It had been a long day—not longer than usual—but still while a long for fifteen-year-old Julieta Madrigal. Julieta fought the urge to display aggression at her stall while she handed a buñuelo to a young man accompanied by a friend for a concussion. Behind them, two older women were whispering.
"My husband Honrado saw the house himself. He warned me not to see it, but from his descriptions, I might as well have seen it myself."
"It's a shame the children had to die, too. It's not their fault their parents practice witchcraft."
"But didn't you go to them for your son's night terrors?"
"Hmph! I only went to them because it is beyond Julieta's gift."
Julieta let out a barely audible growl as she gave Señora Belén a small pile of buñuelos for her children's flu. Julieta glanced at the small basket of food at her feet. As she handed Señora Esperanza a cocada for her rashes, Julieta said, "The Lombroso family served our community for longer than mine has. They are in our prayers."
The two ladies nodded and murmured apologies and thanks. They were Julieta's final patients for the day. She packed her leftovers into a separate cart, intending to leave the cart at the stall for a few hours. She then took the little basket and made her way to the forest.
She followed the path to a wooden hut near the river. Just outside, there was another fifteen-year-old girl. Aya had light olive skin and straight black hair. Her black dress was long and embroidered with shamrocks and clover flowers. She was sitting on a long outside a wooden hut and praying:
Gratiam tuam, quaesumus Domine, mentibus nostris infunde: ut qui, Angelo nuntiante, Christi Filii tui incarnationem cognovimus, per passionem ejus et crucem ad resurrectionis gloriam perducamur. Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.
Julieta looked at the watch on the chatelaine under her apron. It was 6:05. She was a little late for Angelus. Aya lifted her head, and her amber eyes met Julieta's brown ones.
Aya stood and approached Julieta. "Julieta! Hi!"
Julieta smiled brightly. "Hello, Aya. I brought you some food."
They kissed each other's cheeks and embraced tightly. Then, Julieta held Aya at arm's length to have a good look at her. Her eyes and skin were clear. She looked much better than she had a week ago. "How are you feeling?" Julieta asked, tucking some hair behind Aya's ears.
Aya's gaze softened. "I'm better and better every day." Aya guided Julieta to sit with her at her log.
Julieta placed Aya's hand on her own lap. "I am so sorry I haven't been able to visit you for a week. So many buildings and houses are undergoing extensions, and that always means accidents." Until her last visit, Julieta had made sure to visit Aya every day. Julieta worried about her friend. Having already lost her papá, Julieta could not bear imagining losing her mamá and her brother and sister as well. Losing both of her parents and her eleven brothers and sisters must be hell for Aya.
"Is there anything else you need? Toiletries? Bedclothes? Menstrual pads?"
Aya squeezed Julieta's hand. "As soon as you said the house had been cleaned, I gathered all the non-food items that I need." She glanced at her hut. "But perhaps we could build a stone hut. It gets chilly at night.
Julieta frowned. "It would be easier if you go home instead. The house is clean. Bruno and Pepa and I could help you with repairs if your casa needs it."
Aya hung her head. A tear fell from her eyes. "I understand that it's probably easier. Walls and a roof, furniture, and appliances... But my heart can't accept it. To be in the house and not be greeted by..." Her voice broke, and she was consumed by sobs. Julieta gathered her into her arms. Julieta squeezed her eyes shut as her own tears fell onto Aya's hair.
"Lo siento mucho, Aya. I didn't understand what that must be like for you."
When Aya's cries quieted down a little, Julieta whispered, "I don't say this to diminish your pain—not at all. But even though you're hurting right now, I think it's better to have someone to mourn because you knew them and loved them. My brother and sister and I—we struggle so much to share our mother's grief. We never knew our father. If mamá's stories were true, he supposedly died the same day we were born. We didn't even get one full day with him. Mamá was deeply injured by his loss. She grieves for him to this day. She expects us to mourn him like she does, but he was only ever a portrait and a story to us. I would rather have lost him later in life if it meant having touched him or heard his voice or seen him looking at me. Mamá says that Bruno and I look like him. I'm starting to see it in the mirror."
Aya said nothing, but her breathing slowed. Julieta gently guided Aya's head to her lap. "Would you tell me about them?" Julieta felt the heavy air lifting a little when Aya's mouth curved into a fond smile.
"Mamá taught my sisters and me to sing while we work. We sang songs while preparing our food and our medicines."
"And your papá?"
Aya chuckled and sat up. "He loved dancing. I loved watching him and mamá dancing. I loved dancing with him."
Julieta smiled as Aya's voice became more and more animated. Her two youngest brothers Cosme and Damián were twins, and they had pulled pranks on Aya like putting toy spiders on her pillow while she'd slept. Her two oldest sisters Ágata and Apolonia and were engaged, and they had both been looking forward to their weddings. Her oldest brothers Maximo and Macario were also engaged and had been getting ready to move out in months. The next brothers Tiburcio and Valerio had their eyes on the priesthood and had been speaking with Padre Constantino to let them go to the city to enter a seminary. Triplets Inés, Perpetua, and Felicidad had been discerning to join the small convent in the Encanto. As children Aya had put on table napkins on their heads, pretending to be nuns.
Julieta had expected such a large family to be chaotic like her own. While it indeed had become chaotic sometimes, Aya's stories were full of joy that Julieta didn't remember experiencing in Casita. As Julieta stroked Aya's smooth, thick hair, it dawned on her how much Aya had actually lost. In the middle of an otherwise humorous story about Maximo whining because of a deep splinter in his toe, Aya started crying again—a little quieter this time. Julieta put her arm around her and kissed Aya's cheek.
