As Julieta had promised, having back the joviality of thirty-five wasn't so bad. There were no big differences in my mobility, but I did end the days a little less tired and, if Camilo's transformation was true to reality, the bags under my eyes were a little less marked and my cheeks a little less sagging. I also had fewer gray hairs, but I am amazed at how many gray hairs I already had at thirty-five. Other than that, little had changed, not that I was a Mariano before I grew old. What I don't quite understand is why Camilo represented my fifty-year-old version as a seven-foot-frame-man. I love him dearly, but sometimes that boy is an enigma to me.

On the other hand, I liked how, suddenly, the age gap between Mirabel and me was no longer so striking, although it was still remarkable. They were still twenty years of physique and thirty-five of heart. I was still too old for her, and I was still her uncle. And, as hard as it was to admit, not even Julieta's magic could change that.

She said that she owed me for taking care of her daughter and sacrificing myself for her, that I should enjoy it instead of feeling guilty, and that I shouldn't worry so much because, since they all looked so great, it didn't stand around too much. "Triplets to death," added Pepa with a tone that I crossed my fingers to it wasn't threatening. But, I didn't want anything in exchange for helping Mirabel; I'm not even sure that I would have really been of any help to her. If I had stayed, maybe she would have grown up with at least one person who believed in her completely and wouldn't have felt like she needed to be someone else. And so, maybe I would not have fallen in love with her and, maybe, I would have been more apt to be by her side in the way that really corresponded to me.

But there was no point in dwelling on that. The months had passed and everything seemed to dance in a strange and vulnerable balance that I did not want to break.

Ever since the night I spent in Mirabel's room, I knew I couldn't keep running from her. Hurt or not, hard to reconcile or not, if she needed someone, I wanted to be there. I would never leave her alone again. And since then too, she seemed more cheerful again. I never found out what ailed her that day, but whatever it was, it seemed to fly off with a good night's sleep. And, Julieta… I don't know what she thought of what she saw, to be honest, but she never brought it up and I wouldn't be the fool to bring it up for her. I guess she assumed it was just an uncle taking care of her niece when she was feeling sad and nothing more. It's probably what anyone would think and it's probably the only thing that it was.

"Happy birthday, hermano!"

True, I was retracing my path to fifty. If then at fifty-one I looked fifteen years younger, that meant that, by the time I actually looked fifty again, Mirabel would be thirty… I couldn't imagine what a stunning woman she would be at thirty. Too bad, by then I was actually going to be sixty-five…

"Uh… thanks, hermanas. Happy birthday to you too."

Suddenly, a diffuse white cloud settled over us and fresh drops of rain began to fall on the wet. We were again in the middle of the rainy season, but it was Pepa's tears that motivated the soaking this time.

"Pepa, amor, what's wrong?" Felix asked tenderly taking one of her hands while he wiped her cheeks with the other.

"Isn't it wonderful? After so long, celebrating it together again is…"

Abuela hugged Pepa and invited Julieta and me to the hug. She quickly joined and dragged me along knowing it was hard for me to join on my own no matter how much I wanted to. Then, Félix squeezed us too and Agustín dedicated himself to taking photos while the rain completely disappeared giving way to the brightest of rainbows.

"Pepa, thank you for…" I tried to put that warm feeling into words, but it didn't seem like my strong point. Thank God, she got the feeling better than words and hugged me even tighter."

"I love you, hermano."

"Everyone to the side-yard," exclaimed Luisa vigorously bursting into the patio. "Oh, sorry, did I interrupt something?"

"Nothing, cariño," Pepa said squeezing my hand. "we're going."

The show on leaving was praiseworthy. The outside yard had been covered with a beautiful and flowery gazebo that protected from the rain a decked table decorated with napkins obviously embroidered by Mirabel. Camilo waited ready to serve the tables like a real waiter and Dolores was singing a soft melody.

As in any good celebration, the food did not take long to fly, the music was animated, and the dance began; and, as in every celebration, my gaze traveled from one to another enjoying the cheer in their expressions and the energy they transmitted.

"Dance with us, Bruno?"

Mirabel never forced me to dance, but always tried to get me out of my comfort zone.

"No, no, no, no, no… no. You know I don't dance. But thanks for the offer."

"Okay, but let me know before you go to bed, okay? I got something for you."

"So… so… something? What kind of something?"

"You'll find out in a bit, but if you dance with me, I'll tell you first," she said winking at me with all the nerve in the world.

"Heh… I'll rather wait, sorry," I replied laughing at her failed attempt to make me dance.

"I knew you'd say that."

And, as she came, she left. And she dragged the energy of the entire room with her, making it swirling like a magical torrent that enveloped her and made her shine brighter than the brightest star in the universe. She was hypnotic. Wherever she stepped, joy and enthusiasm invaded everything. She was a real butterfly fluttering from one side to another and causing hurricanes on the other side of the yard.

The hours were running behind her heels and, the moment that had me so intrigued, was approaching.

By the time Abuela retired to her room, Mirabel ran to find me, perhaps fearing that I would go to bed too, and dragged me by the hand through the house until she reached Dolores's bedroom door.

"Ready for my present?"

"I don't know. Is it in Dolores' room?"

"No! Right next to it."

Next to Dolores's room was Camilo's, and, on the other side, the painting that long ago hid the tunnel that sheltered me for so long.

"What…?"

"Move the painting."

