I’m not going to force it, but… I’m here, right?  I’m here now , at least.  I might not have always been the best sister, but…” Isa trailed off with an elegant shrug.  Even with the green streaks in her hair and the vibrant stains on her dress, Luisa’s older sister was graceful.

It didn’t need to be said.  The double-blow of losing Casita and the Miracle loomed over everything, still too large to process.  That loss was paired with other changes - GOOD changes - but, currently, la Familia Madrigal was still in something of a collective state of shock.  The past forty-eight hours were a confusing, overwhelming blur that ended with the Madrigal’s stuffed into the church to sleep, at least until a place could be found for all ( all TWELVE ) of them.  

Gracias a Dios , they were all alive.  

That alone seemed something of a miracle, even in a world where the Madrigals once could control the weather, or lift this same church single-handed.  Luisa’s little sister, Mirabel, had pursued signs of a troubled household - discovering and investigating mysterious cracks in their home, and trying to save the magic which had defined their lives for generations.  

The Magic was gone.

Gone with Casita, gone with the Candle.  But… they were all ALIVE.  Luisa’s heart had stopped when the tower fell, had broken again and again when Mirabel was missing… what magic had kept her family whole was precious and beyond Luisa’s understanding.  But not her gratitude.  Gracias, Mirabel was ALIVE and HERE.  Gracias, Mama and Papa and her sisters and her primos and her aunt and uncles (plural!) and Abuela…

Luisa could imagine losing any one of them all too clearly, and the thought was colder than the stone floor.  She HAD lost one, before - thought lost, at least.  She looked across the room - there was Tio Bruno, bedded down between Mama and Tia Pepa.  Bruno was… different from the man she remembered.  Smaller, frailer, more anxious.  But his eyes held the same kindness of the man who would carry a much-smaller Luisa around on his shoulders, or tell her stories of far-away places and mythical princess-heroes.  Pepa had one lanky arm draped over him, refusing to break contact even in slumber.

Mirabel, of course, is the one who had found Bruno.  Mirabel had brought him home (though it seems he hadn’t truly left them.  Luisa wasn’t sure how she felt about that.).  Mirabel had stood up to Abuela, had been strong and brave when Luisa had not.   (Never strong enough.)  Mirabel had tried to save the candle, to save the magic which had been the cause of so much of the girl’s suffering - for the sake of the rest of them.  ( Gracias, gracias, Mirabel sobrevivido. ) 

They were alive.  They were together.  That was something, a great thing.  They were going to build a new house, together.  ( Without your strength, her mind reminded her.)

“Lu?”  Isa’s soft inquiry broke into Luisa’s rumination.

“I.. sorry, sis.  I guess it’s just a lot.”  Luisa rubbed at her face with both hands, brushing away the traces of sleep.

“You know the rule about apologizing for everything, Lu.”  Her sister gently chided.

“Lo sie… ”  Frown.  “Uh.”

Isabela gave Luisa a gentle hug.  “Would some water help?  We don’t seem to have woken anyone else up.”

Well, that made her feel a bit better.  Less guilty.  Water wouldn’t really help what was wrong, she didn’t think, but she heard herself agreeing.  She felt herself getting up, accepting Isa’s hand in assistance.  The pair picked their way through a maze of slumbering Madrigals to get to the little kitchen area of the rectory.

Isa dropped Luisa’s hand to get two glasses of water.  Luisa lingered in the doorway with her shoulders curled inwards and one hand bracing the other arm at the elbow.  Isabela shouldn’t be doing all this.  Luisa shouldn’t… shouldn’t need this.  

Luisa had always been the strong one.  Not just because of her gift (though very much because of her gift).  Luisa was the first to help, and the last to rest.  Luisa always looked for ways she could contribute, seeking out what needed to be done and taking care of it.  She took so much pride in being useful.  Dependable.  Sturdy as bedrock.  She was never a burden.  Carrying burdens was her job.  Her purpose.

But the last few days…

It had started at Antonio’s gift celebration.  Even in the confusion of the past few days, that moment was very clear - Luisa, struck suddenly by weakness.  Luisa, her arms trembling as she struggled to hold the weight in her arms.  It had deeply frightened her, and that fear had only spiraled as her weakness grew and her magic faltered.  Luisa’s gift was the first to fail, she had failed, even when the candle was still alive.  Flailing, afraid, and weak, she had found herself utterly useless in the events that followed.  Rather than protecting her home and family, she froze.

And their home was gone. The Magic was gone.

Luisa was going to be weak forever, now.  Useless.

“Lu…” This was the second time Isabela startled her, as her sister placed a hand on her arm.  Luisa looked down, meeting Isa’s worried expression for only a second before guiltily looking away.  “C’mon, sit down.”  

Luisa allowed Isa to lead her to the table, and she felt herself sitting down and taking the glass with both hands.  “Lo… I’m fine, Isa.  It was just a bad dream.”

“Drink.”  Her sister ordered.  Luisa complied, even if the curious sensation of automation lingered.  “And it’s not fine, Luisa.  You’re not fine.”

Luisa stopped mid-sip, not sure how to respond to that.  She set the glass on the table before she swallowed.

“I just… sleeping here is strange.”  That sounded like a reason, didn’t it?  Something that made sense, something she could give voice to instead of the guilt that twisted in her stomach like a writhing ball of snakes.  Something less shameful than how afraid and weak she felt.  

“Well, I don’t think we’ll be sleeping here the whole time.  Not that anywhere else can fit all of us.  But it will take a few months to rebuild Casita without magic.  I hope we don't have to get split up too much in the interim.  Drink.”  

Luisa bit her lip and nodded.  She took an obedient sip before replying “Yeah, I… yeah.  It would be weird being away from everyone.  But I guess this isn’t exactly a long-term solution.”

“Don’t worry, sis.  Even being split up isn’t long-term, not really.  We’ll rebuild the house before you know it.”  Isabela assures.

But it won’t be the same, and they both know it.  No point in saying that part.

“Isa…” Luisa began, then found herself unsure what to say.

“Yeah, sis?”

“Thank you.”  Luisa couldn’t find better words, so she sort of just gestured.

“De nada , hermanita .”

Chapter 2: Breakfast

Summary:

No plot, just breakfast.

Isabela had managed to coax Luisa back to sleep after their midnight disruption.  Even with the threat of nightmares, Luisa was just plain tired.  It was a strange kind of tired, since, by her standards, she had hardly been working at all.  But she ached to her bones, and the bumps and bruises she’d earned during Casita’s collapse were frustratingly still there, and dinner didn’t banish any twinges of aching muscles.  It’s not that Luisa had never been tired, had never felt discomfort… or at least she thought she had.  This was different, and her traitorous body did not want to cooperate.  It lagged, it resisted, it was heavy.

As such, Luisa discovered herself waking up late.  She usually got up with the sun, completing a full training routine before breakfast - only Mama got up earlier, as far as she was aware.  But now, she found herself lagging with Camilo and Pepa while voices drifted out from the parish kitchen.  She rubbed at her face.  Her eyes felt gritty, full of sand.  She carefully got to her feet - Isa was still asleep on the pallet beside hers.  Maybe it wasn’t too late to help Mama with breakfast?

The kitchen was bright, crowded, and smelled strongly of eggs and coffee.  Mira was setting plates on the table, and Dolores had Antonio in her lap as she conversed with Felix and Agustin.  Mama was adding cheese to a cup of cocoa, fussing over a rather overwhelmed-looking Bruno. Luisa wasn’t quite sure where she could step in to help.  Normally…

Normally, on a nice morning like this, she would have already trained.  Normally, Mirabel would have knocked on all their doors to wake them.  Normally, Luisa would take the table out to the patio so they could eat in the sunshine.  Normally, she would help carry the platters of Mama’s food out to the sideboard.  But… there was no need for that.  She gripped the sides of her skirt with her hands as she watched her family.

“Oh, Luisa dear.  There’s coffee, I put out cups. Help yourself”  Julieta gave her middle daughter a smile.  

Luisa smiled back and her tense hands relaxed.  Bruno had his drink, but nobody else seemed to, yet.  Luisa began to pour coffee and distribute them to the others.  It felt strange - everything still felt strange - to handle the pot, to hold the ceramic cups.  She usually had to be so careful with something breakable, but she doubted she could shatter them right now.  

Papa smiled as she delivered his drink, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.  “Gracias, my str- mi cielita .  Good morning.”

“ De nada , Papi.”  She knew what Papa was about to call her.  His strong girl.  His little mountain.  She wasn’t that anymore.  But Papa loved her anyway, and that made her smile.

The rest of the family slowly filtered into the kitchen.  It was a bit cramped around the table with all twelve of them, and Luisa self-consciously kept her elbows tucked in.  She found that she was ravenous.  Mama’s food might no longer be magical, but it was still warm and delicious.  

“Family, it is such a blessing that we are all together.”  Abuela began - what would breakfast be without the matriarch’s address?  “The last few days have been… eventful… but we are still the Madrigals.  We are still a family, and we will persevere.  We are grateful, of course, for the help our community has offered us.  There is much work ahead to rebuild our home.  But I…”  Alma paused.  “I wanted to say that I love you all, and I am so proud of you.  And how happy I am that…”  Another pause, as she looked over at Bruno.

Bruno looked back with very round eyes, frozen in place.  Abuela gave him a soft smile, and her tio relaxed a touch.

“I am happy that we are together.  We… we can mourn for the loss of Casita, but we will make a new home.  We have each other, and that matters the most.”  Abuela finished, not with firm orders or rallying cries, but with an oddly vulnerable tone.  Abuela?   Luisa wasn’t sure how she felt about that change, either.  Her grandmother had always seemed so… strong.  

But then, so had Luisa.

Mirabel piped up.  “And together , we’re going to rebuild our home.  There’s nothing this family can’t do!”  Luisa’s little sister was always so positive, it was hard not to feel optimistic.  “So, I was thinking about what we’ll need to do today…”

Breakfast soon turned into a lot of planning about how to tackle the ruins of Casita - they would still need to clear the debris before new construction could start, and there was hope that at least some of their belongings could still be salvaged.  It stung Luisa to think about how the work would go - she was uncertain how much she could still do, but she knew it was less. Less than she had before.  She frowned at her huevos pericos, pushing them around her plate with her fork.  Well, even if it was less, she would still do everything she still could.  

Would it be enough?  

Luisa’s gift had begun to fail days ago.  Before the fight between Abuela and Mirabel, before the Candle went out.  Even when it was flickering and sporadic, she had still felt it - a warm golden glow that she had known since childhood.  Even dimmed, it had been present.  Now, though, her veins felt hollow.  Cold.  An odd emptiness pervaded her body, and a lingering sense of absence crouched at the back of her mind. She wondered if the others felt the same way.  Isabela was animated and smiling, despite her filthy dress and shattered remains of her ‘perfect’ image.  Pepa and Dolores, too, seemed upbeat.  Camilo was more subdued than normal, and Antonio was clinging to his sibling’s side.  Mama appeared as serene as always, and Luisa wasn’t quite sure how to read Tio Bruno.  

Working would help.  It would have to.  It always helped before.  ( Until it didn’t. )

Luisa gathered and washed the dishes after breakfast, before anyone could ask.  She could still help .  Was this how Mirabel had felt, all those years?  She glanced over at her sister - Mira was drying the dishes, and setting them back in place.  Luisa’s gaze was met with a sunshine-grin from the younger girl.  She smiled back, shyly.  Mirabel didn’t seem to be upset that Luisa hadn’t spoken up during the fight.  Or… well.  Luisa hadn’t done enough for a long time.  

“I know we can’t stay in the church for long, but it was nice having breakfast together.” Luisa ventured.  

“Poor Tio Bruno looked a little overwhelmed, though.  I’ll have to check on him.  Have you noticed Tia Pepa hasn’t let him OUT of her SIGHT?”  Mirabel grinned.  “All of that storming, and she just missed him.”

“Yeah… yeah.  You were so little, I guess you don’t remember.”  A pause.  “I’m really glad you found him, Mira.  That you brought him home.”  The last word sat heavily, a reminder of the losses.

“Home is where WE are, sis.”  Mirabel insisted, ever optimistic. “Even if it’s sleeping in the chapel.”

“Are you sleeping okay?” Luisa fussed.  

“Sure!  It’s a bit like camping, if you think about it…”  Trust Mira to spin it to an upside.

“I.. uh, yeah.  I guess I can see that.  We’ll have to do something nice, to thank the Padre for letting us stay.”  Luisa held out a plate to Mira, who took it to dry.

“Oh, for sure!  We’ll think of something.  We’re still the amazing Madrigals.”

Luisa grimaced without comment, only for a moment.

“Lu?”  Mirabel sounded concerned, picking up on the brief flicker of expression.

“Huh?  Yeah, yeah.  You’re right.  The Amazing Madrigals.”

Luisa didn’t feel particularly amazing right now.  Was it only two days ago that she had lifted the whole church?  Three?  She couldn’t even pick up a pew by herself.  She’d needed Felix’s help to move just ONE.

“...okayyyy…”  Mira squinted at Luisa, looking for an eye-twitch.

“Hey.  Last dish.  And then lots to do at Casita today.  You ready, sis?”  Luisa wrung out the dishrag.  Luisa tried a grin, and Mirabel seemed to accept it.

“I’m as ready as you are.  It’s going to be good, Luisa.  I’m sure of it.  You’ll see.”

Luisa hoped her sister was right.  She could do this.  She was the strong one.  She could still be useful.  She had to be.

Notes:

So much of Luisa's pressure at this point is just plain internalized. And "day 3" is when reality is setting in.

Chapter 3: Ruined

Summary:

There's a lot of work to do.

Luisa had never really contemplated the word “ruins.”  Sure, it had come up in stories about long-ago or far-away places.  Troy had ruins.  Rome with its crumbling Coliseum.  Ciudad Perdida.  El Infiernito.  Tikal.

The Encanto had never had ruins.  The whole village was only fifty years old, nestled in its magical valley, protected by the mountains born of the Miracle.

Luisa had never left the valley.

Papa had shown Luisa pictures of ruins in his books.  But they had always looked oddly serene - crumbled stone, the rough edges worn smooth by time and softened by green moss and creeping vines.  Tio Bruno had described them in his stories - usually the home to some fearsome monster for the hero to destroy.  But there was no monster here.

There was no house .

Somehow, seeing the place that used-to-be-Casita was no less shocking than it had been the first time.  In some ways, it was worse.  The direct aftermath had been a haze - Luisa already struggled to remember details. But here, on a perfectly mundane morning, she found herself staring at a violent, chaotic ruin that had once been home.   

The first thing one noticed were the large chunks of masonry and the sea of shattered ceramic tiles.  Fractured wooden beams jutted out at harsh angles, like the claws of some great beast thrusting from below.  The contents of the home were mostly buried beneath the rubble, but Luisa doubted much could have survived intact.  Most of the visible furniture was clustered in the center of what had been the courtyard - the place where Casita spent the last of its magic to protect Mirabel.  What remained was still badly damaged, and Luisa sent up another silent thanks to the miracle which had kept her hermanita alive.

Everything else, the trappings from three generations of lives, was buried.  The dust had mostly settled, though some haze hung in the air.  Luisa had been wearing the same skirt and blouse for days - everyone was rumpled and stained.  Did Luisa even own a change of clothes anymore?  Her room had been magical, an impossible space that was larger on the inside.  Would the contents be there, in the Ruin?  Were they lost to the ether?  What of Tia Pepa’s books or Mirabel’s sewing machine or Papa’s piano?  What of the family photos which lined the walls?  Did the people of those lost cities lose everything, too?  Or were the ruins just the empty husks, things that remained after life had left?

Luisa wrapped her arm against herself, cupping her elbow with the opposite hand.  Her stomach twisted as she looked at the rubble - at the ruins, at the corpse that had been Casita.  Part of her wanted to throw up her breakfast, but that wouldn’t be helpful.  There was just so much chaos, and so little that even resembled the only home she had ever known.  Casita was a house, but it hadn’t JUST been a house.  It had been a quiet presence, just as much a part of the family as… as Papa, or Abuela, or her primos.  Casita would greet her every morning with a cheerful clack of tiles.  Casita would make her cup of coffee dance into place.  Casita helped carry the chairs outside for breakfast.  She didn’t understand or communicate with the house as clearly as Mirabel could, but it had always been present - like the Magic, like her Gift.  

But this… there was nothing alive here.  Whatever magic had powered Casita was as cold and dead and empty as Luisa’s insides.  Luisa felt overwhelmed at the sight, uncertain where to even start.  Well.  Well… clearing off the top layer?  That would be the only way to see what had survived beneath.  If anything had survived.  Something had to have survived, right?

Once, Luisa could have cleared the wreckage in a matter of hours.  Possibly less.  But she was as much a ruin of what she had been, albeit in a less visible way than Casita’s remains.  Before, Luisa had done work at the quarry, breaking stone with her bare hands.  It was a job that was very slow and then very sudden.  She would take a rock and SQUEEZE, pressing in, unrelenting, a constant force against the indomitable stone.  The pressure would slowly build - invisible to the observer, but Luisa knew what lay beneath the surface.  Even the strongest granite would begin to fracture - tiny spiderwebs that would spread and grow within, inexorably weakening it, until, all at once, the stone would shatter into a thousand jagged pieces.  

Luisa had been as steady as bedrock.  Had.  And she didn’t know how to clean up the ruins scattered inside her any more than she knew how to fix Casita.  Less.  

Mama was standing next to Papa, and he had his arm draped around her shoulder as they looked over the sight.  Luisa could sense Isabel and Mira to her side, but she couldn’t quite see them.  Antonio had started crying, and Pepa had carried him a bit away to try and comfort him.  Camilo and Dolores had the same long stare on their faces that Luisa was sure she also wore.  

“Ayyyyy, we’ll have a day, familia!”  Felix broke the silence.  “And what a beautiful one!  The sun is shining, and there’s a breeze in the air.”  He clapped, putting on a good show to rally everyone.

“We’re here!  Hola, Madrigals!  We’re here to help!”  Sr. Osvaldo called, leading a party of villagers with carts and baskets of tools.  “The morning shift has arrived!”

Luisa straightened her shoulders.  No time to waste on self-pity.  There was work to do… and she was made to do it, wasn’t she?  Stop listening to the other thoughts.  Just DO.  She shook out her hands, trying to focus on the work ahead.  She didn’t want to think about how weak she felt.  This wasn’t something Antonio or Camilo could be expected to do.  Or tiny, fragile Tio Bruno.  

A donkey nuzzled Luisa’s arm, surprising her.  She jumped before she realized what it was, but then smiled.  Maravilla.  

“You silly thing.  Here to help?”  She pet the burra’s nose and could see the creature had been harnessed to an empty cart - perhaps to bear away debris?

“Ay, Luisa - we’re going to load up the carts.  The stone can go to the cantero.  Tiles, too.  They can be crushed for mortar!  About time Maravilla pulls her weight, eh?”  Sr. Felice grinned up at Luisa - given how often the latter had carried said donkeys back to his barn, she didn’t entirely find it funny.

“Gracias, Senor Felice, for coming to help us.”  She smiled.  “We’re very grateful.”

Luisa wiped her hands on her skirt before turning to the closest pile.  As she crouched to get a grip on the stone, she was struck fresh with how different things were - she couldn’t ‘feel’ the stone in her head, and it resisted her efforts to pick it up.  She grunted involuntarily, as if the tug on her arms was tethered to her guts.  She could DO this.  She wanted to help, her family needed her to help.  After adjusting her hold, Luisa pushed her legs against the ground and slowly rose with the rock.  She was already sweating and her limbs protested with angry, sharp sensations - but she HAD it.  Three steps to the cart, and she could drop the stone.  Only a thousand more to go.

********

“I’m worried about her.”  Isabela said to Mirabel,

“Her?”  Mira lifted her gaze from the tiles they were collecting, concern popping up at her older sister’s statement.  “Who?” 

Isa responded with a little purse of her lips, pointing across the work site.  Luisa was hard at work with Felix and a team of men from town.  They were loading up broken masonry into carts,  Luisa was red-faced, with her hair scraggling free of her bun and sticking to her cheeks and neck.  Mirabel had never quite seen that particular expression on her middle-sister’s face - at first all gritted teeth and creased brow when lifting a stone, but then oddly slack after setting the weight down.  She worked steadily, continuing when the men paused to talk or fan their faces with their hats.  For all that her magic was gone, Mirabel was impressed by the size of the rocks Lu was managing to wrangle - some of them easily could have weighed as much as Mira herself.

“She is STILL so strong, isn’t she?”  Mira murmured, but Isa was right.  Something was off.  

“Of course she is.  But… maybe I’m worrying too much?”  Isa wavered.  

“I don’t think worrying too much has really been the issue with Luisa.  I agree.  She doesn’t look so great.  She looks…”  Mira considered, and this was a first.  “She looks tired. ”

Luisa was still shuttling between the debris and the cart, steadily bearing broken stone.  She found if she kept her momentum, kept moving, that it helped a little.  She hated how slow she was.  She hated how small the rocks were - she had tried some of the medium sized ones, but couldn’t make them budge.  The largest pieces were entirely out of the question.  The one in her arms felt heavier than the church ever had.  

But she was doing it!  As slow and pathetic as her contribution was, she was helping.  The work had found a kind of dull rhythm - the tug on her guts as she lifted the rock, the bite of stone into her hands, the sharp twang on her arms and calves as she forced the debris up and into motion.  Once moving, she couldn’t dare stop.  She let the energy carry her into a dogged march to the cart, each step pushed forward by a gasping swallow of air.  She had to be careful not to just drop the stone in the cart, but to set it down on the pile.  The walk back to get a new stone was less painful, a kind of tingly sensation in her arms and hands and a numbness in her mind.  She’d worked this hard before, rerouting rivers and clearing landslides.  She could handle it.  

She wasn’t useless.  Not totally ruined.  This would be frustrating, to work so slowly.  She couldn’t swoop in and be a hero.  Luisa HAD been a hero.  She had been able to help anyone who asked, no matter how big the task was.  It felt good.  Everyone had wanted her help, everyone could use her strength.  

And now Luisa needed help.  She was struggling to carry one stone at a time.  She was afraid to stop or take a break, lest she be unable to start again.  Then what good would she be?

“-uisa!”  A hand was grabbing her arm.  Luisa was returning from the cart, focused only on getting the next stone.  It took a moment to process that someone wanted her attention.

A dull blink.  Curly hair.  Glasses.  Mirabel was pulling on her arm.  

“Oh, uh.. Hey sis.  Kind of spaced out there, lo siento …”

Mirabel watched as Luisa’s expression shifted from that distressingly blank gaze to a forced smile.  The big girl’s face was very flushed, and she swayed a little in place once she stopped walking.

“Luisa, it’s time for a break.” Mira tugged on her arm again.

Luisa wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.  “I’m doing okay.  Making progress.  I don’t want to take a break yet.”

Standing still made her aware again of how much her muscles were screaming.  ( She wanted to sit DOWN. )  She rubbed her grimy hands against the sides of her skirt.  Mirabel just kept looking at her.  Luisa looked at the pile of rubble and frowned.  She couldn’t even see a difference.  It looked just as it had hours ago.  She needed to…

“I don’t think I care if you WANT a break, Lu.  You’ve been at this for a while.”

Luisa’s stomach twisted.  Before everything, Mirabel had listened to Luisa’s breakdown where she’d confessed to… to not feeling great.  About carrying too much.  ( “Luisa will NEVER be strong enough!” )  But she couldn’t carry much at ALL right now.  She’d hardly done anything, in hours and hours.  There was still so much left to clear, and Luisa hadn’t done a quarter… not even a quarter of a quarter of what she SHOULD have done, and Mirabel thought she should take a BREAK?  Had Luisa failed so badly that her little sister didn’t trust her anymore?

Luisa’s head hurt, and her hands were tingling again now that she’d stopped.  She felt weak.  She felt weak all the time, now.  She wanted to sit down.  Standing still made her feel unsteady, with a dizzy buzz in her ears.  She hadn’t done anything , and she could feel a bitter taste on her tongue.  She didn’t want to fight with Mirabel.  It was her fault Mirabel was worried.  

“Yeah, yeah.  Me and everybody, right?  I’m good though.  Good.  Fine.  Luisa’s fine.”  She flashed a smile to sell the lie, but felt her eye twitch.  Maybe Mira wouldn’t…

“Luisa…”  Mirabel frowned.  “Luisa, I’m not asking.”  She said the last part gently, almost sadly.  

Luisa felt something crash inside at Mirabel’s disappointment in her.  As if she had been building a makeshift cairn of shards, without mortar.  The smallest shift revealed they couldn’t hold together, and the fragmented pieces tumbled back into chaos.  Ruins.  

She didn’t know how to fix this.  She didn’t know how to make Mirabel feel better.  She wanted very badly to sit down.  She didn’t want to fight.  She wanted to fix this.  

“I… I guess I could use some water.”  

“Yes!  There’s water AND mangosteens and cheese and bread…”  Mirabel tugged on Luisa’s arm again, pulling her forward.  Luisa stumbled along, not even able to resist the smaller girl’s strength.

She would just have to work twice as hard to make up for the time.  If she worked hard enough, she could prove herself, and Mirabel would trust her again.  If she just worked hard enough, she could fix this.

She had to.

Chapter 4: Take a break

Summary:

Luisa takes a "break"

Mirabel dragged Luisa over to a cluster of trees, where blankets had been laid in the shade.  Isabela was already there, along with Dolores and Camilo.  Her primo had a fairly impressive stack of food gathered in front of him, and greeted Luisa and Mirabel while still chewing.

“Oye, primas!  About time you took a break.”

Dolores poked him.  “As if you’ve done anything but, hombre.”

“Hey!”  Camilo protested.  “Next to Luisa, we all look like slackers.”

Luisa felt her ears turn red.  Camilo probably hadn’t seen how little she’d accomplished so far.

“It hasn’t been that much.”  She demurred.  “I just came over to get some water.”

“And food. ” Mirabel interjected.  “Luisa filled up a cart all by herself.”

Luisa frowned.  Standing still was making her dizzy again.  She probably did need the water for real - not just to appease her sister.

“Lu, sit!”  Isabela commanded, patting the blanket with her hand.

Luisa obeyed, lowering herself down to the ground.  Her knees buckled unexpectedly partway, and her rump hit with a bit more force than she intended.  Her vision flickered for a second, but she was able to wait it out.  Sitting was good, in fact.  She felt much less dizzy.  

“You’re a mess.”  Isa reached over to push Luisa’s sweat-soaked hair back.  She frowned as she touched the younger girl’s forehead.  

Mirabel sat down next to them and pushed a cup of water into Luisa’s hands.  “Drink.”

“Guys, I’m fine. ”  She protested.  But she did take a sip… then a gulp, downing the glass in seconds.  She was thirstier than she had realized.

“I’ll get you some more.”  Mira took the empty cup before Luisa could say anything.

“You say you’re fine, like any of us are fine.”  Isa said as she shifted to sit behind Luisa.  Luisa felt a soft pull on her hair as her sister took out the ribbon holding her bun.  As Mira placed a second cup of water in her hands, Luisa could feel Isabela combing through her hair with her fingers.  It felt nice, but…

“Lo siento, Isa, I’m all sweaty.  You don’t want to -”

“I’m over having people tell me what I want, sis.  Even when they mean well.”

Luisa flinched.  “Lo si-”

“Hup!  No apologies!”

Luisa sighed, and drank the second cup of water as Isa fixed her hair.  Sitting down really was very nice.  And she felt better after the cold drink.  The gentle tugs on her scalp felt oddly soothing, too. She remembered, when they were little, that Isa would play with her hair - making braids or weaving in flowers. But that had been a long time ago. Luisa got up early these days, and didn’t have time for such fuss.  She would brush her own hair and put it out of the way before she lifted her first weights of the morning - ever practical and self-sufficient Luisa.

Luisa’s eyelids felt so very heavy.  It would be easy to drift off.  The water felt heavy, too, in her weakness.  She let her hands rest in her lap, cradling the cup loosely between them. She heard Camilo piping up, but it was a struggle to focus on the conversation. Sitting was nice …

“Luisa, you want a mangosteen?”  Camilo offered, and his mouth quirked downward when she seemed to ignore him.  “No big, more for me.”  He popped the piece of fruit in his mouth.

Isa continued combing out Luisa’s hair, even as she felt her sister’s head nod downwards.  “Lu, you probably should eat something, too.”

Luisa mumbled something in response, her eyes closed.  It sounded agreeable.

“Lu always skips lunch.”  Camilo laid back on the blanket, still eating.  “And I don’t know about you, but I’ve been less hungry since… you know.”

“Less hungry, says the human locust.”  Dolores jibed.  “Who had two breakfasts this morning?”

“Two SMALL breakfasts!”

“Right, right.”  Dolores tore off a piece of bread and paused, head tilted, to look at Isabela and Luisa.  She touched her ear and frowned.

“Lola, what’s wrong?”  Milo asked around his chewing.

“Uhg, Milo.  Swallow first.  It’s just… disconcerting, okay?  I keep feeling like I’m missing something.”

“Well, I feel..”  Camilo frowned, too.  He adjusted, putting on good humor again.  “I feel like it’s about time you don’t know every little thing, hermana!”

Dolores winced at that, looking down.

“Wait, no - lo siento, sis.  I didn’t mean it that way.”

“So what did you mean?”

“I-”

“Milo, Lola, just… take a breath, okay?  Everyone’s tired and stressed.”  Mirabel pleaded.  “I… I can’t know what you’re going through, but…”

“But pretending everything was fine is what got us into this mess.”  Isa finished, bluntly.  “I’ll say it - I am NOT fine, and this sucks.  And no, Mira, don’t make that face, it isn’t your fault.  We had issues for a long time.”

Mirabel looked stricken, but she nodded.  

“And we’re not little like Antonio, so we’re trying to present the same resilient, perfect Madrigal face for the world.  And each other.”  Isa rested a hand on Luisa’s hair.  “We aren’t perfect.  We aren’t even okay. ”

“Isa…”  Mirabel twisted her hands together.  “I…”

“So help me, everyone in this family apologizes for everything.  You did everything you could to try and save the Magic, to save it for us.   Don’t think we don’t know that.  And, you know, if we weren’t trying to pretend everything was fine for years and years, maybe we’d still have a house.”

Dolores, Mirabel and Camilo all winced a bit at that.  Luisa didn’t - her chin was on her chest and her eyes fully closed.  The cup in her hands was only half-full, and in danger of escaping her grasp.

“Ay, Luisa.”  Mirabel reached over to take the cup.  That sparked a startle response from the bigger girl, and the water spilled.

Luisa blinked, momentarily confused, before clumsily recovering.  “I.. lo siento, I drifted off there.  Oops.  Sorry about that…”  She daubed at the spill with a corner of her skirt.

“Lu, it’s just water.  I’ll… I’ll get you some more, okay?”  Mirabel’s expression hinted at a frown, and Luisa felt a pang of worry.

“No, no, I’m good.  Thanks, sis.  I should get back to work.”  She pulled away from Isabela, putting a hand on the ground to push herself up.  How long had she zoned out?

