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Piercing screams.
Fire filled Pepa Madrigals veins, as her cloud drenched her dress. She’s learned over time to wear ones that wouldn’t get ruined by such a common occurrence.
Unfortunately, another thing she’s learned, is that she can’t ever really show her feelings. At least in front of her Mama. Years of unquestioned looks, and small comments about ‘why she can’t act more like Julieta’ build up over time.
And she knows, that no matter what, her Autism will always be a disadvantage in her mother’s eyes.
She’s made peace with that over time
But she’ll be damned, if she lets her Daughter go through the same thing.
Dolores was beautiful in every way, and to learn she’s been subjected to the same treatment Pepa was?
Oh, now Encantos in for a little storm.
And Abeulas the target.
She left her daughter upstairs with Isabella. As much as confrontation might have scared Dolores, it was confrontation that was long overdue.
Pepa understood that in doing so, all those unhealed wounds she tried so hard to cover up, would be torn open, painful and bleeding.
But she would gladly do it all in a heartbeat, if it meant her daughter could get a reprieve.
She vaguely felt the cool touch of water on her skin, her cloud was probably the size of a donkey by now.
Family members saw her storming in, hastily making exits. Or just looking on with fear and apprehension.
Pepa did not hold it against them. She knew they loved her, and that’s all that mattered.
Also, ahem, she could look downright terrifying when she wanted too.
“Camilo!” She stated, grabbing the back of her sons ruana before he could escape.
“Y-yes Mami?” He stuttered, “Are you ok? I can go make you some tea?”
Pepa forced herself to calm down, rhythmically chanting ‘clear skies’ until most of her cloud faded away. She did not want to scare her children.
She managed a small smile, running a hand through her sons curly hair.
“Im ok love bug, i just really want to know where Abuela is?”
Camilo, narrowed his eyes, “What did Abuela do?”
Ok, now she let a little more cloud seep in.
“That is none of your business Hijo,” she was tapping her foot rapidly, Pepa could feel the vibration, “Just kindly point me in her direction and I’ll be on my way.”
His expression softened, glancing upstairs silently.
“Is it about Dolores?”
Pepa sighed, “Has she mentioned anything to you?”
“No,” he shook his head softly, “But I see the way Abuela looks at her when she squeaks, or mentions her sensitivities.”
Camilo looked up, eyes radiating pain and wonder, “Mama? Did Abuela ever do that to you?”
The woman bit her lip, offering a weak smile, “Still does. Coriñito…. But you needn’t worry about your Mama, that’s my cross to bear.”
Her son made a noise of sadness, rushing to wrap his gangly arms around her waist.
“I’m sorry Mama.”
Pepa forced down a sob, hugging her son tightly. Trying to summon all her strength, and push down tears she know will arise later on.
“I am too.”
Camilo pushes back for a moment, gazing at her with such concern it both breaks and warms her little heart.
“Mama, you know I love you no matter what right?” He whispered, “I don’t care if you stim? Or act a little differently then others? Your my Mama and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She let out a noise in the back of her throat, as a few tears managed to push past her lashes.
That’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear. And here her son is saying it to her directly. Oh her heart. Bless her beating heart.
“Thank you Camilo.” She hushes out, hastily wiping her tears, “Thank you.”
He nods, pointing to his right, “Abeula should be in familia room? Want me to give you some space?”
“If you could keep people away that would be preferable. I probably will be storming more then I would like.”
He nods again, scampering off before she can say anything else, or Burst into tears. Either one works.
Pepa takes a second to regroup herself. She can feel her emotions threatening to overtake. Feels the quivering in her chest and the numb tingle behind her ears.
Dios mio! Come on Pepa! This is for your daughter! Stop thinking about yourself!”
She takes a long shuddering breath, and forces her feelings down. The less she feels about this. The better.
This is for Dolores. This doesn’t relate to you.
Dolores is the only one in pain right now.
Or at least that’s what she tells herself, to keep herself going.
“Ok Pepa Madrigal!” She rolls up imaginary sleeves, “Feel the fire! You are a master of weather! You are the lightening itself! Now someone has hurt your precious little cariño ángel? Are you going to stand for that? NO! What are you going to do?! I’m going to RIP THEIR FACE OFF!”
With a battle cry, she lets her cloud above grow grey and threatening. Feels the static lift her bangs off her face.
Good. It would allow her to see Mama cower all the more!
Pepa storms forward, steps thundering, and breath ragged. Turning the corners roughly till she finally makes it to the Familia room.
