One morning, after they had been in the Widow Jimenez's home for two weeks, the four young Madrigal ladies all woke up feeling a little off. None of them mentioned it, but it was there in the little things they did that morning. The way Luisa frowned and rubbed her back as she sat up in bed. The odd way Dolores adjusted her night shift over her bare legs. The stiff way Isabela got up out of bed, not at all with her usual gracefulness. And the way Mirabel, the second she got up, looked quickly towards the empty bathroom.
They were each just a little bit off, but added together, something suddenly seemed very obvious. Mirabel pushed her quilt back and got up out of bed, but before she could take one step towards the bathroom, she looked around at her sisters and cousin.
"Are we..." she asked slowly, realization dawning on her, "uh, I mean, did you guys just... well, you know?"
They'd all suspected, but when Mirabel asked that question, they knew for sure. Nobody actually said it, but they didn't need to. It was clear enough that a certain time of the month had just arrived, in unison, for all four of them.
Isabela adjusted her night shift and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But how can we all... uh... all be in sync?" she asked slowly, trying to find some delicate way to word it. "We weren't in sync when we lived in Casita."
"I think we were, probably," Dolores said, trying to pretend that she didn't know for sure. It could get embarrassing whenever people realized just how much she overheard. "I think we just never noticed because we had so much more space there."
Mirabel shifted awkwardly, still eyeing the bathroom, but Luisa was looking towards it, too, and Mirabel didn't want to take it first if the other girls needed it more. She felt a bit silly for not realizing sooner that they would have this... problem while they were all sharing a room. She had suspected that a widow had taken them in because no married woman wanted Isabela sleeping under the same roof as her husband. But now she wondered if this was another reason. Maybe it had occurred to everyone in the entire village that four young women living in the same house would all get moody and touchy at the same time every month.
Before they say anything more, there was a soft knock at the bedroom door, and it opened just enough for the Widow Jimenez to poke her head in. "Good morning, senoritas," she was saying cheerfully. "Are you all..."
But her voice stopped short when she actually saw them. She took one look at them – just one look – then frowned, stepped fully into their room, and closed the door behind her. "That time of the month, is it, ladies?" she asked, pulling her blue rebozo closer around her shoulders.
Luisa blushed and looked down. Isabela and Mirabel's mouths fell open in unison. Dolores fumbled, "But-but how did you kn – I mean, uh, I mean, I don't know what you're talking ab–"
But Widow Jimenez waved one hand, interrupting her. "Now, don't pretend you don't understand me. I raised three daughters. I might be old, but I'm not stupid. I'm so old, in fact, that I don't have the curse anymore, so I'm afraid I don't keep things in the house. Do you girls have what you need?"
Luisa was still looking at the floor, her face red, but Dolores, Isabela, and Mirabel nodded awkwardly.
Ever since they'd arrived in her home, Widow Jimenez had been nothing but a welcoming hostess to the Madrigal granddaughters. But now, for the first time, she spoke to them a bit sharply. "Ever since my daughters married and I finally outgrew the curse, I have not missed having that monster in my house every month. Now, I know young women your age are prone to get very... dramatic at this time of the month, but–"
Isabela's arms went stiff and straight at her sides, both fists clenched. "We do not get dramatic!" she exclaimed.
Widow Jimenez actually rolled her eyes. "Si, gracias for proving my point, Isabela. As I was saying, you're welcome to stay here, of course, but I'd appreciate it if you tried to cut down on any drama. And you're all old enough that I expect you not to stain the bedsheets, por favor." And with that, she turned and left the room.
Luisa's face was the deepest shade of red, but all four of them were blushing now. "She didn't have to say that about the bedsheets," Dolores huffed, crossing her arms, as soon as the widow was out of earshot.
Isabela walked over to Luisa, who still hadn't moved or looked up. "Hey, Luisa," she said softly, putting one hand on her sister's broad shoulder, "you don't have anything embarrassed about, okay? None of us do."
"That's right!" Mirabel agreed. "We should just try to pay attention to how long we're in the bathroom this week, that's all. It's not a big deal."
Dolores forced herself to smile. "When you think about it, it's actually kinda funny, isn't it?"
Luisa slowly raised her head and smiled back. Her face wasn't quite as red anymore. "I-I guess it is."
Though the four of them were all on their periods at the same time, it of course didn't affect them in exactly the same way. Luisa and Isabela both had cramps in their backs that morning, and Mirabel had them in her belly, but for Dolores, the cramps didn't happen until that night, when she was already sore and tired from working to rebuild Casita. She laid face-down on her bed and begged Luisa to rub her back. Luisa didn't want to – even without her Gift, she was still strong enough to hurt Dolores by accident – but Dolores seemed so miserable that she agreed. And no matter how hard she rubbed, it never seemed to hurt her cousin. In fact, Dolores loved it so much that she pushed up her camisa so that Luisa could touch the bare skin of her back.
"Ah, si, that feels so good. Could you rub harder, Luisa? And down a little?" When Luisa's big hands began working the sorest spot, at the small of her back, she let out a loud moan of relief. She didn't notice how her voice rose as she went on, "Ah, si, right there – no, harder, Luisa, si, that's it, right there, ah, si, harder..."
Another loud moan was cut off when the bedroom door slammed open. Luisa's hands froze where they were spread out across Dolores's bare back, and they all startled and turned to see Widow Jimenez standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and horrified. Only then did they realize what the noises Dolores had been making must have sounded like to her.
"What is going on in here?" she thundered.
And the four girls all burst out laughing until they almost cried.