“Lu, sit.  I’m not finished.”  Isabela put a hand on her arm, and Luisa felt a rush of shame.

“Isa, I really… there’s…” there’s so much WORK left, work that Luisa can’t do nearly fast enough. “I appreciate you wanting to… I mean, thank you, but I need to -”

“At least let me tie it back up?  You can’t work with it loose.”

Luisa wavered.  She didn’t want to upset her sister, even though her stomach was starting to knot up thinking about how much time she’d lost.  “I guess you’re right.” she conceded.

“I’m your big sister, even if you are taller than me.  You better bet I’m right.”  Isabela said as she split Luisa’s curls into three sections to make a quick, neat braid.  

Luisa anxiously twisted the fabric of her skirt in her hands as Isa worked.  She felt like everyone was staring at her.  She bit back another apology, since it seemed like every time she apologized it upset her sisters even more.  

“There we go, all fixed.”  Isa declared as she tied off the braid.  Luisa felt her sister’s arms around her shoulders in a hug.  

“Thanks, Isa.  Thank you, Mira…”  Luisa pushed up to her feet before they could stop her again.  Mirabel was holding a fresh cup of water, which Luisa pretended not to notice.

“Luisa!”  Her younger sister scolded.

“That was a nice break.  But I gotta go.  We can’t do anything else until the debris is cleared, right?  I’m on it.”  She grinned, projecting a confidence she didn’t entirely feel.  Isabela and Mirabel were acting like she was weak.  ( You ARE weak now, did you forget? )  Regardless of how… accurate… that perception might be, Luisa hated seeing them upset.  If she could show them she was still strong… well, if she was still useful, even if she wasn’t strong enough ( can never be strong enough ), that she could still work and help… 

That she wasn’t broken .  That they could still trust her.  Even without the only thing she had ever had to offer.  

Dios , they must be disgusted by her.  

“Luisa!  You will finish your water AND eat something.”  Mirabel stood her ground, placing herself between Luisa and the rubble.

“I’m not hungry, and I’ve been goofing off for too long.”  She really wasn’t hungry.  Her stomach hurt, and her head hurt, and the thought of food made her queasy.  “Please, don’t worry.  The water helped a LOT, okay?  Thank you for making me take a break, but I’m fine.”

Camilo and Dolores were absolutely staring at her.  She stood up straighter, squaring her shoulders and planting her fists against her waist.  Isabela was frowning.  Mira was, too.  Her insides were hopelessly tangled, pressure building like a swell of floodwaters against a levy made of sand.  She was not going to break down again, not again, not after that incident with the piano, not after everything.  They needed to see she was okay.

“I’ll see you at dinner.  I bet we’ll get a lot done today.”  And she wheeled around, marching back to the field of debris, and hoping that nobody would stop her.  She’d already lost so much time.

She heard her name called after her, but she kept going.  Once they saw how much she could get done, then they’d stop worrying.  She could fix this!

She had to.

Notes:

This one was kind of a slog, and not a lot of progress. I think I know why I prefer keeping interactions down to 2 characters. I'm not sure if I like this chapter, but I also couldn't get forward without going through here it seems. All of the kids are dealing with the loss of their gifts/home, and Luisa's not the only one trying to put on a brave face.

Chapter 5: One day down

Summary:

And a hundred more to go.

Luisa worked very hard that afternoon.  Mirabel appeared twice, pressing a cup of water into her hands each time and refusing to leave until Luisa finished it.  Despite trying her very best, Luisa was disappointed at her progress.  Casita was still a crumbled ruin of broken stone.  Her sisters and Dolores, she knew, had been working on clearing tile - loading up basketfuls to carry over to the donkey carts.  The donkeys were also drawing away loads of stone and masonry, which Luisa had been tackling alongside the men.

Her head was pounding furiously, even after Mirabel’s water.  Her back ached and her muscles burned.  Her feet felt like lead weights.  Was this what it meant, to be normal?  Was this how it felt for everyone?  Her hands felt oddly puffy, and throbbed between numbness and an uncomfortable sharp sensation.  Her fingers were nicked with a dozen small cuts, and one was developing a purple-black splotch under the cracked nail. 

One thing was certain - NOW she was hungry.  Her stomach hugged her spine and rumbled like one of Pepa’s stormclouds.  

“Ahahaha, I heard that sobrina!  Sounds like you worked up a healthy appetite, eh?”  Felix came over, with a grin and a laugh.  Even after a hard day of work, her Tio exuded joy and sunshine.  

Luisa couldn’t help but to return the smile.  “Guess so.”  

“Well, you earned it!  I think you carried half the stone we cleared today, all by yourself!  Agustin!  Did you see what your pequeña montaña did?”  Felix waved at her father.  Poor Papa was swollen again from bee stings, and had been barred from the heavy lifting.

“Ay, princesa!  What a day!  Who’s ready for your Mama’s cooking?”

“Hi Papi.”  She hid her hands behind her back.

“And there’s some good news for us when we get to the church.  Your Abuela and I were busy, too.”  Agustin hooked his arm through hers, like he was escorting a fancy lady instead of a very tired and very dirty Luisa.

The others were finishing up around them - putting away tools, covering some areas with dropcloths, and chatting idly as the sun dipped low in the sky to paint everything in amber hues.  The last set of donkey carts were preceding them down the road to the village.

“Yeah?  What’s the news?”  Luisa asked as they walked.

“Well, I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise.”  Her father grinned cheerfully behind his swollen nose.

“Okay, okay.  I won’t ask.  Good thing you told me and not Mira, you know she wouldn’t let it go.”

“That’s your sister!”  He laughed, agreeing.

The village church was just ahead.  While she was grateful (always grateful, Madrigals must always remember to be grateful), staying there was less than ideal.  While it was good they could all be together, it wasn’t home .  Luisa wished she could have just a little time alone, a chance to just breathe and not worry that someone might see her be… be less.  Especially right now, when they needed her.  

To be sure - Luisa loved her family more than anything.  She loved quiet evenings at home, when she could hear them chatting as she took care of chores - nearby, and happy, and safe, and comforting.  She loved hearing them laugh, she loved when Papa would play the piano, and home-chores never felt as lonely as village-chores because of their presence. 

But, if she was honest, sometimes she was grateful to go to her room at night where it was safe.  Alone in her room, Luisa could let out the feelings which built up inside and not worry about hurting or disappointing anyone.  Sometimes, it would be a rush of panic or guilt which had built up - sometimes over a few days or weeks, until they exploded like a storm that she couldn’t control.  Those were the worst nights, when she would be tossed into a dark, cold sea of fear - fear of failure, fear of allowing harm or shame to come to her family, fear of things she couldn’t even name.  Luisa knew if anyone else saw those, it would be… bad.  But it was okay in her room, because nobody would have to know.  Other nights, most nights, weren’t as bad. Most nights, she wanted time to just… not-be. She could work out on her equipment until she was exhausted, and fall into sleep.  Sometimes, she was angry and resentful - mad at being asked to do the only thing she was good at.  The only thing she was worth .  In her room, alone, she could shout, she could BE angry, she could pound her fists against the rocks until the feeling drained away, and not worry about frightening anyone - not worry about hurting anyone. Sometimes she would find herself crying, for no reason.  But she could curl up in her bed and hug her stuffed unicorn until she felt better.  It was childish, she knew - she had actually given up Uni at her quinceanera, because she wasn’t supposed to still be a little kid, but Mirabel had snuck the well-worn plush back into her room after the party.  When she felt bad during the day, she could almost always hold it off until late at night - alone, and allowed.

But the past few days, Luisa had nowhere to go.  She was very conscious of the mess she had made before Casita fell - spilling her guts to Mirabel, burdening her sister with a waterfall of confessions. Losing her Gift first, losing her gift while the Candle still burned, and failing to protect her home and family.  Falling apart instead of being strong when they needed her.  Crying , where everyone could see.  Luisa wanted to have just a little time alone, to have a place where she could let out the jangly, jittery, bad emotions that kept building up.  She desperately did not want to lose control again in public.  She knew that her sisters were already watching her, their faith and trust shaken.  She was worried that that extended to her cousins, too.  If she had another meltdown, on top of everything else that had happened, on top of everything they had lost?  She couldn’t do that.  She couldn’t let them down.  Not again.

Luisa just needed a little time.  Or to hold on until she could find it.  She’d always been able to shove the bad feelings down until it was safe.  Always, before her Gift failed.  And now, her Gift was totally gone.  

If she was useless, at the very least she wouldn’t be a burden.  

Maybe tonight… maybe, after everyone was asleep, she could slip away.  She would have to be careful not to wake anyone else up.  Isabela was a light sleeper.  But Dolores wouldn’t hear her, now, if she went out to the woods and just… just… she just needed some time to be alone.  That was the key.  

She was so tired after today, and everything hurt .  Her skin crawled, itchy from sweat and dirt.  Her clothes were filthy, even though she had rinsed them out the other day - stained, torn, and wrinkled.  She felt like a rag-bag, and she could hear Abuela’s admonishment in her head.  ( “Did you wash behind your ears, Luisa?  Remember, when you go out, you represent la famila.” )  Before, Luisa would often bathe twice a day - a quick wash in the morning, and again before supper.  Her chores were often dirty work - digging in the mud to plow a field or reroute the river, hauling lumber, breaking stone.  Even light tasks, like fetching the donkeys, would.. well, smell.  

Luisa felt better when she was clean and neat.  Maybe that was part of why she was so twisted up inside right now.  It’s not like she could be pretty and delicate like her sisters, but she did care.  Luisa liked pretty things, even if she had to be practical first.  While she could never wear something like Isa’s princess dresses ( she would look ridiculous, like a burro in ruffles ), she was foolishly upset about her blouse.  It was JUST a blouse, and Luisa wore clothing for practical reasons, but… Mama had embroidered the waist with delicate smocking, and woven a pretty red ribbon into the collar.  The white fabric had turned a yellow-ish grey over the last few days, and there were a few rusty-brown stains from where she had injured herself during Casita’s fall.  There was a tear in the shoulder, and she had broken the threads holding the smocking at some point this afternoon.  She felt guilty about ruining it.

Some time alone, in a nice hot bath.  That would be nice.  She could soak until the pain eased, until her muscles stopped feeling like knives, and scrub away the itchy grime, and cry until the jostled-up feeling went away inside.  She could put on a fresh, soft chemise that didn’t smell of sweat and blood and dirt.  She could lay down on her soft bed and hug Uni so the stuffed animal’s fur would brush against her cheek and make her feel safe as she slept for hours and hours and didn’t feel like… this .

“Lulu, sweetie?”  

Luisa blinked.  Papa was looking up at her.  They were at the church.  She could smell food wafting out from within - the richness of simmering pork and spices, Mama’s arroz atollado, probably.  

“Sorry, Papi.  I drifted.”  Luisa gave him an apologetic smile.

“Well, you worked very hard today, mi cielito .  Why don’t you go wash up before dinner?”

Luisa nodded, and went looking - there was a basin and pitcher set up on a table, along with soap and rags.  Isabela and Mirabel were already there, washing off their faces and hands.  The church didn’t have a bathroom, so they had to make do.  Later, she might get a chance to use the one in the rectory.

Luisa didn’t have the energy to do much more than smile a greeting at her sisters.  She tried not to wince as she dunked her hands in the water, to scrub off the dirt.  The cuts and scrapes from the rocks stung, and her hands still felt numb and clumsy.  She washed her face ( and behind her ears, Abuela! ), and that did feel a little better, even if she longed for the tub.

Mirabel was chattering at her, but Luisa missed about half of it.  She murmured sounds of agreement at pauses, but she was having trouble focusing again.  All of the momentum she had ridden to get through the afternoon seemed to have run out.  She thought if she were to take a bath now, she would probably fall asleep right in the tub.  Well, maybe not.  She was terribly hungry.  

Like breakfast, dinner was a somewhat cramped and chaotic affair as all twelve Madrigals clustered around the table.  Luisa took the big bowls of rice and seasoned pork over to the table, while Mira took care of individual place settings.  The food was much, much lighter than the stones from before, but Luisa’s arms protested even that meager load.  Dinner would help, she knew.  She always felt better after a meal.

Luisa, as always, was relegated to the foot of the table, opposite Abuela.  Her broad shoulders didn’t fit between others, no matter how much she would tuck her arms in as she ate.  To her surprise, Isabela dished out Luisa’s plate and served it to her.  

“ Lo sie-.. Gracias ?”

“ De nada , sis.  Eat.”

Luisa bit her lip and nodded.  The food smelled very good.  Her stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten lunch.  She picked up her fork before guiltily dropping it and looking across the table at Abuela.  Thankfully, Abuela didn’t seem to have noticed her faux pas as she was speaking with Papa.

After Papa sat beside Mama, Abuela gently clapped her hands together for attention.  Though everyone was drooping a little after the day, they all sat up a little straighter to pay attention.

“Familia, we have much to be thankful for today.  We are thankful for this food, and thankful for the haven the church is providing for us.  We are thankful for the great help from the village as we work on restoring our home.  And I… I am thankful for all of you, for being so brave and working so hard.  I have not always made it clear how proud I am of you, mi niños y nietos.  And how glad I am that we are still here, all of us, together.”

As she sat, Luisa felt her limbs growing colder and stiffer and heavier.  Hopefully Abuela was almost finished.  Luisa dropped her gaze to her food, waiting.

“I have been speaking with the Padre and the village - while there is, unfortunately, no one place where we can all go, there are many willing to offer what space they have.  Tomorrow, we shall discuss how we can best distribute ourselves amongst our generous hosts.  I know, this will still be difficult, but we are the Madrigals.  We are still a family, even if we must persevere through such circumstances.  Remember, we will soon enough have a new home.”

Abuela, who had already lost her home once before the Miracle, was putting on an admirably brave face.  Luisa wished she could do half so well.  Her tummy did a little twist at the idea of being separated - as much as she longed for a moment of privacy, she didn’t want to be too far from the rest of her family, either.  

“Lastly, Pepa and Agustin went around the village today.  While we have already been generously provided with food and shelter, today they collected spare clothing.  We must be sure to thank our neighbors for what they have provided.”

A tired wave of appreciative murmurs rose at the last bit of news - it seemed Luisa wasn’t the only one feeling grimy.  Oh.. oh, everyone else was eating.  Yay.  Luisa picked up her fork again.  She could barely feel the utensil past the throbbing in her hands, but she really didn’t need to.  She greedily devoured the food.  It was warm, and familiar, and filling… but it didn’t bring the same relief from pain she had subconsciously expected .  Expected, but should have logically known better.  The Magic was gone, and that included Mama’s gift.  

No changing it.  This.. was what things were now, right?  But somehow, every aching muscle and bruise felt fresh, reminding her of what “Luisa” was now.  Weak and sore and broken.  She felt the tears she had been walling off well up, and her shoulders curled inwards.  She wasn’t going to cry at the table.  But, Dios mio, she hurt. She hurt, and she was so tired.  Even when she had hardly done anything all day.  Loaded two cartfuls of stone.  Two out of two hundred or more.  A teaspoon of the ocean.

A second bowl of food appeared.  Luisa followed the hands up to find them attached to a stubborn-looking Isabela.  Again, Luisa was torn between apologizing and thanking her sister as their eyes met.  Isa’s expression softened, and she lightly booped Luisa’s nose.

“You earned it, okay?  Just eat.”

Even if the food wasn’t magical, Luisa didn’t hesitate on finishing that bowl either.  Her stomach stopped complaining, and despite the all-pervasive ache of her treacherous, faulty body, Luisa felt fatigue dogging at the edge of her senses - blunting her emotions (which was good), and dulling the conversation around the table to a nonsensical hum.  As she dimly sensed the others getting up, she stiffly rose to her feet.  Her muscles seemed to be on a delay, lagging a few seconds behind.  She knew she should help clean up, but someone… Mirabel?... was pulling on her arm.  

“M’fine…” She heard herself protesting.

“Of course you’d say that.  But how about we just sit down for a little longer, okay, sis?”

“...okay…”  Resisting seemed like it would take far too much energy, energy that Luisa could no longer find.

Mirabel guided Luisa to her pallet of rugs and blankets.  The stone floor underneath was hard and cold, despite the efforts to make it more comfortable.  

“That’s right, hermana .  Let me take care of you, okay?”  

Luisa started to protest.  That wasn’t Mirabel’s job.  But Mirabel was pushing on Luisa’s shoulders, and Mirabel was pulling a soft blanket around her, and Luisa’s limbs were so heavy, and her head was heavy too… she tried to explain to Mirabel she wasn’t ready for bed yet, though she couldn’t hear how her words slurred.

“You can take a bath in the morning.  You need sleep now, Lu.  Just… just stop being so stubborn.  I love you, okay?  You need to rest.  You’re allowed to rest.”

“... te amo, Mira… ” She did.  Mirabel shouldn’t be doing this, but… 

But?

But Luisa couldn’t think much at all anymore.  Her body betrayed her again, ignoring her plans and her wants and her emotions - even the pain that plagued it! - and she went to sleep, dark and dreamless.

Notes:

Apparently, working through the last chapter led to THIS. It's a long one. Lu's not in a great headspace. And yes, apparently, if I can't figure out how to end a chapter I just knock her out. :)

Chapter 6: Sisters

Summary:

Have some Isa & Mira, as a treat.

Mirabel was surprised when Luisa fell asleep mid-reply.  Well, maybe not surprised.  Taken aback?  The last few days had challenged her perceptions of her family.  Some of the revelations had been quite radical, especially how much her relationships with Isabela and Abuela had changed in such a short time.  She was happy about that, even if there were still awkward moments.  Everyone was trying, and she felt secure in knowing that her grandmother and oldest sister really loved her.  

Mirabel had never doubted Luisa’s love, even if her middle-sister’s protective instincts could sometimes be annoying.  ( “Mira, that’s too heavy for you, let me take it before you get hurt.” “Mira, that’s not safe, wait for me to come help.”  “Mira, hold on, I’ll come get you.” ) Mirabel would fuss and protest, and even blow up on occasion, but Luisa never got angry or impatient.  Luisa never even raised her voice.  She’d just scoop Mirabel into a bear hug after the latter had a tantrum, and ask if she was feeling better now.  Luisa was steady and dependable as the earth beneath her feet.  

What Mira hadn’t seen was that her sister was hurting.  She knew her own pain, of feeling left out because of her lack of a gift - worrying that she was somehow ‘less’ than, or, in Papa’s words, ‘unceptional.’  She had never considered the opposite problem - especially not with sturdy, cheerful, always-helpful Luisa.  Luisa had never complained.  Luisa never said no.  Sometimes, Mirabel would be annoyed that her sister was too busy to play with her.  Or she would chafe at the fact that Luisa’s gift was always in demand. Even though Mirabel had long ago accepted that she wasn’t getting a gift of her own, she still felt pangs of jealousy at times.

But Luisa had never stopped - in retrospect, it was glaringly obvious.  Luisa would leave right after breakfast, working through lunch (and dinner, as often as not.  It would be Mira’s job to set aside a plate for when her sister finally came home after sunset.)  Luisa didn’t stop when she came home - doing chores after dinner, even when the rest of the family had settled into the sala.  There was always something to move, something to fetch, something to fix, and Luisa always jumped to take care of it.  It was just normal, and nobody ever thought about it.  “ Give it to your sister, she can handle it.”

“ Dios mio , she’s out already?”  Mirabel jumped a little at Isa’s voice behind her.

“Hey Isa.  She conked out pretty much as soon as I got her sitting down.  I think she overdid it today, even with me making her drink water.”

Isabela sat down on the other side of Luisa, reaching out to touch the sleeping girl’s hair.  “Thank you for that.  Getting Lu to stop working is almost impossible.”

“Do you know what she told me?  During.. well, you know, everything?  She told me that she felt worthless if she wasn’t useful.  Luisa. Worthless! How can she think that?”

“I didn’t do a very good job being a big sister, did I?  I didn’t know anything was wrong, I was caught up in my own issues.  But… but yes, I can see it now.”  Isabela gently undid the braid in Luisa’s hair, the same one she had made earlier that day.  “She was injured during the collapse - she protected Abuela during the fall, and cut her head, messed up her shoulder.  And she kept apologizing for it and trying to hide that she was hurt at all..  She wanted to go help find you.  Burra tonta obstinada… ”

Mirabel squirmed a little.  “I…”

“No, I think I get it.  You thought we’d be mad.  But Mira, we’re not.  Nobody blames you.  And don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you until you believe it.  You are ALSO tonta y obstinada. ”

“I feel like I should be insulted.”

“Well, I mean it with love.  So there.  I’m tired of playing perfect all the time.  And I’m tired of lying and pretending.  We aren’t fine, and we weren’t fine.  But… you know, I think we can be.”

“Me too.”  Mirabel smiled at Isa.  “Like Mama says, nothing is broken that we can’t fix.”

“Okay, so we need to conspire to make sure Luisa doesn’t stubborn her way into breaking herself.”  Isabela gently picked up one of the sleeping girl’s hands, frowning as she inspected it.  “We can fix a lot, but Mama can’t fix her if she gets hurt.”

“She was drinking water when I made her.  And she’s still SO strong without her gift.  She’s tough.”

Isabela frowned.  “I know she’s strong, Mira.  But… but it’s hard to explain how this feels.  She hasn’t said anything to me about it, but I know what it’s like for me.  I can feel the magic missing - it’s not like I’m just not using it, it’s gone.  There’s a kind of.. a kind of hole, inside.  But Lu’s wasn’t like mine.  Hers was on all the time - she had to work to NOT use it.  You’re probably too little to remember, but there was a whole year after she got her gift where she wasn’t allowed to hold your or Milo, in case she hurt you.  She broke SO many plates, too.  I’m worried she’s going to try to do everything she could before.”

“We’ll just have to look out for her.  She always looked out for us.”

“I mean, yeah.  Clearly, she’s my favorite sister.”  Isa smirked.  “Even IF she would always try to defend my annoying baby sister when I complained about her.”

“Well, clearly, she’s MY favorite sister, even if she would tell me to try to ‘understand’ Senorita Perfecta when I had a legitimate grievance.”

Mira grinned, and Isa grinned back.

“Okay.  So tomorrow, we both keep an eye on Luisa and MAKE her take breaks.  Possibly using deception and guile.”  Isabela plotted.  She huffs. "Stubborn burrita that she is."

“And, failing that, we recruit the cousins?”  Mirabel adjusted her glasses up her nose.  “Antonio can be p-r-e-t-t-y hard to resist.  He’s having a hard time, but helping Luisa might just help him, too.”

“Mira, don’t you overdo it, either.  You are one person.”  Isa reaches over to rumple her little sister’s curls.  “We’re rebuilding as a team.”

“Alright, alright.  Come on, do you want to go take a look at the donated clothes?  Maybe we can find something in a really obnoxious lime green and hot pink.”

“Whatever, so long as it isn’t lilac. ”

Notes:

Short chapter today, but I think it does what it needs to.

Chapter 7: Pressure

Summary:

Luisa keeps working towards normal

How is it possible to wake up more tired than when you went to sleep?

Luisa stared up at the chapel’s ceiling.  Everything hurt, from head to toe. Her legs tingled a little, like they were still asleep. Her muscles felt frozen in place, as if they were made from wood. Or maybe from the cold stone of the floor under her pallet. No, stone doesn’t feel pain.  Luisa was certainly not made of rock.  One day down.  One hundred and more to go.  

Luisa was one of the last to the breakfast table.  She felt out of step, one beat behind, clumsy.  But breakfast was still welcome, and Mama had sweetened her coffee exactly right.  Julieta kissed the top of Luisa’s head as the latter sipped.  “You fell asleep so early last night.  You should go look at the clothes, and go wash up after breakfast.”

“But what about Casita?”

“Casita will still be there after you take a proper bath, mi vida.   You need to take care of yourself, too.”

“Yes, Mami.”  Julieta was soft-spoken, but Luisa knew better than to disagree.

The rest of the family was a motley lot as they ate breakfast.  It was tradition to see everyone in their favorite colors - Pepa and Felix liked bold yellows, and Dolores always had something red.  Mama wore teals and blues.  But today, nobody was in the ‘right’ palette (and not everything quite fit or matched). Isabela had chosen the most eye-watering combination of colors, and Luisa suspected that it had been on purpose.  Papa was in a salmon pink guayabera, embroidered with little green fish on the vertical bands, and the image was so absurd that she let out a little laugh. The clothing was clean, however, and in decent shape despite being castoffs. Certainly, everything was a better option than the clothes that had gone through several hard days of wear and work.  Mirabel was already talking to Tonito about embroidering his new vest to make it personalized.  (Her sister always tried to tackle everything , Luisa would have to keep Mira from overdoing it.)

Abuela had gotten a dignified black dress, making her a sober spot at the table.  Luisa glanced at her from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge the matriarch’s mood.  She knew that she hadn’t done enough yesterday.  And she knew that she hadn’t helped clean up after dinner.  And she had slept through helping set up breakfast.  Probably best to not catch her attention quite yet.  Not until she could do something to make Abuela proud, at least.

Even though she was still sore, the coffee helped a great deal.  Enough that Luisa was looking forward to the chance to get a hot bath.  Sure, she was just going to get dirty again right after, but she itched .  Julieta shooed her away from the dishes after everyone ate, sending her off to check the baskets of donated clothing.

As Luisa dug through the clothing, she felt her heart sink a little.  She knew she was taller than most of the village.  Broader, too.  Most of the clothing was simply too small to even consider  There was one chemise that… maybe?  It didn’t reach her knees, but maybe… a pretty green skirt that might be long enough, no, not quite.  

She should have known better.  She hadn’t fit any hand-me-downs since she was eight years old.  Finally, at the bottom of the pile she found a pair of faded men’s shirts that looked like they might be generous enough in the shoulders.  There, a pair of trousers that would fit her waist, though the legs were too short.  There, a ruana that was open at the sides, so it didn't NEED to fit, per se.

Well.  They were better than what she had, which was nothing.  And as Abuela always reminded, she needed to be grateful.  What use was a pretty blouse when she was going to be doing rough work, anyways?  Luisa gathered up the clothes in her arms, and left the church to seek the neighboring rectory.  

********

The bath had been divine.  (And HOT.)  Luisa left it feeling mostly human.  Her hands didn’t quite want to finesse her usual french braid and tidy bun, so she only managed a messy twist that she hoped wouldn’t fall out.  The new clothes hung strangely, but they were clean and sturdy and practical.  Like Luisa, right?  She flexed her hands a few times, forcing them open and closed.  They wanted to stay curled in a half-way position, and her fingers throbbed when she extended them fully.  It felt… odd, but then, everything about her body felt odd and off and wrong.  The whole world felt odd and off and wrong.  

It was just Luisa, though.  It seemed like the rest of her family was adjusting well to not having their gifts.  Pepa actually seemed more relaxed than Luisa could ever recall.  She was mostly occupied between taking care of Antonio (who was still crying a lot), and hovering over Tio Bruno.  Antonio WAS having trouble, but he was five.  Luisa was nineteen. A grown-up. And her sister and cousins, they seemed fine, too.  Camilo was a little quieter, maybe, but he was still smiling and cracking jokes.  Isabela… Isabela had been amazing the past few days.  Luisa had trouble processing HOW much her older sister had changed, without.. changing?  It reminded her of an Isabela she had almost forgotten, a wild whirlwind of energy and mischief.  That Isa had slipped away - sometime after Isabela got her gift, and changed beyond recognition after Mirabel didn’t . Despite everything which had occurred, Isa seemed happier and more confident.  And it was good - really good - to see her and Mirabel getting along.  Luisa hated fighting, and it always would distress her when the two of them were at odds.

So, really, it was just Luisa having trouble.  So.  So she’d handle it.

**********

The second day of clearing debris was a lot like the first, only with more interruptions from Mirabel.  It felt like Luisa couldn’t go an hour without her little sister appearing and making her drink some water, or stop to eat something.  Luisa refused to give up so much time to go sit under the tree again, but she conceded to stop long enough and eat a pandebono or piece of fruit.  If she did, Mirabel would (reluctantly) go away , and let Luisa work.  

That wasn’t nice.  Mirabel wanted to help.  Luisa knew Mirabel meant well.  But she was in a sour mood, and she wasn’t making enough progress, and the chatter and laughter around her only grated on her nerves.  The villagers had brought sledgehammers today, to break some of the rocks down to make them easier to move - as, it seemed, the collapsing house hadn’t broken them enough.  Luisa SHOULD have been able to pick them up.  Luisa should be DONE with this already.  Luisa’s hair was escaping its tie and it was stuck all over her face and neck and her hands were feeling numb again and she should have FINISHED all of this already, instead of swinging a hammer to break a tiny chunk of wall that was barely anything but was still too heavy for her to carry.  It couldn’t have weighed as much as a single donkey, let alone five or six.  

It felt really good to smash the hammer against the rubble, as hard as she could, even if it made her arms and back twinge with every blow.  Her borrowed ruana had been abandoned, it was too hot, and she’d rolled up the sleeves of the sweat-soaked shirt.  It was too tight in the shoulders, and she’d already popped some stitches in the armscye, but she kept working through it.  Work would make her feel better.  

She wasn’t feeling better, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t.  Eventually.

She’d feel better when she accomplished something.  Or maybe when she was exhausted enough to not feel anything.  Maybe it didn’t matter which.

Off to her left, Felix was laughing again.  It wasn’t fair that he could joke around.  

Stop.  

Stop, Luisa.  That’s unkind.

What’s not fair is Luisa not pulling her weight.  This should have been DONE by now.  Luisa should have finished it already.  Being resentful won’t help anything.  Being mad scares people, Luisa can’t ever be mad.  But… she could smash down the sledgehammer again.

And again.

And again.

Her breath is coming in fast gulps, her heart racing.  

Control it.  

Luisa sets the hammer aside.  Better to cart some of the bite-sized rubble to the cart for a while.  Yes.  Get it done before Mira or Isa come to brother her AGAIN.  Get it done, so you don’t snap at them because you are frustrated at your own failures.

She should have been done with this.  She should have fixed it.

Hauling the stone to the cart took so much effort that she couldn’t focus on other thoughts.  And that was good.  Her thoughts kept wanting to spiral into bad places.  Unkind ones.  Luisa was ashamed of them, even if she couldn’t stop them entirely.  But she could make sure she kept it bottled up.  ( Luisa, shouting at Mirabel that ‘nothing’s wrong!’  Mirabel, backing away with wide, frightened eyes. )

Her back was complaining again, it felt like there was sandy grit in between the fibers.  Her muscles were wound too tight, fraying like rope against a hard edge. 

Despite the stone in her arms, Luisa felt tears rising from within.  She couldn’t.  Not again, not here.  She had work to do.  She gulped at the air, swallowing them back.  She had no reason to cry.

WHY was Felix so loud!?  Why did they all have to TALK so much!?

Was there a rock in her shoe?

don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry

People would stare if she cried.

Worse, they would think she couldn’t handle the work anymore.

That she was worthless.

Chapter 8: Pop

Summary:

Luisa isn't what she was.

