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The day before Antonio’s gift ceremony was a time of quite a turmoil in the Madrigals’ household.
Everything had to be perfect, as Alma was telling them at every opportunity and what Pepa, influenced by her mother’s words, keeps on telling too, whenever she got a chance.
When the rest of the family was caring about various arrangements and the final plans were being made, Julieta was in her kitchen, absorbed in her cooking, listening to some radio that played softly on her windowsill.
She decided to start preparing food earlier, because one, she had to cook a lot of food for their upcoming guests and two, she had to prepare some arepas and buñuelos for the townspeople in case of any injuries that - she was sure - they would have the next day.
It left her with thrice the work she’d normally do and, to be honest, she was glad that for the time being, Antonio was the only child in their family, because it meant no upcoming gift ceremonies and no need to spend two full days (though as she was getting older, cooking seemed to take her more time, even if she was quite skilled at that point) in the kitchen.
She spun around, humming along with the melody that she heard, to put down another plate of food that had to cool off before she would proceed with further preparation of her dishes.
She looked out of her window as she heard some crack and soon enough, a small branch fell down and a twirl of some birds filled the air.
She shook her head.
It seemed that all those little birds visited her just as she was preparing some of her recipes, especially those where she used seeds and nuts as if they were counting on getting some leftovers.
Sometimes, she would let them have a little feast on her windowsill but today was not the day. She had no time for giving them anything and she didn’t know how many of the ingredients she’d need.
“Come later,” she said to them, waving her hand gently. “Or go to señora Valencia, mi pequeños amigos, she would–”
A crash, a bang, a few seconds of silence, and then some commotion upstairs.
Julieta frowned, looking in the direction of her kitchen’s door, waiting for a few seconds, expecting Agustín to show up anytime with some new injury to heal.
His seeing had gotten worse lately and his glasses weren’t that precise anymore, so he decided he’d go to replace them with a new pair after Antonio’s gift ceremony and until then, he had to be more careful as he seemed even more clumsy now than ever.
But Agustín didn’t show up and she heard some steps on the wooden floor upstairs, then on the stairs and soon enough, she heard Camilo. “Ay, Mira, maybe you’re not the only one in a need of new glasses, huh?”
“Funny,” Mirabel answered with a hint of sarcasm and after a while, both teens appeared at the threshold of the kitchen.
“ Tía Julieta, I need your arepa! And some tweezers, I guess!” Camilo looked at her, guiding Mirabel inside. “Mira has just had a little accident. Nothing you can’t handle.”
Mirabel shot him a look and Camilo wriggled one eyebrow at her, then bowed dramatically and disappeared from the room.
Julieta approached her daughter, a worried frown on her forehead. “What happened, mi amor?”
Mirabel looked at her. “I, umm–,” she started. “Well, I tripped into the mirror that Abuela wanted to be moved to her room and, uh, the mirror is broken and my back–”
Julieta didn’t even wait for her daughter to finish the sentence. Quickly, she walked around her, then look at her back and gasped, quite horrified. “Oh, mija! You’re bleeding!”
“Yes, well, it shattered as I fell on it but that’s okay–”
“Okay? No, no,” Julieta touched her cheeks, stroking her face gently, delicately, then kissed her forehead. “Just be calm, don’t move, I’ll wash my hands and then I’ll help you.”
As she was sluicing her hands, she heard a gasp. Sharply, she glanced over her shoulder at Mirabel who was trying to remove her shirt.
“Don’t move!” she warned, her voice sharp but worried. “Don’t move, Mira, you’ll hurt yourself more.”
“Sorry, Ma,” Mirabel’s voice was quiet.
Julieta immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry, hija, it just hurts me to see you like that,” she said, drying her hands in the towel and walking back to her, tweezers in one hand and the magnifying glass in the other.
She could heal, it was true, but her gift didn’t work that miraculously. It didn’t remove anything that cause the injury from the body, so before she’d give anyone any of her food, she had to make sure the wounds would heal properly.
It wasn’t the most pleasant for any of her patients or for her, but it had to be done.
Mirabel sighed as Julieta unlaced the back of her shirt. “Just a little longer,” she said gently, then guided Mirabel to one of her tables. “Lean forward, mi corazón. I need to have a look in a better light. I’m not that young anymore.”
Mirabel huffed but Julieta could tell it was a huff of disagreement and she smiled briefly until her eyes took in the sight of her daughter’s injured skin.
“Ay, it doesn’t look good,” she said, her heart beating a little faster in her chest.
It was always like that when it came to Mirabel and all of the injuries she had over the years. Julieta couldn't help but worry for her the most as she was the youngest and in her eyes, still a little baby.