It’s their she sees her Mama, peacefully reading a book. Completely unaware of the pain she’s caused her oldest Coriñito.
“MAMA!” She shrieks.
Abuela jumps, hastily standing to her feet to gaze at her middle child.
She can see the apprehension and worry in her eyes.
“Pepa,” she scolds weakly, “You have a cloud.”
Pepa is boiling, feels it in every pulse of her blood.
“I am aware, mama,” she takes a couple of breaths, “You need to STOP!”
Abuela looks confused, “S-stop what Mi Hija?”
“Stop this, stop everything! Stop the looks you keep giving Dolores! My sweet daughter!”
“I’m not giving her any looks?” The matriarch cocks her head, “What are you going on about?”
Pepa is trembling from anger. Wants her mom to understand. Wants her to understand just how much she’s hurt her-Dolores.
“You don’t like it when she squeaks, you don’t like it when she gets overwhelmed. Or mentions her ears. You make a face every time. And make her feel as if she’s lesser. Lesser for being who she is.”
Abuela averts her gaze, “Well it’s not common behavior.”
Pepa nearly breaks, she’s so tired Of implications and softly mumbled statements.
“It doesn’t MATTER what’s common to you! This is your grandchild. This is your familia! Your making her feel as if it’s shameful to be the way she is!”
“We’ll it’s not natural!” Her mother argues, “To act and talk like the way she does. She doesn’t act like Isabella? Or Luisa? It’s my job to try and show her the right way to be! The Madrigal way!”
Pepa wants to break. Wants to scream aimlessly. Wants to tear out her hair and bare her soul. She knows what her mother is saying. She knows it. Because she’s gone through it her entire life.
“NO! Mama! That is my job! Dolores is not your child. And bless her soul, she’s too sweet to anything back! So you isolate her out with disapproving glances!”
Abuela sniffs, “I definitely don’t isolate her.”
“You do!” She waves her arms frantically, as if to help her point, “Because of the way she was born. You decided she wasn’t good enough for the madrigal name! And I’m saying that you are DONE doing that!”
Her mama pauses, “I-I certainly don’t think that? H-how do you know she feels that way? Has she told you?”
Oh how she wishes. How she wishes she could confidently say those words. Prove her mother wrong. Do something.
“Honestly no. She hasn’t said those words specifically. She said you make her feel as if she wasn’t Normal, because she’s not like Isabella. Oh Mama if you could see the pain you caused her. The inner tourmoil.”
Abeula is silent. Not speaking for a while.
It drives Pepa mad, so to quell her rousing nerves, she’d frantically strokes her braid. Rocking back and forth on her heels. It’s typically what soothes her. But right now it’s not doing much.
And then she sees it.
Unconsciously, her mother is making that expression that’s been ingrained into her brain. The one that haunts her dreams and stalks her person.
Immediately she has a flashback back to her youth.
***
Young Pepa is giggling, Running along with her sister and Brother as their Mother shops in the market.
Their is just so many things! So many colors, so many sounds! It’s all so interesting and amazing to the girl. Who runs after Bruno as he climbs on top of a crate.
“Bruno! Get down! Your going to hurt yourself!” Julieta warns, always the healthier of the family.
“Your just upset cause you didn’t think of it first! See! Pepa thinks I’m cool!”
Pepa herself just giggles once again. It has been clear skies all day, and her Mother had been so proud.
Right now she just enjoys the light breeze, matching it with the sway of her hands, and the rhythmic suck on the end of her braid.
Her feet flicker out, and her hands pick up tempo. Bruno must see something he likes. Because he starts copying her. Flapping his hands and jumping up and down.
They don’t notice the whispers of passerby, or the odd stares from other children.
Julieta, who has been raised with them since birth, finds nothing odd in their behavior. But she does notice the whispers, anxiously glancing around.
The world has disappeared for Pepa. She’s in a pure happy bliss. Moving her body to the tempo of her surroundings.
“GU-“ she is brutally yanked out of her world by her mother. Hand clenched near painfully around her pale arm.
“Dios Mio! Pepa you stop that this instant! People are staring! You don’t see Julieta acting that way do you?!”
Her tone is rough, and Pepa is blearily glancing around at all the judgmental faces, lip quivering.
“I-I don’t know what I did wrong? Me and Bruno-“
“Bruno’s the youngest,” her mother stresses, “Your supposed to lead by example! Look at your sister. She’s very well behaved.”
Julieta shrinks under the unwanted attention. Gazing apologetically at Pepa.
“B-but what did I-“
“Your hands.” Alma gestures to her arms and feet, “You don’t just go waving them around! Keep them gentle.”