Routines can set in quickly enough.  And it seemed like Luisa now knew what rebuilding Casita would be like from now on.  Wake to a body that ached, with heavy limbs and numb hands.  Wash up, eat, and work, and work, and work until the sky turned red and orange.  Placate her sisters by drinking water.  (The food and water did help, she admitted.  They allowed her to keep working, because her body would resist otherwise.  One afternoon, she actually couldn’t even stop herself from falling-dropping to sit on the ground.  It had been especially sunny, and she was dizzy.  Mirabel AND Isa fussed over her, and she lost a solid half-hour of work that day.)

Breakfast had changed - the family Madrigal had been separated.  The church had never been a long-term solution, but Luisa missed seeing everyone together.  Pepa’s branch had managed to stay as a unit, with the five of them divided between the two guest rooms in the rectory.  Abuela and Tio Bruno were staying at the Guzmans.  Mama, Papa and Mirabel were lodged with Senora Rojas, the seamstress, but her home couldn’t fit any more - which left Isabela and Luisa to lodge next door, with Widow Martínez.  She had a kind of nook off the kitchen which fit two beds.  It wasn’t perfect, but it was close to the rest of her family and still better than being completely alone.  Mama would prepare breakfast for both households, insisting that it was the least she could do for their hosts.  Luisa would bring a serving over for the widow, as well as whatever extra goodies Julieta would fix for when the Madrigals would be away at lunch.  Luisa also carried the big basket of food against her hip when they went up to the worksite.

Luisa could finally start to see signs of progress versus the rubble, which was very heartening.  She was getting used to how it felt, now, to carry things.  The worst part had been her hands - or perhaps, hiding her hands from her family.  By the end of the day, they were always mostly numb, making them extra clumsy.  Her palms were badly scraped up, and Luisa just KNEW Isa would fuss.  Worse, she might tell Mama.  Wrapping them in strips of cloth helped hide the damage, and she could say (without lying!) that it helped protect them from the stone.  The gentle pressure of the binding helped, too, when they throbbed.

Widow Martinez had a really lovely bathtub, and Luisa indulged in a quick soak before dinner.  (If she tried after, she would fall asleep in the water, so best to avoid that.)  Dinner at the Rojas house, and back to Martinez’s for bed.  Luisa rarely had the energy to do much else after eating - food seemed to kick her right into a stupor.

She was too tired to dream.  Or at least too tired to remember her dreams.  And that was good, too.

All in all, not the worst routine.  

Until the fifth day.

*******

Thursday had been like the rest - breakfast and water-breaks and breaking stone.  It was brilliantly sunny, the sky gleaming overhead.  The glare gave Luisa a headache that didn’t want to go away.

Luisa was doing the same work she had done every day, doing her routine, when Mirabel appeared again to check on her.

“Mira, I’m fine.  You’ve been by twice already.  I have a lot to do.”  Luisa squinted, and tried to tamp down the irritation that tugged at her.  She had been extra slow this morning, with her back and shoulders seeming to resist every movement - like she had been bound up with ropes, keeping her from moving freely.  

“And now I’m by three times!  And I have grapes!”  Her little sister shot up a cheeky grin,

“Mira, I don’t want any.  Go check on someone else.”

“I am checking on you, though.”  She persisted.  “We don’t want you getting sick again, like -”

“Mira!”  Luisa felt her ears turn red.  Why did Mirabel have to bring that up?  “I’m FINE.  Go away.”

Her little sister shrank back at Luisa’s tone, and she immediately regretted raising her voice.  But she was still so far behind…

“Si, Luisa.” Mira backed off, and Luisa’s stomach turned sour.  She’d make it up to Mira, once she got a little more work done.  

And that’s when it happened.

It was just a rock, and Luisa had lifted a hundred rocks.  In her lifetime, she had lifted thousands.  Relatively speaking, this one was quite small.  It weighed perhaps as much as Mirabel, certainly it weighed less than Luisa herself.  She crouched to get a good grip on it - with her uncooperative hands, she liked to get a visual on her hold.  She could no longer ‘feel’ things in her head, and her fingers had been numb for the past hour.  Of course, she expected a certain amount of pain when she stood - it always hurt, now - but there was a curious sensation that accompanied it.  It was like.. Like tearing her skirt on a nail, a moment of resistance, and then a pop-rip.  Except that it wasn’t her clothing, but something inside.  Her back felt like it was on fire, like she had been struck by one of Pepa’s lightning bolts.  The searing feeling radiated up her spine and down her legs.  Her vision flashed with spots and sparkles.  She buckled, her back twisting unevenly and her hold failed.

Luisa dropped the rock as she bit back a cry.  Tears welled up in her eyes, and she couldn’t stop them, she couldn’t even move for a white-hot minute.  Her breathing sped up, but each gasp felt like a knife.

It wasn’t even a big rock.

Luisa blinked hard, trying to beat back the waterworks.  She just had to… just had to… Dios Mio , it hurt.  ( Everything hurts, that’s what you are.)  But it hurt.  It hurt differently?  It hurt.  

She couldn’t stand back up.  Her back was curled, complaining with every pulse of her heart. The muscles had contracted, and wouldn’t relax or unbend. Trying to straighten her spine was agony, and sent currents of pain shooting down her limbs.  It was just a rock.

Don’t cry.  She could work through this.  Things just HURT now.  She’d have to adjust.  

Maybe… maybe she didn’t have to get all the way up?  

Luisa crouched, and placed a new grip on the fallen stone.  She could barely feel it, the pressure of her hold overwhelmed by the sharp pulses radiating from her back.  She hugged the stone to her stomach, and pushed to stand with her watery knees.  She had it!

Luisa took a hunched over step.  And another.  Each step sent a razor-edged jolt down her legs.  Don’t cry.  Don’t cry.  Luisa doesn’t cry.  Nobody needed a repeat of the Guzman dinner.   

On the fourth step, she dropped the stone again.  It tumbled from her hands to land at her feet.  

Luisa stared at it.

The stone was implacable.  And on the ground.

Her breathing had sped up and shortened, a rapid, ragged pant.   It was very loud in her ears.

She hurt .

Pick it up.  She had to pick it up.  If she didn’t pick it up, someone would notice.  If they noticed she couldn’t carry such a small stone, they would remember what she WAS now.

WeakWeakWeakWeakWeak.

Her thoughts chased each other in a frantic circle, warring with the sensations from her body for the most attention.  

She just had to pick it up.  She had pushed past limits before, she just had to FOCUS.

Not cry.  Focus.

She had to be strong.  ( weakweakweakweakweak )

Luisa dropped to one knee, fumbling for a new grip.  She couldn’t feel her hands at all.  As she tried to stand, she felt the same odd sensation shredding along her back, exploding like fireworks.  This time, she was unable to bite back her cry and it tore free from her throat, cutting through the ambient sounds of the site.

She couldn’t get up.  She couldn’t move.  She clung to the stone as if it were a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea.  Her heart pounded in her ears, and she was breathing too fast yet she felt like she was suffocating ( Not enough air, not enough, not NOW not NOW not HERE ).  Her back spasmed, muscles contracting violently, locking her into an inward curl.

“Luisa!”  Felix was the first there, having dropped his work to come running.

Luisa squeezed her eyes shut.  “ Lo siento… ” 

Did she say that, or did she just think it?  She heard a whimper.  Was that her?

“Hey, cariño , shh.  Shh.”  Felix rested a hand on her shoulder.  “Julieta!  Someone get Julieta!”

No, no, no, no, no.  Luisa did not want Mama to see this.  Her ears were filled with a dull roar, and she felt like she was falling, spinning, drowning - tossed on a black ocean of violent waves, the ocean that plagued her dreams, the one that waited to swallow her whole.

She had failed again.  

Over a nothing rock.  A pebble.

Weak.

Worthless.

Failure.

Luisa wept.

Notes:

This chapter was a bit of a struggle. I don't want to overdo the melodrama, and worry that I may have.

Chapter 9: Shreds

Summary:

Luisa overdid it.

Tio Felix hovered near Luisa as she cried.

Before, emotional explosions had been rare - she could feel them building and stave them off until she was safe in her room.  Alone, where nobody would see.  She had been strong enough, then, to hold back and persevere.  

But Luisa wasn’t strong anymore.

She was weak, and broken, and everyone would see.  The ocean roared, but she couldn’t even disappear into it - she was too anchored, tied into her complaining body.

“Esta bien, sobrina.  Julieta will be here soon. You let it out.”  He reassured her as he made a shooing gesture at some of the other workers who were stopping to stare.  “Vamos, vamos.  Get Julieta.”

Luisa cringed, ashamed,  She had to get up.

“De nada.  ‘Sta bien.”  She swallowed her tears, and used her arms to push up from where she lay the rubble.  Black stars flashed in her vision as she did so, but they subsided.  Even sitting up, her spine stubbornly refused to straighten - she was curled in an awkward hunch, and could feel the muscles in her back spasm and cramp.  

Despite how much pain had become part of her routine, this was a very unpleasant collection of new sensations. What had she done to herself?

Over a pebble .  Barely a rock.  How pathetic.

“I don’t think it’s nothing, chiquita .  You have been pushing yourself very hard.  You need to remember things are different now, si?”  Felix knelt down beside her.

(“Luisa will never be strong enough”)

Luisa grimaced, turning her face away.  She could feel her cheeks turning red.

“I know, cariño .  But you need to rest until your Mama gets here.  If you don’t, you might make it worse.”

Worse?  She already was pretty certain she couldn’t stand up.

Part of her desperately wanted Mama and Mama’s soothing voice and gentle hands,  Mama wiping away the tears and giving her a kiss and a warm arepa and making everything better.

But more than that, Luisa did NOT want Mama to see her.  Thinking about upsetting Julieta made Luisa’s stomach twist into knots.  Not just Mama - Papa, her sisters, everyone…

She felt stupid .  

Luisa had known she was broken now.  Knew she was weak.  Knew that she wasn’t what she was.  But she wanted to pretend she wasn’t.  Act like she could still be worth something.  Act like she could help, despite seeing every day how little she could do.  

And now what had she done?  Made herself even more useless?

“Abeja, it will be okay.  Even without her gift, your mama knows lots of things.  She’ll be able to help.”  Felix grinned, but Luisa’s stomach only sank further.

“Lo sé, Tio.”  She knew.  She knew Mama could still help, Mama had studied herbs and medicines even with her gift, Mama didn’t need a gift to matter…

She wanted to lay back down and curl up in a ball (and be swallowed by the earth so nobody could see her.)  But instead, she sat and waited.

“Lu!”

“Luisa!”

Voices approaching - her sisters.  Luisa wasn’t going to be spared any dignity.  She wanted to run away, but she was still there , stuck in the place where she had fallen.  She wasn’t sure if she could get to her feet again.  Sitting up alone had taken force of will, and her back was now wound tight by cramping muscles - half were clenched painfully taut, but there was a spot where they felt limp and watery.  It made no sense , and her own body seemed beyond Luisa’s control.

“Hermana, what did you do ?”  

“Luisa, you were carrying too much, weren’t you?”

“What happened?”

“What hurts?”

“You’ve been pushing too hard, and not taking breaks…”

“So worried…”

“Mama needs to…”

“.. I said you’d hurt yourself…”

“... remember, you don’t have your gift anymore… “

“.. need help..”

“... broken… “

“ … not strong anymore… “

Will never be strong enough.  Not good enough.  

Weak.

Luisa knew she couldn’t apologize.  That would only make them angry.  Or sad.  Luisa couldn’t tell the difference, exactly.  Either way, it was bad.  A disappointment.  A failure.  She could feel the dark ocean within rising, waves growing higher and lapping against her.  Luisa rubbed her face with her hands.

“I’m fine. Luisa’s fine, guys. Please…”  Please… what?  She didn’t know what to ask, nothing that wouldn’t be the wrong thing, that wouldn’t upset them more.  She couldn’t think straight.  Her back hurt.

Isabella huffed.  So that was the wrong thing, too.  

“Lo siento… ” the apology tumbled out before Luisa could stop it.  She KNEW it would make Isa mad.

“Luisa, you are NOT FINE.  You have to stop!  We have been TRYING to be nice, but you are so stubborn!  You can’t do this anymore, you lost your gift!”

Luisa’s mouth went dry as her older sister shouted.  But she knew.  Luisa knew that.

You can’t do this.

“Isa..”  Mirabel put a hand on Isabela’s arm.

“Girls?”  Julieta appeared, carrying a basket.  

Luisa tried to shrink in on herself, to curl her shoulders and fold her arms, but the instinct backfired - something twanged sharply, and she let out a soft yelp.  Tonta burra.

“Ay, mi cosa linda …” Mama rushed to Luisa’s side.  Maybe Mama thought the tears springing up in her daughter’s eyes were from her injury, but Luisa was ashamed and slid her gaze away.  “I’m here, bebé.”

Luisa squeezed her eyes shut as Mama fussed and smoothed her frizzled and sweaty hair.

“Girls, I want you to head down to the widow’s house and start a pot of hot water.  Alright?  We will follow.”  

Isa and Mirabel didn’t argue, though Luisa caught snippets of whispering between them.  Nothing she could quite make out.  It was hard to focus past the throbbing.

“My big strong girl, I’m so sorry that I can’t just fix this…”  Mama’s voice softly cracked, and the shards of it stabbed Luisa right in the heart.

“Lo siento...”  Her failure had hurt Mama.  Luisa had hurt Mama.

“Oh, Luisa.  Mi vida.  You have nothing to apologize for.  Will you let me see?”

Luisa meekly nodded.  Julieta moved to check, causing the big girl to whimper when she found painful spots.  Even Mama’s gentle touch caused it to flare again.  Julieta made a sympathetic noise as her hands centered on the swollen and bruised gnarl.

“Shhh, nena.  Mama’s here.  You tore a muscle.  It… I am sure it will heal, corazon, but it will take some time.  And rest.”

“But how am I supposed to help?”  It had felt like something ripped, but… rest?  For how long?  There was so much work to do.  They had barely started…

“You’re going to help by healing, mi abeja.  If you push, you could make this worse and I… I can’t heal you, honey.”

Mama’s voice did the thing again, a slight quaver.  Luisa didn’t need to see her face to know the pain that would be reflected there.  Her guilt left a bitter taste in her mouth.  Should she apologize again?  She wanted to.  She wanted to apologize a thousand times, apologize until she could scrape away the burden Luisa had caused, especially this Luisa, the failure.

But Luisa’s apologies only hurt.  She couldn’t even do that correctly.  She felt a lump in her throat as the tears rose again.  

Disgusting. Pathetic. Weak. Worthless.

“Ay, Luisa.  I know, it hurts.  We’ll get you ho-...get you to bed, and I know some recipes to help the pain.  Rest will do wonders, I promise.  Do you think you can stand up?”

Luisa didn’t.  But she nodded.

She couldn’t.

Notes:

This was an incredibly rough chapter - I wrote and discarded two other versions, and I'm still not sure if this quite works. Clearly, this is what I get for not having her faint in the last chapter, and keeping a VERY stubborn Luisa awake in the immediate aftermath.

Chapter 10: Rest

Summary:

Julieta takes a look

Ultimately, it took both Felix and Camilo, one under each arm, to get Luisa down the road to the Widow Martinez’ house.  Luisa was simply too big for anyone to easily carry. (It was Luisa’s job TO carry, not to be carried.  She had grown too large for her parents to hold shortly after her ceremony.)  Her ability to contribute degraded over the short walk, as she stumbled more than stepped.

As much as shame and pride pulled at her, Luisa nearly collapsed into the bed.  The quarter mile had exhausted her, and she was in a haze of pulsating, painful muscle cramps.

“No, corazon , you mustn’t lie that way…” Julieta turned Luisa onto her side, and someone else placed a cold compress against her back.  She winced a little at the temperature shock, but it also felt good against the angry burn within.  Luisa instinctively drew her knees up to her chest, wanting to ball into a fetal position, but Julieta stopped her with a touch and made her stretch out.  It hurt , and Luisa didn’t want to do it.  

“Ay, nena .  I know.  Mama knows.  You must stay like this, you can’t lie on your stomach.  You can’t curl up.  I know you want to.  But you’re my brave girl.  You’re doing so well.  Mirabel, move the cold pack a bit lower… yes, there.”

Mirabel was here?  The cold moved, but Luisa was too frozen up to twist around and see.  She was tired of fighting against the clenched-up muscles.

“I’m going to make something to help you sleep, abeja .  You need to rest, and the pain isn’t helping that.  I… I am so sorry.”  Julieta pushed Luisa’s sweat soaked curls away from the teenager’s reddened face.  Her hair had fallen completely undone and was now a damp, tangled mess.  

Luisa looked so young .  Julieta reflected that her middle daughter had seemed to grow up and away so quickly - sprouting like a sunflower in the months after her ceremony, and always so responsible and serious - but now, lying with her eyes screwed shut, Luisa looked… fragile.  And very, very young.  Julieta’s pequena montana, her bebe .  She couldn’t even remember the last time Luisa had a scraped knee for Julieta to kiss and wipe the tears clean.  Every tiny hurt was so easily fixed before, but Julieta couldn’t take this one away.  

“Mira, watch the clock.  No more than twenty minutes at a time.  I’ll be right back.”  Julieta’s voice hinted at tears, but she was determined to do what she still could to help her little girl.

“Yes, Mama.”  

Luisa heard Mirabel’s voice.  She should say something to her sister.  Neither moving nor opening her eyes were appealing options.  “Gracias…” is what she managed.

“What?  Oh, de nada!  Is this helping?  It looks like it hurts pretty bad…”

Luisa should say something to reassure Mira, but all she managed was “Cold helps, yeah.”

Even if it was beginning to prickle a little, the cold also made her back blessedly numb.  

“That’s good!  Isa and I were so worried when we saw you’d fallen down.  Like the other day, with the heat… you always work too hard, Luisa, and now you’re hurt…”

Luisa curled her shoulders inwards, pulling away from the words as much as she could.

Lo siento.   She says it in her head, over and over.  Nobody wants her apologies.

“... but we’ll take care of you, Isa’s been so worried, too…”

Luisa frowned at that.  “You two shouldn’t… I…”

Clearly, Luisa couldn’t handle herself, now could she?  She wouldn’t be here if she could.

“Shouldn’t worry about our hermanita ?  That doesn’t seem fair.  You worry about us.”  Mira gently chided as she adjusted the ice pack.

“No.  No, Mira, that’s different…”  Luisa didn’t like how this conversation was going.  It could too easily enter a field of landmines.  Now that her back was going numb, she was so tired.

“How is it different?”  Mirabel could be infuriating.  And stubborn - something she had in common with Isa and Abuela, which none of the three would admit.

“I’m your big sister.”  Close enough.

“You aren’t Isa’s big sister.  And I can worry about anyone I want.”

Darn it, Mira.  

“You shouldn’t…” 

“I shouldn’t worry?  Luisa, you’re my sister and I love you.  Of course I worry about you.  I’m worried about everyone.”

“Shouldn’t.  About me.”  

Before Mirabel could respond, Julieta re-entered with a steamy mug of something that smelled… green.  “Mijas.  Mirabel, you should be able to put the compress aside.  Help me get your sister up…”

Luisa grimaced and protested.  “I can do it.”

“ No , corazon.  Not yet.  I’m sorry it took so long, I had to double-check the recipe.”  Julieta apologized as she set the mug down and moved to prop Luisa upright with Mirabel’s assistance.  Luisa felt like an oversized doll.

“There.  You will need to go back on your side to sleep, and this will make you sleepy.  Rest, ice, and wrapping to keep the swelling down.  You’re off duty for at least a few days.”

“DAYS?  Mama!  I can’t… Mama, it’s not that bad, you said I just pulled a muscle…”

“Luisa Pilar Valderrama Madrigal, I am still your mother and you will rest because I can’t see you hurt yourself more.  Not when.. Not…”

Luisa squeezed her eyes shut.  “ Lo siento, Mami. ”

She felt a kiss on her forehead.  “ Te amo, mija.   Drink this.  I put in honey for my abejita .”

The tea was bitter, even with the generous amount of honey.  But Luisa drank all of it.  It gave her a kind of fuzzy feeling - the pain wasn’t entirely gone, but it did feel a bit like it belonged to someone else.  Luisa remembered how tired she felt, and it was hard to focus on much else.

“I like the honey.”  That was the nice thing to say.  Right?

Mama was talking to her again.  Luisa loved her so much, she hated making her sad.  She and Mirabel pulled Luisa through a quick wash, without letting Luisa get out of bed.  She tried to help, but she was so sleepy .  Mama seemed upset when she unwrapped Luisa’s hands - the clumsy hands that had failed her today, swollen and scratched from carrying rocks.  Mama and Mira wound long strips of cloth around her torso, as tight as swaddling bands, before slipping the borrowed too-short chemise over her head.  The length wasn’t an issue for nightwear, and it was clean and soft, and Luisa was quite sleepy…

Mama left and returned, and put something cool and tingly on Luisa’s hands before wrapping them back into fresh bandages.  Luisa heard herself apologizing, even though she knew she shouldn’t.  

“I know, I know.  Rest, princesa .”

Luisa made a half-hearted protest, but her thoughts were drifting, wandering off like Sr. Felice's donkeys.  She didn’t resist when Mama and Mirabel eased her back down onto her side, and battened her in with pillows to keep her in place.  She wished she had Uni to hold.  Mama was nice.  She thought she heard Mama sing a lullaby, even though Luisa was too old for lullabies.  Maybe she just remembered it, from long ago.

Mirabel sat on Isabela’s bed, watching their mother twist Luisa’s hair into two braids.  “What did you give her?”

“Mostly willow bark and valerian root.  It’s an old remedy.  I worry that my Luisa won’t take well to the idea of resting.”  Julieta frowned.  “And I don’t have my… I can’t…”

“Mama, you’re doing your best.  Isa and I, we tried to keep an eye on her…”  Mirabel’s guilty tone rhymed with her mother’s.

“Mirabel, mi vida, that isn’t your job.  You didn’t cause this.  I know how much you love this family, and how big your heart is, but Luisa… “

“Luisa is struggling, Mama.  She keeps pretending she’s not, and trying to act like everything’s fine.  She was struggling before she lost her gift, even…”

Julieta sagged a bit as she sat in the little wooden chair tucked between the beds.  “I know.  And I didn’t do a very good job of seeing it or stopping it.  She always wanted to be the ‘best helper,’ even when she was still so small.  Ay de mi, you don’t need to hear this from your Mama.  We’ll all try to help your sister, that’s all we can do.  She wants to do too much, and she forgets she’s vulnerable now.”

Mirabel’s mouth quirked into a worried line.  Mama wasn’t wrong, exactly.  But something about her assessment felt… incomplete.  Luisa did try to do too much - Luisa tried to do everything!  And, until recently, Luisa always had done everything she set out to do.  

“Mama?”  Isabela’s voice preceded her.  “I’m back.  I found all the herbs you asked for from the market.”

“Ah, gracias, mi flor.”  Julieta rose to her feet.  She looked down at Luisa and touched the sleeping girl’s hair.  “Do you wish to help me prepare them?”

Isa worriedly looked past her mother, to the bed.  “She’s alright?”

“Nothing that can’t heal, but it will take time.”  Julieta’s face creased with guilt and regret.  “We’ll do everything we can to help.  Your sister’s strong.  She’ll get through this.”

“My sister is stubborn.” Isa returned.  

“That too,  Like some other girls I know.”  Julieta said (and Mirabel snorted!).

“Hey!  Like you’re any better, Mira!”  

Mirabel just grinned back, cheekily.  Julieta smiled softly.  

“My girls.”

Notes:

Not too much plot, but I'm not in a big hurry with this fic either. Julieta may have misdiagnosed a bit, here. Not that Luisa isn't stubborn, or that she doesn't overdo it. (And yes, THIS TIME, I conked Luisa out to end a chapter. Haha!)

I probably use too many pet names, but, dangit, honeybee seems especially appropriate for Luisa - she's hard-working *and* sweet.

Chapter 11: Nada

Summary:

Luisa gets a break. Agustin tries to help.

The trio left the sleeping Luisa in the alcove and gathered around the widow’s kitchen table.  Isabela took the mug from Julieta and sniffed the dregs.  

“Really, Mama - did you drug my sister?  Valerian root, and you sent me after maypop and kava…”

Mirabel went wide-eyed at that.  “Isa!”  A beat.  “Mama?”

“Isabela, no, of course not.  I just… Luisa needed some… Luisa…  She was so tense it was causing her pain and could have aggravated her injury.  And she’ll heal better if she sleeps.”

“So you drugged Lu. I mean, it’s fine.  I’ll help.”  Isabela smirked and began sorting through the collection of herbs in the market-basket.

“Wait, what? Isa? Ma?”  Mirabel was looking between both of them.

“Your sister needs rest, corazon .  And she was in pain.  I can’t fix it, her body will need to do the work, and I… my baby was hurting.”

“Ma…”

“Mami…”

Isabela and Mira both reached to hug their mother.

“LUISA!”  The kitchen door banged open, and Agustin tripped over the threshold.  Only by dint of holding onto the doorknob did he not fall face-first against the tiles before he found his bearings.

“Ay, Agustin.  She’s asleep.”  Julieta looked to her husband as their two daughters chimed in with their own greetings.

“Asleep?  But how is mi nena ?  Felix said she collapsed!?” Agustin took off his skewed glasses and put them on again.  “Hello, girls.”

“Asleep, corazon .  I gave her willow tea, which should help with some of the pain.  I couldn’t…” Julieta stopped, closing her eyes.  “She’ll need time and rest to heal.”

“And her Mama’s love, mi amor.  She’ll need your love - and you .”  Agustin crossed over, pulling the three of them into a hug.

********************

Luisa must have fallen asleep.  She hadn’t remembered doing so - Mama had brought her tea, and Mirabel had been there?  But she had certainly lost some time.  The room was dim and quiet, with amber light angling in from the window to paint the dust motes in the air.

She was on her side, and most conscious of the reassuring pressure around her throbbing back and… hands?  Her hands were bandaged, too.  Her body felt like one long ache, with her muscles taut and unresponsive.  Without her gift, it was a faulty prison that continued to refuse to behave properly.  Weak, but still more than Luisa could command and one that she couldn’t escape.

She selfishly wished she was still asleep.  That she could sleep forever.  She was still so tired.

But, sore or not, tired or not, her body was also reminding her that it had urgent demands and it didn’t want to let her go back to the welcome darkness of sleep.  She started to stir, to try to move, and let out a soft whimper as the efforts bloomed a dozen spearpoints down her back and legs.

“Shh, Lulu.  Papi’s here.  What do you need?”  She felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Mmph.”  Luisa shut her eyes.  

“Ahh… Julieta prepared me for that.  You’re not allowed out of bed yet.  Let’s get you set up, and I’ll get you some new medicine.”

Agustin helped Luisa to sit up - she couldn’t manage it on her own, and she felt her face turn red.  A half dozen “ lo siento ”s tumbled from her lips, but Papa just shushed her and kissed her hair and carried on.  He left for the kitchen, and she could hear the ceramics clinking as he prepared.  (And a brief yelp when he touched the kettle.  Ay, Papa.)

Papa returned carrying a tray.  “How lucky am I, that I get to spend today with my daughter?  It’s been a while, hasn’t it, mi pequeña bebé ?”

Agustin set the tray down on Isa’s bed as he re-arranged Luisa in hers, propping her up with pillows and tucking the sheets in around her.

“M’not…”  Luisa frowned, trying to find the right protest.

“Luisa, princesa , just let me help you.  I’m your father, it’s my job.  You were hurt.  If anybody knows about getting injured, it’s your papa.”  He pulled the chair over to sit comfortably between Luisa and the tray.

“It wasn’t… I’m not…” Luisa hated lying.  She was terrible at it.  But she couldn’t be hurt.  She needed to be working.  That need tangled and jabbed at the part of her that wanted to go back to sleep, and the dawning horror that she had needed help to sit up, needed help to tend to basic functions.  “I think the nap helped?”

“Oh, probably!  You’ll need the sleep.  Okay, hold out your hands - you’ll want to take this with both of them.”

Luisa frowned again.  The crease between her eyebrows was threatening to become permanent.  She dimly remembered Mama spreading a salve on her hands before wrapping them in gauze.  She could barely feel them, and the bandages blunted them even further.  It did, indeed, take both hands and a fair amount of concentration for her to hold the steaming mug of tea that Papa placed between them.

“Why do I need medicine?  I pulled a muscle, I’m not sick.  People pull muscles all the time.”  Didn’t they?  Normal people?  She knew that workers would go to Mama to have those injuries healed.  What did normal people do without Mama’s healing food?

“You need to rest, cariño .  It’s… a bit more than just pulling, your Mama thinks.  And if you try to do too much, that might make it worse.  The tea should make it hurt less, and help your muscles relax.  Please drink it, Lulu.”  Papa sounded upset.

“ Lo siento… ” Luisa took a hasty sip and grimaced.  Mama’s creations were normally delicious, but the honey still didn’t cover all of the bitterness.  But Luisa could drink it, she didn’t want to let her parents down (more).

“You have nothing to apologize for, mi cielito .  You need to remember you can’t do as much, and not push so hard.  Especially not so hard that you get hurt.”

Luisa’s eyes stung.  “I want to help.”

“I understand, sweetie.  But… but things are different, aren’t they?  You can’t do everything you did before, and nobody expects that of you.  Now, it’s time to rest.  There are a lot of people working on the house, we don’t need you there.  So you don’t have to worry about letting anyone down and you can focus on getting better.”

Luisa swallowed the bitter tea.  We don’t need you.   She supposed she knew that - she had worked so hard and done so little.  The words rang true, and settled down somewhere deep in her stomach, steeped in bitterness and honey-coated.  

“How long?”  She might not be needed, but… but sitting here, doing nothing?  How could she do that?

“We don’t know yet.  A few weeks, probably.”  Agustin took off his glasses to clean them with his handkerchief.

Luisa started coughing as her drink went down the wrong pipe.  Weeks!?

“Whoa, whoa, bebita… ”  Agustin fumbled and dropped his glasses, but DID manage to rescue Luisa’s cup before it spilled everywhere.  “Careful!”

“ Lo siento. ” Again.  At least Papa didn’t get mad when she apologized.

“ No es nada, abejita. ” Agustin placed the cup back into Luisa’s hands.  “Drink.”

Luisa obediently sipped.  Agustin knelt down to retrieve his glasses, fumbling a little as he searched.  “Your Mama left food, too.  You want to try eating?  I am pretty sure it is full of her love.  And powdered sugar.”

Luisa swallowed the last of the medicine, trying to ignore the taste it left in her mouth.  She could feel the fuzziness forming, blunting the sharp edges of her thoughts and the erratic pangs that radiated from her spine.  Which was good - even with the support of the pillows, sitting up brought out a growing ache.

“I’m hungry.”  She was.  That wasn’t a lie.  Agustin took the empty cup from her hands.

