Chapter 14: Love
40 years before Encanto
Casita was decorated with candles and smelled of festive cooking. Alma sat with Sofia on the stairs, the two of them drinking hot canelazo while they watched their children dancing with the other townsfolk who had all come to celebrate Noche Buena.
Bruno and Pepa were dancing in time with eachother, while Julieta held onto Maria, helping her to stand on shaky legs. Maria laughed, watching Julieta with bright eyes.
Seeing Pepa kick her brother's legs out from under him, Alma called out.
"If you're bad, Niño Jesus won't bring you presents tonight." Alma announced. "They will go to me instead."
A cloud thundered over Pepa while Bruno frantically got back up and waved the cloud away, determined for them to get their presents.
"Not fair, Mama!" Pepa called back, while Alma just cackled.
"How much aguardiente did you put in that drink?" Sofia asked, playfully nudging Alma.
"Oh." Alma grinned. "You don't want to know."
Later
After midnight mass, the townsfolk went home and the Madrigals and Guzmans returned to Casita. The triplets sat gathered in the sitting room, watching eagerly as the adults prepared what they hoped was going to be their gifts.
Julieta held Maria in her lap while the little girl played with Julieta's hands. She looked over Julieta's fingers, carefully bending and flexing each of them.
"They're pretty, hm?" Pepa encouraged, and Maria nodded, eyes shining bright with sincerity. She brought Julieta's hand close to her face to hide her smile.
"You know those are magic hands." Bruno told her. "They make special food."
"To help my legs." She told him in a proud voice. "Juli takes the bad away."
Julieta smiled, gently stroking the little girl's twisted spine. "I'll always take the bad away." Julieta promised, cuddling her close.
Alma clapped her hands as she approached, getting the children's attention.
"Now. Let's see if we have presents for our good girls and boys." Alma announced, and the children sat up straight in anticipation. Alma heading over to where she thought the gifts were hidden, then cursed because they were gone. The children's faces dropped.
"You alright?" Sofia's husband Gabriel laughed, coming over to help.
"Presents are gone." Alma muttered, then turned as she heard the children calling out in disappointment. Alma shrugged, the drinks making her more blunt and tactless than normal. "Well, I told you to be good! And now they are gone."
"Alma!" Sofia playfully pushed her, but she'd had a few drinks too so she tripped, the both of them tumbling to the floor.
"Dios." Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head. He left the women there as he went to search for the children's gifts.
Alma couldn't stop laughing as she tried to push Sofia off, but they were all tangled up in the decorations.
"Worst Buena Noche ever!" Pepa called out, unimpressed as they watched Mama struggle to get off the floor.
"I can't get up." Alma managed to gasp between laughter. Sofia giggled, her head resting on Alma as they tried to untangle.
"Maybe we're getting old." Sofia suggested.
"Stop." Alma grinned. "I'm not old until I look like the picture on my door."
They broke into hysterics, while the triplets and Maria sat there, looking unimpressed.
"Mami, you're being boring." Pepa told Alma.
Alma grinned and reached for her daughter, pulling her into a hug. Pepa giggled and squirmed while Alma tickled her, the two of them rolling over so Pepa could sit on top.
Bruno laughed and jumped on Mama too. Alma exhaled, groaning a little under their combined weight.
"When did you niños get so big?" She chuckled, tickling them while they both laughed.
Sofia smiled over at her daughter. She put out her arms and Maria's face broke into an excited grin. Julieta helped her get to her Mama, then turned to her siblings.
"Juli!" Pepa called, working together to squash Mama, while Alma tried to break free. "Help us!"
"Mama was bad this year." Bruno explained.
"This year?" Alma laughed. "Dios, you'll need a lot more jumping to make up for all my bad years."
Julieta giggled, climbing on top too. Alma cried out in playful protest, laughing as her children jumped on her.
Later that night
Once the children were asleep in bed and the guests went home, the night changed for Alma.
It was always like that. Once the children were asleep and Alma was alone with her thoughts, the silence became overwhelming.
She held the candle close, sitting alone in her bed as she sobbed. Alma hated that no matter how much time passed, she never seemed to her any better.
Alma had a good time, but there was always a part of her, deep down in the back of her mind that felt guilty for being too happy.
Like if Alma enjoyed this life too much, then that meant she'd forgotten her old life, and Pedro didn't matter anymore.
But then, if she sunk down too deep into that sadness she became a bad mother. It was exhausting, and Alma didn't know how long she could keep this up.
Pedro had been Alma's whole life. Her sisters, her old town, her friends. Life was unfair to them and then just went on without them, as if they didn't matter. And Alma got to live.
On the outside at least, Alma thought with a sigh, wiping her eyes.
Alma knew it was probably a bad idea for her to drink so much, especially on special occasions like this, when Pedro's absence was especially obvious. It just felt so good at the time, like nothing else had mattered, but now Alma was alone it really hit hard.
"I just wish they could see you." She sobbed, tears hitting the candle and running down the wax. "Just once. I want them to know you." Alma took a shaky breath. "They would've loved you, Pedro. I know they would."
Casita gently pulled the blanket up over her shoulders like a hug, and Alma cried harder. She held a hand to the blanket and hid her face against it, her nose running.
"I love you, Casita." She whispered, and the slats of the windowsill moved, tiles clacking to try and tell her it felt the same. Alma brought her knees up to her chest. Her fingers gripped the blanket close to her face, other hand holding the candle.
She stared into the flame, taking deep breaths like the villagers had told her to do all those years ago, but it just made her sob harder to remember the river.
"It should've been me." Alma whispered to the candle.
The flame flickered in disagreement.
"It should've." Alma insisted, tears rolling down her cheeks. "They would've been happier. They deserved to have a good parent. Not... Whatever I am."
She took a deep breath, eyes turning to the night sky.
"I should've died at that river, Pedro. Not you." Alma admitted quietly. "Things would be better with you. You would've shown them the love they need." She wiped under her eyes, her breath shaky. "I just. I don't know how to love. I'm not good at it."
Casita snapped the window shut in protest, waving a curtain at Alma as if it were waving a finger, scolding her.
"Whatever." Alma muttered, turning her back to the window. She curled up into bed and closed her eyes, silent tears still falling as she clutched Candle to her chest.
Casita's curtain dropped in resignation, but Candle began to glow, softly illuminating up Alma's sleeping face. It pulsed, as if it were talking to Casita.
Casita lifted up again, tiles clacking in agreement.