I do not own Encanto. This story is not for profit.
Chapter 31
November 8th
Morning
Julieta
The church clock struck one in the morning before Julieta was willing to move from her spot on the hill outside town. I can't stay here forever, she cajoled herself. Sighing, she stood, stretched her stiff legs, and rolled up the picnic blanket. She carried the blanket under her arm as she walked back. Going downhill was faster than uphill, and in fifteen minutes' time she was back outside the Guzmán house. How can Isabela sleep, knowing what she did?
Julieta slipped inside the door and left the picnic blanket nearby, not knowing where it was stored. She crept upstairs, bypassing the living room, even though what she really wanted to do was shake Isabela awake and demand answers. Taking off her shoes, she entered the guest bedroom. For whatever reason, Agustín was the only person in the room, and he was asleep in the guest bed. Of course he didn't wait up for me. Why would he? But she felt defeated.
She undressed for the day at last, dressed in her nightgown, and crawled into bed as gently as she could. When he still didn't wake, something inside of Julieta broke. She rolled onto her side away from him and cried. I'm alone. Just like I always was. Just like I always will be. Who can understand the Madrigals? We don't understand each other, and the men we married don't understand us, either.
"What's wrong?" Agustín mumbled groggily.
Julieta was stunned and ashamed that her emotional display had disturbed him. As much as she had wanted him to wake up a minute ago, she did not want to be caught crying. Wiping her cheeks, she rolled over to face him, and just the sight of his face was enough to make her angry. "Did you know what Isabela has been saying to Mirabel?"
"When?"
She couldn't contain a growl of frustration. "Since Mirabel's 5th birthday."
"That's ten years," Agustín said in a tone of disbelief. He rolled away from her with a grunt, fumbled for his glasses, put them on, and then rolled to face her, his hair mussed and his eyes drowsy. "Can you narrow it down?" He yawned.
"Any. Anything Isabela has said to Mirabel over the last ten years."
"What is this about?" He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to straighten it. "Dolores?"
"It's about Mirabel and Isabela."
"Isabela is high-strung."
Julieta stiffened. "Then you did know."
"She's got a lot of responsibilities – had a lot of responsibilities. Like you. Like Pepa." Agustín wound his arms around her. "Sometimes she could be sharp, but she never meant it."
Julieta pushed him away with one hand on his chest, squirming out of his grasp and standing up.
Agustín stared at her with a lost expression. "Amor–"
"Don't call me that. Tell me how long you have known that Isabela was telling Mirabel to run away like Bruno because she wasn't wanted here either, just like he wasn't." Julieta strove to keep her voice down for the sake of not waking everyone with a screaming argument between her and her husband. That would heap on more shame.
"It wasn't like that," Agustín whispered. "If that's what Dolores told you, she must have gotten it wrong."
"Dolores hears everything in the entire Encanto without the ability to ever forget it," Julieta hissed.
Agustín yawned. "Which was a Gift she lost when the candle burned out. Juli…Dolores' miraculous memory is gone, along with her hearing. She can try to quote what people said, but she's not going to be able to. Her bias against Isabela couldn't be more obvious. They've been rivals practically since they were born. Why take her word over Isaboo's? Ask our daughter what she said or didn't say, not Dolores."
"Fine. I will."
"Now come to bed. It's been a long day."
Julieta nestled herself in the chair by the window draped with a blanket. "Go to sleep, yourself."
Agustín sighed. "What did I do?"
"I'm sleeping here. I'm perfectly comfortable and I will be fine."
"Juli…"
"Good night."
Agustín gave up, took off his glasses, and rolled over. "Good night," he mumbled.
Julieta woke up an hour after dawn with a sore back and a stiff neck, feeling slightly foolish, but still entirely justified. Her skin crawled at the thought of being anywhere near Agustín right now. He just won't see the truth! How dare he not listen to me? The spiteful thought also occurred to her, Mamá was lucky Papá died! She gets to eulogize him as the perfect man without ever having to put up with him. If he had lived, I guarantee there would have been screaming matches. He was strong-willed and charming, according to her, and she's the most strong-willed woman in the Encanto!
She got dressed for the day and went downstairs, discovering Luisa already up and waiting for her. Luisa gave her a hug. "Ready to start the day?"
Julieta melted a little at Luisa's enthusiasm. "Yes." They got to work cooking.
As usual, after brewing the coffee, its fresh scent woke and lured the rest of the household. Bruno was first in line to accept a cup, tired-eyed but looking relatively relaxed and pleased. His hair was even combed.
