The streets and rooftops were glistening from the previous night's heavy rain. The storm drains were still drawing away the excess rainfall. It was as if the sky had exhausted all its rainclouds in the night. The buildings of Bogotá cut the newly risen sun's rays. But the sun's bright light promised a blazing day ahead. Sunlight warmed the wet sign spelling out Casita Café, located in Teusaquillo.
His khaki pants pressed and his honeydew-colored guayabera embroidered with golden butterflies, Pedro Madrigal opened his café with several patrons already waiting outside the door. "Buenos días. Bienvenidos," he greeted the first patrons, most of them regulars that would likely return later today. Forty years ago, Casita Café opened after Pedro had published his second collection of poetry. The café had sustained their little family. Wearing a cream blouse and a maroon skirt and her silver hair in two braids, Alma Madrigal was manning the cash register while Pedro handled the food and drinks. Now their triplets were grown and living in their own homes in the same neighborhood.
Julieta and her husband Agustín Rojas were among the café's first customers. Pedro kissed his daughter's cheek and shook her husband's hand. "The usual, right? On it!" he said before dashing behind the counter.
Smile gleaming and brown eyes glittering behind his glasses, Agustín guided Julieta to an empty table and waved to Alma. "The usual" for Julieta and Agustín meant a café canelado for her and a dozen coffees for his family. The Rojas family was running a sastrería a few blocks away. Julieta was wearing teal slacks and a duck-egg blue blouse embroidered with flowers while Agustin was wearing matching dark blue pants, necktie, and vest over a white shirt. Agustín and Julieta would be going their separate ways after this; him to his family sastrería and her to the hospital where she worked as a surgeon. Their youngest daughter Mirabel was now ten years old and showing early talent at needlework herself. Alma would often comment that Mirabel took after Pedro's optimistic attitude and kind heart. Julieta's eldest daughter Isabela inherited Alma's looks and energetic personality. Luisa took after Agustín's side of the family with her tall, athletic frame and timid demeanor.
Only a few minutes later, Pepa and her husband Félix Castillo came in. Pepa looked lovely in a flowing sunflower-yellow dress. Félix could barely keep his hands off her; with him wearing a yellow guayabera, it was hard to tell where Félix ended and Pepa began. At the counter, the couple ordered an even bigger batch of coffee than Julieta and Agustín. Pepa and Félix's coworkers at the theater favored getting their morning pick-me-up from Casita Café. Pepa and Félix worked at the same theater—her as a choreographer and him as a musician. Inspired by her parents, their eldest daughter Dolores was now studying music in Tolima. Camilo had expressed interest in becoming an actor, something that his Tío Bruno was especially excited about.
Pedro had thought that, of his children, Bruno would be the most likely to work at a theater, given his flair for storytelling. Bruno continued to write and paint as hobbies, but he worked in pest control. His specialty was catching rats, and he kept more than a few of them as pets. Bruno was unlikely to visit Casita Café. Alma and Pedro saw their son more frequently at family events like birthdays and holidays than days like this. Pedro was certain that this was his own fault.
The café door burst open, startling Pedro from his thoughts. Señora Guzmán had just entered, looking like a fish desperate for water. "Alma! Pedro! You wouldn't believe this! Your son was just at church, offering Mass!"
Alma chuckled. "Brunito has always been devout. He could have become a priest if he hadn't married Doctora Lombroso. He's always giving Mass offering for some intention or another."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Señora Guzmán, catching her breath. "But that's not all. He had three children with him."
Agustín, Julieta, Pepa, and Félix all lifted their heads, their eyes bulging from their sockets.
Bruno was the first of the Madrigal triplets to be married, but his otherwise happy marriage with Aya Lombroso had not been blessed with children. Sometimes Agustín, Julieta, Pepa, and Félix found themselves secretly lamenting the couple's childlessness considering how close they both were to the Church. In his youth, Bruno had served as a catechist on weekends and had occasionally sung in the choir. Both the Madrigal and the Lombroso families had made out-of-town semana santa pilgrimages to the Catedral de Sal de Zipaquirá, to Popayán, to Monserrate, and once to the Santuario de la Nuestra Señora de Las Lajas. How Bruno and Aya hadn't met on these trips, they would never know. But they knew that, prior to their engagement, Bruno and Aya sometimes went to church together, sometimes sitting amidst the candles and icons long after Mass was over.
Agustín, Julieta, Pepa, and Félix loved Bruno and his wife, who happily babysat all of the Madrigal grandchildren, sometimes for days at a time. They were wonderful tíos, and the children adored them. Sometimes the children looked forward to staying over at Tío Bruno and Tía Aya's house. Julieta and Pepa were intimately familiar with Bruno's creativity. Bruno took after Pedro's talent for spinning words together like threads on a tapestry. The convoluted nature of some of Bruno's stories was part of their charm. Like Scheherazade, sometimes he ended stories on a cliffhanger. "You'd have to visit again to hear the next part!" he would say to the children.
Aya was Julieta's friend before she was Bruno's wife. They had met while studying at the same medical school and became closer friends while working at the same hospital. The two women had similar traits—reserved, affectionate, loves their family, and could sing and dance about as well as any Madrigal. Having come from an old family with generations' worth of stories to tell, Aya also entertained the children with tales from faraway lands. The children loved her, too. Aya play-acted their games and comforted the children on their bad days with candil and a lullaby.
Aya and Bruno were attentive and sensitive to the children's interests. They loved the children as if they were their own. Agustín, Julieta, Pepa, and Félix all agreed that Aya and Bruno were integral in raising the Madrigal grandchildren.
They looked at one another, wondering if Señora Guzmán's eyes had been playing tricks on her. If she had seen what she thought she'd seen, who were these children? Why was Bruno with them? Did this mean that Bruno and Aya were finally adopting children?
"I'm sure Bruno would be telling us about it within the day," said Alma.
Her daughters and their husbands left the café with happy goodbyes and air kisses.
Sure enough, the phone rang near sundown. The few customers in line smiled and waited patiently while Alma picked up the phone. "¿Aló? This is Señora Alma of Casita Café."
"¿Aló? Mamá, I have wonderful news! I couldn't wait to tell you and papá!"