“Good thing, there’s a feast!  Ajiaco with extra potatoes, and avocado, and lulo, and powdered bunuelos…”  All of Luisa’s favorites, she realized.  Her stomach realized, too, and growled loudly.  She had dropped the rock before lunch, and the light did seem more afternoon than midday…

Luisa found her dignity taking another hit as her bandaged hands couldn’t handle both the bowl and spoon.  ( Pathetic. )  Papa was gentle and patient, but Luisa could barely taste the stew over her embarrassment.  

“I’m not hungry anymore.”  She protested, but Papa shook his head.

“Please try to finish this for me, princesa .  My strong girl needs to eat.”  

Luisa winced.

“Luisa? Honey?”

No, no, no…

Her eyes were wet.  She could feel the tears welling up and spilling over, a silent flood breaching a dam.  Agustin hastily set the bowl aside (the spoon clattered to the floor) and fumbled to get his handkerchief.

“Shh, shh.  Todo va a estar bien.  Estoy aquí para ti.  Te amo, te amo.  Papá está aquí.  Déjalo salir bebé.”  

Luisa cried, for no reason, but Papa held her and reassured her and let her tears soak into his shoulder.  She was ashamed at yet another outburst - her spiraling lack of control, over her body, over her emotions, over her life… she needed to fix it, but her ability to do so seemed to be ever-further from her grasp.  She had known, deep down, how much her gift had mattered.  She hadn’t been prepared for this .  She hadn’t been prepared to be nothing.

What was she going to do?

Notes:

I, too, wonder how Alma is going to react to this situation. Agustin, of course, is doing his best.

Chapter 12: Simmer

Summary:

Luisa loses track of time.

Luisa kept her face hidden against Papa’s shoulder, even after her tears had run out.  Everything felt numb and abstract.  Maybe this meant she would sleep again soon.  

“There we go, that’s my girl.  Do you want to lie back down?”

Luisa shook her head.  Despite the floaty feeling in her head and the distant aches, she felt safe and loved.  She could almost forget the rest.  When she was little, it had always been Papa whose arms she could hide in.  That had begun to change after she had gotten her gift - she grew too big to carry, her hugs were too tight and could hurt, she had learned not to cry where anyone could see… but even then, Papa was always there.  Mirabel had always needed extra care, and Isabela shone like a star, and Luisa… Luisa was dependable.  Had been dependable.  But that had been enough to make Papa proud of her.  His strong girl.

Time was fuzzy.

Luisa was on her side again.  Papa was gone, Papa was there.  Mama, Isa, Mirabel all faded in and out of her awareness.  Luisa herself.. floated.  This was a long day - had it been a day? More than a day? She slept a great deal.  Mama’s tea made it very hard to focus.  She heard sounds coming in from the kitchen - a curtain gave the alcove some privacy, but it glowed softly from the light beyond.

“Querida, you are doing your absolute best for her.  This is just… very new, for both of you.  Most of your life, and all of hers.  People heal from injuries every day.”

“But not always, mi amado.  I can’t even tell how bad the damage is beneath all the swelling.  What if it won’t heal on its own?  My bebita is hurting, and I can’t fix her… Brunito, have you seen?  He is too thin, too frail.  Mirabel and Isabela are being so strong and brave through this, but…”

“But you are strong and brave, too, corazon.  You are allowed to let down that face with me.  You are the other half of my heart, no?  I am always here for you.”

“We worried so much about Mirabel - with how Mama was, with making sure she knew she was loved.. Did we.. with Isabela and Luisa.. They seemed like they were happy. How much did we miss, do you think?  Why didn’t Luisa stop when it hurt?  She must have noticed.  And her hands, Agustin…”

“Maybe she didn’t know?  She’s never had a limit before.  She’s always done everything she’s set her mind to.”

“Oh, Tino…”

“Ay, Juli… we can’t change what we missed.  We can only do better, now.”

Mama and Papa were talking about her.  Luisa had to concentrate very hard to follow their conversation.  The gentle haze of sleep pulled at her, making her lose focus.  It would be so very easy to drift off again.  Mama was upset, that was clear.  Luisa had to get better soon , get better so nobody would be worried about her.  Get better so she could help.  

Her sisters had already lost faith in her.  Luisa couldn’t take it if her parents did, too.  

But were they wrong?

Luisa didn’t know.  She tried to follow that thought, but couldn’t hold on to the thread.  Her mind floated, and drifted, and faded into drowsy shadows.

It was dark when Mama woke Luisa for necessities and another cup of tea.

“Don’t want it. Makes me fuzzy.”  Luisa protested.

“It helps you rest, corazon.”  Julieta said calmly as she unwrapped Luisa’s hands.

“Slept all day.”  A grumbled mix of guilt and frustration.

“That’s alright.  Sleep will help you get better.  I know, it isn’t very fun.”  Mama frowned a little as she inspected the nicks and bruises before reaching for a bowl of something that smelled Green and sharp.  Luisa recognized the cool numbing tingle from before, which began to set in as Julieta wound fresh gauze in place.

“Useless.”  She huffed, unable to modulate her tone.

“Sweetie, you aren’t useless.  You’re my strong, special, darling girl.  You just need some help right now, while you get better.”

Luisa shook her head.  “Weak.”

“Nena…”  Julieta touched Luisa’s face.  “No.”

“Can’t do anything.”

“Luisa…”

She hiccupped.  “Let everyone down.”

“No.  No, bebita, you haven’t let anyone down.  We want you to rest.  We want you to get better.”

Luisa made an unhappy little humming sound in her throat.

“We all have to learn our new limits, Luisa.  I do, too.  Your tia, your primos, your hermana… it’s a big change.  And you need to rest.”

“I’m tired of sleeping.  I want to help.”  Luisa pressed, ignoring the part that reminded her that she was… not functioning.  Broken .

“Luisa, you can’t help right now.  It’s nighttime.  Let’s try to get some food in you, and medicine.  Once you’re better, you’ll be able to help again.”  Julieta fussed, trying to reassure her daughter.

“I’m not sick. ”  Luisa snapped with more vehemence than she intended.

Julieta looked taken aback.  “No.. no, sweetie, you aren’t.  But this is for the best, right now.  I love you, and I am doing everything I know to make you well.”

Luisa shrank.  “Lo siento…”

“Shh.  It’s fine, mi cielito.  You’ll feel better after some food.”  Julieta smiled, but her eyes betrayed her with taut creases at the corners.  This food was just food, and they both knew it.

A soft sound from the curtained entryway - Isabela clearing her throat.  Luisa shut her eyes.

“Mija.  Thank you.  Please come in.”  Julieta motioned to her eldest, encouraging.

Isabela entered the rest of the way, carrying a bowl.  “I brought the bunuelos.” She said to Mama, but her eyes were on Luisa.  

Luisa was not meeting her sister’s gaze.

“Abejita, they’re your favorites.  Be a good girl and eat.”

Luisa twinged with guilt and nodded.  The knot in her stomach eased a little when Mama smiled.  She desperately wanted to make Mama happy, but her mood was out of control and sour.  Luisa didn’t like feeling that way.  Luisa couldn’t be angry, people would be afraid of her if she got angry. Or hurt. That was a rule she had learned when she was five. Luisa didn’t want to hurt Isa or Mama.

Luisa knew better than to say no to a request.  Why was she feeling like this?

And so Luisa drank the tea and ate the bunuelos and obediently followed directions as Mama and Isa wrapped new bands around her torso.  They had smeared more of the same green-smelling salve on her back this time, and the steady compression of the cloth did make her feel better.  Eating made her feel better, the tea kept her thoughts from spiraling and allowed her to escape into sleep.  

She knew these things.  She knew better.  

She still hated it.

Notes:

Short-ish chapter. Clearly, things were going too well.

Chapter 13: Roomie

Summary:

Isabela talks to Luisa

Isabela sat cross-legged atop her bed, looking across the alcove at the slumped form of her sister.  Luisa hadn’t said much beyond ‘yes’ and ‘no’ since she’d realized Isa was there - but Isabela had heard more.  Isa laid down, listening to Luisa’s steady breathing.  She hadn’t shared a room since her ceremony so many years ago, and she and Dolores had stopped holding sleepovers in their teens.  It was good that Luisa wasn’t alone.  Luisa had never had sleepovers - her room had been a cold place, full of grey stone and training apparatus.  Not very inviting for visitors - not that Luisa had ever really brought friends over, either.

Mirabel told her that Luisa felt ‘worthless’ before.  And now, Luisa was calling herself weak and useless.  Not that Isabela hadn’t had times when she’d felt like a silly pastel ornament - making flowers wasn’t as essential as Mama’s cooking, and Luisa was always in demand to do a hundred things.  The past few days at Casita had been slower without her - even without a Gift, Luisa had been carrying an incredible share of the labor.  

Luisa had been doing too much, but that realization had come painfully late. Isa and Mira had promised to keep an eye on her - that plan had clearly failed.  Mama was probably right in keeping Luisa asleep.  Indeed, Isa helped make up the tea.  Her sister never sat idle, and she was already fussing when she was alert enough to do so. But it was disconcerting to see her sister lying so still and unresponsive instead of up and about.  Luisa was always doing something - she was one of the first to awake at home, training with her weights or moving the table for breakfast or some other task.  Even at night, Luisa rarely sat down with the rest of the family in the sala.  There was always something to move, or fix, or fetch, and Luisa was always right on top of the request.

How many times had Isabela thoughtlessly asked Luisa to do something, when she herself was relaxing after a day in the village?  How often did she ignore her sister to focus on her own issues?  It’s not that Luisa hadn’t been there - Luisa was reliably there , if you needed help.  One word, and she’d drop everything to rush and do it.  But when had they last just spent time together?  Luisa was always busy.  Luisa left breakfast first, skipped lunch, and often missed dinner.

And Isabela hadn’t noticed. The Madrigals all strove to be perfect - well, to project the image of perfection.  And Luisa filled her role tirelessly and without complaint.

Until her Gift failed.

Even now, Luisa hadn’t complained once.  She kept insisting she was fine, despite the mounting evidence that she wasn’t fine at all.  Isa had been mad at Mirabel during the botched dinner with the Guzmans.  Luisa had been crying, but Isa hadn’t paid attention because of her anger at Mira and worries over the engagement fallout.  But Luisa never cried.

Isa missed her gift.  The loss stung especially hard due to the whiplash of only just realizing how MUCH she could really do - more than pretty perfect flowers! - and having it abruptly ripped away.  But Isabela was still herself without it, and she felt free and wild in a way she hadn’t in years.  She had envied Mirabel’s freedom, and now she had her share of it, too.  But while Isa was blooming, it felt like Luisa was crumbling.

Luisa was always there , solid and dependable.  A steady rock.  And now, Luisa was… not.  Isabela had seen injuries before - she had helped her Mama, grown flowers for her tinctures and seen her food fix all manner of breaks and bruises.  (Papi alone counted for more than a few of those).  But Luisa had been down for days.  Her back was an ugly mottled purple, and Isabela could feel the strange hard knot beneath the skin that made Luisa whimper whenever anyone touched it.  

Mama was upset - Isabela could see it in her eyes, in the soft hesitations, in the way she lurked over Luisa when she slept.  They all were working together as a family to look over Luisa, but they looked to Julieta for guidance and direction.  Isa understood why, because she felt the same fear of Luisa making it worse… stubborn, pig-headed, burra that she was… but the sleeping stillness felt wrong and unnatural, too.  She missed her sister, even though Luisa was only an arm’s length away.

“Lu?”

This would probably be futile - Luisa wasn’t often lucid.  But the big girl stirred fitfully at the whisper.

“Mmph?  Isa?”  Luisa’s voice was groggy.

Okay, what now?  Isabela hadn’t actually expected a response.

“Yeah, it’s Isa, sis.”

“Te amo, Isa.”  The phrase spilled out baldly, without thought or hesitation.

“Yo también te quiero, hermanita.”  Isabela smiled softly.

Luisa shifted a little, her face creasing even though her eyes remained closed.  “Lo siento…”

“What?  For what?”

“Lo siento mucho…” 

“Lu, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.  Why are you apologizing?”  Isabela wasn’t sure just how much Luisa was awake, but Lu had frustrated Isa before with the constant contrition.

“Useless… pathetic…”

Now it was Isa’s turn to frown.  “Lu…”

“Failure.”

“Luisa, you’re not a failure.”

“Broken.  Wasn’t strong enough.”

“Hermanita…”

“Never strong enough.  Never enough.”

“That’s not true, Lu.  We love you.”

Luisa’s face twisted into something ugly.  “Until you see.”

“See?  Until we see what?”

“Luisa.  All that’s left.”

“What’s left?  Lu, I don’t…”

“Just Luisa.  Not even as good as a donkey.  Stupid burrita. Can’t help, can’t do anything…”

“Luisa..” Isabela’s voice raised with alarm, and she stood up from her bed.

“Everyone will see.  Failure.  Worthless.  Just Luisa, all that’s left.”

“Luisa, you aren’t worthless.  Te amo…” Isabela touched the younger girl’s arm.

Luisa opened her eyes at that, blinking and squinting in the darkness. “Isa?”

Isabela hesitated a moment, and then smiled. She had lots of practice. “Hey, Lu.  Just… just checking on my hermanita.  Are you thirsty?”

Luisa made a face.  “No tea.”

“No tea, I promise.  But there’s water.  And there are sweets left…”

“Mm..” 

“You don’t have to make a decision.  I’ll get them, so they’re near.”

Luisa’s eyelids drooped, but she clumsily reached to touch Isa’s hand with her bandaged one.  “Te amo, hermana.”

“Yo tambien…” She stroked her big-little sister's hair, as she lost Luisa to sleep.  Out of reach, again.

Isabela wasn’t going to let her go.  She’d lost her home, she’d lost her Gift - she wasn’t going to lose her sister.  And she had a chilling suspicion that if they didn’t do something, they just might.

Chapter 14: A visit

Summary:

Luisa has buyer's remorse on that "relaxation time"

It was afternoon again.  

Luisa was BORED.

Luisa had fussed so much about the tea that Mama had thrown up her hands and set it aside.  It was still there, stone cold, waiting for her.  But she had spent yesterday (two days?  Luisa wasn’t sure) in a blur, and she didn’t like it.  She felt guilty for sleeping so much, but sleeping was better than staring at the walls.  Mama had kissed her hair and told her to relax.

If this was relaxing, it was awful.  Why had she wanted to do it so much?

She wondered what was happening at Casita.  She wondered who was doing her job.  ( “You aren’t needed,” Papa had said. )  Had Tia Pepa allowed Bruno out of her sight yet?  Had Antonio stopped crying?  Had they salvaged any belongings from beneath the rubble? Were Isa and Mira still getting along?  Was Abuela mad at Luisa for being absent?  

Luisa couldn’t sleep.  She had slept too much, for one - but, without the haze, she was very conscious of her discomfort.  The pain was less overwhelming than it had been (yesterday?  How many days?), but everything felt stiff and tight.  She was also embarrassingly unsteady on her feet.  Mama and Isa had helped her out of bed, and she had to sit down while they changed the sheets - she felt weak, and as wobbly as a newborn chick.  

It was terrifying.  Not that she’d admit it, she didn’t want to upset her family.  But Luisa had spent so long honing control over her body - learning to hold back her strength, to keep from breaking or hurting, learning how to focus so she could carry a building WHOLE, learning how to manage the donkeys so they wouldn’t be crushed.  Never touching anyone at full strength, never touching anything without thought or caution… but now, she found herself unmoored.  She struggled to hold a teacup.  She was trapped in this bed, unable to get up under her own power.  She couldn’t walk up the stairs - how would she go back to work?

How could she protect them?

Now, especially, with the mountains open?  

Not that Luisa wanted to fight.  She hated confrontation and raised voices.  ( “You have to STOP Mirabel!” )  Usually, her mere presence was enough to dissuade confrontations from escalating.  On occasion (before), she would hold an angry drunk in a bear-hug until they calmed down.  She had never had to actually HIT someone.  Would that still work if people realized how helpless (pathetic) Luisa was now?

She gently thumped the back of her head against the wall, making a frustrated noise.  Too much sitting, too much time, too much thinking.  She wanted to be at work.  Her hands itched to do something useful.  Even though she was sore, surely, she was getting better?  

Not fast enough.  Not when she had come out from the haze so WEAK.

What did she expect?  She wasn’t useful.  She wasn’t needed.  This was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?  To get a ‘break,’ to ‘relax.’  Regret tasted even more bitter than the tea.   

Thump.  

She stared up at the ceiling, trying to make pictures in the swirls of plaster.  That was almost a cat face.  There, a butterfly.  Dios mio, she was BORED.

She wanted to get UP.  

“Knock-knock-knock-knock-knock, knock-on-wood.”  She heard the voice, accompanied by a gentle rapping on the door frame.

“Tio Bruno?”  Luisa used her arms to push herself more upright against the pile of pillows.  

“Hey kid.”  Bruno smiled nervously as he stepped into the alcove, pushing the curtain aside.

“Hi.”  Luisa felt a surge of shyness.  She hadn’t talked to Bruno much since his return - she had been so busy, and then she had been here .  

Bruno flashed a nervous smile.  “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, eh?”

“Not really.  You’re seeing all the excitement.  Um.  Do you need something?”  Luisa wasn’t exactly sure what she could offer her uncle ( useless ), but she hoped that he would stay for a little while.

“Need?  Ah, no, no.  I came to check on my sobrina.  Nice to see you awake!  Not that I minded last time, no, no, you needed that too, of course.”  He brushed off his ruana self-consciously as he sat down cross-legged on Isabela’s bed.  

“You… visited yesterday?  I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

“Ah, no.  No.  Today’s Friday, so…”  Bruno ticked on his fingers.  “Wednesday?”

A crease appeared between Luisa’s eyebrows.  “But that…”

“Kiddo, you were a bit out of it.  It’s okay.  Like I said, it’s good to see you.  And see you face to face, since I was, you know, there but not there. Um. Before.”

“Mira said you were in the walls…”  Another frown.  

“Yeah, well.  I mean, free food and I… I couldn’t really leave you guys.  You’re my family, and I love my family, you know?”

Luisa did know.  She bit her lip and nodded.

“I love them, too.  Um.  I’m glad you’re back, though, Tio Bruno.”  Luisa rubbed her hands against her thighs.

“Yeah, well.  Yeah.  Um.  Yeah.”  Bruno fussed, then settled on a tired smile.  

Luisa returned it.  “How… how are things going?  Up there?”

“Oh, I bet you feel left out, kid.  It’s been busy.  We miss you, of course.”  Bruno fiddled with the hem of his ruana, twisting a frayed thread between his fingers.

Luisa grimaced.

“What’s that face for, princesa ?”

“I.. uh.  It’s just… I don’t think I’d actually be much help right now.”  She felt her ears turning red as she admitted it.  Knowing it was bad enough - but saying it?

Bruno looked at her, apparently not minding the silence that drew out.  Luisa fidgeted, uncomfortable.  Her back was sore, of course.  That was it.  She looked away from her Uncle and focused on trying to find a more comfortable position.

“Do you think that we miss your help?”

Luisa didn’t understand Bruno’s question, and she felt herself frown.  “I mean, I know it wasn’t… wasn’t as much help as it should have been.”

“Luisa…”

“I know I wasn’t doing enough, I mean.  But…”

“Nobody thought that, Luisa.  You did a lot.”

Luisa hummed unhappily in her throat.  

“Kiddo, we just miss you.  Luisa.”

“But I can’t…”  Luisa grimaced again.  “I’m not helpful.  Right now.  Just for now.  I’ll be able to help soon.”

Bruno was watching her again, so Luisa slid her gaze to her coverlet.

“When I… when I left, I remember feeling that my gift wasn’t helping the family.  Bad Luck Bruno, who only saw bad things.  I thought I was doing the right thing, y’know?  That it would be better.”

“...I missed you, when you left.”  Luisa softly murmured.

“I.. I still have a lot of apologies to make, yeah.  I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t want to hurt anyone.  But we were all so caught up in our Gifts, in our Magic… I wanted to protect your little sister, because of that vision.  But Casita… Luisa, Casita was cracking for a long time before anyone outside the walls saw.”

“I should have…”

“Should have what, kid?  Seen the future?  That was my job, not yours.  And trust me, it doesn’t help that much. You can’t control everything, even with magic.”

Luisa scowled.  “My job was protecting the Miracle.”

“Luisa, no.”

“No?”

“No.  The Miracle wasn’t more important than the family.  That’s where we lost our way.  Luisa, we miss you, sobrina.  We’re worried about you, because you, yourself, matter.”

“...Did Mira talk to you?”

“Eh, she may have.  A little.”

“She shouldn’t have.  Mira worries too much.”  Luisa shifted again, uncomfortable.  Her body was complaining.  

“Uh, kiddo…”  Bruno gestured expansively.  “Mirabel just saw the truth.  That we, la familia Madrigal, had problems.  It’s not a failing to admit you need help, Lulu.”

Luisa prickled like one of Isabela’s cacti.  “I don’t.”

It was an absurd lie.  An outrageous one.  She couldn’t even get out of the damn bed.  But Bruno’s words made her stomach twist with anxiety, making her want to curl up and hide from what she KNEW.  That she was broken.  Useless.  Worthless.  That she had failed.  

Every thought clung together, every self-aspersion, until they formed a towering chimera that loomed over her thoughts.  A many-tongued beast that she couldn’t fight.  

Luisa was afraid of it.  That was the truth.  She was afraid of her weakness, she was afraid of her failure.  She was afraid of being trapped like this, this useless thing. A lump swelled in her throat, because all this Luisa did was cry.  She swallowed, pushing the tears down into her roiling, knotted stomach.

Bruno was just watching her again.  Her uncle seemed very tiny as he hunched inside the oversized ruana.  Isabela would have gotten mad at her by now.  Mirabel would have tried to insist Luisa was “more than her Gift.”  But Bruno just looked at her with those sad eyes.

Luisa drooped as she met and then broke that sad gaze.  “I… I mean, I’ll be better soon.  And then I can help again.”

“Kiddo, we want you to get better.  But.. but do you understand why?  I think you’re missing it.”

“Well, I mean, it’s a huge burden right now.  I’m not able to help, and now I… I need help, for… for stuff that… for basic stuff…”  Her cheeks flushed hot.  “That’s taking away from fixing the house.”

“Luisa, you’re worth more than a hundred houses, even magical ones.”

“But Casita…”

“But nothing, kiddo.  You are who we care about, not the things you can do.  We don’t love you less because you need help.  Do you mind helping out your Mama?  Your hermanas?”

“No…”

“Of course not!  You love them, right?  And we love you, just the same way.  That’s what family is.  Should be.  We might have messed up, but, well, we’re still trying.  Making a mistake doesn’t mean it can’t get better.  But… you gotta be kind to yourself, too, kiddo.  As kind as you are to others.”

“But -”

“But!  That wasn’t why I came to visit, was it?  Nope, your Mama said you were going to be awake today.”

“Um.”  Luisa blinked as Bruno shifted gears.  “I.. uh, yeah.  I was tired of sleeping.”

“Ironic, eh?”  He rubbed his hands together.  “Speaking of irony, have you ever heard the tale of Odysseus, who returned home after twenty long years?”

“I.. no?”

“Ah, well, you settle in and listen to Old Bruno - it began with a war, and that war began over a beautiful woman…”

 

Chapter 15: Rise and shine

Summary:

Another breakfast

Luisa didn’t manage to stay awake through all of Bruno’s story, even without the tea.  But he returned the next day, and the day after.  He also brought a stack of books - tales of pirates and princesses and adventure.  Kid stuff.  Luisa ate them up -sometimes reading them two or three times to fill up the long stretches of afternoon.  She had always liked stories, but never had much time to waste on books.  (Was it a waste?  Well, maybe not now, when Luisa couldn’t help.  When she was useless.)

She was still too weak.  Injuring her core left her midsection feeling watery and unsupported, which seemed to affect everything she tried to do.  She still hadn’t returned to Casita - she had barely left the alcove.  She KNEW resting would only make her weaker yet, but she couldn’t do more.  She tried, of course.  And then her back would go from the steady ache to searing flares, or she would simply find herself exhausted and shaking from doing simple tasks.

It was humiliating.  She was Luisa Madrigal , who could move mountains!  Luisa Madrigal, who needed help to get out of bed.  Luisa Madrigal, who had to rest after sitting up on her own.  Luisa Madrigal, who wasn’t allowed to carry anything heavier than a children’s book.

Some days, she didn’t want to even try getting out of bed.  What was the point?  She would stare at the plaster in an apathetic daze.  She didn’t feel like herself on those days.  She knew that she was letting everyone down, but then, maybe she wasn’t herself anymore.  She was Luisa-shaped, but emptied out.  Hollow.  (Useless.)

Luisa was sure she’d feel better when she could work again.  It had to be soon.  She needed to be better.  She needed to be useful.  The sharp and jangly feelings in her head sometimes felt worse than her weakness and they stabbed deeper than any twinge from her injured back.  

Her head wasn’t right.  But she couldn’t stop the repetitive thoughts any more than she could lift a donkey.  Her family was being so kind and patient, couldn’t they see ?  Did they see and just pity her?  Luisa didn’t want to be an object of pity.  She wanted to be what she WAS.  What she had been, before. She wanted to be strong, and capable, and helpful, and worthy. She hadn’t exactly been happy, no.   But she was useful.  She was needed.  She didn’t want to be this weakbrokenuselessworthlesspatheticdisgusting thing.  

It’s not like she was happy now, and she had all the rest she could ever ask for.  

Maybe it was a punishment for being ungrateful?  Abuela said she needed to earn her Miracle, to pay back for what she’d been given.  Luisa began losing her gift first .  Before Casita fell.  

Would she have been so useless if she had been worthy?  Could she have done something different?  ( “You have to STOP, Mirabel!” )  Not stood by, silent and afraid, when the rift tore between Abuela and Mira.  Done more, when she saw the fighting grow between Isa and Mira.  Said something to Abuela, somehow, when the matriarch would be too harsh to Luisa’s younger sister.  

It had been Luisa’s job to protect the family.

“C’mon, sis.  Mama is bringing over breakfast.”  Isabel hovered over Luisa, interrupting the latter’s view of the ceiling.

“I’m not hungry.”  Luisa closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at Isa.

“Well, walking will be good for you. C’mon, up we go.”  Isa draped Luisa’s arm over her shoulder.

Luisa needed the help to get up.  It was a fight against her own body, which wanted to curl inwards or freeze up.  Isa was right - she needed to move.  She needed to be strong again.  But sometimes, it felt like that was never going to happen.  Her Gift was gone.  How could she be strong on her own?

The pair shuffled the short distance from the alcove to the kitchen table.  Widow Martinez was there, making coffee.  The old woman spent most of her days sharing the patio with her neighbor, Sra. Rojas, where they would tat lace, drink even more coffee, and gossip.  Mama, Papa and Mirabel were in Sra. Rojas’s spare room, keeping their immediate family at least relatively close together.  Luisa sat down in a wooden chair - she couldn’t last a whole meal yet on the lower bench.

“Gracias, Tita.”  Luisa took the tiny cup from the widow.  She always made it extra sweet for Luisa, which the girl appreciated.  She closed her eyes as she sipped the drink.  She could hear Mirabel chattering from outside as the rest of her family approached, though, truthfully, Luisa let her thoughts wander until…

“...Doña Alma, welcome to my home.”

Abuela?!  Abuela was here?  Luisa’s eyes flew open as her stomach twisted.  She sat up as straight as she could, ignoring the twinge of protest in her back.  Abuela was holding hands with the widow as they exchanged formalities.  Mirabel and Mama and Papa were at the doorway, Mama with a basket over her arm.

Luisa rubbed her hands against her thighs, very aware that she was still in her nightdress.  She gripped the fabric in twisted handfuls.  Luisa still hadn’t been back to work.  It had been two weeks, without her doing ANYTHING to help.  Abuela had to be so disappointed.  Luisa hadn’t done anything.  Nothing.  Luisa had been so useless.  Luisa had taken others away from work.  Luisa was a burden.  Luisa was noth-

Her thoughts were interrupted by Isa’s hand on her arm.  “Lu, breathe.”

Luisa shot a sideways glance at her sister and nodded.  Breathing.  She’d had breakfast with Abuela every day of her life until now.  Why should today be different?  ( Because Luisa was different.  She was a failure now .)  Pick up the coffee.  Pretend to be calm.

“Good morning, my girls.”  Mama kissed the tops of Luisa and Isabela’s heads in turn, and Mirabel helped unpack the basket of breakfast goodies.

“Morning, Mama.”  Luisa and Isabela both responded, overlapping but not in unison.  Mirabel snerked at them.

Abuela and the widow finished their pleasantries before joining the rest at the table.  “Good morning.  What a blessing it is for us to be together today, is it not?”

Luisa nodded while keeping her gaze down on the coffee cradled in her hands.  She could feel her shoulders rounding inwards, as if she could make herself smaller.  A plate of sliced avocado and almojábanas was set in front of her.

“Gracias, Mama.” Luisa murmured.

“Te amo, mi cielito.” Julieta replied, with a gentle pat on her daughter’s cheek.

“Luisa, nieta, it is good to have you join us.”

Luisa anxiously looked up.  Abuela was watching her.  Was she mad?  Disappointed?  Luisa searched her grandmother’s expression for clues on how to respond.  How to impress her. How to show that she was worth… something.  Could be worth something.  

“Gracias, Abuela.  Um.  I should be able to be back helping soon.”  She tried to sit up taller, but her back responded by cramping up.  Her eye twitched.

Abuela frowned, and Luisa’s stomach sank.

“Abejita, you’re not ready yet…” Mama started, but Luisa cut in.

“But soon.  Right?”  It had to be soon.  It had been too long.

“Luisa… sweetie, we’ll discuss that later. Right now, we’re just having a nice family breakfast.”

“Si, Mami.”  Luisa looked down, gently chastised.

“Julieta, I think it’s good that Luisa is eager to get back to work.  Our little burrita has always been industrious.”

“I know that, Mama, but right now, she still needs to rest.”

Luisa’s stomach twisted.  Mama and Abuela were using a pleasant tone, but this was still a fight.  About her .  She didn’t think she could eat a bite.

“Luisa’s a strong girl, mija.  If she wants to do more, you should let her.”

“Mama, I can’t heal her .”  Julieta’s voice cracked.  The table went silent.

Luisa simultaneously wished that the floor would swallow her whole, or that she could scoop Mama up into a fierce hug.  It was her fault Mama was sad. It was her fault they were fighting. Her not getting better fast enough…her not being strong enough…

“I.. por supuesto, Juli.  Luisa should take all of the time she needs.  Perdóname.”

Alma looked over at her granddaughter - who was not looking back at her.  It was good to see Luisa up and awake, but the girl’s shoulders were curled and her complexion was sallow.  No, Julieta was right.  Luisa wasn’t ready yet.

Alma was trying to do better.  But Luisa was always so eager to help.  She had been so dedicated in service to the Encanto.  Alma had always been proud of Luisa’s commitment.  Surely, her nieta would be happier with something to do?