As Julieta started to pull out the shards of the mirror, each of her movements gentle and slow, not to make her daughter too uncomfortable, she remembered all the similar situations they had.
For example, when Mirabel was just five years old - a few weeks after her failed gift ceremony - there had been a festival in Encanto. Mirabel and Camilo had spent the afternoon together, playing and running all around their village until they had separated because some townfolks had wanted Camilo to make a show for them. His shapeshifting had still been fun to watch for them.
Mirabel had disappeared then for a few minutes and she had shown up, crying, her face all reddened and her eyes puffy, because there had been two bloody scratches on her knees as she had informed her worried parents she had tripped and fallen on her knees as she had been running after one of the dogs.
Julieta still remembered that she had given her one of her buñuelos - Mirabel’s then favourites - to heal her scraps and then had kissed both of her knees to make her feel better.
Mirabel hissed as Julieta pulled out one long sharp that cut quite deep into her skin. “I’m sorry, Mira. It was a big one. Don’t move, please.”
“Mhm.”
Julieta wiped up some droplets of blood that spilt from a few small cuts and returned to her work.
There was another situation, about two years after the first. It had been the day Isabela had her flower show in their village. All of the townspeople had been looking forward to the occasion, to admire her works, her colourful flowers and all the designs she was able to do.
Mirabel had been under the weather that whole day but she had come to her sister’s show and as Isabela’s performance had been coming to the climax, Mirabel had slipped from the flower swing Isabela had done for her and she had twisted her ankle.
After that, Julieta had taken her to the side, given her an arepa and stayed with her, making sure that the ankle hadn’t hurt anymore and that it had been perfectly healed.
“Ay, Mira,” she said, trying to pull out one of the shards that stubbornly didn’t want to move. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“Okay, Mamá.”
“My little girl,” Julieta said quietly, checking the back of her neck for any cuts. “Here’s another one.”
Julieta remembered more. When Mirabel was ten and Antonio had just been born, Julieta had helped her sister with taking care of the infant. Pepa had been exceptionally tired after having Antonio and she had been grateful for any help while she had been recovering and Julieta had been more than happy to help her sister.
Little Antonio had been a demanding baby but he seemed to calm down whenever Julieta had taken care of him, so she had done it often, as often as she could have, whenever she had the time to do so.
Sometimes Mirabel would have helped her, but Julieta was sure her youngest hadn’t been thrilled by her younger cousin. One day, Antonio had colic and Julieta hadn’t had any food that the few weeks old could have eaten, so she had to use traditional methods.
She had sung to him, she had been rocking him, she had been walking with him all around the house, focusing her whole attention on the baby because she had been sure Mirabel and Camilo had been fully capable of taking care of themselves at that age but then, in one second, Antonio’s crying had been outshouted with Mirabel’s crying.
She had come crying for her Mamá. It had turned out she had fallen down the stairs and she had been sore from the fall, and she had hoped Julieta would ease her pain. She had been scared, Julieta could have said, as she had clung to her, not leaving her side for even a second. Julieta had kept her eye on her youngest then, just to make sure she really had been alright.
“Ouch!” Mirabel hissed and Julieta took her hands away.
“What is it, mija?”
“It stings, Mamá,” Mirabel replied quietly.
“I will kiss it better, then,” Julieta leaned down and kissed the clean skin on her daughter’s shoulder blade. “Better?” she asked with a smile.
Mirabel nodded. “Yeah,” she said, a smile evident in the tone of her voice. “Gracias.”
“Always, mi amor,” she answered, looking for more cuts. “A few more and we’re done.”
“Good, my arms are slowly going numb, Mami.”
“Pff, you’re younger than me, stop complaining!” she said lightly, then asked innocently. “But would your arms feel better when your Mamá hugs you?”
Mirabel chuckled.
Julieta prodded her back with her index finger. “Ay, don’t hunch!”
“Sorry, Mamá!” she answered, straightening her back and hissing immediately.
“Not that fast, Mirabel!” Julieta scolded her. “You need to be careful now.”
“Si, I know, Mamá.”
Julieta shook her head and moved on to remove the last shards of the mirror from Mirabel’s back.
As she pulled one out and saw a narrow trickle of blood going down Mirabel’s back, she was, rather unpleasantly, reminded of one of her worst memories concerning her youngest and her health issues.
Mirabel was about twelve then. It had been quite an unusual day because it had been the day of the wedding in their village. Weddings were always great celebrations there, with the whole village coming to the event.
It had been no different then.