Pepa feels tears begin to well, her arm is hurting where her mom grips it. And that proud look she so thoroughly relished earlier, is brutally replaced by a new expression. She knows one thing at least.
It’s not happy.
And that’s when she started to learn just how wrong she was. How even though her mother wanted clear skies, it was odd when you chanted it. And how sucking on her braid was a childish habit she should have grown out of years ago.
She resorts to tugging on it. It still conjures up that look, but she can’t stop herself.
All she knows is that she’s wrong.
Her behavior wasn’t normal.
She should be more like Julieta.
She’s a disappointment. A embarrassant to the family.
“Little girls don’t suck on their fingers. Only infants!”
“Stop that Pepa! Gentle hands.”
“Act more like your sister.”
“Control your emotions. Clear skies.”
“You can’t chant that when we’re in public!”
All the words and looks she’s fought so hard to overlook. To shove deep down and forget about. To blindly slap a bandage over a bullet wound.
It’s all funneling back now.
****
All of a sudden Pepa is back in Casitas family room. Staring at her mother.
She is grown now.
She has children.
Dolores is like her.
And Alma doesn’t approve.
“You can’t put her through that anymore,” she whispers tensely, “You can’t look at my daughter as if she’s something to be ashamed off.”
Pepa looks up, fire in her eyes, “My daughter. Our Dolores, is a wonder to this world. She’s kind. And sweet. And caring. And is only trying to make everyone proud of her. She was given a gift that affects her daily. And makes do with what she can. She’s one of the four greatest things in my life. And I won’t allow you to do this anymore.”
Abuela nods slowly, “Dolores is defiantly an amazing Madrigal.”
She feels pained. Trying to force down the tears welling.
“Then why do you treat her like she’s anything less?”
And this time, it’s her mama who is struggling, who shows a sign of emotion.
“I-I don’t mean to make her feel less. I just want her to be less of an oddity to others.”
“But that’s the thing Mami,” Pepa stresses, “No matter how much you want it, Dolores will never be what you want. She will never be Isabella. She will never not squeak, or have sensitivities. She will always be herself. And I Love her just the way she is.”
She pulls on her braid even more, finding it stifling to contain her feelings. The cloud overhead is crackling with lightening. Ready to strike.
“I-I… I understand you might never be able to Love me the way I am. But I implore you, don’t do that to Dolores. She is your grandchild. She deserves all of your love. Just like the rest. Don’t subjugate her to shame and isolation. I won’t allow it.”
Abeula makes a noise of sadness, looking at her with such sorrow, “Hija… have you been feeling this too?”
Pepa blinks away a tear, trying to let anger take over instead.
“O-Of course I have! Everything I’m describing is what you put me through?! I’m the one who had to learn that I’d never be good enough in your eyes. That I was the abnormal daughter! The disappointment of a Madrigal!”
She’s yelling now, feels the storm getting heavier, but she doesn’t care, “Dolores is like me Mama! And I understand you don’t like it! Because you never liked me! You never like me for who I was! For what I did. And what I sounded like! I get it though, I understand! I’ve learned to accept it. B-but I SHOULDNT HAVE TOO!”
Pepas choking, killing herself not to break down. Tugging painfully on her hair and freezing her bones with a downpour of water.
She expects her Mama to get mad. React in someway. But instead she looks at her with wide eyes, and silently opens her arms.
“My dear Pepa,” Abeula croons softly, “I’m so so sorry. You shouldn’t have to have lived like that. I was wrong for treating you that way.”
She pauses, brows curling earnestly, “I love you. For you. Even though I wasn’t used to, or knowing of whatever you and Dolores had, I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I couldn’t see the individual worth you always possessed beyond your stims. You are Pepa Madrigal. My daughter. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It’s not what she was expecting, and that’s probably the reason she can’t hold her emotions back anymore. Anger she could combat.
But apologies? The words of validation she’s been waiting desperately to hear all of her life? It’s all to much.
Tears are streaming down her face, and Pepa doesn’t know how to process it.
“Y-you rejected me!” She spluttered, “You made me feel ashamed of myself! That I was broken!”
“I know, Gota de lluvia, I know.” Abeula is walking forward, arms beckoning her further.
“I just wanted you to love me!” She’s openly sobbing now, finger pressed to her moms shoulder.
“You-you-“
She can’t say anymore. Collapses into her mothers arms and cries for all she’s worth. Their both getting drenched in her rain cloud. But Abeula doesn’t show a sign of caring.