I looked at her bewildered and, for some reason, with a lump in my throat, but she arched her eyes impatiently and moved it herself.

"Surprise!"

It could not be. There it was, my hole… No, what I'm saying?! That wasn't my hole, that one was much better done. And the inside…

"Mirabel, what…?"

"C'mon."

Again, she took my hand without giving me time to process what was happening and pulled me into the gap between the walls letting the painting close behind us.

"This is… incredible…"

The walls, the floors… it had nothing to do with the worn-out hole in which I spent my days. It was furnished and finished as a real house, narrow, but a house.

Without saying a word, but with a smile from ear to ear, she proudly led me through the corridors to the door of my former home and opened it for me. It was my living room, with my barrel, my brooms against visitors, my unstitched armchair, and even my hammock! But, at the same time, it had a homey and cozy air. There were no buckets full of pots and pans, no tools, no plates, no old boots. There were little houseplants scenting the place, warm lighting, and lots of little crochet covers on the furniture.

"Do you like it?" she asked excitedly as I struggled to close my mouth.

"Is this for… me?"

"It is yours."

"Wh… why?"

"Well, long time ago, you said you weren't used to your bed and I remembered the hammock that was folded up here and I thought you'd probably appreciate having a place to hide when you get tired of the constant excess of company that there is always in this house or when you want to relax somewhere more… you know, more uncomfortable but not as uncomfortable as sleeping on the ground or in the sand…"

"Mirabel, thank you."

She had left me speechless.

"Thank Casita. Almost everything has been done by it. Except for the plants, I asked Isabela for them."

"Casita? But… Casita didn't answer in here."

"That was before. Probably because the house responded to Abuela's wishes, and she couldn't have wishes about a place she didn't know existed. As I did know it and now it seems that Casita responds to my wishes, well…"

"It opened for you. That's impressive."

"No, it opened for you. Although… I have taken a small liberty."

Mirabel crossed her arms behind her back and directed her gaze toward the wooden table where I used to eat. That table was not decorated with cloths, or lights, but something had changed. My plate was there, in the light of the crack, painted as always, but, in front of it, there was another plate; one riddled with butterflies and with a different name painted on it: Mirabel.

"If that's okay with you… maybe we could share some of those quiet moments here. Sometimes I also want, for a day, for a while, to be able to enjoy the peace of not having to attend to the requirements of the family or the town. I imagine it's harder for you, of course, but…"

"As long as you're in here, they won't be able to find you."

"The idea is that it is an oasis for you, but, if one day you want some company in it…"

"Mirabel, this place… I… thank you. I don't think… I don't think I need to tell you: you don't need permission to come in here, this is your house too.

"Thanks, Bruno."

My eyes widened at the sight of her smiling and slightly shy. Why did the level of complicity that this gift entailed make me so happy? I loved the idea of having my hole back, and I was really fascinated by how she fixed it, but… but what I loved most about it was that only she and I knew about it.

Because… only she and I knew about it, right?

"Uhm… Mirabel… Does Isabela know about this?"

"Because of the plants? No, I asked for them and she gave them to me without question."

"So… except for you, no one…"

"Nope. No one at all. That's the point. In fact, Casita won't let rats through either. I know they don't bother you, but they would tell Antonio."

"So…"

"It'll be our secret."

Why in those moments did I feel as if, of the two of us, the kid was me?

"Hey, Bruno, how did you find this place the first time?"

"Oh, it was easy. I just had to follow the rats."

"Long time ago?"

"Hm… I'd be around your age, probably."

"And… since when do you… get along so well with them?"

"Oh… that… well…"

I felt vulnerable and I was afraid to bare my soul, but that armchair and her candid look gave me the strength I needed.

"I was just a child, I don't think I was six years old yet, and… well, people had no problem asking for prophecies of all kinds."

"To a child?"

"The thing is…the results were usually not to their liking and…you know, they started treating me like a jinxed. And, for a child, that rejection… Anyway. The point is that, one day, I prophesied a small landslide and the family that worked the land went to inspect it."

"Oh, no."

"Yeah, the landslide happened just as they were there and nearly blew them away. They were lucky enough to get away, but after that, they came home to complain about the boy who almost killed them."

"That was so unfair!" she answered aggressively indignant.

"Abuela didn't scold me, but she looked at me worriedly and apologized to them."

"I guess she just wanted to prevent the problem from getting bigger," that adolescent with the soul of an old woman answered then.

"Yes, I think so too, but as a child, all I could see was that my mother agreed with them and saw me as a problem. That night, I dreamed that I was a rat and that people were throwing me out from everywhere with brooms. And, well, the next day, I came across a rat in the kitchen and I got scared, but, remembering the feeling that dream gave me, I realized how unfair I had been to them and I started to put food in some safe corners where it was difficult for them to be seen. Little by little, they began to trust me and follow me and… in the end, they became the only ones with whom I could be myself until…"

"Until?"

"Until you came back into my life."

What had I done?!

"Okay! Enough. End of story."

"Bruno… I…"

I didn't know what Mirabel intended to tell me, but I was sure that I had already said too much, so the nerves of waiting began to eat me up from head to toe.

"I… think I'm heading to bed," she blurted out then radically changing her expression. "I hope you enjoy your present. Uhm, tonight…"

"I think I will… spend it here."

"I knew you'd say that; I let you rest. Good night, Bruno."

"Good night, Mi…"

And, once again, her warm lips on my cheek cut me off.

"…Mirabel."