Anything had to be better than the past week, with the teenager looking impossibly fragile as she slept.  "Luisa" and "fragile" did not belong in the same sentence. The idea of Luisa - of all of her grandchildren, she had never considered that Luisa might ever be hurt.  Without their Miracle, they were so vulnerable.  Alma crossed herself and touched the rosary looped on her chatelaine.  She was glad her nieta was well enough to join them, now.  She would have to be patient.

Agustin had taken Julieta in his arms and was whispering into her ear.  Mirabel and Isabela were looking between the adults and Luisa.  The latter had her eyes fixed on her plate.

“Lo siento, Abuela.”  Luisa swallowed.  She knew it would upset her sisters, but she had to say something.

“Luisa, carino, you don’t have to apologize.  Your mama is right, you need time to rest and heal.  I know I can push too hard.”

Luisa made an ambiguous hum in response.  

Mirabel cleared her throat.  “SO, we’re drawing up plans for the new house. Luisa, your new room is going to be right between mine and Isa’s.  Won’t that be nice?”

Isa scoffed, but Mirabel elbowed her.  “Ay, Mira!”

“And Bruno won’t be off in a tower, but between Mama’s and Tia Pepa’s suites.  So the triplets on the north side, our primos on the east, and us three on the west. The rooms won’t be as big, of course, but it’s going to be nice… and Isa’s going to plan the garden. Right, Isa?”

“Oh, I’ve got so many ideas about that!”

Luisa was relieved when the focus shifted off of her.  Isabela and Mirabel had a lot of ideas about the new house, and their enthused descriptions piled on top of each other.  Abuela was quiet - Luisa checked a few times to see if the matriarch was upset, but would quickly look away if it seemed like Abuela was paying attention to her .  Mama and Papa both fussed over Luisa’s eating, and insisted she take seconds.  By the end of the meal, Luisa was ready to lie back down but she didn’t sag or falter the whole time her grandmother was there.  She couldn’t allow that to happen.  Abuela wasn’t proud of her, of course, but at least she wanted Luisa to come back to work.  Luisa could get better, surely, and then she’d still have a chance.  She would make herself useful again, and she’d make her family proud.

All in all, it could have gone worse.

(Which it did, when Luisa needed Papa and Isabela’s help to stand from the chair at the end of the meal.  Abuela didn’t say a word.  She didn’t need to.  Luisa knew.)

Notes:

Abuela is trying.

Chapter 16: Small comforts

Summary:

Perks of being an invalid

Tio Bruno continued to visit every day, to tell stories (now and then accompanied by a pair of rodent ‘actors’ smuggled in his ruana.  Luisa thought they were cute, but they were careful not to let the widow know about THOSE guests.)  After exhausting the children’s adventure tales, Bruno brought Luisa a fat volume on Greek mythology.  She could see the bones of his narratives there, but they often diverged from the versions he had told her. (The book versions had a distinct lack of unicorns, but the glorious Pegasus almost made up for it.)  Luisa didn’t mind, both could exist. And there were new tales, too, of heroes and goddesses and nymphs and magic, ones Luisa had never heard.  

Reading made the time Luisa was trapped in bed fly by - she wasn’t trapped, not really, because she could disappear into the narrative.  She could wrestle Cerberus, she could be romanced by an invisible Eros, she could find her way through the Labyrinth. There were enough stories to keep her daydreaming for hours. She… almost regretted… no.  No, she didn’t regret that she was getting stronger.  (Not strong. Not strong enough by far.  But stronger.)

Because she was.  Luisa was able to sit up without support, provided the seat wasn’t too low or too soft.  She was able to walk on her own, though transitioning from “down” to “up” was still a struggle.  Mama still wouldn’t allow her to carry anything, but she did concede to allowing Luisa to do stretching exercises.  Exercises which were sorely needed - Luisa found that her range of easy movement was starkly limited.  Her muscles were too tightly coiled, and fought back when she tried to straighten her shoulders or lift her arms too high.  

Mirabel would help with the therapy - holding Luisa’s hands and bracing her feet, or pulling on a limb to help extend it when Luisa alone could not.  Luisa had never trained with company, really.  It had always been a solitary task that bookended her days.  And while she knew about partner work, in theory, her strength barred her from such - it would have been too easy to injure a regular person. And who could safely spot her weights? No, training with someone else had been impossible.  But Luisa wasn’t strong anymore, and so she couldn’t hurt Mirabel.  Rather than working out in silence, Mira would tell Luisa about family happenings at the worksite, or the latest developments in the village, and would ask Luisa about her reading.  For once, Luisa got to be the one to tell stories, and she would excitedly recount whatever tales she had read the day before - a mirror of the times when a younger Mirabel would light up Luisa’s daily chores with her chatter.  Of course, Luisa was getting better. Stronger.  She wouldn’t need to have Mirabel’s help forever.  

Best not to think about that.  Thinking too much can lead to trouble.

Luisa had always used physical training to keep herself centered.  Moving her body helped calm her nerves, and could keep her thoughts from spiraling out of control.  She was determined to be useful again.  There was work to do, and Luisa was tired of being idle. (Useless. Burdensome.)  It also suited her dignity to be less dependent on help with personal tasks, though Mama or Isabela still washed and braided her hair like they had when she was a very young child.  

Today, it was Isabela’s turn.  Luisa closed her eyes as her sister’s fingers combed through her curls. It felt nice. Luisa rather guiltily enjoyed the routine - the pretty floral perfume of the shampoo, the gentle, caring touch of hands in her hair, the soothing rhythm of the brush, the quiet time together.  It made her feel calm, and safe, and loved - briefly quelling the anxious hum of worry in her head, and shutting out the chorus of recriminating whispers.  She would miss this, when she got better.  Like she would miss the books.  And the time with Mirabel and Bruno.

“Have you ever thought about leaving it down?” Isa asked.

“Can’t.  It’s not really practical.  All it’ll do is get stuck to my face or caught in something.”  

“Well, maybe before.  But right now?  It would look pretty around your shoulders.  I could maybe tie just some side pieces back so it stays out of your face…”  Isa demonstrated.

“I..I dunno, Isa.”  Luisa supposed her sister was right - the plan was to go to Casita this afternoon, but Luisa wasn’t going to be allowed to do much.

“If it gets unruly, I can put it up later. I don’t mind. You’re my sister, I’ll take care of you.”  Isa promised.

“Well, okay. I guess.”  It didn’t sound so bad at the moment, being taken care of.  She trusted Isa.  

“Yes!  Just because I don’t want to be a pretty princess doesn’t mean my hermanita can’t.”  Isa exclaimed as she started a small braid at Luisa’s temple.  Luisa’s ears turned red - she knew she wasn’t a ‘pretty princess’ either, she couldn’t be.  Not like Isa or Lola were. But…

But maybe it could be nice to pretend for a little while.  Like when she was reading, and rode on the shoulders of heroes.  Just for a little while, Luisa could be pretty like her sisters.  She’d be better soon.  Back to work, soon.  Useful soon.

Isabela wove Luisa’s red ribbon in with the twisted hair, adding a pop of bright color in her sister’s dark curls. She held up a hand mirror for Luisa to inspect her handiwork. 

“Look, see? Mira a mi linda hermana!”  Isa declared

Luisa’s cheeks matched the ribbon, but she smiled.  “Yeah, I guess I like it.  Gracias, gracias, gracias, Isa.”

At some point, Mirabel had embroidered a multi-colored butterfly on Luisa’s borrowed ruana - probably during one of the days she was stuck watching Luisa sleep.  Luisa never knew how her sister found the resources, but she appreciated the addition.  Mirabel also must have altered the borrowed shirts, giving her more room in the shoulders.  Or perhaps Luisa had lost mass in the past few weeks?  ( Weak. )  Well, it didn’t matter either way.

**********

The walk up the hill took more out of Luisa than she anticipated.  It wasn’t that far, but it was also the longest she had walked in weeks.  Her head was noisy, repeating itself over and over, as constant as a heartbeat.  But Luisa was fine, really.  Getting better.  Almost back.

By the end, she was leaning heavily on Isa and a ‘lo siento” or two slipped out.  For once, Isa didn’t get mad at her for apologizing.  

“Esta bien, hermana.  Almost there.”

“Lu!”

“Luisa!”

“Prima!”

Several voices went up in greeting as the pair crested the hill.  Luisa could see that a great deal of progress had been made without her - the building debris had been carted off, or sorted into piles for potential re-use.  Makeshift tents were stretched over piles of broken furniture and what remained of the Madrigal’s personal items - set up to sort through all of it for what could be salvaged, most likely.  The other grandkids were getting up from where they’d gathered and making their way to meet Isabela and Luisa.

Antonio was the first and the fastest, slamming into Luisa’s legs hard enough to make her stagger.  

“Whoa there, hombrecito.”  Luisa smiled, even if the impact twinged.  

“Luisa!  I missed you!  I miss my friends, too.  Are you staying?”  Antonio wrapped both arms around Luisa - she wasn’t going anywhere now.

“Um.  For a bit, yeah.  Maybe I can help out?”  Luisa felt a twinge of guilt.  She shouldn’t just visit .

“Luisa, Mama said you aren’t supposed to be working yet…”  Mirabel piped up.

“I won’t lift anything heavy!  But I mean, there should be something I can do?”

“NOPE!  Not allowed.  Right, Isa?”  Mirabel looked at the eldest sister for support.

“Nope!  We just want your company.  And the fresh air will do you good.  C’mon, let’s get you situated.”  Isa agreed. 

Luisa was being outnumbered.

“You know Mirabel is stubborn, prima.  Hm!”  Dolores fell in on one side as the group walked to a spot near one of the tents.  “I like the hair, though.”

“AND copying my style, I see.”  Camilo tugged on Luisa’s ruana.  “Clearly, somebody has realized who the most stylish Madrigal is…”

Luisa honestly felt a bit overwhelmed as it seemed like everyone wanted to talk to her at once.  It was nice, kind of, to see them so happy to see her.  It was nice to see THEM, happy, period.  Luisa always liked watching her family enjoy themselves.  Spirits had definitely improved in the past few weeks.  Antonio wasn’t crying, and Camilo was joking.  Dolores was distinctly more outgoing than Luisa could recall.

With a bit of help down, Luisa sat on the grass by the others - they were sorting through a pile of what looked like things from the kitchen.  “No, Luisa.  Just relax.” Isa chided when she tried to reach in.  So Luisa sat with her hands tightly folded in her lap, as her family chattered and worked.  ( “I found another spoon!” “Hey, this coffee cup isn’t broken!” “You remember when Tio Agustin tried to bring out a tray of coffee to the sala?  It’s a miracle we have any cups left…” )

It was good, being with her family.

It was!

She had missed them.  Missed the noise and the chaos and the smiles.  

She had been very tired of the same four walls.

She had to keep her hands busy.  Luisa found herself picking at the fabric of the ruana, anxiously.

They wanted her there.  They’d said so.

Luisa looked around at the hive of activity - Pepa, Felix and Bruno had their own pile to sort.  Julieta was taking a pitcher of water around.  Abuela and Agustin were poring over a sheaf of papers - Papa had a ruler out and was making notes.  Everyone was busy.

Papa was right.  Luisa wasn’t needed.

( “No, Luisa, you’re supposed to be relaxing.” - Mirabel, this time.  Luisa brought her hands back to her lap. )

Luisa found she couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation anymore.

Her back was throbbing again.

They didn’t need her.  She couldn’t help.

She hoped it would be time to go back to bed soon.

Notes:

Lots of mixed feelings for Lu right now. And some well intentioned things going askew.

Chapter 17: interlude

Summary:

a bad day

“Lu, it’s time for breakfast. C’mon, get out of bed.”

 

“Lu, we’re going to go to Casita.  Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

 

“Luisa, mija, you should eat some soup.  You need to keep up your strength.  I’ll just leave it here for you.”

 

“Lu-IS-a!  I know you’re not really asleep.  Luisa!  Luisa, c’mon.”

 

“... and so, Queen Hippolyta ended the long months of war by marrying Theseus, but of course, she also secretly loved him, though it was forbidden by Amazon law…”

 

“Princesa, your mother is worried.  How about you come out for a walk?  Okay, okay, te amo…”

 

“Lu, dinner.  Stop being so stubborn .  Lu, please.  Lu?”

 

“I made a plate for you, mi amor.  For when you’re ready.  We’ll be having changua for breakfast.  Won’t that be nice?”

 

“Hermana, just.. Maybe tomorrow will be better?  We missed you today. Duermas bien, Lu.”

 

 

Notes:

More a snippet than a chapter, the characters are not yet telling me what they do next.

Chapter 18: Boiling over

Summary:

tick, tick, tick

“I thought getting her out of bed would help. ”

“Milo, I’m sure it is.  She’s just, I don’t know… she needs to rest.  Maybe we’re making too much noise.”

“She’s just SITTING there.  She doesn’t look relaxed.  Look, see, she’s doing the arm thing.” 

“The… what?”

“The arm thing.  Honestly, Mira, don’t you pay any attention?  She does it when she’s down.” Camilo sighed and then mimicked, rounding his shoulders and clasping one forearm with the other hand.  

“I never noticed that.”  Mirabel squinted behind her glasses and frowned.  Thinking about it, Camilo was right.  Mira had seen the posture before.  And had seen more of it in the past few weeks.

“Well, you have to get all the details right, sabes ?”  Camilo pulled a smirk, then it faltered.  “Uhg.  I hate being stuck with one face all the time.”

“Oh.”  Mira said softly.  Everyone said.  Everyone knew. But it still laid heavily.

“Hey, hey, melliza.  We’re working on it.  We’ll be okay, even if we’re not there yet.”

“But will Luisa?  Be okay, I mean?”  Mira glanced back to where her sister had retreated.  Luisa had found an isolated spot - as isolated as could be found in the hive of activity that was the site - and was sitting doing nothing at all.  Her back was against the trunk of a tree, and her gaze was dull.  She was doing ‘the arm thing.’

“Lu’s strong.  I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually.” Camilo frowned.

“I don’t understand.  She was so stressed before.  Getting to relax now should help. ” Mirabel rubbed the back of her head, rumpling her curls.

“I don’t know what to tell you.  It’s.. Luisa.  Luisa likes working. She’s probably bummed about her gift.” 

Mirabel huffed.  “But we’ve told her she doesn’t need her gift.”

Camilo raised an eyebrow.  “And your Mama said you were special without one.”

She scowled as she mulled that idea over.  “She did.”

“Exactly, prima.  There’s hearing something, and there’s believing it.”  The teen shrugged.

“Whatever, fine, I’m going to talk to her.”

Camilo whistled.  “Good luck, melliza.”

Mirabel squared her shoulders, and hiked up the hill to talk to her sister.

*************

They don’t need you.

Luisa watched the buzzing activity around the remains of the house.  She had been told to ‘relax’ again, but it was worse trying to do so when surrounded by her family as they worked and chatted.  Her self-consciousness ate away at her, clawing at her insides as she ( Useless ) watched with her hands in her lap.  She didn’t understand why they wanted her there, in the way.  They said they wanted her there, but they didn’t want her.  How could they? No, they couldn’t.  Not really.  Not when she couldn’t help.

Her hands itched to do something.  She was sick - her insides humming like she had drunk too much coffee, like a guitar strung too high, like the odd change of air before a storm.  

She feared that feeling, that tension.  Before, when she had been strong, she had largely been able to stave off the moment when the balance would shift.  She could feel the pressure mounting, could sense the cold dark ocean within growing turbulent, but she could hold it.  She could always hold it off until she was alone.  Sometimes, she could vent the pent up energy - exhausting herself through work or training until the tension passed.  Other times, rarely, the waves would rise up and engulf her.  But nobody saw those times, Luisa made sure.  

It was easier to be alone.  To not have to try and keep up with the conversations that went too fast.  To not watch them smile and laugh and worry about dragging them down.  

Luisa had made excuses that her back hurt, and had retreated up here.  It wasn’t entirely a lie.  It did hurt, but the pain was low and steady when she was being ( useless ) idle.  

She didn’t want to let them down again.  More?  Not let them down more?  They had been mad when she didn’t come.  So here she was. She wanted to go back to bed. 

Not really.  She hated being stuck in bed. She was tired of the room.  She was tired of being STUCK.  She was tired of being… this.  Whatever she was now.  Not Luisa.  

Not-Luisa groaned internally when she saw Mirabel heading towards her.  Her hermanita had a determined set to her jaw - Mira had the persistence of a terrier, and the same sense of restraint.

“Luisa!  You’re supposed to be relaxing.”  Mirabel scolded.

“I am.  I haven’t done anything, Mira. I’ve been up here.”  Luisa felt her hands tighten, and a flare of something hot and sharp in her gut.

“But you haven’t been relaxing, you look miserable.”

“I…” Luisa frowned.  “My back hurts.”  Not a lie, not exactly.  She didn’t want to lie to Mirabel, but she couldn’t explain what really hurt.  They weren’t real things, and trying to talk about them last time had made her weak (broken), had cost her her gift, had made Mirabel lose faith in her.  

“Oh. Do you need to go back to the house? Do your exercises?”

“Um.”  Luisa wanted very badly to go back, to hide in her room. To sleep, maybe, to escape being awake and feeling like this.  Her gut twisted again, with revulsion.  Luisa was pathetic.  Useless. Disgusting. Weak.

“I mean, we missed them yesterday.  I know you don’t want everybody seeing, so we can head back.”

Luisa winced.  No - she certainly didn’t want everybody seeing.  She had never been ashamed of her training before.  Casita would happily provide her a treadmill as she got in a morning jog to start her day right.  Her old room had proudly displayed equipment and obstacle courses.  But now…

But now, Luisa was nothing.  

Luisa couldn’t do many of her exercises solo.  The tension on her muscles as they recovered was something she had poor control over - after fourteen years of honing precise awareness of her body, she was now ( weakbrokenuseless ) unable to do something so simple as touching her toes.  Mirabel would help, pushing on Luisa’s body to encourage it to stretch, when Luisa herself couldn’t push past the narrow limits that seemed to define her new world.  

She felt trapped, all the time.  Trapped by her own body, trapped by thoughts that wouldn’t quiet, trapped by the confines of the bedroom walls.  

But no, she couldn’t stand the idea of her cousins seeing her struggle to do such simple things.  It was bad enough, already, with her sisters and parents.  Unavoidable, and now irreparable. They had seen firsthand what Luisa was now, they had been forced to support her.  They knew, had to know, how utterly useless she was now.

But the Madrigals always did have a sense of duty.  

“...Luisa?”  Mirabel’s concerned voice broke through Luisa’s thoughts.

“Ah. Sorry.  Sorry.”  Luisa rubbed her palms against her thighs, frowning.

“Do you want to go?”  Mirabel offered out a hand up.

Because Mirabel knew Luisa couldn’t stand on her own.  Because Mirabel KNEW Luisa wasn’t strong enough  That Luisa had failed her, that Luisa couldn’t protect her - or anyone.  Mirabel knew everything that Luisa was now.  

“No.  Just… go away, Mira.”  Luisa felt warm.  Too hot.  Unbalanced and uncomfortable and her stomach hurt.

“Luisa, are you freaking out again?”  The younger girl crouched a bit to get on eye-level with the sitting Luisa, looking for an eye twitch.

“I’m not freaking out, I just want you to go away .”  What did Mirabel even want?  

“Luisa, what’s wrong?  Something’s clearly upsetting you…”

The hot sharp bad feeling swelled up, rising to Luisa’s throat.  “YOU are bothering me!  Just leave me alone, Mirabel!  Why can’t you just STOP with the… the… just stop PRETENDING!?”

“Pretending?  I - what?  Luisa, I don’t understand.  Pretending what?  I’m trying to help, but I don’t understand.”

“You.. it.. that… that I’m not… that…”  Luisa couldn’t.  Her head was full of jangly, thorny, twisted-up thoughts, but she couldn’t find the words.

“You’re not what?  Luisa, hermana, please talk to me.”  Mirabel reached for Luisa’s hands.

Luisa mewled softly in her throat, and hastily shoved at Mirabel with both hands to push her AWAY.  It was enough force to unbalance her younger sister, and Mira staggered back before falling down.

“Lu?”  Mira’s voice was confused and betrayed.

Luisa’s eyes went wide.  ( What did you do?  What did you DO?  Look what you DID! )

“Mira… I.. I’m… lo siento.. I..”  Luisa struggled to her feet - pushing off the ground with her arms, pushing past the flare of pain along her spine.  Her chest felt too tight.  

Luisa dimly sensed other voices.  Her family had stopped what they were doing, they were pointing, they had seen…

Luisa had struck Mirabel.

Luisa had…

Look what you DID!

Mirabel was saying something.  There were other voices, too, but Luisa couldn’t hear them over the roar in her ears.

Look what you DID!

The roar of the ocean, the roar of a storm, violent, crashing, with waves that touched the sky.

Luisa had broken THE rule.  The first rule.  

Luisa hit Mirabel.

Luisa HIT.  

Camilo was coming. Isabela.  Her parents.  Bruno. Everyone.

Everyone SAW.

Look what you DID!

She couldn’t face…

Her heart was pounding too fast, hard enough to shatter her ribs.

She had to…

She had HIT…

With a broken cry escaping her throat, Luisa ran.

Chapter 19: Floodgates

Summary:

Luisa runs away. Luisa is found.

Running hurt.  Luisa hadn’t run in some time, the unfamiliar pain stopping her when she had tried to push her body past her new limits.

But she didn’t care.  She needed to get away, and it didn’t matter that it hurt.  She welcomed the pain.  She deserved it, for what she did.

For what she WAS.

Her insides were sharp and bright and loud and chaotic, hot with anger, sour with revulsion.

Luisa had HIT Mirabel.

Luisa was disgusting.

Worse than worthless.

And she ran, as if she could run away from herself.  

She crashed through the underbrush, and  the forest around her caught at her clothing and scraped her arms.  Her thoughts couldn’t form words, they howled in white-hot hatred and despair.  

She hated , with a frightening intensity.  She wanted to break, to smash, to destroy, to stop .  To stop feeling like this.  To stop BEING this. ( To stop being? )

She couldn’t control…

She couldn’t.

She just ran.

Something caught her ankle, sending her crashing to the ground.  Her body hurt.  (Her body always hurt.)  But she couldn’t allow that to stop her.  She ignored the stabbing muscles as she pushed back up and took off again.  Her shoulder rammed into a tree, she cut herself on brambles, she continued to run.  

Another crash with an obstacle jarred her, and Luisa realized that she was sobbing.  Hot tears streaked down her face and a wail escaped her throat.  

She couldn’t outrun herself, she was trapped-trapped-trapped inside.

Luisa pressed her face against the rough bark of the tree, unable to stop the crying that wracked her body.  Ugly hiccups made her gulp for air.  Rocks dug into her knees.  She clutched at her sides, knuckles white.

“Luisa!”

Her name broke through the roar, and she scrambled to get away.  But she wasn’t fast enough, and found herself caught up in slender arms.  Luisa fought against the hold, blindly trying to pull free.

“Shh, shh, princesa .”

Luisa protested, but the arms held and guided her crying face against their shoulder.  “Shhh.  Cálmate, princesa .”

Luisa continued to cry, with guilt and anger and hatred . But no matter how strong the emotions, even they could be spent, poured out until nothing was left inside except a hollow ache.

“That’s my girl.  Alright, bien, bien…”  Papa was rocking her, as if she were small.

“It’s not alright.”  Luisa hiccuped.

“No, cariño, it isn’t.  You’re upset.  That’s not alright.”  Agustin agreed and smoothed her hair.

“I hit Mira.”

“Mirabel’s okay.  She’s not hurt.  She’s worried about you, cariño.  We’re all worried.”

“Lo siento.  Lo siento mucho.”  What else could she say?

“You have nothing to apologize for, Lulu.  We love you, that’s why we’re worried.”

“Stop…” Another painful hiccup.

“Stop what, nena?  Please, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Stop.. don’t want.. don’t deserve …”

“Luisa..” Another voice.  Mirabel.  

Luisa mewled and shrank inwards.  “Lo siento, lo siento…” Apologies tumbling past her lips, a torrent, not enough…

Mirabel launched herself into a hug, thudding into Luisa’s side.

“I’m sorry I scared you, sis.”  Mira assured.

“No.  No, no, no, I hit… lost control, I hurt…”

“You didn’t hurt me, Lu. If I could count the number of times I’ve fallen on my behind, well, I’d be counting a long time.”

“No.  No, I hurt you...hurt the family, hurt everyone…I hit you…”

“What?  No, Luisa…”

“Lulu, cariño, you aren’t hurting the family…”

Luisa pulled back from their arms, eyes red and puffy.  “STOP.  Stop LYING!”

“...Luisa?”

“Mija..”

Another hiccup.  “You have to stop lying.  Stop acting like, like, like I’m… like I’m not… like I didn’t fail everyone. Stop trying to.. to make me feel better, by acting like I’m not… not what I’ve become, or maybe.. maybe what I always was, underneath? I don’t know.  I just.. I always thought if I could do enough, if I helped enough, then I could be something, but…”

Luisa scrubbed at her eyes.  Her breath was coming in jagged bursts, and the words kept bubbling out.  

“Mirabel, I’m so sorry I didn’t protect you.  I… I w-w-was scared, and I didn’t protect you, and I let Abuela yell at you and I let you down and didn’t… b-b-b-before, I didn’t… wasn’t… didn’t protect you… wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t strong enough to do what I was supposed to… I just stood there, when you were fighting, I stood there and I didn’t help you and… I wasn’t strong enough…”

“Luisa…” Mirabel looked distressed.  Luisa was making it worse.

“I’m not strong at all now, I’m not… I know I’m not… not what I was… but you need to stop pretending, just to.. to.. because you feel like you need to… I don’t deserve it. I lost my gift because I was selfish, because I… and.. it..without it… I.. who needs a broken tool?” Luisa sniffed.

“Luisa, you’re more than your strength.  We talked about this…”

“But I’m NOT!  You don’t need a gift to be special, you never did, but I’m not.. Without it.. I.. I can’t help.  I’m not needed.  Worse, I’m a burden.”

“Mija, you aren’t a burden.”

“Luisa, that’s not true!  We love you!”

Luisa’s breath hitched painfully.  “Stop, stop, stop… I can’t… I’m useless , I’m broken, I can’t.. I can’t do anything.  I wish… I wish I…”

“Hermana, breathe.  Slow down.  You’re not broken, Lu, just because you don’t have a gift anymore…”

“NO!  Stop!  Stop it!  You don’t need magic, you’re smart and kind and clever and talented, but I’m.. not.  I’m not. It was my job to help.  I got a gift so I could be able to help. And I was… I was needed, I could do things.  As long as I could help, I’d be… worth something .  I could be enough. But now the only thing I had to offer is gone, and all that’s left is this useless, disgusting, broken thing. And you feel bad, because you’re kind, so you’re trying to make me feel better about being… being… this .”  Luisa’s voice cracked, seething with anger and self-loathing.  It was an ugly sight, like discovering a rancid boil.

“Luisa, you aren’t.. you aren’t a ‘thing.’  Hermana…”  Mirabel looked between Luisa and their father with eyes widened by concern.

“Nena, bebé, cariño… we love you.  We care because we love you, not.. not anything you can or can’t do, not any gift.  Just our Luisa.  Our sweet girl who we want and need, just for herself.  Luisa, please listen, cariño…”  Agustin reached for Luisa’s fretful hands.

“HOW?  How can you want this ?”  Luisa thumped a hand against her chest. “This useless... you want YOUR Luisa, the old Luisa, the one that could do things, not… not what’s left… this useless, broken thing. ”

“Because you’re our Luisa and we love you.  All of you, Luisa.  You’re my sister, and you’ve always been there for me.”

Luisa tried to explain, she did.  ( “You have to STOP, Mirabel!” )  “No, no, when Abuela.. when Casita.. I didn’t… I never… I failed … I… wasn’t enough, I didn't…”  

She stretched out her hands, entreating for them to understand.  Papa caught them this time and gave them a squeeze.

“Lulu, cariño, you aren’t seeing what we see.  We aren’t pretending anything, because we love you.  Please, listen and believe us.”  Agustin rubbed his thumbs across the backs of Luisa’s hands as he held them. “Mi abejita, you have been through so much… you have lost so much, in such a short time.  And nobody can carry everything alone, bebé.  You can’t carry this alone.  That doesn’t make you broken, or useless, or whatever terrible things you say about yourself.”

“I’m supposed… was supposed to… prote-”

“You are only supposed to be yourself, mija.  That’s all we want.  You are so much more important than your magic.”

“You have to be disgusted at…”

“No!  Luisa, no.  We’re sad because you are hurting, and we don’t know how to help.  But disgusted?  Never.  No.  Have you ever loved me less, when I get hurt?  Because your Papi, he gets hurt all the time…”

“Papa, never… Papi, sabes que te amo.”  Luisa fretted, insistent. 

“I know you do, mija.  I have never, ever doubted that you love me.  I have never doubted that you love anyone in our family.  My girl has such a big heart, and so much tenderness and patience, even for such a foolish, accident-prone Papi.  And I don’t understand why my kind, loving girl can’t love herself, too.”  

Mirabel leaned in, wrapping her arms around Luisa.  “I don’t understand what it feels like to lose a gift, Luisa.  I know it’s been a hard change, and not the same as just never having one.  And I miss Casita, too.  But I’m glad to still have our family, yeah?  And we were hurting, before, and still… still working on it now.  It’s not like we can just have a hug, sing a song, and have everything be okay.”  

“I’m supposed to help .”  Luisa almost pleaded. “I can’t help…”

“Mija, you don’t need to do anything.  That’s what we’re trying to say.”

Mirabel sat up, sharply.  “Papa, wait.  No, I get it.  Luisa, I do.  Wanting to help and feeling like you can’t?  I don’t understand losing a gift, but I understand that.  Feeling less-than because I didn’t get a gift, feeling like I didn’t measure up to mi familia.”

“Mira, you’re just as sp-”

“Just as special as anyone else.  Yeah, and you are more than just your gift.  But saying that doesn’t make you believe it.  Oh, Lu.”  Mira swooped in for another tight hug.  

Agustin looked baffled and guilty.  “Mija, we didn’t realize how you felt.  But your sister is right - Luisa, YOU are our gift.  Just you, whether you can lift a mountain, or if we have to carry you.  I carried you before, you know.  When you were a wee pequeña burrita.”

“Papa!”

“Ay, mi pequeña burrita still!  Just taller!  And so brave, and trying so hard even when you have been hurting and scared.  Let us help you, cariño.  Me, and your Mama, and your sisters, and the family.  Let us help you, because we want to take care of you every bit as much as I know you want to help us.”

Luisa made a small sound, uncertain.  Papa was still holding her hands, and Mirabel’s hug was steady and reassuring.

She wanted it.  She wanted them to love her. (They DID love her.  Even though she didn’t deserve it, not without anything to offer back.  Just herself.)

She wanted to deserve it.  

“Also, sis, you know we’re all really, really stubborn and we’re going to insist on caring about you.  And you know Isabela can be fierce.”

“She… she can, yeah.”  Luisa swallowed.  Her voice was small and shaky.