Isabela had been in charge of decorating, of course, as her flower designs had been a must-have on every occasion, so she had spent a whole morning on arranging flowers around the village, in their church, in front of the church and where the guests had to been moved after the ceremony.
As always, she had gathered quite the audience to witness her efforts and as she had been flowing graciously around and blooming colourful flowers here and there, people had been ecstatic.
There had been clapping and whistles and happy shouts and praises, until Isabela had stopped, gasping loudly, and all the people gasped with her, and she had cried. “ Mamá, Mirabel’s spitting blood!”
Julieta remembered as she had rushed to her youngest’s side, as she tried to grasp what had happened that Mirabel had been spitting blood and saliva that reminded her of foam after washing dishes.
Mirabel hadn’t told them but the very same day, when Mirabel had gone to sleep and Julieta had been checking on her, Isabela had told her that it had looked like poisoning after eating one of her flowers. That it had been good Julieta reacted quickly because it had been a deadly plant.
Those were her worst memories, along with Bruno’s disappearance and Mirabel’s failed gift ceremony.
When her girls were hurt - and especially Mirabel - it was just too much to bear for the motherly heart. And Mirabel got injured most of her sisters. Of all her cousins, truth be told.
Julieta often wondered if it was because of the fact that she was the only one that - besides Agustín - wore glasses, so maybe it was connected to her worse eyesight.
But then, as the last shard was removed from Mirabel’s skin and Julieta soaked one gauze in alcohol to cleanse the cuts - some realization came to her with a speed higher than that of Pepa’s mood swings.
She stopped, glancing at Mirabel, frowning, recalling some dates, checking wordlessly if her observations were correct which they were, then started wiping the blood away from Mirabel’s back, still hesitating.
It couldn’t be true, could it?
Could her daughter hurt herself on purpose?
All of her serious injuries were happening when the attention was on some of her other family members - specifically on those who had some kind of gift and who were in the centre of attention.
But could it be?
Or maybe she was just exaggerating?
Julieta stopped and her whole body went still. “Mirabel, mi amor,” she started and Mirabel stilled as well at the tone of her voice. “How did it happen, exactly?”
“I told you, Mami,” Mirabel answered swiftly. “I fell onto the mirror and it crushed.”
“Si, you told me as much,” Julieta laced Mirabel’s shirt again, then, as her daughter straightened slowly, reached for one arepa to heal the wounds. “But how did it happen?”
“Well, I was deep in thoughts and I–I tripped–”
Julieta handed her one arepa. “You know that I don’t like it when you lie to me, Mirabel.”
Mirabel turned to face her, glancing at her eyes, then taking offered food. “I don’t lie to you. I’ve tripped. It happens.”
“ Mirabel. ”
Mirabel swallowed visibly but say nothing, biting her arepa slowly. She still didn’t look into Julieta’s eyes.
Julieta waited patiently, one hand on her hip, the other on the tabletop.
Mirabel was taking her time, that much was sure.
“Gracias, Mami,” she said as she ate everything. “I need to go.”
“No.”
Mirabel stopped, looking at her with some fear in her eyes.
Julieta sighed, reaching out with her arms. “Come here.”
She didn’t move.
Julieta raised one eyebrow. “Mirabel?”
“I–I really need to go.”
“Are you in hurry?”
“Yes, actually I–um, señora García asked me to look after Julio and Marcia today and–”
Julieta raised her other eyebrow. “Really? That’s interesting. I was sure señora García told me two days ago that she and her niños had to leave Encanto to visit her suegros the next day. That next day was yesterday.”
Mirabel chuckled nervously. “No, no, you’re wrong, Mami, they leave tomorrow!”
Julieta tilted her head, worry visible on her face. “Mira,” she said gently, stepping closer to her daughter. “I think we need to talk. Do you want to talk?”
Mirabel glanced at her. “Talk about what?”
“I’d like to know that,” she searched her daughter’s face for any clue but found nothing. “What’s going on, mi corazón?”
“Can you drop it?”
“I worry about you,” she countered, almost pleading with her youngest. Her conscience wouldn't rest if she didn’t know. “I’d like to know what’s happening to my daughter, since it’s nothing good, apparently.”
Mirabel was silent.
“Mira,” she started again, stopping in front of her, touching her shoulder. “I’m your mother and I worry about you,” she said, moving her hands to her daughter’s cheeks, to cup her face gently. “I love you, my little estrella. Don’t shut me down when I want to help you, please.”
Mirabel blinked rapidly, but tears spilt from her eyes anyway. “Sorry, Mami, I didn’t want to scare you–”
Julieta shook her head. “Don’t think about me,” she said gently, wiping the tears away with her thumb. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
But Mirabel just laughed grimly through her tears. “I–I don’t know.”