“Shhh,” her Mami soothes, “Their their, let it all out.”
Pepa wails, and thrashes, and tears at her hair. It’s a breakdown 45 years overdue, and it’s taking its toll.
Abeula braces her through it. Softly murmuring words of comfort and love.
She guides Pepas hands away from her hair, “Your hurting yourself Mi Coriño. I know your sad. I’m so sorry. But you can’t hurt yourself.”
Pepa just sobs unattractively, moving to place her hand in her mouth inside, trying to bite away the agony she couldn’t pull at anymore.
Theirs a murmuring behind her. She can’t see who it is. They probably think she’s having a mid life crisis.
To be fair she sorta was.
Abeula quickly shoos them away, “She’s ok. I’ve got her. I’ll bring her up soon.”
It’s probably Fèlix. Her amazing husband who never wanted her to be more then she was. Who loved her stims and her erratic nature.
God why did it take her mom this long to realize this!
It makes her cry twice as hard. Cry for all the pain she’s gone through. For every shameful comment. And every disappointed look.
Abeula clucks her tongue, “Oh my sweet sweet girl. I’m so sorry.”
Guiding hands move her hand out of her mouth.
“You’ll bleed.” Is her only explanation.
And logically Pepa knows she’s right. But she’s desperately trying to find some sort of outlet for all her pain.
And well, short bursts of physical pain was typically how she managed. Whether it be from tugging at her hair, or biting her nails till they bled. It soothed her to feel something that wasn’t her whole world crashing down.
She struggles in her moms arms. Wants to throw herself aimlessly at every hard surface. Her pain inside is too much. She can’t get away from it.
But Abeula hugs tighter, and gently lifts up the end of her braid.
Pepa momentarily stares at it in confusion. She already disapproved her tugging habit.
“It’s for you to bite on,” her mom whispers softly, “Just like when you were young.”
It’s surprisingly how hungrily she bites down, the old habit quickly becoming her only form of self soothing.
It’s a while they sit their. Pepa gets lost in the rhythmic sucking and the scent of her mother’s perfume. It’s so nice to be hugged by her, a comfort and validation she hasn’t received in ages. So she zones out into a foggy state, just trying to keep breathing.
After a while, she can hear her mama calling her.
“Pepa,” Abeula hushes, “It’s nearly dinner. I assumed you’d want me to tell you?”
Pepa jerks upwards, Braid falling out of her mouth softly. Everything seems so blurry. She rubs her eyes, but it’s still the same.
“I think you summoned some fog.” Her Mami informs helpfully.
“Oh.”
She raises her hands, and waves them around, letting her head clear up along with the ghostly whiteness.
It reveals the Familia room. Both her and Abeula sitting on the carpet.
A sudden spike of embarrassment hits her face, and she looks guilty back to her mother.
“Lo siento, Mama. I didn’t mean to keep you.”
Abeula smiles kindly, “Don’t worry about it Dewdrop. I’m glad we had this talk.”
“Y-you are?”
“Yes,” she nods, “Till now, I didn’t understand the pain I was truly causing you. And now Dolores. I’m so sorry I ever did that. I’ll never do it again. I promise.”
Pepa shakes her head. Wondering if this is all some crazy dream. And when she’ll wake up.
But the chatter of her familia is real. And the smell of her sisters cooking fills her head. And it’s all to good to be true.
And that’s the thing. It’s real! It’s real and the thought makes her stand and spin in delight.
Her hands are waving, and it’s on pure habitual instinct that she stops, glancing at her Mom nervously.
Abeula just chuckles, “No, no! Don’t stop on my account! It’s nice to see you smile.”
She makes a shooing motion with her hands. And Pepa can’t help the excited squeal that leaves her.
She helps her mother stand. Before giving her a hug.
“Thank you,” she whispers, “thank you for finally understanding.”
“Of course my sweet. I’m sorry I didn’t before.”
They part. And Abeula looks hesitantly at the kitchen.
“I suppose I should apologize to Dolores as well now.”
Pepa nods, “She’d appreciate that.”
“I’ll wait till tomorrow,” her Mami concludes, “from what I saw, her and Isabella seem to be going through something.”
“What happened?”
Abeula shrugs, “I don’t know, I was focused on you.”
She moves to apologize, but her mother cuts her off.
“And don’t you dare apologize. It was no bother to be here.”
Pepa tugs at her braid slightly, feeling a smile make its way on her face. It would take some time to get used to hearing that. But it would be time we’ll spent.
“I-I love you Mami.”
“Y yo a ti, hija.”