"You're looking well this morning," Julieta said.
Bruno shrugged. "Meh. If you mean my hair, that's Pepa's doing."
Pepa entered, Antonio close on her skirts and her husband behind her. "I'm going to keep on your case, too. You've come back. Now you've got to look like it." She accepted a cup of coffee. "Gracias."
Bruno grinned.
Félix flashed Bruno a grin and two thumbs up. "Looking nice, bro! Pepi should be a hair stylist. If she can fix your hair, she could make a donkey look good!"
Pepa snorted. "I think it's a little early to be shopping for new professions."
Félix wrapped an arm around her. "But you could make it a hobby, though! We all need hobbies. More excitement. More variety in our lives."
"Mamá, can I have coffee? I'm five," Antonio said.
The matriarch of the family emerged from the direction of the stairs and smiled at him. "Yes, you are." She looked to Pepa. "I allowed you to start drinking coffee at the age of 5. What do you think?"
"Oh, all right," Pepa said.
Julieta handed Antonio a cup of coffee with a smile. "Be careful. It's very hot."
"Thank you, Tia Julieta!" Antonio beamed at her sweetly.
Agustín came down, dressed impeccably, his hair combed, mustache trimmed and the rest of his face shaved. There was a time that Julieta had found that wildly attractive. She wondered when the sight of him had stopped giving her that surge of mingled awe and appreciation. He behaved as if they hadn't fought, accepting a cup of coffee with a kiss to her cheek. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, as always." He then smiled at Luisa. "You take after your mother."
Luisa beamed.
Dolores sauntered in, glanced at Julieta, and accepted a cup of coffee. She didn't meet anyone's gaze, but that was normal for her. Then Mariano came down from upstairs, and her gaze locked onto him. Her entire demeanor changed as she relaxed, evidently reminded that she was in love.
Mirabel then bustled into the kitchen and helped Mariano and Dolores set the table.
Isabela came trailing in with Señora Guzmán, chatting lightly about how women had worn their hair in the old days. She saw almost everyone had gathered already and helped finish setting the table, bringing out glasses along with Señora Guzmán. She didn't appear to notice Julieta's scrutiny.
Camilo came in last, handily avoiding doing any work at all.
The remaining people got their coffee, and a pitcher of water was drawn for the table. Everyone plated up their food and then sat down. Antonio sat down between his Mamá and Papá. Dolores and Mariano sat down directly across from each other near the head of the table. Isabela, Luisa, and Mirabel sat in birth order. Alma was at the foot of the table and Señora Guzmán at the head. Bruno was next to Mirabel. Camilo was on the other side of Félix. Julieta and Agustín ended up across from each other near the foot of the table.
Señora Guzmán said Grace, and everyone started eating.
Julieta's gaze was drawn to Isabela. Her eldest daughter seemed completely at ease. "I've been thinking about what you said about dresses, and it's true that I don't want to wear pink anymore," Isabela said to Mirabel.
Mirabel chuckled. "How about blue? That is Mamá's color, after all."
"Dark blue," Isabela said.
"You got it." Mirabel grinned.
Julieta stared and nibbled on an arepa. You said those things to Mirabel, and you expect Mirabel to want to make dresses for you?
"How about one dress for ordinary days and another dress for parties?" Mirabel asked.
"In that case, I would love a dress that allows me to work a pottery wheel easily," Isabela said.
"You'll have to show me, so I can study what you need," Mirabel said.
"Deal."
Julieta frowned and looked at her plate, not wanting to aim the look she felt forming at her eldest daughter.
"Má, are you okay?" Luisa asked.
Julieta forced a smile and met her middle child's gaze. "Just tired from yesterday. But I'm willing and ready to work hard again today."
Mirabel now stared at her. "Um…Mamá…you just ripped your arepa in half."
Julieta glanced down and saw that she had unconsciously taken her aggression out on her breakfast. She laughed awkwardly. "Ah, it was an accident. I was preoccupied."
"With what?" Mirabel asked warily. "Tearing someone limb from limb?"
"Of course not." Julieta ate the middle out of her arepa, biting into the cheesiest part. "I used to eat arepas like this all the time." That was a boldfaced lie, but she hoped that Papa and Bruno didn't call her out on it. "I just…broke the habit eventually because Mamá disapproved."
Her Mamá looked at her quizzically, but didn't say anything. She had known she could count on Mamá not to make a scene, even if she didn't know why Julieta was lying.
Antonio immediately followed Julieta's example and ripped his arepa in half, eating out of the middle. "Ooh! Good idea! You get to the best part first!"
