I'm Not Fine.
When she was ten years old, Julieta found out that her food couldn't heal everything.
One evening, Julieta and Pepa were in the bathroom with the door open. Pepa was in the bathtub where she could contain the fallen rain from the cloud above her head. Julieta was sitting on a footstool beside the tub. Mamá had gone into Bruno's room with a bowl of cookies from Julieta after Bruno complained of headaches so intense that he couldn't get out of bed. A few hours later, Mamá passed by the door looking sad and with the bowl still full. Julieta excused herself and went to see Bruno. Her brother was curled up with his eyes closed but awake. Julieta climbed into Bruno's bed. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal you." Without opening his eyes, Bruno reached out to hug his sister.
The triplets hated sick days. If one of them was sick, the other two would become more subdued. On the bright side, these were the days when Mamá would give them more affection and patience than usual. Despite how awful they would feel, Julieta started to look forward to sick days. It would be years later that she would learn how appalling it was that they had to wait to get sick in order to get some more hugs and kisses from Mamá. Mamá gave affection sparingly, like they had to earn it while their friends' mothers gave affection freely. Julieta vowed to never become like her mother.
Julieta was twelve when she realized that her brother and sister's anxiety wasn't part of normal growing pains. Bruno knocked on wood a specific number of times. When he got upset, held his breath and counted to sixteen; a year ago, it was ten counts. He avoided eye contact most times. He avoided stepping on cracks. Pepa was a jovial person; she brightened the room with her presence even before they received their gifts. But now she was more careful with the way her emotions summoned an unwanted raincloud above her head. She became fearful of her own anger after having struck Julieta and Bruno with lightning bolts during petty quarrels. It wasn't fair that Julieta and Bruno could still experience their emotions fully while their sister could not. Julieta did her best to relieve her siblings. She made tamales and cocadas, and she sang to them. She invented treats for Bruno's rats and made cloud-shaped breads for Pepa. Her efforts helped, but it wasn't enough.
Julieta watched helplessly when tempers flared up at home. Mamá would say things that were unhelpful and frustrated Bruno and Pepa even more. All Julieta could do was gather her siblings in her arms until the literal and metaphorical storm passed.
Julieta hated the days when it was her turn to come into blows with Mamá. Sometimes she would be complaining of fatigue or aching feet and would ask for a day off. Most times, Julieta would stretch her patience and endure her pain to avoid upsetting her mother. When her pain was especially bad, Julieta would turn on the waterworks. Bruno had taught her how to cry on cue; it was true that his real gift was acting. But Julieta's patience snapped when they were thirteen and Pepa and Julieta had begun to bleed. "You don't care about me! You don't care about us! You can't let those stupid villagers handle a scratch for one day! Why couldn't I have one day?!" Julieta's throat burned. Julieta was not accustomed to anger, but it felt good to let it out. It didn't feel good when Mamá slapped her for her disrespect.
The chaos at home lasted for two more years. But when Mamá only doubled down on her control, Bruno, Julieta, and Pepa began to surrender, with devastating results. Pepa spent her waking hours practicing harnessing her emotions to suit the weather that the village needed, but she became more and more unhappy. Julieta built a stall in the square, so she could do her cooking away from Mamá. Bruno became more reclusive as both adults and their peers began to hate him for his visions.
Julieta became especially worried about Bruno. His migraines affected his appetite. He ate less and slept less. "Let it go, Juli," he snapped one day when Julieta noticed the dark shadows under his eyes. Those shadows would never fade away.
Bruno grew out his hair, and Julieta happily helped him style his curls. It became his best feature. "No fair! Your hair is prettier than mine!" Julieta whined while bouncing Bruno's hair in her hands and making him laugh.
Bruno had always liked rats. As a child, he captured and kept them as pets to keep them from stealing or tainting Julieta's food. When he was fourteen, to avoid using his gift, Bruno hired himself out as a rat catcher. Within months, his room became a city of rodents. His creativity bloomed that year. He wrote stories; dabbled in poetry; did a lot of painting. He taught tricks to some of his rats.
One day, Bruno and Julieta went to the church together. There was a rat infestation, and the priest and some of the nuns in the adjacent convent had come down with dangerously high fevers. One of the sacristans, a slightly younger boy with brown hair greeted them at the atrium.
"Hola. Soy Cesar Flores. We've been expecting you."
"How is Padre Constantino?" Julieta asked.
"Oh, it's bad. He was having chills all night, according to Madre Elena. And the other nuns aren't much better. Oh, let me help you with that." Cesar took one of the baskets that Julieta was carrying, and he led them to the refectory in the back. They set down the baskets on one of the long tables in the refectory, and then Julieta set about distributing the food for the sick. Behind her, Cesar was explaining the rat situation to Bruno, who was carrying treats and traps in a box.
"We think the disease came from the rats. We find most of them in the kitchen over there."
Once the food was distributed, Julieta checked on the boys. She found them in the kitchen and crouched over the box that Bruno had brought. Now it was full of rats.
"Juli, look, your food can heal animals, too!" Bruno exclaimed.
"The rats were sick, too?" Julieta said.
"When I found them, they were weak. But when I gave them the treats that you made, they felt better."
"And then, they all just came to you. Anyone else would have just killed them," said Cesar, looking at the calm rats in wonder. "You're like the Francisco de Assisi of rats."
"That is way too generous," Bruno deadpanned with a little smirk.
Julieta and Bruno stayed to help Cesar clean the church and the convent because he was the only one that was not sick. Julieta smiled as she listened to the two boys strike up a new friendship. Cesar was passionate about the faith, and Bruno's burgeoning creative streak made him receptive to learning. Cesar was enthusiastic about religious art and explained the iconography of the many images displayed in their beautiful church. Cesar sent them home with two Rosaries that he had made himself. Bruno wore his around his neck and under his shirt from then on.