“We shouldn’t have told you not to help.  We thought we were giving you a break, but I guess it came across differently.  The last thing any of us would want is to make you unhappy, or to make you feel unwanted.  Okay?”

“Okay.”  Luisa echoed with the same small voice.

Agustin released one of Luisa’s hands to pull both her and Mirabel into a hug.  “My girls.  My special, amazing, lovely girls.”

Luisa closed her eyes, letting herself soften into the familial embrace.  “...lo siento..”

And neither Papa nor Mirabel scolded her.  They just held her, and told her it would be okay.  Over and over.  

And maybe it would.

Notes:

A lot of not-very-coherent word vomit from Lu, but then, lancing a boil is not pretty.

Chapter 20: a reprieve

Summary:

What next?

Nothing changes overnight, not completely.

But something had changed, when Luisa fell apart in the woods.  Papa and Mirabel both had seen the ugly rot which clung and festered deep within the once-strong girl. Despite seeing it, seeing how the inside of Luisa was weak and ugly and broken, they had stayed with her.

Mama and Isa had met them when they had returned from the trees.  Luisa was unsteady, and no longer driven by a maelstrom of adrenaline and emotional turmoil.  Her mother immediately took Luisa into an embrace.  “Nena, you scared us…”

Luisa shrank, another ‘lo siento’ tumbling out, but Mama just hugged her tightly and kissed her hair.  “We don’t need to go back just yet, mija.”

Isabela reached out for Mirabel, and the younger girl took her sister’s hand.  Though their reconciliation was still recent, both were grateful for the harbor of their other.  

Agustin joined Julieta, wrapping his arms around both his wife and middle daughter. “Querida, we need to talk.”

Luisa closed her eyes, hiding her face as Papa related what she had said before.  She was ashamed, but there was also an odd feeling of relief.  Like bursting an abscess - unpleasant and ugly as what was within, the open wound somehow hurt less.  Luisa tried to burrow down further when her sisters began to chime in - sharing their own concerns and observations.  She had thought she’d… done better, at hiding how broken she was.  Apologies escaped, again and again.  For worrying them.  For hurting them.  For being weak.  For being a burden.  She knew they didn’t want them, but they filled her up and she couldn’t hold them back.  

“Lu, we aren’t mad or upset with you.  You don’t need to apologize for needing help.  It feels like you want to apologize for existing, hermanita.”

“Maybe?  Sometimes, kinda…” Luisa trailed off, hesitating.  “Since…”

“Mija, mija, we need you.  We want you. You.   Not what you can do. Just you. Please believe that.”  Papa’s voice was almost frightened.  Mama’s hold on Luisa tightened.

Luisa felt another surge of shame.  “Lo siento.”

“Oh, abejita.”  Papa sighed and gently rocked her - never mind that Luisa was far from small enough, no matter how much she tried to shrink into herself.

Isa piped up.  “We should talk to Tia Pepa and Tio Felix.”

Luisa winced.  No.  No, she didn’t want that.  “Isa…”

Isabela took Luisa’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Lu, not… lo sienta, sis.  We won’t tell them anything you’re not ready for.  But I think… Mama, Papa, I know you are right next door, but maybe we could, you know, swap for a little bit?  Get all of us together in the rectory, instead of in two houses.  Luisa, I know you feel bad about making us worry - which you SHOULDN’T, but you do, so we’re going to go from there.  We’ll worry less if we’re closer.”

Mirabel nodded.  “It’ll be nice, we should ask.  But, Luisa, I think you should let us tell the rest of the family something.  They love and want you, too.”

“S’embaressing.”   Luisa whispered.  

“It’s embarrassing that you’re struggling?  Lu, have you noticed we all are?  It just makes you human.  Everyone is trying to cope with losing our gifts, and trying to figure out who we are now.  Antonio only had his for two days, and he’s still in a funk.  We spent a long time where our magic was the center of our lives.” Isa frowned.

Julieta reached out to touch Isabela’s arm.  “And at a cost, mi flor.  Not the house - as much as losing Casita hurts, or losing the Candle. Putting the magic first meant there were too many times I missed you, my daughters.  I could heal your cuts and scrapes, but I didn’t see all of your hurts.  For that, I am so, so sorry.”

“Mami, no.  I wanted to be strong for you, so you wouldn’t worry.  You shouldn’t apologize for…”  Luisa squirmed out of the hug to sit up, concern flooding her features.  

“Ah, mi abejita, maybe we both apologize too much. And you - no matter how much you are hurting, look how much you care about everyone around you. What a wonder my Luisa is.”  Julieta touched Luisa’s cheek.  “But I am your mother, corazon.  You are still my bebé, even if you are half a meter taller than me.  We lost my brother for a decade, because of how we prioritized the magic.  And I cannot lose you, mija.  I can’t lose any of my girls.  You are the most important thing in my life, do you understand?  I know, it’s words.  So give me time to show it.”

Luisa wrapped her arms around her torso and bit on her lip.  With a touch of uncertainty, she agreed. “Yes, Mama.”

“Oh, mija.”  Julieta pulled Luisa back into her arms.  “I am not letting you go.  None of us are.”

“That’s right, corazon.”  Agustin chimed in, supportive.

***********

Luisa didn’t hear Mama’s talk with Tia Pepa - Isa and Mira took her straight back to the Widow’s house, avoiding more fuss and stress by going to the site and having to confront everyone.  But, whatever was said did result in a Madrigal shuffle.  The rectory had a pair of guest rooms - rarely used, and plain, but also set across the hall from one another.  Mirabel would be joining Isa and Luisa in the new set-up - a little cramped, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that the less isolation Luisa had, the better.

Luisa was nervous about it.  Nevermind that her sisters were the best friends she had in the world - but it was awkward, knowing how much of the messy, uncertain, broken Luisa they had seen.  They had helped take care of her through her recovery, but this was another layer of vulnerability.  

Luisa was really not used to feeling vulnerable.

She supposed she would have to learn.

In the wake of Luisa’s meltdown, a lot of her routine stayed intact - despite her physical recovery starting to take a noticeable upswing.  Mama and Isa insisted on still taking turns with Luisa’s hair.  Bruno would come over in the afternoon, when the sun blazed too hot for work.  Sometimes Luisa’s sisters would join in listening to their tio’s stories.  The three of them would pile in one bed, with their tio sitting in the one opposite.  Isa would hold onto Luisa’s arm, and Mira would rest her head in her lap. 

It was a small thing, the two of them sitting with her, but not something Luisa had realized could bring so much reassurance.  Though Luisa loved hugs, she had only rarely embraced her family.  For the first few years after getting her gift, she had been forbidden from hugging Mirabel or Camilo at all, lest she hurt them.  Until the Candle went out, she always had to do so with care.  And she had long ago grown too big to receive hugs.  But it was amazing, the difference a simple touch made when her head got noisy, or when her thoughts started to ramp up and overwhelm her.  Luisa had always struggled to control her anxious spirals, but a light hand on her arm from Isa or a quick hug from Mira could stop them before they gained momentum.  

And she could reach out, too.  When she felt her stomach twist, when she wanted that reassurance, Luisa could grab her hermanas’ hands without worrying that she would break them.  She could hug her Papa as tight as she wanted, instead of constantly holding back with that ever-present measure of iron control.  She had had her stuffed unicorn hidden in her room before Casita fell, but having her family to hug was even better.  

It’s not that the thoughts went away, just by confessing them.  But it felt like Luisa suddenly had a team of guards on the watch - checking in, reaching out, holding on before she could be drawn too deep. Mama would gently check in with Luisa at meals. Papa would play the piano in the tiny parlor off the kitchen after dinner, with Mama and all three girls nestled together to listen.  Luisa wasn’t apart, doing chores.  She was right in the middle. At night, Isa and Mira would whisper conversations long after the lights turned out.  And they would shake Luisa awake if they heard the signs of a nightmare.  

The best change, of course, was that Luisa was finally allowed to help again.  Mama still didn’t want her doing any heavy lifting, which was frustrating.  And her endurance was uneven at best - some days she would run out of reserves, or her back would seize up, and it would be back to resting (and reading!) in the afternoon.  But most days, she was teamed up with her sisters.  

Isabela and Mirabel worried too much, of course.  They made sure Luisa took breaks and drank water and sat down.  Luisa wanted to go back full-speed, even if she couldn’t go back full-strength.  Salvage and sorting, however, took time.  More time than the bulk clearing had, with the hope of finding things which couldn’t be replaced.  (Abuelo Pedro’s picture had survived, the piano hadn’t.)  It kept Luisa’s hands busy, and busy hands kept the ‘useless’ feeling at bay.  Not gone, not silent.  But it was something.

Luisa held on to that “something” like a lifeline.  

Notes:

Luisa needs hugs to heal, and I think touch is just very grounding for her. I don't think she got enough when she still had her gift, as evidenced by how surprised she seemed when Mirabel hugged her.

Chapter 21: Service

Summary:

Antonio is missing his friends.

Luisa hadn’t seen much of her youngest primo since she’d been injured.  She knew that Antonio had taken the loss of Casita and their gifts hard - she’d seen the five year old in tears, being comforted by his parents or siblings. But he had rarely visited when Luisa was cooped up in bed, and even then, he had mostly quietly clung to whoever had brought him along.

So it was something of a surprise to Luisa when Antonio approached her.  Luisa was on a sister-mandated break, cradling a cup of water in her hands.  She still had mixed feelings about them - even though she was hot and thirsty, she couldn’t entirely shake the nagging guilt about sitting down when there was so much to do.  Especially after missing literal weeks of work.  But the guilt was mollified, a bit, by the knowledge that she was making her sisters happy.  Isa would probably have something to say about that reasoning, Luisa knew.  Mirabel too.  But if making them happy made Luisa happy, was it so bad?

“Hey, Tonito.  Looking for some shade?”  Luisa smiled at her cousin.

“Uh-huh.  Luisa, are you sick?”  Antonio plopped down to sit beside her.

Luisa tensed (making her back twinge, annoyingly) and blinked.  Well, that was blunt.  “Uh.  No, chiquito, I’m not sick.”

“Mama said you had to get better, that’s why you were in bed for forever .  I have to stay in bed when I get sick.”

“I wasn’t sick, but I… I got hurt, so, uh... yeah. I needed to get better.”  Luisa said carefully.

“Are you better now?”  Antonio latched onto Luisa’s ruana, looking up at her.

Luisa’s eyebrows creased.  Was she ‘better’?  She was still so weak, but…

But the things that seemed most wrong weren’t her muscles.

Antonio didn’t need to hear about that.  Luisa could still protect him.

“Mostly. I still have to be careful, because I’m not…” She hesitated, balking at the ever-present truth of her new existence.  “I’m not strong anymore.”

Luisa winced a little internally at how small her voice sounded when she said that.  And she startled when Antonio abruptly flung his arms around her torso in a hug.

“I miss my gift, too!  My friends won’t talk to me, and it’s awful. ” He sniffled.

“Oh, hombrecito.  I’m sorry, yeah.  It’s hard.”  Luisa gingerly put a hand on his back (So carefully! Old habits didn’t break easily.) and gently rubbed circles in an attempt to comfort her primo.

“I don’t even have my jaguar anymore!”

“I… I guess not, Tonito.  But he’s a wild animal, so I’m sure he’s taking care of himself in the woods okay.”  Luisa tried to reassure him.

“No, not Parce.   I don’t even have the jaguar Mirabel gave me for my birthday.  And she made him just for me so I wouldn’t have to be alone.”  Antonio had gone from sniffles to tears.  

Luisa wished she could just scoop the little boy up in her arms, but she… didn’t know if she could?  Was he too heavy?  So instead, she pulled Antonio against her side as gently as she could and made quiet reassurances.  “Te entiendo, Tonito.  Estoy aquí para ti.  Shh.”

“H-he was in the house, and what if he’s afraid and lonely too?”  

“I know there’s been a lot going on - I don’t think we’ve gotten much to the bedrooms yet.  Has anyone looked for your friend?”

“N-n-n-no!  All the grown-ups are too busy!  And Mama won’t let me look by myself.  She said it’s too dangerous.”

“Esta bien, Tonito.  It’s alright, your Mama is right.  It’s too dangerous for you to dig by yourself…”  Luisa had a glimmer.

Antonio hiccupped, and Luisa gave him another squeeze.

“But… but your prima Luisa, well, I’m not too busy right now.  It wouldn’t be too dangerous if we looked together.”  Something warm swelled in her heart at the idea.

“You wanna help me?”  Antonio sat back and looked up at her, his mood shifting as quickly as Tia’s weather.

“Of course I do, chiquito.  I understand.  Let me tell you a secret - I miss my stuffed animal, too.  I know how important it is.”

“YOU have a stuffed animal?  But you’re big!”  Antonio gaped.

Luisa blushed, but she shrugged with a shy smile.  “I got Uni when I was just a little younger than you.  She was my friend for a very long time.”

“When we find my jaguar, we can look for Uni!”  The little boy bounced up to his feet and tugged on Luisa’s hand.  “Let’s go!”

“Oof. Coming, Tonito.”  Luisa had to use the tree for support as she got up.  Weak, whispered the little voice, with a pang of frustration.  But that didn’t matter - Luisa was helping.  Real help.  She was resolved to find her primo’s toy.

Luisa gave herself a stretch-and-twist once she was on her feet before looking over the site.  Antonio’s room would be about… over there.  While the collapsed roof and masonry had been carted away, that area was still an unsteady mess of stucco-dusted chaos.  She understood why Tia Pepa had forbidden the boy from exploring it on his own.  But Luisa was not so capable as she had been, either.

“Chiquito, can you look and see if you can find two sturdy sticks?  Like you would for going on a hike?”  Luisa had an idea.  “We can use them to help look through the mess.”

The pair of them managed to find suitable branches in one of the piles.  Luisa’s was tall and sturdy enough for her to lean on for support, while Antonio’s was perhaps best described as “decorative.”  He swished it ahead of him like a sword, and was telling Luisa all about the complicated social dynamics of the local coatis.  Luisa listened earnestly, though it was as hard to follow as one of Tio Bruno’s telenovelas.  She piped in from time to time with questions, which made Antonio beam.  “Mama never asks questions!  Okay, so, Cici was jealous of Perna’s tail…”

“Uh-huh.  Tonito, I think this looks about the right place?”  Luisa poked at the rubble with her stick, pushing at the top layer.

“Okay!  We’re gonna find him!”  Antonio sat down in the middle of the mess and began haphazardly chucking things away to look beneath.  Luisa let him go at it, while she tried a steadier approach - using the staff spared her back a fair amount, though she would probably eventually have to get down closer.

Antonio, to his credit, tried his best.  But the five year old also quickly got bored and frustrated.  “We’re never gonna find it.”  he sulked, and a pout threatened.

Luisa eased herself down to sit beside him, using the staff to stabilize herself.  “Never is a big word and a long time.  And we’ve really just started.  Why don’t you tell me more about Cici and Perna?”

“Oh!  Uh-huh!  I miss them.”  A little sniffle.

“I know, hombrecito - but talking about them, that can make them feel closer.  So, about Perna’s tail?”  Luisa encouraged her cousin as she dug through the mess.  So far, no sign of anything from the magical rooms - no broken tree limbs or leaves, no mirror shards from Camilo’s (which was a mixed blessing.  Luisa didn’t want Antonio to get cut on broken glass), no hint of Lola’s velvet drapes.  

Luisa’s coaxing helped, getting Antonio to talk about the coatis, about the toucans, about Tio Bruno’s rats.  Her primo reminded her of Mirabel, who could also fill the air with pleasant chatter as Luisa worked.  The work was different in some ways, but Luisa was used to fairly tedious tasks.  Rerouting the river took hours of digging trenches - never fast, even with magical strength.  Or days spent carting building supplies from the quarry or the lumberyard to town, back and forth like a burra on a practiced trail.  

“Lu! Tonito!  What are you two up to?  Eep!”  Mirabel was cut off by some of the debris shifting beneath her feet, causing her to scramble to keep her balance.

“Careful, sis!”  Luisa struggled to get up, sending some broken stucco clattering.

“Got it!  Hi!”  Mirabel grinned as she plopped down to sit next to Luisa.

“MIRA!”  Antonio launched himself at the teenager like a cannonball.

“Oof.  Hey, Tonito.”  Mira wrapped him in a hug.

“Mira, Luisa is helping me find my jaguar!  And Cici is a bully!”

“Uhhhh.”  Mira blinked and looked at Luisa.

“Cici is one of the coatis.  And Antonio’s plush jaguar is somewhere, so, well, I’ll find it.”  Luisa stated - it wasn’t a question.  She was going to do this.

“I was going to see if you needed a break - “ Mira started.

“Not yet.  You want to help look, too?  Besides, I’m sitting down.” Luisa countered.  She did not want to take another break yet!  Couldn’t Mira see she was helping?

“Well… I guess.  Alright, let’s find that plushie.”  Mirabel resolved.  Antonio nodded, still firmly attached to his prima’s side.

Over the next hour, the rest of the second generation drifted over to check in - sometimes joining for a bit to search, sometimes just chatting for a minute before heading off for another task.  Mirabel kept Antonio (and honestly, Luisa too) entertained with stories and impromptu ‘working songs.’  Which was good, because it was becoming quite clear that nothing from the magical rooms had survived - their contents seemed to have simply disappeared into thin air.

The stuffed jaguar wasn’t found that day, much to Antonio’s disappointment.  Mirabel and Camilo worked together to try and console the little boy.  Luisa wasn’t sure what to say that could help, but she did give him a hug.  Hugs made her feel better, and it seemed to help a little bit.  After the three sisters had gone to bed that night, Mirabel speculated about making Antonio a replacement toy, even though it wouldn’t be quite the same. Luisa agreed - she wouldn’t want a “new” Uni, even if the lost one was worn and grey.  

Mirabel nattered on about making the original one for Tonito’s birthday, and mentioned how worried she was that he’d not like it once he had his gift and a real jaguar friend.

“Mira, it came from you, so it would always be special.  I kept everything you gave me, even that blue pot that kept falling over.”

“What, no - you did?”

“Uh, I did kinda stick it between some other stuff so it wouldn’t roll off the shelf, but sure.  And I mean, all the clothes, too.  I liked how you made them just.. you know, so pretty. It sucks that it looks like everything in the rooms is just… gone-gone.  I think you have a hope with the nursery.”

“Honestly, Lu, you should have been Abuela’s pink princess.  You would have loved it.”  Isa sniffed from her bed.

Luisa blushed, though her sisters couldn’t see it in the dark room.  “Um.  I wouldn’t have done so good with it, Isa.  I know you’re tired of pretty, but you ARE pretty.  Beautiful.  Even with all the crazy colors.  I liked being useful…” She faltered a bit there.

“You don’t need to be useful, Luisa.”/“You’re still useful, Lu!”  Her sisters both responded on top of each other.

“Sabes, sabes, I know, I know.  But I like helping.  I really wanted to help Tonito today.”

“I dunno, sis.  I think having you take so much time for him did help.  That’s the most energetic he’s been in a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.  You did good, Lu.”

“Thanks Mira.”

“De nada, sis.  Now get some SLEEP.”

“I am TRYING, but my two HERMANITAS keep TALKING!”

“Isa!”

“Mira!”

There was quite a bit of giggling and at least one thrown pillow before they actually fell asleep.

**********

Luisa had given up much hope on finding anything from the magical rooms.  Regardless, she hadn’t entirely given up on finding Antonio’s toy.  Luisa the obstinada burrita.  Luisa had spent her life stubbornly and persistently setting to a task.  She could do this.

Antonio hadn’t wanted to join her again, which was unsurprising.  Yesterday had been disappointing for him.  But Isa and Mira took turns with Luisa as she doggedly searched through the remnants of the East wing.  After all, the debris needed to be sorted through either way - it was just a matter of shifting the schedule a bit.  And a few salvageable items were found - a handful of books, some coins, more photographs with broken frames but the pictures intact.

It was actually the second day of solo-searching when it happened - there, between the twisted remains of a gramophone and the shattered wreck of a red upholstered chair, Luisa spotted a flash of orange cloth.  She had almost missed it - the afternoon sun was shifting colors to amber, and it very nearly blended in.

“Ha!”  Luisa knelt to dig it out, ignoring the twinges and complaints from her body.  The poor thing was damaged - one of its eyes was missing, and stuffing spilled out from a ripped seam.  But the little plush cat had to have been Mirabel’s work, she would have recognized it anywhere.  And Mirabel would be able to fix it, Luisa was sure. 

“Mirabel!  I need your help!”  Luisa called as she trotted towards her sisters with her prize in hand.   A warm glow filled her belly and lightened her heart.  This was a good day.

Notes:

While Lu's need to be 'of service' and people-pleasing tendencies have hurt her, she also genuinely likes helping. And who could say no to the adorable little bean that is Antonio?

Chapter 22: Threads

Summary:

Luisa and Mirabel

“Alright, mi dulce burrita pequeña - these will help you practice control.  And you can make pictures while you practice, see?  This one’s a heart, and here’s a butterfly…”  Papa shuffled through the collection of thin wooden cards.  Each one had a different pattern of holes punched through them.

“What if I break them?” Luisa asked, her small face creasing in concern.  It had only been a few weeks since her ceremony, and this was a distressingly relevant question. Luisa’s gift was powerful, certainly, but also as blunt and hard to control as a bull.  The five-year old hadn’t gone a day without breaking at least one thing - usually a plate or cup at meals, but sometimes other items.. (Don’t mention Papa’s piano, don’t mention Papa’s piano, don’t…)  She wasn’t allowed to touch the babies now, and Mama had gotten her a new set of wooden dishes that were holding up better.  Her cold stone room was a safe haven - it was the only place she couldn’t break anything.

“Well, these are for you.  And there’s a lot of them, so I don’t think it would be so bad if you have some oopsies.  But I think if you concentrate very hard, nena, that you won’t break them.  And you’ll get better at holding back.  I know you can do it, corazon.  My strong girl is also very careful.”  Papa reassured, before he showed her the brightly colored yarn and the fat, blunt needles.

Of course, Luisa DID break several of the cards as she tried to carefully sew the simple designs.  She bent several needles, too.  It took a lot of concentration to handle something so small and delicate.  But eventually, she got better.  Eventually, she was allowed her own ‘real’ plate (the new one painted with bright blue barbells amidst the flowers!), and she went from everyday accidents, to weekly, to monthly, to never.  Luisa couldn’t make mistakes like that.  She was even allowed to hug her primo and hermana again by the time she was seven!  Toddlers were much more resilient than babies - but Luisa had practiced, practiced, practiced until she knew she could be safe.

****************

Luisa sat on her bed, back propped against the wall as she watched Mirabel work on the little stuffed jaguar.  The big girl smiled to herself as her little sister’s tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth.  “You make faces when you’re concentrating, sis.” 

“What - what?”  Mira startled and had to adjust her glasses as they slipped down her nose.

“Just - you get really into it.  It’s nice, watching you do something you enjoy. You’re really talented.” Luisa said, her tone oddly wistful.

Mirabel blushed.  “You really think so?”

“Oh, for sure.  You didn’t know?  I guess maybe I didn’t take the time to say it.  I.. I didn’t give you enough time, before.  Not what you deserved.  But yeah.  You’re so good at - ¡Caray!   - at everything crafty.  Art things, and embroidery, and sewing.  You made those pretty candle holders before Antonio’s ceremony?  And, like…”  Luisa tugged at the donated ruana to hold out the rainbow butterfly.  “When did you even have time to do this?”

Mirabel blushed harder and shrugged.  “When you were sleeping.  It was my shift to watch you.  Um.”

Luisa faltered - had she made Mira uncomfortable?  “I. Uh.  Lo siento, Mira.  I..”  She frowned, eyebrows creasing.  “I said something wrong?  Por favor perdóname, lo siento…”

“Lu, what are you apologizing for?  No, you didn’t say anything wrong.  I was just surprised.”

Luisa bit her lip, anxiously clasping her forearm with the opposite hand.  “I don’t know.  You looked uncomfortable.  I said too much now, and not enough before.  Maybe.”

“Oh, it’s not really a big deal, Luisa.  You -” Mirabel was cut off.

“Te amo, hermanita.  I.. I should say it more.  Because you matter a lot to me, and I didn’t make sure you knew.”  Luisa swallowed.  That wasn’t exactly where she’d intended to go today, but it was important that Mirabel understood.  (Abuela shouting, and Luisa was silent. “Luisa is losing her gift because of you!” and Luisa was silent. The house was falling, and Luisa was outside, as it fell on her sister...)

Mirabel reached out to touch Luisa’s arm.  “Breathe.  And I know, okay?  I like it when you say it, but, Lu, you told me plenty  - you just didn’t always do it with words.  Esta bien?”

Luisa gulped a deep breath and nodded hastily.  “Bien.  Lo-”  Another deep breath.  “Bien.”

“Yo también te quiero.”  Mira assured.  “And Antonio is going to be over the moon you found his jaguar.”

“It’s really cute.  I’m glad you can fix it.  I can’t do anything like that.”  Luisa shifted her position and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin.

“Well, I can’t move a mountain either, sis.”  Mirabel gently jibed, unthinking.

Luisa swallowed.  Mirabel’s words stung like salt in a wound, but Luisa knew she didn’t mean it that way.   “Yeah. Just.. just saying.”

“I like doing it.  I’m going to make a dress for Isa’s birthday - with every color under the sun.  And maybe embroider some cacti on it.”

Luisa smiled.  “Oh, I bet she’d love that.  She was talking about dying some of the donated clothing, because she wants them wilder.  It’s kinda something, isn’t it?  Isa?”

“Yeah.  Big changes.  But - I like them.” Mirabel mused.

“Me too.  She seems happier.”  A pause. “And I’m glad you two are getting along.  It was… hard, when you were fighting.”

“And we put you between us a lot.  Yeah, sorry about that Lu.  I know you don’t like conflict.”  Her sister said before pulling the toy up to her mouth and nipping off a thread with her teeth.  “There!  Good as new!”

Luisa beamed.  “Mi hermana talentosa! I knew you’d be able to do it.  You can mend anything, can’t you?”

Mirabel laughed softly.  “Maybe not anything, Lu.  But I got this at least.”

**********

In the weeks following the disastrous ceremony, the atmosphere had been dour and tense.  Doubly so, when her tio’s door had darkened.  Luisa’s hermanita had been spending hours holed up inside the nursery.  Mama and Tia Pepa were upset, too, though they tried to hide it.  Abuela gave a chilly look when conversations turned to Mirabel or Bruno.

Luisa had been trying to help out - working extra hard in the village to show that the magic was just as strong as her.  And who was stronger than Luisita?  At nine, she could carry more than any of the grown men in town.  So she had been spending extra time on chores, so nobody would worry.  So she could make the family proud.  So she could earn the miracle, for all of them.

Today, she had been working at the quarry. She wanted to clean up before dinner because her dress was caked in fine dust from hours spent breaking stone. A change of clothes for sure, but wouldn’t a bath be lovely…

And Luisa heard a sniffle from behind the nursery door.  Oh, Mirabel.  She knocked gently.  “Mira?  Can I come in?”

The next sniffle sounded enough like a yes for Luisa to justify entering.  She found her sister hiding under the covers.  The rest of the room was a mess, with toys and clothes tossed to the floor.  Luisa felt a pang in her tummy when she saw a chalk drawing on the wall - the childish art was a picture of a smiling Mirabel surrounded by butterflies, with her name scrawled on top and outlined with a door frame.

Luisa spent a lot of time fixing things, but how do you mend your hermanita’s heart?

Step one, at least, was to sit down on the bed beside the blanket-covered lump.  “Ay, Mariboo.”

Oh-so-carefully, Luisa put a hand on her sister’s shoulder.  She longed to pull the little girl into a hug, but that wasn’t allowed. Instead, she rubbed circles on Mirabel’s back. Mirabel responded by hugging Luisa, latching on tight and sobbing into the bigger girl’s dirty dress.

“Hey, chiquita.  Your sister’s here.  You just give it to Luisa, okay?  There’s a good girl.”  Luisa rocked Mirabel with a feather-light touch.

“I-i-i-i can’t do ANYTHING.  Everybody else can do something, and I can’t do ANYTHING.”  

“Mira, you’re still a kid.  You don’t have to do anything…” Luisa tried to reassure, but she understood.  After all, she was a Madrigal.

“But I want to be special, too!  I want to make flowers and rainbows!”  Mirabel sobbed.

“Shh, shh, chiquita.  I know.  But you make pretty pictures, don’t you?  With your crayons?  You’re a good drawer.”

“That’s just kid stuff.  I want to do something SPECIAL.”

Luisa rocked Mirabel some more, trying to think of something to help.  Doing stuff usually made Luisa feel better.  Sitting still usually made her tummy twist with worry.  Mirabel didn’t need chores, though.  She was so little, not a big girl like Luisa.  So something new for a little girl to do… something pretty, too.

“You want to do something special?  Your big sister might have an idea.”

A wary pause.  “...yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.  I have a surprise for you.  You like surprises, don’t you?”

Mirabel peeked out from the blankets, her hair mussed and her glasses askew.  “Uh-huh.”

“And you trust Luisa, right?”

“....yeah.”

“Alright, mi mariposita.  Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”  Luisa risked a tiny squeeze.  Mirabel let out an oof, but had stopped crying.

“Okay. Lulu.”

Luisa ran off to her room, and went digging through a stone chest at the foot of her bed.  Soon enough, she was back at the nursery.

“Mira, do you want to learn how to make special pictures?  Not with crayons, but with string?”

And with Luisa’s blunt hands guiding Mirabel’s pudgy ones, she showed her little sister how to thread the fat needle with the colorful yarn, and how to make a butterfly by following the pattern on the punched card.  And then a heart, and then a flower.  

“Lulu, I did it!”

“Mi hermana talentosa, yes you did.”  Luisa kissed the top of Mirabel’s head.  “You can do anything, mariposita.”

 

Notes:

Characters can surprise you - Luisa wanted to do some things in this chapter that weren't part of the initial idea/plan for it (Luisa is wistful/envious about Mira's artistic talent). She's still processing some guilt. Next one should be about Isabela and *her* hobbies.

Chapter 23: Backslide

Summary:

Luisa and Isa do some work together, but some struggles don't disappear so easily

“Luisa, don’t!  Let me help!”

The tall girl grimaced as her sister’s voice rang out.  Her family was treating her like glass.  She knew, she understood, she really did, that it came from a place of care.  

She knew, she understood, that she wasn’t the old Luisa, who could do things.  The Luisa who could carry the entire encanto on her shoulders.

But it still stung.  

Luisa waited awkwardly by the beam, shuffling her feet.  Her family was allowing her to help again, and that mattered.  It was good.  Luisa was constantly frustrated with how little she could do before her arms would shake or her back would start to cramp and seize. ( Weak )

Regardless of intentions, Luisa felt like a charity case.  Like a child, being humored.  It was difficult to shake the emotions, though she kept telling herself it was because her family loved and cared about her.  And that she was weak now.  She had wondered, once, who she would be if she couldn’t carry it all.  Luisa didn’t think she liked the answer. 