Mirabel, unfortunately, looked unconvinced. "Oh…kay…"
After breakfast, everyone got ready to go out to the building site. Dolores latched onto Mariano, resulting in Camilo hovering. Pepa and Félix held Antonio's hands. Agustín was chatting with Luisa and Isabela. Bruno and Mirabel had drifted together. Señora Guzmán and Alma were all set to walk together and continue their discussion about the new house being ready by December 8th, the holiday of The Immaculate Conception, which happened to be the day that Alma met Pedro and thus had even more special meaning for the Encanto.
Julieta stuck close to Mirabel, purposefully avoiding looking at Agustín, and as everyone started out the door, she touched Mirabel's arm, asked loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Mirabel, will you help me with something special today?"
Mirabel turned to face her with a startled look.
Bruno smiled at Mirabel gently. "You'd better help your Mamá."
Mirabel looked rapidly to him and then back to Julieta. Her shoulders slumped. "Okay. I mean, of course. What do you need, Mamá?"
Luisa turned around with an expression of worry. "Is everything okay? Is there something I can do?"
Julieta gave her middle child a smile. "Don't worry. This is something that Mirabel and I will take care of. It will all be all right."
Luisa looked reluctant, but Agustín tugged on her. "Okay…Just…be careful."
"We will," Julieta said. "And, I really don't think it's that kind of thing. We're not going to be doing anything dangerous."
"Come on, let's get to work and leave your Má and Mirabel to it," Agustín said. "There's nothing to be worried about."
"I'm sure we'll join you later," Mirabel said. She looked to Julieta. "Right?"
Julieta nodded. "Right."
Bruno was the last to leave Julieta and Mirabel. He squeezed Mirabel's shoulder gently and murmured something in her ear. Then he walked to the door and waved goodbye.
Mirabel waved in return, smiling weakly. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and turned to Julieta. "What do you want to say to me? That's what this is about, isn't it? You wanted to talk to Dolores, and now you want to talk to me."
Julieta nodded. "Let's walk out to the hills. Dolores showed me a lovely picnicking area that I'm not sure I'd ever noticed before. And if I haven't, I'm hoping that others haven't, either. Besides, they should be at the house, on the other end of town."
"Sure." Mirabel's voice was a little flat, and Julieta was struck that Mirabel was aware that there was a certain lack of choice in this for her.
Julieta grabbed the picnic blanket, which had been left by the door. Conveniently, no one had put it away.
The trek took about twenty minutes, and the day was decently warm and partly sunny. It didn't feel like Pepa's weather, but it was pleasant enough to not need to wrap up inside ruanas or shawls. During the twenty minutes, Julieta and Mirabel were silent, though Julieta suspected it was for different reasons. The reason why she was silent was that she was rehearsing what she wanted to say. Mirabel was most likely silent out of dread.
They reached the hill, and it was deserted, just as Julieta had hoped. She spread of the blanket and sat on it, then patted the spot beside her.
Mirabel sat down with a sigh and stared out at the town. "How much of this was here when you were a child?"
"Not much. The village grew rapidly once Bruno, Pepa, and I were in our twenties. Newly married adults wanted their own homes. Businesses opened. People had had twenty years to settle to the idea of being our own nation, of Colombia but not in Colombia, and then the urge to build took over. I suspect we're getting ready to expand again." Julieta let out a small laugh. "When your children ask you about the Encanto, you'll get to tell them it was once this small."
Mirabel gave her a look. "Mamá, whatever Dolores said, it's not relevant anymore."
Julieta placed a hand on Mirabel's shoulder. "I very much doubt that, mi vida. If it weren't relevant anymore, why are you afraid to have this conversation with me?"
Mirabel cringed and then folded in on herself, hugging her knees to her chest. "I just don't want to bring it up. Why are we talking about it if I don't want to talk about it?" She rested her head on the tops of her knees.
Julieta touched her daughter's back, concerned about this response and unsure how to proceed. "I do the same thing. I don't want to talk about unpleasant things, so I don't, and when Pepa or Bruno tried, I asked them why we had to talk about it. I don't know why unpleasant things have to be talked about." She took a deep breath. "Bruno is so much better at understanding this. I'm trying, I'm trying to do what's right for you."
"Mm-hmm. Like the talk we had before, when I said all those things about my 5th birthday I already wish I hadn't. What's the point? I'm fifteen. It's not like there's a way to go back in time."