When they were fifteen, Julieta forced herself through Bruno's door after her brother had begun to lock himself in there more often, to hide from the whispers of the villagers and his combative dynamic with their mother. Julieta saw the endless stairs and screamed.
"Juli! Juli! Hey!" Bruno shouted as he hugged Julieta.
"What happened to your room?!" she shrilled.
Bruno let out a low, maniacal laugh that chilled Julieta's bones. "I don't know."
That same day, Bruno gave Julieta a vision. "A family will be slaughtered in the outskirts of the Encanto tonight. Mamá will not be able to help stop it."
"Slaughtered?" Julieta looked at the glass tablet. A slightly older teenage girl was depicted crouching in the forest, her dress smeared in what looked like blood.
Julieta saw Bruno giving the tablet a look of pure hate. He pointed at the girl. "She will survive, but she will keep hiding because her family's murderers might go after her, too. Follow the creek until you find her in the forest." Bruno's face softened slightly. "You will like her."
Bruno and Julieta told their mother about the vision, hoping that her alerting the local watchmen would thwart the attack. Bruno and Julieta went to Pepa's room, and they huddled together, waiting for news until they fell asleep. Julieta woke up some time in the middle of the night. Pepa was still asleep beside her while Bruno was crouching in a dark corner of the room and squeezing his Rosary in his hands. In the silence of the room, she could make out what he was praying:
Princeps gloriosissime caelestis militiae, sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio et colluctatione, quae nobis adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in caelestibus.
Julieta sat up from the bed. The movement gently woke up Pepa. They both joined Bruno in his corner and recited the rest of the prayer with him, ending with:
Offer nostras preces in conspectu Altissimi, ut cito anticipent nos misericordiae Domini, et apprehendas draconem, serpentem antiquum, qui est diabolus et satanas, ac ligatum mittas in abyssum, ut non seducat amplius gentes. Amen.
In the morning, the triplets woke up to their mother making breakfast for them. She gently broke the news that the watchmen had been too late. The family was dead, and one daughter was missing.
"That must have been painful to see, mijo," she said to Bruno, giving him a hug. Mamá cooked their favorite dishes and let them rest for the day. For once, she didn't mind the rain.
Julieta asked Bruno and Pepa to visit the survivor with her while Mamá went to the watchmen to help seek the assailants. The triplets brought food and clothes and cookware and toiletries to the forest where the vision showed Bruno that the survivor would be hiding. Áurea Lombroso was a lamentable sight. Her black hair was undone, and her nightdress was torn and bloody. She had built a makeshift shelter out of the leaves of a giant rhubarb. She recognized them and accepted their help. But she shrank back visibly when she saw Bruno. "Did you see this coming?"
Bruno kneeled at the girl's feet. "Perdóname, señorita. I did see it. But the vision showed me no way to prevent it." Bruno covered his face in shame.
Julieta was about to touch her brother's head when Señorita Lombroso's hand got there first. Compassion shone through the grief in her amber eyes. "I'm not blaming you."
Julieta and Bruno built a fire pit and cooked food while Pepa helped to bathe and dress Señorita Lombroso in the river nearby. She emerged a different woman beside Pepa. She was about the same height as Bruno, but she looked tall in her floor-length black dress. Her long black hair was thick and straight. Her skin had a beautiful olive tone. Her amber eyes seemed to shine in the sunlight.
"Thank you so much," she said. "If you weren't here, I would have thrown myself in the river."
She burst into tears. The triplets wrapped her in a group hug and cried with her. They cried and prayed with their new friend that day.
In the next several months, they continued bringing necessities for Aya, as she liked to be called. Sometimes all three went. Most times, only one went, and it was usually Julieta. As Bruno had predicted, the two girls became close friends.
"They've found the men who killed your family. They're going to be exiled. You could go home," said Julieta as she watched Aya grill two fishes over a firepit.
"No," said Aya, making Julieta's heart sink. "Even if no one tries to attack me, too, I'd rather not hear the whispers again."
Julieta knew about the Lombroso family that lived in the outskirts of the Encanto. They were healers like herself. The Lombroso family used herbs and potions to heal people before Julieta had received her gift. They continued doing what they were doing because they could still heal what Julieta couldn't. Julieta's food could heal physical injuries, allergies, and infections. But Lombroso women could heal heartache and ease afflictions of the mind. The medicines didn't always work, and multiple doses were needed before effects could be felt. The family offered such medicines only to adults. The more pious elders of the village called them witches. To everyone's surprise, the cura párroco was protective of the Lombroso family and visited them often for dinners and prayers.
Aya was proficient in foraging, and she taught Julieta how to do it. On these days, Pepa would be the one manning Julieta's stall in the square. Having learned Aya's tricks, Julieta's cooking improved in the next few years.
Aya made medicines that could help Bruno and Pepa, with varying results. Their pains didn't completely go away, but the medicines helped. Bruno got to visit Aya more often by the time that he was eighteen. Those visits had Julieta wondering if a courtship was happening.
That was around the time that the people came to know of Aya la bruja. They did not recognize her as Áurea Lombroso, but Aya and her visitors seemed fine with that arrangement. They came to her for afflictions that Julieta couldn't heal—ringing in the ears, night terrors, hallucinations, a failing memory, mood disorders. Bruno came to Aya for his melancholy, but when Aya told him that she couldn't give him the medicine for that until he was older, he settled for her companionship. Amazingly, the companionship alone improved his mood for the next few years.