“Don’t you?”
“I mean–” she stopped, her breathing loud as she wiped. “I mean, I didn’t trip. I actually did it on purpose. I fell at that mirror on purpose.”
Julieta frowned. “But why?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said, not looking at her, but focusing on the floor. “You just– no.”
“Please, please, talk to me, Mirabel,” she begged once again. “You know I’m always here for you, right? I love you so much. Don’t be afraid of me. Nothing’s gonna change my heart.”
Mirabel’s lower lip trembled at that, as she looked at her mother. “It’s– Everyone in our familia has a gift, everyone in our familia has a purpose in life. Everyone is useful and tomorrow it will be Antonio’s turn to help Encanto and–and here I am, a useless obstacle!”
Julieta’s heart stopped at that and then, thundered with double the strength and sound than before. “No, that’s not true!” she said, lowering her hands as Mirabel started shaking her head.
“It is,” Mirabel answered, more tears flowing down her face. “Camilo shapeshifts and people in t–town love him because he can make them laugh, Luisa is out there, helping everyone with the hardest of tasks, Isa–bela is admired because of her stupid flowers , tía Pepa helps with the crops, you can heal the in–injuries and sny sickness, Dolores has a super-hearing and surely, Antonio will get something amazing too, and there’s Mirabel - little, poor, giftless–” a sharp breath. “–Mirabel who’s never important, who’s never needed because the miracle didn’t consider her worthy!”
Julieta was stunned. She couldn’t move. Her eyes were wide open and not blinking, her breath quiet and short, her fingers unmoving at Mirabel’s shoulders.
And Mirabel was quiet. Her eyes were puffy, but blinking and focused on her mother, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, her face wet from tears.
They stood like that for a while, until finally, Julieta blinked and a few tears fell down her cheeks. “Oh, mi amor,” she said and her voice broke a little. “Mija, I’m so sorry.”
“Mami?”
“I’m so sorry you must have felt like that,” she clarified, bringing her hand back to Mirabel’s face. “Oh, I’m so very sorry!”
“That’s not–” but words failed her and Mirabel wordlessly fell into Julieta’s arms, seeking a warm embrace and her similar smell. “No, Mami. You’re the best mother I could ever get. That’s not your fault, don’t–” her breath hitched. “Don’t cry, please.”
Julieta brushed her hand through Mirabel’s dark locks. “But it is! I should have done more so that you wouldn’t feel any less loved. Mi amor, will you forgive me?”
“ Mamá, I–” she breathed, squeezing her mother tighter. “Do you remember when I scratched both my knees or when I fell off Isa’s swing or when I ate that flower–”
“You ate it intentionally?” Julieta was terrified. “Mirabel, you could have died that day!”
“I didn’t want to!” she said. “I didn’t think– I just wanted to have your attention for a while–”
“Mirabel, you can always have my attention,” she whispered to her, kissing her forehead. “I’m always here where you need me. Always. You don’t have to–”
“But I was always so jealous because of their gifts and I felt so worthless when the town got wild over our miracle, and I–” a hic. “I wanted your love and attention all to myself. I wanted to feel loved and cared for by you, Mami. I'm sorry.”
“No, no, don’t apologize,” Julieta said, now crying too and Mirabel leaned back, now wiping Julieta’s tears away while still crying herself. “It’s not your fault, not at all–”
“And today–” Mirabel whispered. “Antonio’s getting his gift tomorrow and today I just– snapped. It’s so childish, I know, I shouldn't, I’m sorry–”
“No, mi estrella, no, stop apologizing,” Julieta said, bringing their foreheads together. “We failed you, Mira. And for that, I’m sorry. I love you so much. Please, when you have a problem, just come to me. Don’t hurt yourself. I can’t–can’t bear looking at you when you’re in pain.”
“Mami–”
“Promise mi, hija. Promise me you’ll be honest with me.”
“I promise.”
Julieta kissed her forehead and embraced her tightly away, resting her cheek on her daughter’s head.
Mirabel’s hair smelled like herbs and it calmed her down a little, but just a little bit.
Her head was full of worry about her youngest, about her problems, about her well-being and she knew it wouldn’t disappear anytime soon.
“I love you, Mamá,” came Mirabel’s whisper.
“I love you more, mija.”
Mirabel sniffed and Julieta sniffed too, her heart breaking all over again.
She was glad later, when Casita was slowly getting asleep, that Agustín didn’t question Mirabel’s presence in their bed that night.