( Useless )

Wanted, but useless.  And that didn’t feel very fair.  ( You don’t need your sisters to be useful to want them, came the whispering thought.)  Luisa frowned.  It was different, wasn’t it?  

Mirabel was so, so talented.  She could make magic without magic, turning thread and fabric into beautiful creations.  She could sing and play accordion and piano.  She could cheer up anyone with a smile and a few words.  She was nearly as good as Bruno at spinning stories.  Luisa adored her little sister, and the knowledge of how she had repeatedly failed to defend Mira over the years gnawed at her.  Mirabel didn’t seem mad about Luisa’s silence that day (THAT day), because Mirabel’s nature was too forgiving.  

Luisa had tried to give voice to that, to apologize for it, but it never seemed to work.  Most of her attempts to apologize only upset people.  Maybe Isabela was right - maybe Luisa wished she could scrape away every burden she caused with a thousand lo sientos.  

Luisa scowled and kicked at a rock.  She was supposed to be BETTER.  Stupid, weak, ordinary, useless, empty Luisa.  Is this what Mira had felt?  That she wasn’t special because of the magic?  

But Mira WAS special, had always been special, and had never needed magic.

Luisa wasn’t.

And maybe that was the problem?  Wanting to be special?  (Wanting to be worth something?)

She needed to stop being upset and accept what she WAS. ( UselessWeakWorthlessBurden )

Hadn’t she asked for this?  Begged for it?  ( You WANTED a break from expectations! )

“That rock do something sassy, Lu?”  Isabela laughed, pulling Luisa’s attention outwards.

“Uh.  No.  Just, y’know.”  Luisa shrugged, sucking in her lips and rubbing the back of her neck.  “Waiting.”

“Tonito was running all over the place like a madman this morning with his toy.  I’m glad you were able to find it for him.”  Isa said as she tucked a corner of her skirt into her waistband, tidying it out of the way to work.

Luisa smiled, a brief glow lighting up her eyes.  “Yeah.  Me too.”

That as an understatement - giving the toy back to her primo had been a huge rush.  For a moment, she had felt like the old Luisa.  She’d tried to hold on to that feeling, she really had.  The Luisa who was worth something, the Luisa who everyone needed, the Luisa who was useful… the Luisa she wanted to be, and wasn’t.

“Okay, so - what’s the plan?  We’re raising these beams?”  Isa rubbed her hands together.

“Yeah, all of them in this row…”  Luisa pointed at the line.  Old Luisa could have done it in a matter of minutes.  By herself.

“Lu?” 

The tall girl startled as she felt Isa’s hand on her arm.

“I’m fine.”  Why wasn’t she fine?  She was working, she had helped her primo.  She was supposed to be better .  Her back was healing, wasn’t it?  She was weak, still, ( never strong enough ) but not an invalid.  Not… at par, not up to an ungifted person, let alone what she was before… 

But Luisa needed to accept what she was now .  ( Nothing )

Luisa managed what she thought was a convincing smile for Isabela.  Isa raised an eyebrow but didn’t press.  

Get it together, Luisa! She was HELPING.  She’d helped Antonio.  She was useful.  She wasn’t stuck in bed.  She needed to stop this.  She loved her family and wanted to be there for them.  Was her eye twitching?

“Abuela said that we should take the afternoon off.  She’s worried about us overworking.  It’s a change, isn’t it?”  Isa said as she helped Luisa walk the beam upright.  

Luisa frowned, a crease forming between her eyebrows.  “All of us?  I think I’d rather work.  I had a long time off.”

“No, you had time to recover, that’s not the same thing. Lu, you’re making that face.  What’s going on in there?”

“I’m fine , Isa.  I’m better.”  If she kept saying it, she would be.  She’d helped Antonio. She was helping now.  If she just kept repeating that, she could make it stick.  Luisa knew the value of persistence.  

“...Lu, you don’t have to be fine, you know that - right?”  Isa began.

“Easy for you to say.”  Luisa winced as the sentiment escaped her lips.  “Sorry.”  Wince.  Apologies.  She fought the urge to apologize a second time, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I think I can see why you think that.  I’ve been pushing back pretty hard about not being perfect anymore.  But…”  Isabela paused, considering.  “But I still get scared, sometimes.  I’m not entirely sure who the real me is, in a way.  I was Senorita Perfecta for so long that parts of it are like breathing.”

Luisa chewed on her lower lip.  “You never seem scared.”

“And how often do you let us see when you’re scared, Lu?”

“That’s different.”  Luisa bent her knees, crouching down to grip the next support beam.

“I’m not so sure it is.  We both wanted to put on a perfect face to make Abuela proud, didn’t we?”

Luisa grunted as she lifted the wood.  Isa stepped in to help.

“You’re so strong!”  the smaller girl proclaimed.

Luisa felt her face twist at that, beyond her control.  She needed to be better.  Needed to be calm, stable, steady Luisa.  Needed to make them stop worrying.

“Even without your gift, Lu.  You are.  Give yourself some credit.”

“But I’m not pulling my weight…”

“HA.  Don’t you get any credit for the years you spent carrying the entire village on your back?”  Isa said lightly, but was not joking.

“No?”

 

“Lu… hermana, you have absolutely earned an afternoon off, okay?  You can do something fun.  I’m going to go shopping for seeds, if you want to come.”

“I… I.. maybe?  I dunno.”  Luisa stammered.  Isabela was so certain about what she wanted to do, so sure about what made her happy - even without her gift.  And here, without her gift, Isa was going to make flowers and make a beautiful garden, and Luisa couldn’t…

Luisa took a deep breath, trying to halt the spiral.

“Well, sis, you are welcome to join me.  Have you even been down to town since you’ve been up and walking again?”

Luisa silently shook her head.  Truth be told, she was nervous about it - she’d not been carrying her weight with the family for weeks, had been a burden for weeks, but she had absolutely abandoned her duties to the Encanto.  

What if everything had fallen apart?  How badly had she let them down?

That would be bad, of course.  But then Luisa realized that it could be something even worse.

What if… like Papi had said, what if they didn’t need her at all?

Luisa turned back to the work with her sister, avoiding any more conversation about the looming “time off.”

Notes:

Hey folks, sorry for the delay. I was in a pretty stressful tech week to open a show, and just couldn't quite get this together. I worry it's a weak chapter, but I'm hoping it gets my momentum rolling again.

Chapter 24: The village

Summary:

Luisa goes to town for her afternoon off.

Isabela spent a lot of the morning sharing her vision for the future garden with Luisa.  Luisa was a good listener, and she loved the way her sister lit up with excitement - sure, Isabela was full of smiles before, but these had a free and warm quality that had been largely absent (and that Luisa had missed , without realizing what had changed.)

Not that Luisa exactly understood everything Isabela spoke of - the names of the plants were long and exotic strings of syllables, with nothing so recognizable as a gladiola in the mix.  She did get the impression that cacti were involved.  Isa had managed to save one cactus from her magical blossoming before Casita fell, and the little spiky plant held a place of honor on the windowsill in their shared bedroom.

Even if Luisa couldn’t picture Isa’s plans in her head, she was confident that whatever her sister made would be wonderful.  Possibly as wild as Isa’s new hair and clothes, rather than the orderly roses and orchids from before.  That wouldn’t be so bad.  Luisa always liked when her chores sent her to the edges of the encanto, to places where wildflowers dotted tall grass or peeked through the dense foliage of the forest.  Hummingbirds liked the ones shaped like clusters of red trumpets, and the tiny, delicate creatures would glitter like emeralds as they hovered in the air.  Some days, Luisa could stop to catch her breath and watch them dart amongst the flowers like fairies.

Hummingbirds were her favorite.  Not that it mattered, she supposed.  

Could she ask Isa to plant some of those red flowers?  No.  Isabela was making plans.  Had made plans.  

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask?

…Maybe Luisa could go look for the hummingbirds this afternoon?

Abuela had declared a break, after all.

Luisa’s tummy twisted with guilt.  She didn’t really want to take time off, despite what Isa had said - she had missed weeks of rebuilding.  And she hadn’t been able to do anything near what she should have when she was working.  Why was she thinking about hummingbirds?

Isa didn’t have her gift, but she was still working on the garden and flowers.  Mama was still cooking and tending injuries.  Shouldn’t Luisa also… do what she was supposed to do?  

She nervously clenched her ruana in her hands as that twisty-feeling rose from her stomach to her throat.  She wanted to help in the village.  She wanted to be useful.  But her body had become a fragile and unpredictable thing.  Her back was throbbing and tight after the work this morning - not… bad, not compared to before.  It hurt, but not enough to say anything.  

But part of her mind was very noisy - almost frantic - replaying that awful feeling, that moment when something tore inside, when she became trapped, and weak, and somehow it was also the sound of Abuela yelling, and the sound of Casita cracking, and the discordant groan of the piano she couldn’t move, and what if she hurt herself failed again when she was trying to help in town?  The rock that had ruined her had been just like any other she’d been carrying. 

Luisa didn’t know.  She couldn’t gauge what her new limits were. They felt so narrow, as poorly fitted as her borrowed shirts.  She knew she couldn’t lift even a single donkey, now.  She hadn’t even dared picking up Tonito.  

Because she was afraid  weak.

And that wasn’t a good enough reason to not help.  Right?

Luisa was being better.  Trying not to listen to the thoughts that would spiral and trap her.  She had felt better when she helped her primo.  She would feel better if she helped the village.  She might not be able to move the church, but she could still be useful.  Like Isa.  Or Mama.

Calmate.  Calmate.   

The fabric of the ruana was wrinkled when she released it from her grip.  She tried to smooth it out with limited success.  This was a good plan for her afternoon off.  She wasn’t going to listen to that irrational chorus.  She could be strong, still.  She was going to help.  (Maybe Abuela would be proud of her?  Wouldn’t that be better than some silly birds? )

Despite herself, Luisa’s heart was racing and her breath was too fast and shallow.

Calmate .

It was just going to the village, something she had done every day for fourteen years.

This was idiotic.  She just needed to do it.  Tonta burra idiota!

She would feel better.  Like how she glowed when Antonio smiled at her.  She desperately wanted that feeling back.  Luisa dragged her calloused hands over her face, frustrated with herself.  

Another deep breath.  Luisa squared her shoulders and headed down to the village.

**************

The weather was beautiful.  The dry season was settling in place over the Encanto, with bright skies and brisk winds.  Luisa wondered how the crops would be affected this year, without Pepa to call rain.  But today, for walking… it was nice.  Luisa could enjoy it, and focus on that instead of her clammy palms.

Luisa had been between Casita and the widow’s home, and Casita and the rectory - but it had been weeks since she had been to the center of town, to the hustle and bustle of the market, to the fountain where teenagers gossiped and flirted, to the cafe where the old men sat drinking coffee (and gossiped), to the fabric-shaded patios where the abuelitas played parqués or embroidered (and gossiped).  Luisa had learned very young that she was always ‘on display’ in town - that everything she did under their eyes reflected on la familia Madrigal.  Despite the feelings scrabbling painfully around her ribcage, Luisa stood up straighter as she neared the market.  Square shoulders, friendly smile ( Don’t frighten anyone, Luisa.  You are a Madrigal. ) 

As she spotted Señora Herrera on her balcony, Luisa lifted her hand in a wave.  

“Luisa!  Why, we have missed you, mocita!” The older woman called out with a smile.  Luisa felt her own smile warming in return.

“It’s good to see you, too, Señora.”

“...I have been meaning to bring up some arracacha from the cellar.  Could you be a dear and take two bags to my kitchen?”

Luisa’s smile stiffened.  ( You wanted to help.  This is what you do. )  “Of course, Señora!  On it!” she responded with a bright tone.

The tall girl swallowed down the cold feeling in her stomach.  ( You are HELPING .) She didn’t know why such a simple request was making her react this way, but Luisa was strong and steady and dependable and didn’t need her gift to be useful.  Something was wrong with her, feeling like this.  Like how she had been jealous of Mira’s crafting, or angry when Isa wanted to help her lift things.  

Luisa had to duck down to fit through the entry to Sra Herrera’s root cellar, and her shoulders grazed the frame.  Luckily, she easily found the bin of arracacha.  She filled up two burlap sacks before tucking one under each arm to carry to the kitchen.  

“Oh, Luisa, just set those on the counter.  I had forgotten, I need to put out the linens to air - would you bring down the chest and set up the line?”

Luisa’s eye twitched, but she smiled.  “Ciertamente, Señora.”

The chest was heavier than the sacks of arracacha.  It made her back twinge and complain, but Luisa was fine once she set it down.  It didn’t ache any more than it had before.  She strang the line, and as she was hanging the linens out to air she heard Señor Ortiz greet her.  He needed her help, too.

None of the chores Señor Ortiz needed hurt her, either.  They were all small things.  Nobody asked her to lift a building, or a cart, or pull up a tree.  

Gossip, it seems, traveled much faster than Luisa could.  Before she was finished tying back the vines to Señor Ortiz’s trellis, Señor Gomez was waiting to claim her.

“Luisa, we missed you!”

“Luisa, where have you been?”

“Luisa, could you…”

“Luisa, I need…”

Luisa was needed.  Luisa was wanted.  Luisa had fallen so far behind.  Luisa’s stomach clenched in on itself, twisted into a knot. 

This was going to make her feel better.  This was going to make her feel better.  She was going to be useful.  One task blended into another, she was needed .

Why did she feel so bad?

Chapter 25: Boundaries

Summary:

Old habits

Luisa had lost track of time - it had probably been a few hours, but she had been so busy.  Busier than Casita, even!  At the site, Mira and Isa would continually interrupt her for water or to sit, or taking time to do her therapy exercises, or Bruno catching her for ‘siesta & stories’ to escape the high sun.  One thing had been accomplished, at least - she barely had the time to think.  Everyone needed something, and Luisa felt bad for slacking off before  was happy to help.

She had felt guilty for not being happier at the requests, but right now she didn’t have a lot of room left to think or feel much of anything.  She was tired.  Her limbs felt shaky and heavy.  Her back hurt, pulsing in steady thrums radiating out from the base of her spine. Maybe she needed water?  Mirabel would have made her drink water by now, Luisa was sure.

Come to think of it, maybe lack of water was why she had a headache?  That was probably it.  On reflection, it surprised Luisa that it had actually been a while since she’d worked herself to this point.  The sun was low and the sky was warming to orange and pink on the horizon.  Maybe it was almost time for dinner?  Dinner sounded very appealing.  Dinner and a whole pitcher of water.  And dinner.  Yes.

“Luisa!”

Luisa returned to earth, blinking.  “Oh.  Buenas tardes, Señora Ozma.”

“Yes, yes.  Luisa, I need you to move my planters to the veranda.”  Sra. Ozma demanded as she wrapped her shawl around her plump shoulders.

Luisa looked at the aforementioned planters - a pair of hefty terra cotta pots, each with a brilliantly-flowered marmalade bush that easily came up to Luisa’s ribcage.  For old Luisa, they would have been trivial.  New Luisa ( weak Luisa) was less certain.  Her arms felt like wrung-out laundry.

“Do…”  Luisa hesitated, and bit on her lower lip.  “Perdoname. Do you think that the planters could wait until tomorrow morning, Señora?  I could come get them right after breakfast…”  

And maybe with someone to help?  No, no.  She could probably do it when she was fresh…

Maybe.  Probably.

“What was that?”  Sra. Ozma’s eyebrows crawled together in a scowl, like two terrible black caterpillars.

Luisa quailed, her stomach sinking.  She grabbed at the hem of her ruana, balling up the fabric in her hands.  “Lo siento.  I.. I was just asking if, perhaps, I could take care of the planters for you tomorrow.  First thing.”

“Luisa, I am asking for such a little thing.  You helped Sr. Rendon, and the Herreras, and everyone, but it is me you don’t have time for?”

“Discúlpeme, Señora.  Lo siento tanto…” Apologies tumbled out of Luisa, like a river breaching a dam.

“And after everything the village is doing for your family!  Taking you in, housing you, clothing you!  Rebuilding your home, and this is the gratitude a Madrigal shows!?”  Ozma’s voice raised with indignation.

Luisa’s shoulders rounded, and she anxiously clasped her arm at the elbow with the opposite hand.  Hot tears stung at her eyes, but she didn’t.. no, she didn’t let them fall.

“Discúlpeme. Perdóname mil. Lo siento muchísimo…”

“Honestly, lazing about in bed and now this?  Luisa Madrigal, I thought better of you…”

Luisa’s head was so loud.  It was not entirely Señora Ozma’s exact words, though she heard those, too.  But it was the roar of the ocean, buffeting her with cold waves.  Lazy.   Crash.  Worthless.  Useless. Crash.  Ungrateful .  Crash.  Each wave took her breath away as they impacted her, threatening to swallow her up.

“I can get them tonight.  I can get them now.”  Luisa stumbled over the words, trying to put them out in front of her in time to stop the next wave.

Ozma harrumphed.  “Well then!  Make sure their good sides are turned outwards, won’t you?”

“Si, Doña.”

The planters were heavier than Luisa had anticipated. Her ability to gauge… her ability, period, was in shambles.  The fire across her back was countered by an icicle of fear down her spine as she committed in lifting the first.  Knees bent, back straight, firm grip… she wasn’t going to get hurt again fail.  She could do this.

**********

“Mijas, where is your sister?”  Julieta frowned as she set the serving bowl on the table.  Mirabel was still setting out the plates, while Isabela was pouring limonada.  The setting sun cast an amber hue over the rectory’s dining room as it angled through the windows.  Agustin blinked at his wife’s question and looked around the room with a slightly befuddled look.

“Luisa?  Time for dinner!”  He called towards the stairs.

“I’ll go check the bedroom.”  Mirabel offered, immediately setting off to do so.

“I didn’t see her this afternoon.  Mira and I went shopping, but Luisa said she had plans.”  Isa set the pitcher down.

“And she didn’t say what they were? Ay, your hermana…” Julieta’s eyebrows creased with worry.

“Luisa?”  Agustin was calling again, checking the study which held the piano.  His voice continued to carry as he went through the downstairs, checking each room in turn.

“I.. no, she didn’t.  I thought maybe she’d do some reading, something.”  Isabela grimaced.  “I didn’t ask.  She hadn’t wanted to take the time off.  You know how Lu is…”

“But everyone would be gone from Casita by now.  Before, if your sister had been out doing chores, that would be a different matter...”  A flicker of guilt crossed Julieta’s face.  How many dinners had her middle daughter missed over the years - an empty seat followed by a plate tucked into the oven to wait for some time well after dark?  How many times had Luisa eaten alone while Julieta and the rest gathered together in the sala?

“Should I go check the site, Mama?”  Isabela asked even as Mirabel returned from upstairs.  

“She’s not in bed, and her books are all on the nightstand.”  The youngest informed the family.

( “Luisa?  Mija, it’s time for dinner…” Agustin called outside . )

Maybe Julieta was overreacting.  Perhaps Luisa had just lost track of time on her adventures.  It could be a long walk back from the woods.  Her daughter was nineteen, an adult. ( A bebita! )  Despite this, Julieta couldn’t help but think of how fragile Luisa had seemed - not that her pequeña montaña would appreciate being seen as such.  Julieta empathized, hating how helpless she felt without her gift.  Luisa had already been struggling before her injury, and Juli could not heal her little girl with a kiss on the cheek and a warm arepa.  

But then, so much of that hurt wasn’t of the type her magic could ever have fixed.  And not seeing those wounds fed into her maternal guilt - Mirabel, Isabela, Luisa.  All of her girls, who had hidden their suffering behind smiles.  Julieta had sworn to herself she was not going to miss it again.

“Yes, Mirabel.  If you could check and see if Luisa’s on her way from Casita.  Dinner can keep for a bit.”  

Surely, her hija was just running a bit late.  Mirabel would find Luisa just on the path.  Julieta would slice some bread, yes.  Keep her hands busy.

***************

Luisa was going to be so late.  The sun had dipped below the mountains, though the sky still held some lingering pink light.  She had surely missed dinner, though Mama would always save Luisa a plate - tucked away in the oven to keep warm, usually with a few polvorosas as an extra treat.  It was a small thing, but the sweets always made Luisa feel loved - knowing that her Mama had thought of her, had taken care of her.  Even with her gift, she could still get tired after a day of chores.  Mama’s magic food would whisk away any aches or pains.  Luisa knew that this was no longer true, but still - Luisa hoped that the cookies would be waiting for her.

A small part hoped that nobody would notice her absence from the dinner table, but that might be harder when it was just the five of them, instead of the whole family.

Mama wouldn’t have forgotten to leave a plate.  Mama wouldn’t.  Luisa was very hungry.  And tired.  And her head hurt.  She could eat and go to bed and avoid a fuss. After the planters, Sra. Ozma needed help with some other chores.  Luisa tried very hard not to make things any worse, after she had already made the family look bad, but then… 

“Luisa!”

Luisa looked up from the ground as she heard her name.  There was Mirabel, waving and jogging over.  The big girl swallowed and straightened her shoulders. 

Well.  They’d noticed.

Chapter 26: Questions

Summary:

A difficult dinner. Luisa can't hide her nerves these days.

“MAAAAAA.  I found her!”  Mirabel nearly dragged Luisa into the rectory.  Miercoles. Everyone was there.  Everyone being her parents and Isa, but that was still too many.  

The table was set for dinner, and Julieta crossed to give Luisa a hug.  “Cutting it close, mija.  You had us worried.”

“Lo siento, Mami.  You didn’t have to wait.”  The hug was nice.  And… it was nice that they’d waited, wasn’t it?  ( Your fault that they had to wait. )  That too, yes.  But… but it WAS nice.  It was.

“No es nada, mija.  You aren’t late.  Sit, sit, sit, before it gets cold!”

Luisa sheepishly lowered herself into her seat - her broad shoulders placed her at the end of the table (much like Mama’s left-handedness usually placed her at an opposite corner).  She was terribly stiff.  In a spiteful move, her back muscles were torqued by painful cramps now that she wasn’t carrying something.  She tried not to let a grimace escape.  She didn’t want to make her family upset.  She wasn’t going to burden them with something she could handle.

Dinner looked and smelled delicious.  Heaps of golden rice with chicken and vegetables and cream to top it.  A bowl of fruit salad.  A pitcher of limonada.  Water. Luisa’s stomach let out a feral growl, informing everyone of her state (and turning the teenager’s ears red.)

“Whoa, Lu.  Didn’t know we’d invited one of Antonio’s friends.”  Mirabel teased as she dished up a plate.

“Lo si-...”  Luisa stopped and corrected.  “I’m hungry, yeah.”

“Well, abejita, there’s plenty.  Your mama still cooks for Camilo, I think.”  Agustin grinned, and Julieta playfully smacked his arm.

“My girls are growing!  I won’t have them hungry.”

Agustin just grinned more.  Luisa smiled a little at the interaction, despite her discomfort.  When it was her turn, she took a generous helping of the arroz con pollo.  

“Lu…”  Isa’s voice held a suspicious tone.

“Isa?”  Had her eye twitched?  Did her hand tremble?  Luisa wasn’t sure.  She sat back down with haste, and quickly shoved a forkful of rice into her mouth.  “Mmm!”

Her older sister frowned, eyes narrowed.  Luisa kept her eyes on her plate.  Mirabel, meanwhile, was telling their parents all about her adventures while shopping with Isabela.  Luisa was glad the two of them were getting along so well.  That also meant they could work together when they conspired against Luisa, which she was less glad about.  But.. not.. actually upset, either?

“I had invited Luisa to join us at the market, but she did her own thing.”  That was Isabela.  Luisa furtively glanced up at the mention of her name.

“Corazon, what did you do on your afternoon off?”  Mama asked.  Luisa tensed.  

“I.. uh.. Went into town.”  She grabbed her water, downing half the glass.  Her stomach was twisting.  She should tell how she failed the family.  She didn’t want to burden them, but she had brought shame to the Madrigal name.  Lazy. Ungrateful. Worthless.

“You did?  But we didn’t see you at all!”  Mira looked at Isa to confirm this.

“We didn’t!”

“I guess we just were in different parts.  I didn’t mean to run late for dinner.” Luisa felt her shoulders curl inwards and she kept her eyes on her plate.  

“What were you doing, Lu?”  Isa asked.

Luisa frowned at her rice and pushed it around with her fork.  “Chores.”

“What chores, mija?  You had the afternoon off.”  Mama’s concern just made Luisa feel worse.

“I went down to help in the village.  Since.. Since I’d been slacking off, ever since… I mean, I haven’t done anything for them in weeks, but they’re helping us with Casita, and they’ve fed us, and we need to.. I need to…”  Luisa grimaced.  “I messed it all up.”

“Princesa?  I’m sure you didn’t mess anything up…” Agustin reassured.

Her eyes stung, but Luisa didn’t want to cry right now.  ( All you do is cry.  Weak. )  She swallowed.

“It started out okay, I was able to help everyone who asked.  Mostly.”  Her eyebrows creased.

“Lulu, what happened?”  Why did Papa have to sound so kind?  Luisa could feel her sisters watching her, and could sense Mama’s tension.  

Luisa whispered  “I screwed up.”

Isabela placed her hand on Luisa’s arm.  “Lu, c’mon.”

“Ev-everybody else is still contributing without their gift.  Mama’s still cooking and healing and Isa has her plants, and I thought.. I thought if I went and did chores, like before, I could help, too.”  Luisa frowned.  “I wanted to feel like the old Luisa.  Useful.”

Mirabel started to say something, but Isa shushed her before asking “How is that messing up, Lu?”

Another brief grimace crossed Luisa’s face.  “I couldn’t do it.  Even though most of what everyone asked wasn’t anything hard.  And when Señora Ozma needed my help… I.. uh…”

Oh no.  No, no.  Luisa’s eyes were stinging again.  Don’t cry.  You need to be better.  You need to be strong.  This was your fault.   The weight of her family’s combined gaze was so heavy . Isabela was still touching her arm, and Luisa gave in to the urge to clumsily clutch at her sister’s hand.  Isa squeezed her hand back.

“Señora Ozma needed your help.”  Isabela prompted, patiently.  Luisa couldn’t look at her parents.

“I…. I was tired.”  Weak. “I’m not… strong, now, I know.  Not like I used to be.  She didn’t ask me to do anything much, but I… I d-didn’t want to, I wanted to go home.  I asked if I could do it tomorrow, instead.”  Selfish.   She winced.  She didn’t see the look exchanged between Julieta and Agustin.

“I apologized, but I still… I wasn’t grateful enough, I made the family look bad… I’m supposed to help , I’m not supposed to say no…”

“Luisa, you weren’t supposed to be doing chores to begin with.  It’s your day OFF.  You were supposed to go relax.”  Mirabel huffed.

“Discúlpame.”  It spilled out before Luisa could stop it,  Apologies made her sisters mad, but…

“Mija, you are allowed to say no.”  Papa insisted.  

Luisa shook her head.  Her eyes were watery, but she couldn’t cry. Not again.  “Not after I helped everyone else, that wouldn’t be fair, and I thought maybe doing it tomorrow would be enough, but it wasn’t.  I’ve let the whole village down, for weeks, being lazy and… and… “

“ Lazy!? Luisa, you hurt yourself by working too hard, and now you’re thinking that’s lazy?  You’re just now getting better!  What if you got hurt again?”

Luisa shrank at Isa’s shout.  She knew, she KNEW they didn’t have the same faith in her… she knew she wasn’t strong, she was afraid of being hurt… but it still..

“I didn’t get hurt.”  She mumbled.  “I was able to do it.”

“What was so damned important it couldn’t wait?”  

“Isa, language!”  Julieta scolded without rancor.  “Luisa, corazon, you are not lazy.  You’re my strong, hard-working, responsible girl.  But being all that doesn’t mean you can’t have limits. You deserve your time off, abejita.”

“She wanted help moving her planters.  It wouldn’t have been hard before.  And I did help everyone else, I couldn’t tell her no after that, it wouldn’t be very fair.”  Luisa pulled her hand away from Isa’s hold to rub her palms against her thighs.  This was going horribly.  Everyone was mad.  Luisa had messed up.  Somehow, she had messed up by doing chores and by not doing chores and apologizing again would make them mad, too, and she didn’t know how to fix it…

“Que cabrón!  Like that couldn’t wait a day?  Lu.. Luisa.. Look at me, hermanita..”  Isabela touched Luisa’s cheek, turning her face upwards.  “Did Ozma say something to you?”

Luisa closed her eyes, turning her face away from Isabela again.  “Lo siento.”  She couldn’t help it, she didn’t know what else to say.  She didn’t know how to fix this.  “It’s fine.  I was able to move them.  I didn’t get hurt.  I shouldn’t have… have made an issue…”

“Because you were tired from doing things for everyone all day?”  Isa’s tone was strident.

“When you were supposed to be relaxing!”  Mirabel chimed in.  

They were BOTH angry.

Luisa had been holding it back, until she couldn’t.  ( WeakWorthlessCrybaby. )  The threatening tears escaped and leaked down her cheeks.  She was ruining dinner.  She hid her face with her hands, wishing she could sink into the floor.  Wishing she could stop being like this.  Her family was all talking on top of each other again.  Everyone was upset.

“You aren’t a servant to be ordered around! I have some WORDS for Señora Ozma!”

“Luisa, corazon, it’s alright…”

“Lu, nobody’s mad at you, please don’t cry…”

“Abejita, shhh…”

“You just carry too much, and we talked about this, mi hemana, you don’t need to…”

“Mija, por favor…”

“Isabela, I know you are upset, but…”

“That idiota hija de puta made my sister cry!  I’ll KILL HER PLANTS!”

“Isabela! Language!”

“Please, everyone, STOP.”  Now it was Luisa shouting.  She winced at her own raised voice, but the others did fall quiet.  The big girl harshly scrubbed at her face with the back of her hand.

The silence practically vibrated as everyone looked at Luisa.

“All Señora Ozma did was what everyone does.  I knew better than to say no, so can we please just… just.. Just stop being mad?  I am sorry for ruining dinner.”

“Lulu, cariño, you didn’t ruin dinner.”  Papa was as gentle as always, but his statement was firm. “Your sisters are upset because they can see you’re hurt.  You are allowed to be hurt, sweetie.  You don’t need to hide that to protect us.”

“Because I don’t love mi Papi any less when he gets hurt.”  Luisa quoted in a soft echo, shoulders drooping.

“Exactly, corazon.  And I’m very proud of you for sharing what happened.  That took a lot of strength and courage from my brave girl.”  Agustin smiled at his daughter, reassuring.

Isabela muttered something about a “pendejo” under her breath, earning another stern look from Julieta.

“But maybe, abejita, you won’t work on your afternoon off?”  Mama reached over to brush at Luisa’s hair, pushing back a damp curl.  “You still need to rest.  You need time to be free, and just have fun.  Be you.”

Luisa frowned a little.  “But I was trying, Mama.  I was trying to be -”  Be what?  Strong?  Worthy?  Useful?

Trying to be something she wasn’t?  Hadn’t ever been, deep down?

“Luisa, we never should have let things get that way with the village.  We’re your parents, it was our job to protect you…” Agustin began.