"Isabela should not have spoken to you the way that she did, no matter what my mother told her to do. She should have known better than to engage in that kind of sibling rivalry and putting-down. She should have come to me the instant that Mamá started being unpleasant. But she didn't, and now you're hurt."
Mirabel raised her head and glared at her. "Isabela apologized for all that. You're going to ruin it. You're going to make Isa think I don't accept her apology."
"How can you accept an apology for ten years of abuse?"
"Because Isa's doing better! I didn't accept Abuela's apologies at first because she wasn't even trying. Now that she is, and as long as she's still trying, then I accept that she knows what she did to me, to us, is wrong, and that she's going to keep trying to not do the things she used to do. And if she does it again, then she'll have to stop doing it again and apologize again. She doesn't get to say she's sorry and keep doing the same things she did before with no effort. Isabela has been trying. Don't get in her way."
Julieta was so stunned that she fell silent. What do I do now? "I see."
Mirabel's expression of doubt raked her over. "I don't think you do. What if it had been Pepa saying all those things to you, and then Pepa stopped doing them and apologized? You would forgive Pepa, wouldn't you?"
Julieta squirmed, her stomach flipping over. "No," she admitted. "I don't think I could."
Mirabel straightened. "What?"
Julieta met her youngest daughter's gaze. "I don't think I could. If Pepa told me that I was useless, that I was shaming the family, that I was embarrassing everyone, that I was jealous of everyone else and that if I loved everyone, I would get out of the way and stop trying to make everything about myself, if Pepa told me that no one wanted me around and everyone was just tolerating me because unlike me everyone else has manners, if Pepa accused me of trying to mess up her Gift on purpose, if Pepa told me she wished I were dead, if Pepa screamed at me to leave the Encanto and leave everyone alone, if Pepa told me, 'Wherever Bruno went, go there! Find him and bother him for a change. I want you out!'" Julieta paused and took a deep breath. "If Pepa said I was a mistake and that Mamá should have had only two children, and only wanted two children, then I would not forgive her. My heart would fracture, and I would not be able to get back up. I would not be able to forgive. And Pepa would not be able to make it up to me, not in a lifetime. So, maybe I'm vindictive. But I would not be able to forgive. Asking me to do that would be asking me to go beyond myself. Padre could help Pepa see that God forgives Pepa no matter what, but I would not be able to give Pepa a second chance. Our sisterhood would be over. And Pepa would have to live with that; she would have to live with the reality that sometimes people don't get second chances, because what they did is serious enough that maybe they don't deserve them."
Mirabel looked away. "Isabela never meant those things. She was just having a hard day." Her voice was tiny.
Julieta felt like she had hot coals in her lungs. She consciously made her voice very, very gentle. "Is that what your Pá said?"
Mirabel glanced at her with a stricken expression. "It's true! Isa would have a stressful day and just take it out on me. That's not the same as meaning it."
Julieta felt her world come tumbling down. It was like Casita fell all over again, only this time, Julieta understood why. "But why would Isabela choose you to take out her bad day on, and no one else?"
Mirabel shrugged. "I don't know. Pá said he couldn't tell me that. He just knew that for whatever reason, I was the one Isa said mean things to. And that she couldn't possibly mean it, because she loves me, just like she loves the rest of this family, and that sometimes people who love you say mean things. But deep down, she knows what she's saying isn't true, and she would be hurt if I took her seriously." She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "And…to be nice to her, because being mean back never solved anything."
Julieta didn't know how to fix this. Her mind literally went blank except for the mental image of her husband's face, and a deep, rising pressure inside her entire body. "Mi vida…but how do you feel when Isabela does that?"
Mirabel shrugged.
"Answer me, please. Try." Julieta took a deep breath. Her ears rang. It finally occurred to her that what she was feeling was anger. Her hands tingled. She flexed her fingers, trying to get rid of the sensation.
Mirabel looked away. "Well…when I made the house fall down – when Casita – when it happened, which I know now is not my fault, I thought it was proof that everything Isabela and Abuela said was true. But it wasn't. So…"
"Mirabel," Julieta said gently but firmly. "Tell me how you felt. I want you to tell me. As your mother, I am asking you to truthfully describe to me how you felt. I promise, I am trying to help you."
Mirabel leapt to her feet and screamed at her, "I wanted to leave! Okay? I wanted to leave and never come back! I wanted to be away from everyone!"
Julieta stood and gathered Mirabel into her arms. "There. Don't hold it in so hard." Mirabel sobbed against her shoulder as she gently rubbed her daughter's back. "How does it feel to get to say it, and nothing bad happening?"
Mirabel wordlessly wailed.
