Visiting Hours
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Elena of Avalor
Copyright: Disney+
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"I wish that heaven had visiting hours
So I could just show up and bring the news
That she's gettin' older and I wish that you'd met her
The things that she'll learn from me, I got them all from you"
"Visiting Hours", Ed Sheeran
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Mateo paced back and forth along the balcony outside the royal quarters, holding his crying daughter in his arms. He'd told an exhausted Elena he could take over this time, but he wasn't any better at getting baby Mari to fall asleep than his wife was. He'd been tempted more than once to cast a sleeping spell or mix some potion into a milk bottle. Only the thought of Rafa's horrified face if she ever found out kept him from giving in.
"What am I doing wrong?" he muttered, his voice hoarse after his seventh rendition of "Evening is a-falling, so rest your weary head". It was actually the middle of the night, the city's lights burning low, the full moon leaving a shining trail over the ocean. It was making him sleepy, but didn't seem to have any effect on Mari, who scrunched up her face and waved her fists in the air, as if frustrated with life in general and Mateo in particular.
Parenting a child was a daunting task by itself, but this child was heir to the throne of Avalor. The fate of the kingdom would depend on how they raised her. The responsibility was crushing, especially on nights like this.
"I'm sorry, mijita," he said, patting her on the back. "I just don't know how to be a father. How could I? None of the men in my family got the chance to stick around. I wish they had. I wish they could tell me what to do."
In that moment, a cool breeze swept in from the ocean, making Mateo shiver and Mari's wails reach a higher pitch. The rush of wind and waves was almost like whispering voices. He blinked, and instead of stars he saw the faint glowing outline of a shape in the sky. A marigold? A butterfly? Another blink, and it was gone.
As suddenly as she had started crying, the baby quieted. Her hazel eyes became huge in her small face. She lifted her head and looked around, reaching up with one hand, as if fascinated by something Mateo couldn't see.
"They say you don't need to worry so much," said a soft, loving, blessedly human voice behind him.
"Elena?"
His wife leaned against the doorframe, her hair down around her shoulders like a soft dark shawl, her white nightgown making her shine like a second moon. Her eyes, though still heavy-lidded with sleep, wore the same far-seeing expression as their daughter. That, together with the strange wind and the shadow of marigolds, could only mean one thing.
"You mean it's already … ? Oh." Mateo tried to recall the last time he'd heard a bell tower chime down in the city. Was it past midnight? If so, that would make it November the second.
Dia de los Muertos.
They'd been preparing for the festival for weeks, and it had still snuck up on him. He must be under more stress than he'd thought.
"They're here, you know," said Elena. "Your father, your grandfather, my parents … Welcome, everybody. I'm so happy to see you again … No, Papi, I didn't forget the cherries! … Yes, Alacazar, of course we're taking care of your library. And your fish."
She moved among an invisible crowd of spirits on the balcony, holding out her hands, smiling, nodding, glancing from side to side as Mateo often saw her at parties. He found her slightly uncanny when she spoke to the dead, but it did not frighten him; on the contrary. There was nothing he loved more than a mystery, and she was one it would take a lifetime to solve.
"They'd like to meet her," she said, reaching for Mari.
Mateo handed their daughter over to her mother, watching her giggle and coo at the empty air without a trace of fear. They must be the only parents in the kingdom, he thought affectionately, whose child got to play peekaboo with the spirits of her ancestors.
"Born on Carnevale, if you can believe it," said Elena. "Seems like it's something crazy every year … Ay, don't ask, we're lucky the palace is still standing."
With her emotion magic, Elena giving birth had been a challenge to say the least. Her labor pains had manifested as earthquakes; Mateo and all three apprentices had been busy all night, trapping the seismic force in jars so it wouldn't destroy the city, while Luisa and Rafa worked on keeping Elena calm. In hindsight he was grateful, since the work had kept him from worrying too much, and a few earthquakes in storage might come in handy someday. He still wasn't sure if he ever wanted to go through a night like that again … even if it had ended in the birth of a beautiful baby and pink-and-gold flowers blooming all over the palace gardens.
"We call her Mari, but her full name is Maravilla," said Elena, a little more somberly, turning around to answer another unheard question. ""Marvel" or "marigold". Because she is a marvel, but also to remind her of our heritage. We'll teach her to honor you, all of you. I promise."
"So do I," Mateo added, stepping forward to put his arm around Elena and Mari both. "We'll do everything we can to make you proud."
"They say … " Elena turned to her husband, blinking back tears and smiling shakily over the top of their daughter's fuzzy head. "Oh, Mateo, they say they already are."
"Really?"
"Yes. And whenever you feel alone, don't forget you have family on both sides of the Flor de Luz."
So the spirits really had heard him, just now, wishing he had someone to teach him how to be a father. He already did. Alacazar and Tulio were here tonight, Elena was talking to them, and in the living world, he had Rafa, Luisa, Francisco and even Victor to ask for parenting advice. As for Elena, she would be Mari's mother and Mateo's wife on either side of the Flor de Luz. No power in the universe would be strong enough to keep her apart from those she loved.
None of them were alone unless they chose to be.
Mateo bowed his head. "Thank you."
"Hope we'll see you at the fiesta later," Elena added, smiling bravely, holding up Mari's tiny hand to wave. "But if we don't, goodbye 'till next year."
Mari shattered the solemnity of the moment by letting out a loud squawk, as if now the novelty of seeing ghosts was wearing off, she was reminded of her earlier grievance. Elena and Mateo couldn't help laughing. Judging by the rustle of the climbing vines along the balcony, the spirits laughed too.
"Oh, and Alacazar says Mari's upset because she's teething," Elena added. "He's got a potion to soothe the pain. Second shelf on the left, pink bottle with a smiley-faced tooth on the label. And if Rafa fusses, tell her it worked on her just fine."
"Will do, Abuelo." Mateo smiled at the image of his mother as a fussy baby growing her first teeth.
The wind brushed his robes, swirled Elena's hair and made Mari's downy fluff stand up in all directions. It smelled like riding leather, guitar rosin and old books. There was a resonant hum in his ears, like the aftereffect of striking a tamborita.
When it blew away, the air became very still.
Mari wailed.
"They're gone, aren't they?" said Mateo. "I wish … "
"Me too." He felt Elena sigh beside him. "But they'll be back. And they'd want us to be happy."
"I know." He kissed his wife's cheek and the top of his daughter's head. Warm and solid and alive, they were all the proof of happiness he needed. "And I am."
"C'mon." Elena wrapped her free hand around his elbow and tugged him back toward the balcony doors. "Let's go find that teething potion. And afterwards, I think all three of us could use a little more sleep."