“Papi, it’s my job to protect everyone!”  Luisa protested.  She needed that to be true.

“Cariño, it’s not.  And even if it were, it’s not your job to move every planter, or never say no.  That’s not being needed, that’s being used.”

Isabela made an agitated noise.  Mira leaned over and whispered fiercely in the eldest sister’s ear.  The two of them quietly conspired as Luisa grappled with their parents’ efforts.

“But then I’m useful.  Papi, I wanted to go and do chores.  Nobody made me.”

“Ay, pobrecita…”  Agustin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“No, corazon, nobody made you.  I know how much you want… how much you feel the need to help.  But you can’t keep doing so much that it tears you apart, mija.  I never wanted that for you.” Mama sounded sad.

Luisa clenched her ruana again.  They didn’t understand.  They didn’t understand how empty she felt.  How ugly her insides had become, full of frustration and anger and jealousy.  She had been unhappy before, but she had known her worth.  Now she wasn’t even a mula de carga .  

“Luisa, habits can be hard to break.  Whatever Senora Ozma said… it wasn’t fair or right, if she made you think you shamed the family.  We are so proud of you.  We’re so proud of how hard you’ve worked, even with all you still have to carry.  We’re proud of how you’ve persevered - through our losses, through your recovery, through everything. I don’t understand what it is to lose a gift, I can’t.  But I will never stop trying to make you see how wonderful you are. Mi pequeña montaña, mi princesa, mi vida.”

Mirabel scowled.  “And we need to talk to the village about THEIR expectations.”

Isa snorted softly.

“And that too, Miraboo.”  Papa said ruefully.

“Mija, is there anything else you want to tell us about your day?”  Mama’s question was gentle - ignoring the rancor radiating off of Luisa’s sisters.

Luisa hesitated. She knew the usual chorus in her head, the same refrain that wanted her to be steady and strong to hide the mess inside.  

But she hadn’t been able to hide it.  Again and again, her family saw the cracked and ugly pieces.  Saw the parts that were scared and weak.

“Could… after dinner, could you make me some willow tea?  Not the sleepy tea, just the willow.  Por favor.”  Luisa twisted her hands together.  That was as good as an admission - and Julieta knew what the request meant, judging by the older woman’s expression.

“Ay, mija.  Of course I will.  Now eat, eat.  You worked hard today. Mirabel, mi mariposa, you said you went to the fabric shop?  What are you planning to make next?”

Luisa shot her mother a grateful smile as Julieta redirected the conversation away from her.  Mirabel took the hint, though she and Isabela did keep watching their middle sister throughout the meal.  But, for now, a little bit of the pressure was off.

Notes:

A difficult chapter to get out, every version of this turned into a stressful mess of dialogue. There's just no way Lu's family will look at her after Ozma and not realize something's up. So I tried to find some signs of progress for our girl, even though it was a rough go. (Also, five character scenes are SO HARD. Oy.)

My other realization is that I am clearly writing a telenovela here, vs a "tighter" story. I'm making little mini-arcs. :) Don't mind me, I am still really new to this writing thing - I haven't actively written fiction since jr high, and lord knows I didn't share any of it then. I really appreciate my readers who have been so kind and encouraging with their comments.

Chapter 27: Tea & comfort

Summary:

Julieta makes tea. She and Luisa talk.

Luisa insisted on helping clean up after dinner, drying the dishes with a practiced delicacy.  Even without her gift, Julieta noted that her daughter handled the ceramic as if it might shatter at any moment.  Her practiced healer’s eye also saw the stiffness in the teenager's posture, and the pained restriction on her movement beyond habitual self-control.  

No wonder her daughter wanted the tea.  But Julieta had mixed feelings about the fact that Luisa had asked for it, herself.  Part of it was happiness - Luisa was not one to admit hurt or weakness easily, to Juli’s frustration.  She knew it was progress on her daughter’s part, and she hated having to impose medicine on her middle child.  Julieta would make all the tea in Colombia for Luisa.

But it bothered her that Luisa was in pain - that despite the progress over the past weeks, her daughter had pushed herself too far.  It seemed that, left to her own devices, Luisa would ignore her own needs completely - forgoing the most basic things, like rest or water, ignoring pain until something broke.  Or even after something broke.

And that scared Julieta.  That her sweet and gentle girl seemed unable to protect herself.  Luisa had been ‘the strong one.’  Luisa had been steady and reliable and ‘mature’ and Julieta had taken that veneer for granted.  She had missed too much, for too long.  What kind of mother was she?

“Luisa, sit.  The rest of them can dry on the counter.”

“Are you sure, Mama?  Is there something else I can do?”  The undercurrent in Luisa’s voice brought a pang to Julieta’s heart.  How had she missed it for so long?

“No, corazon.  Just sit while I make you your tea.”  Julieta noted Luisa’s fidgeting as she waited, her discomfort with sitting idle while Juli gathered ingredients.  Luisa didn’t protest, Luisa almost never complained or pushed back, but her anxiousness leaked through with nervous hands picking at that awful ruana. Luisa had gotten far fewer options from the donated clothing, but seeing her broad shoulders slumped beneath the poncho brought to mind memories of a much smaller figure waiting for tea and comfort.

Like Bruno, who they had lost for ten years…

“How about a little chamomile in the mix, mija?”  Julieta asked as she added the willow bark to the pot of water.

“And honey?”  Luisa asked with a wistful lilt.

“Always, for my sweet little abejita.”Julieta leaned over to kiss her daughter’s hair.

Luisa blushed.  “Mama!”  (Julieta considered that a win.)

“What, I can’t use nicknames with my little girl?  Ay, nina, don’t grow up so fast.”

“Mama, I’ll be twenty in November.”

“A long way away!  And you will be my bebita when you are old and grey.”

Luisa’s cheeks were still stained pink, but Julieta had won a smile to join the blush.  Another small win.

“Do you think we’ll be done with the house by then?”  Luisa wondered aloud.

“Mmm.  Maybe not done entirely, but I would think done-enough for us to live in it.”

“I miss it.  I miss having everyone together.”

“Oh, yo también.”  Julieta stirred the brew, checking the color.  “We only just got your tio back, but he’s away at the Guzmans’ with Mama.  If I could, I would fit everyone in our two rooms.”

“Me too.”  Luisa shifted, picking at the ruana again.  “That’s… wrong to think, isn’t it?  To not be happy about… I.. I mean, I’m happy.  I’m grateful.  I am.  I’m very grateful we’ve a place to stay.”

“It’s not wrong to miss Casita, Luisa.  Or to not be happy being packed three to a room.  None of this is ideal, corazon.  It doesn’t make you a bad person - it makes you human.  I miss my room, too.  I miss my kitchen.  I miss being together in the sala after dinner with Pepa and Felix and my sobrinos, even if I love being so close with my niñas.”

“I wasn’t ha-...  I… when I was doing chores, I wasn’t...  I thought it would make me feel better, but when they kept asking and asking, I… inside, I didn’t want to.”  Luisa frowned.  “Isn’t that wrong?”

“Ay, pobrecita.  You aren’t a machine, who just works and works and doesn’t feel. You didn’t tell your sisters you were going to go and work this afternoon.”

“No…”  Fidget.  

“Have you thought about why you hid that?”  Somehow, the gentle questions were always the worst, when Mama or Papa’s voice was so soft and loving and concerned.  

Luisa twisted the fringe at the bottom of the ruana between her fingers, quietly ruminating.  Why hadn’t she told Isabela or Mira?  She had often brought Mira along on chores, before.  If anything, days when Mira “helped” (tagged along and talked Luisa’s ear off) were her favorite ones.  She hadn’t “hid” that she was going to do chores, had she?  She just hadn’t told anyone.

“I…” Luisa hesitated.

Because if she’d told, they’d be upset.  They’d tell her she should “relax” and be useless.  They wouldn’t have said the last, but her sisters didn’t understand . 

So maybe she had hidden it, a little bit.

Her expression creased, a furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

“Mija, that you want so very much to help others, to be kind - those are good things.  But I am worried about you not allowing any of that for yourself.  And I think, on some level, you know that.  That that’s why you kept quiet - because you didn’t want to upset or worry anyone.”

Luisa bit on her lip but slowly nodded.

“Ay, corazon.  You are a kind, selfless, gentle, loving girl.  Your heart is as big as your Papa’s.  But it isn’t your job to make everyone happy.  It isn’t your job to just do whatever anyone asks without regard to your wants and needs.  I want you to be happy, too, mija.”

“But… but it feels good to make others happy.  So… I mean, that’s what I was trying to do?  I’m happy when everyone’s happy.  I’m happy when I’m useful.”  Luisa paused, frowning.  “I just… just didn’t do it right today…”

Julieta’s face drew tight with concern and sadness.  “Corazon… Luisa, mija, will you make me a promise?”

Luisa’s dark eyes widened with concern and she hastily nodded.  “Ciertamente, Mama.”

Julieta felt another pang as she saw the earnestness in her daughter’s rapid agreement.  “The next time you have a day off, promise that you won’t rush off to find more work.  I know you want to help, abejita.  I… know the feeling, that worry that you haven’t done enough.  That if you relax for a moment, if you take a break, someone could be hurt beyond fixing.  But can you trust me and Papa when we say you need rest?”

She saw Luisa’s resistance - the way her daughter tensed already-sore muscles, the downward turn of her mouth and shoulders, how her broad hands clutched nervously at the fabric of the ruana - but Julieta kept her gaze steady.

“Yes, Mama.”  Luisa’s throat felt too tight.  Mama reached across to cup her cheek with her hand.

“Thank you, corazon.  I know you don’t like it, but I trust you.”

Luisa nodded, though her lips had drawn into a thin worried line.  She’d keep her promise, of course.  All she ever wanted to do was to make her family proud of her happy.  And she didn’t want Mama to worry, though she wished the empty, achy feeling in her stomach would just go away.  She missed the days when she could work hard enough that she could ignore it, or work hard enough to know that she what she did mattered.

Mama was straining the dark bitter water into a mug - the brewed willow had a sharp green smell, despite the other herbs Julieta had added.  Luisa hated the flavor, but dinner hadn’t eased her throbbing back.  She probably shouldn’t have moved the planters.

“Miel para mi dulce abejita,” Julieta declared as she drizzled a generous amount of honey into the tea.

“ Mama .”  Luisa protested in the way of all children to a parent’s affection - verbal exasperation on the outside and a comforting burst of inner warmth.

“Ay!  Te amo, cosa linda!”  Julieta kissed Luisa’s hair as she pressed the mug into her daughter’s hands.  “Now, go up to bed and get some reading in before you sleep, mija.  You can tell me about your stories at breakfast.”

Another little nod from Luisa.  She sipped on the tea, and realized she was glad she had asked for it.

“Si, Mama.  Gracias.”

“De nada, mija.”

Chapter 28: interlude (2)

Summary:

Julieta and Agustin talk

“Ay, Agustin.  What kind of mother am I?”  Julieta leaned back in her husband’s arms, closing her eyes.

“A wonderful one, querida.  You shouldn’t ever doubt it.”  Agustin murmured softly into his wife’s hair.

“I missed how Isabela felt caged, I missed that she was going to marry someone she didn’t love, I missed how much pressure she was under from Mama.  And now, Luisa…”

“Luisa is having a hard time.  But you are doing everything you can, mi vida.  You need to remember that you, too, can’t carry everything.  Not alone.  Luisa’s our strong girl, gift or no gift.”  Agustin kissed his wife’s neck and rocked her gently.

“For all that she might be strong, Gus, she’s still vulnerable.  More than we realized, I think.” Julieta fussed.

“How so?”

“She hurt herself today, again.  Not as badly as before, but she did.  When she was supposed to be resting.  When did our baby learn that she wasn’t allowed to say no?  I never wanted her to feel that way.”  

“Juli.”

“I’m her mother.  It’s my job to protect her, to raise her to stand on her own - and she can’t protect herself.  My baby doesn’t know who she is if she’s not working.  Everything else stems from that. But ‘Luisa is fine’ and ‘Luisa is mature’ and ‘Luisa loves to help’ and I helped do this, Gus.”

“Juli, I love you, but this is not something you caused.  This is something you share.  You give and give until you are empty, and then you bleed as you try to give more.”

“And that’s why I should have seen it, Gus!  I had more of a childhood than I allowed her.  At the beginning, Mama wasn’t always so… so..”

“She wasn’t.  And you aren’t the only parent, querida.  I should have stood up to Alma more, for all of my girls.”

Julieta sighed.  “Mama’s trying.”

“She is.  But old habits die hard.  And how can you expect our pequeña montaña to go easy on herself if you don’t show kindness to Julieta? Luisa doesn’t want to let anyone down, and you cannot tell her that she should rest when she watches you work so hard. It’s not in her nature.”

“And then she gets hurt, and I am helpless to fix it.” Julieta sighed, shutting her eyes again.

“No, querida.  You are not.  You are helping her - with every assurance, with every cup of tea, with every galleta.  You are healing her with your love, and that didn’t come from a candle.”

“But will that be enough?”

“Your love?  Ay, querida, your love can mend anything.  Your heart burns brighter than the sun itself.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, mi sol.”  And Agustin turned his wife’s face toward him to better angle for a kiss,

Sometimes, things were better said without words.

Notes:

Very short update. Right now I am trying to resolve how long I want this fic to be/ how to be sure it's still engaging & fun for readers or if it is verging on too unwieldy? IDK, I am new at this. This is what I get for not outlining, I suppose.

This is a pretty short snippet, but Julieta was still very worried in my brain, so we had to get through it. Mirabel and Isabela are also being fussy about Sra Ozma. (Luisa actually is getting in some reading, tea, and sleep!)

Chapter 29: Exhaust

Summary:

Camilo checks in on Luisa

Luisa had never been afraid of hard work.

Even now, without her gift, she wanted to help - to be busy, to contribute, to build.  Work is what she was made for, wasn’t it?  The sky is blue, Isabela is beautiful, Mama is kind, Papa is clumsy, and Luisa works.  An orderly universe, and she had understood her place in it.

Had.

Many of Luisa’s chores freed up her mind - hauling bricks or digging ditches didn’t require a genius, just persistence.  (“Burrita” her peers would call her.  It had been a childhood nickname, once.  A term of endearment.  It did not hit so kindly as she grew older.) The repetitive physical activity was almost meditative.  Some days, she could successfully turn her brain off - focus on the pattern, push and pull and heft and breathe and have the hours slip away like beads on a string.  Good days, she would have said.  Days when dark thoughts didn’t overwhelm her, because she was too busy to allow them to take hold.  Days when she would tumble into bed too tired to think, and escape into sleep before she did it again.  

Days when “Luisa” didn’t exist, not really.  Days when she had succeeded at being a perfect vessel for her gift - strong and capable and reliable and worthy.

Bad days, though… bad days were the ones where the work gave her mind lease.  Days when she wanted .  Wanted what?  Something more, something different.  Wanted what others seemed to have.  Wanting to be something else, be what she wasn’t.  After all, she had a place, a role, a duty.  

Wanting something else is how she lost her gift.  Wanting something else is how she failed when it mattered.  Wanting something else had left her as this ugly, broken wreck.

Doing chores should have helped.  She was so sure that taking on who she used to be would have made her feel like old Luisa.  Like strong Luisa.  The Luisa that was worth something.

In a way, it had.  

Luisa frowned as she placed a brick.  The sun was shining, there was a breeze, and it wasn’t too hot.  It was a lovely day to work on Casita.  While her back still hurt from yesterday, despite Mama’s tea, it wasn’t too bad.  These bricks were small enough that she wasn’t afraid of hurting herself.  She should focus on that, and not keep indulging in self-reflection.

Thinking too much about herself, wanting too much - that only brought bad things.  But here she was.

Yesterday was a bad day.  

It wasn’t that Luisa hadn’t helped people - she knew she had.  She had been busy all day.  And, arguably, the villagers had been very kind in only asking her to do small things.  Things the broken-weak-useless Luisa could still do.

But.

But if this Luisa - this weak thing - could do them… why couldn’t they?

Why did Luisa have to do them?

That thought bounced around her head, spiky and uncomfortable like a rock in her alpargata.  

Instead of feeling good, Luisa had found herself sucked back into exactly the place she had been before she lost her gift - drowning in quicksand, the quagmire pressing in on all sides so she couldn’t breathe.  She’d felt overwhelmed and scared - scared of failure, and a new fear of injury that she’d never grappled with before. ( Weak! Her thoughts sneered, condemning her.)

Scared… and resentful.  Even though Luisa had chosen to go out to help, even though Luisa’s whole.. her whole purpose was to help, was to work, that work is what Luisa is for , (the sky is blue, and Luisa works)... Luisa knew her place, knew her purpose, knew her worth ( worthless ), but she felt angry instead of grateful at the demandsrequests.

Luisa rubbed her face with her rough hands - without the protection of her gift, even the light work she’d been doing kept them perpetually scraped up and ever-thickened by coarse callouses.  Blunt, clumsy instruments suitable for a tonta burra.  Luisa couldn’t be angry.  She wasn’t allowed to be angry.  Luisa’s anger was too dangerous, she knew that.  The sky was blue, and Luisa couldn’t ever be angry.

Even just thinking about yesterday stirred up that seething pit of ugly emotion.  Luisa couldn’t be angry.  But she was.  

“Lu?”

Luisa startled, broken out of her inward focus.  Her ears turned red.  Camilo was watching her with a slight tilt to his head.

“Oh, uh, hey primo.”  Luisa managed an awkward smile.  Everything was fine, right?

“I brought you some water.  Mira and Isa are off on some quest today.”  The teenager offered out a cup.

“They.. what?  Oh no.”  Luisa groaned.  

“Oh yeah, Isa looked ready to rumble.  I wanted to go see the fireworks, but Mira made me promise to keep an eye on you.”  Camilo made a gesture with the cup, offering it again.

“And they didn’t tell me.  I should go stop them before they cause trouble.”  Guilt swelled, pressing on her ribs.

“Orrrrrrrr you drink some water.  You’re red.”  He jauntily ‘danced’ the cup from side to side.

Luisa huffed, but took the cup from her cousin.  

“And then we drink it, too.”  Milo gently jibed.

Luisa raised an eyebrow at him, but she obediently took a sip.  The sip turned into a long draught - Luisa was thirstier than she realized.

“Dios, you are really bad at listening to your body, aren’t you?”

“...What?”  Luisa blinked as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You.  You’re hurting today, and lifting heavy stuff, and you’re dehydrated but didn’t stop either.”

Luisa frowned.  “I.. Camilo, I’m fine..”

Camilo snorted.  “None of us have been fine for ages, but you forget who you’re talking to.  I know people, Prima Burrita.  I see e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.”  He drew out the last word dramatically, posing with his hand visored over his eyes.

Luisa started “Please don’t…” Another frown, and she dropped that thread before she could finish it.  She cleared her throat.  “Um.  I guess I did need the water.  Gracias, Milo, for taking care of me.”

“Don’t what?”

Mierde .  He’d caught that.

“Uh. Nothing.  It’s fine.”  She took another gulp of water.

“You ever notice you only say things are fine when you mean the opposite?”

Luisa squeezed her eyes shut, collecting herself as the heat from the anger in her stomach rose to her throat.  She wasn’t even mad at Camilo!  He wasn’t doing anything wrong!

“Just thinking too much.  No te preocupes.”  She tried to dismiss his concern.  These were her issues.

“Hey, I’m a surefire cure for thinking too much!”  He grinned.

“Milo, I have work to do.  We had yesterday afternoon off, remember?”  Nevermind how yesterday went, Camilo didn’t need to know about that, either.

“Did you remember we had it off?  I saw you fixing Senor Garza’s shutters.”

“He needed the help. My help.”  Luisa swallowed, as if that would force the unwanted feelings down.  

“Nahhh.”  Camilo smirked.

Luisa resented his grin.  And she resented that he was right.  She hadn’t been needed for that, not really.   She wasn’t needed.  Without her gift…

“Hey, prima.”  Luisa was startled from the ramping up thoughts by Camilo’s hand on her arm.

“Lo siento.”  Luisa’s default response.

“For what?”

“Uh.  Nothing?  Thanks for the water.”  Luisa tried to put on a reassuring smile.

“You said that already.  Clearly, you’re getting heatstroke.  Must be your height, all the sunshine hits you first.  C’mon, time for a break.”  Camilo tugged on her arm.

“I don’t… Milo, I don’t need a break already… and what about my sisters?”  Despite her protests, she did take a few halting steps in response to her cousin’s pulling.

“It’s probably too late to stop them, you know.  Is that what’s bugging you?”

“Yes.”  Luisa said.

“You are the worst liar, prima.”  Camilo tapped his nose.

“But, I mean, that is bothering me.  I think they’re… that they’re planning to do something.  And I should stop them.”

“And you were upset BEFORE you heard about them.”  Camilo pulled a face, hunching his shoulders and twisting his eyebrows in an uncanny imitation of Luisa.

Luisa’s eyebrows knotted in response.  “I’m just not… not feeling great today, Milo.”

“Sure, you’re moving hurt.  Which is whyyyy you are going to drink water and sit down.  Ay, Mirabel is better at wrangling you, but she left me in charge.  ‘Mellizo, you watch my stubborn big sister!’” Camilo imitated Mira’s voice and mimed adjusting a pair of glasses.  “Like mi prima isn’t stubborn herself.”

“You know, you do a really good Mira, even without -” Luisa stopped herself, but it was too late.  Camilo tensed up.  Luisa mirrored with an inward curl of her shoulders.  “Lo siento, Milo.”

The Madrigals don’t talk about that.  Even though Luisa’s weakness hangs over her every day, even though she knows Antonio still cries for his lost friends, even though she could see the sadness in her younger cousin’s eyes.

“Olvídalo.”  Camilo chafed his upper arms, looking away.

“I… i-i-it feels like being a bad copy of yourself, you know?”  Luisa stuttered out.  “Like you’re… lo siento…”

Camilo was frowning now.  He shrugged.

“Like you’re broken.”  Luisa swallowed.  She shouldn’t be talking about this.  “Like you’re not sure what’s left without it.  So… so y-you try to be who you were, but you can’t…”

Camilo shifted his gaze back to Luisa, tilting his chin up to look at her face.  His expression was like one of Tia Pepa’s clouds.

“L-lo siento.  I just… I know we don’t… Mira keeps saying we’re more than our gifts, but… but..”  Luisa knew she should stop.  The Madrigals don’t talk about this.  “But maybe that isn’t true?  I don’t… I’m sorry, Milo.  I know better.”

Camilo jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked at a rock.  “No.  I get it.  This sucks.”

Luisa exhaled and nodded.  “This sucks.”  

“Lola and Mami seem relieved, but I loved my gift, y’know?  Sometimes… I mean, sometimes I worried that folks always wanted me to be someone else, they didn’t just want Camilo, and now, like…”  His words came out haltingly, exposed and vulnerable.

“Now all you have is Camilo?”  Luisa understood.  Just Luisa.

Camilo nodded.  “But it’s like - I don’t feel like myself anymore.  I feel… trapped, in my own body, and everybody is having a hard time and Antonio, especially, so I…”

“You don’t want to be a burden?” Luisa guessed.  “And it feels like… like.. Everyone else is maybe doing okay without it, so… so, they…”  She frowned and pushed back a stray curl.  “But you feel it all the time, like your body is wrong, like there’s a hole, and what’s left doesn’t… doesn’t measure up…”

“Who are we talking about now, prima?”  Camilo said ruefully.

“I dunno.  Maybe… I…”  Luisa huffed.  “This sucks.”  It felt good to say that, the sentiment pulled deep from her gut.

“This sucks! ”  Camilo echoed, vehemently.

Luisa let out a weary laugh.  “Right?  I hate this!”

“Me too!  This sucks!”  Camilo’s mouth tugged at the corners into something resembling a smile.

“This SUCKS!”  Luisa covered her mouth with her hand as the exclamation verged on a shout.

“It does!  THIS SUCKS!”  Camilo exclaimed.  “I hate this!  Esto apesta!”

“Me too!  THIS SUCKS!”  Luisa felt her ears turning red, but at the same time, it felt good,  Camilo understood.   “Qué porquería!  I hate this!”  

“¡Qué cagada!”  Milo punched at the air.  Luisa covered her mouth with her hand again as her cousin swore.

Then…

“¡Qué mierda!”  Luisa burst out.  Oh, she was totally red.  But Camilo smiled at her and patted her back.

“¡Qué mierda!” He tilted his head back, shouting at the sky.

“¡Al carajo con esto!”  Luisa reached for Camilo’s hand, and he took it.

“¡Joder esto!”  He shouted and laughed.  The laughter had a brittle edge and he squeezed Luisa’s hands tightly.

“¡Hostia!”  Luisa was laughing too, holding on to her cousin as they hurled expletives at the sky.

The pair of the cursed, and laughed - or perhaps cried?  Perhaps both at once, as if they could purge something unnameable.  Camilo wound up clinging to Luisa’s sturdy frame as they staggered over to sit on the grass under a guayaba tree, mutually exhausted.

“That… felt kinda good.”  Luisa admitted to her cousin as she leaned back against the tree’s trunk.

“Hostia!”  Camilo chimed in.  “Thanks, prima.  I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

Luisa blushed and shrugged.  “I have.  Usually about the donkeys.  I mean, not where anyone could HEAR me, but… well, except Lola…”

“Lola knows everyone’s secrets, yeah.”

“Yeah.”  Luisa sighed.  A pause, then she said “I think you’re awesome as Camilo, you know.  You’re my medio mutuo.  It can be tough in the middle.”

Her primo smiled a little at that.  “Medio mutuo.  I like it.”

Luisa hummed and shrugged in response.

“You should go easier on yourself, Lu.  I get it, being worried about everyone else.  Not wanting to pile on with your baggage.  Esto apesta.  But you don’t.  You’re pretty chill.”

Luisa blushed again.  “I… well… mutuo.”

“Mutuo.”

“...Now what are my sisters up to?”

The sky was blue, Mira and Isa were causing trouble...

Notes:

I do not speak spanish, so I may have messed up the expletives a bit. But man, sometimes you just need to curse at the sky.

Chapter 30: Mission

Summary:

Isabela and Mira are displeased.

The sky was blue.  It was a gorgeous day in the Encanto.  And Isabela and Mirabel were on a mission.

It had started last night, as the two sisters had slipped outside after dinner.  Their middle sibling was in the kitchen with their Mama - likely for the best.  If Luisa had seen her sisters, she would have felt obliged to calm them down.

As it stood, it took Mirabel some time to get the eldest to stop spitting about killing Sra. Ozma’s plants.

“Besides, Isa - plant assassination doesn’t fix the underlying issue.  Luisa didn’t even try to relax.  Despite us TALKING about it, despite her knowing she needed a break, nope, first chance she gets she runs off to the village.”  Mirabel huffed.

“I invited her to come with me.  I should have made her.”  Isabella folded her arms.  “That stubborn burra.”

“That’s not fair either.”  Mirabel sighed.  “We both know Luisa wants to feel useful.  I just thought… I dunno, I thought things were better since she started working again.”

“Well it doesn’t help that as soon as she ventured out alone she got buried under demands.  You know that Luisa is incapable of saying no.  She’d set herself on fire if you said you were chilly.”  Isa scowled.  “Not even Mama is quite that bad, though she’s close.”

“This, coming from the girl who was going to marry someone she didn’t love.”  Mirabel reminded.

“Exactly.  I know how it feels, but everyone is trying to do better.  I don’t know how to get her to turn it off.  But I can make sure nobody else adds to it, right?”  Isabela said as she paced back and forth like Antonio’s jaguar friend.

“We.  We could talk to the village.  Set down rules.  Luisa doesn’t even have a gift right now, and her back still isn’t one hundred percent…”

“I think she screwed it up more today.  Tonta idiota.”  Isabela seethed.

“Isa…”

“I’m not m-… I’m mad at her!  I don’t know how to fix this!”  The eldest sister stamped her foot.

“Well, like you said - Luisa can’t say no, right?”  Mirabel rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“Sabes.”  Isabela looked over at her sister.

“So - we use that.  We ask her to help us, just… like, ask her to do things that are fun and not work.  AND we make sure that the village doesn’t take advantage of her.  How many things was she doing before that didn’t need her gift, if she was so busy today?”

Isabela snorted.  “Like the damned donkeys.  It’s like she wants to be a mule.”

“I don’t think it’s that, either.”  Mira sighed.  “But it can be hard to change.  We just have to be patient.  Tio Bruno’s going slow, too…”

“Sabes, sabes, sabes !!!  I know! But I’m sick of smiling and I’m not fine and my hermanita is especially not fine and I’m scared that if we make one wrong step too many and she’ll be too broken to fix.  I was a bad sister to you, and I thought… I thought I hadn’t screwed everything up with Luisa, but I think I did…”

“Oh, Isa… no, no.  Isa, you didn’t screw everything up.  We can fix this!  We can fix anything!”

“We can tell that pendejo Senora Ozma to get bent.”  Isa veered back to the start, finding a target for her frustration.

“That too.”  

“And we can’t let Luisa know, or she’ll try to stop us.”  The young woman rubbed her hands together.  “Montaña obstinada.”  

“Well, even mountains break.  But yeah - if she knows, she’ll probably try to apologize to Ozma , who started all of this.”  Mirabel said.

Isa nodded firmly.  “Okay - so right after breakfast, we’ll deal with her.  Agreed?”  

“Agreed.  I’ll ask Milo to keep an eye on Luisa, he can keep her distracted.”

The pair continued to plan as they headed up to their shared bedroom.  Luisa was already there - sound asleep with a still-open book in her hands, and an empty mug on the tiny nightstand.

“Ay, Luisa.”  Isabela sighed.  She gently took the book from her big-little sister’s slack grip, dog-earing the page to mark it.  The teenager’s eyebrows were creased with worry even as she slept.  Isabela adjusted the blanket over Luisa’s shoulders and put a hand on her hair.

“We’ll protect her, Isa.  From herself, if need be.”  Mira plopped down on her own bed, and the two of them soon joined Luisa in sleep.

*******************

The next day, it appeared that the sisters plan was going swimmingly - Luisa had gone right to work after breakfast.  Which was not ideal, for other reasons, but that was something of an ongoing battle.

Isa and Mira went down to the village.  There were still broad cracks through the streets - a reminder that the breaking of the miracle had affected the whole Encanto, not just Casita.  While the Madrigals had lost their home, they could appreciate that it was fortunate that no one else had suffered the same fate.  Appreciate intellectually, at least.

Senora Ozma’s house lay ahead, with two massive urns at either side of her door, framing it with a waterfall of flowers.  Isabela sneered.

“Isa, no.  We’re just going to talk.”

“Right.  Talk .”

And Mirabel knocked on the door.

“Ah, Senora Ozma!  Just who we wanted to talk to!  May we come in?”  Isabela smiled as the door opened.  Showtime.

Notes:

Sorry for the long break there between updates. Finals week/end of year grading hit me hard, and I had no brain left for writing. This was originally going to be part of a longer chapter, but I decided to split it here and return to Luisa's PoV in the next one.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 4 of Pequeña Montaña