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Everything should be perfect. The casita was rebuilt. The cracks were gone. The miracle was alive. The family was happy.
Yet, Bruno was still… adjusting.
He had known he would have to get used to the daily routines and catch up on everything he’s missed. Time was lost when he banished himself to the walls of the house for ten years. It was only natural.
What he didn’t anticipate was forgetting all the small stuff.
There were times he talked aloud to himself, lost in his thoughts. It was only when he noticed how quiet it had become that he’d realize he was eating dinner with the family. A place where he was meant to speak to other people.
Or sometimes he’d feel like someone said something unlucky, and without thinking he’d knock on wood. After stuttering through some nonsense explanation he usually managed to escape with some half-baked excuse about having to go help someone.
And speaking of baking, Julieta was continually perturbed with the amount of food he ate.
“You don’t eat enough, hermano! You’re skin and bones. You’re like a rat whenever you eat,” she told him, for the millionth time this week. She was right, of course. Now that he could see how much everybody else ate it was becoming more and more obvious that he had not kept himself fed enough. Even Pepa commented on how he seemed to be drowning in his rauna.
He’s been avoiding having this conversation for a week and a half. He knows it’s not kind of him to brush his sister off, especially when she’s only worried, but fear clogs his throat whenever he thinks about telling her.
She was going through her speech again when she looked at him with pleading eyes and asked, “Is there something I’m doing wrong? Do you not like what I’m cooking?” Bruno’s eyes widened. He couldn’t stand the self-doubt in her voice, the fear that she isn’t good enough for this family.
No one else should feel like they aren’t good enough for this family.
“No, no! I just…” he looked away. “I‘ve been living in the walls for a- ah… a long time, and there isn’t much food in there. It’s difficult for me to feel hungry now after all of… that.” Immediately burning shame rised to his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though that would stop him from seeing the truth. He was still a burden on his family. He couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t protect them right, couldn’t even manage to eat right.
Strong hands caught his shoulders, and before he could protest he found himself in Julieta’s arms.
Not many would think it, but kitchen work makes anyone strong. Julieta may not be as strong as Luisa, but her arms were sturdy from years of rollling doughs and stirring pots. Her hands were calloused from wooden spoons and handling knives.
Bruno couldn’t help but think about this as he felt those arms wrap snugly around his sides and back. He focused on the way his ribs felt a little tight, as though after laughing too hard. He noticed the way the pressure on his back forced him into Julieta, as though there was no other possible place he belonged. Most of all, he felt those rough hands making small circles on his back, soothing his aching thoughts.
His breath seemed to catch in his throat for a moment. His arms refused to work. He knew he should return the hug. He knew he should show some indication that he returned her affection. But all he could do was rest his head on her shoulder and relish in the sheer warmth that he felt. It’s like he’s never actually been warm in his life until he was encased his his sister’s arms.
When Julieta finally pulled away, it was with tears in her eyes. Bruno jumped, hurriedly apologizing. She shook her head, silencing Bruno. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry we pushed you away. I wish more than anything that we didn’t do this to you.”
“You didn’t do this,” he shook his head. “It was my decision. I saw the vision and I decided to do this. I needed to protect Mirabel.”
She gave a short, broken sort of laugh. “I could never thank you enough for protecting my mija, but you never would have felt you needed to do that if we hadn’t made you feel unwelcome. This all could have been avoided had we just accepted you. Had we been able to see you.”
Bruno didn’t know how to respond. There was nothing he could say to lessen the blow of that truth.
Distantly, the church bell rung. The children laughed and screamed in joy as they celebrated the end of another school day. The noise softened the thick tension in the air like a mother’s voice to a distraught child.
Julieta seemed to hesitate, unwilling to break the silence. Just when Bruno thought she wouldn’t say anything at all, she asked, “Why have you been hiding this?”
“I…” Bruno sighed, knocking gently on the wooden table, “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want there to be another thing I can’t do right.”
“Oh, hermano,” she said, “we care about you. It’s okay if you need our help sometimes.”
Bruno shook his head, a pained sort of sound escaping him when he attempted to argue.
She shook her head, refusing to break eye contact.“We love you, Bruno. We want to know when you need our help. We want to help you.”
Tears fell from Bruno’s eyes. If there’s something he didn’t forget, it was the sticky feeling of tear-stained cheeks and the inexplicable dryness associated with crying.
Bruno watched, with something akin to fascination, as Julieta’s hand softly cupped his cheek and wiped his tears with her calloused thumb. The gesture felt both familiar and completely foreign. As though he knew he’d felt this, some time long ago, but could no longer recall any memory of it besides the lingering feeling of being loved that never truely fades from a gentle touch.
When no more tears fell, she pulled her hand away. Bruno, still slightly awestruck, whispered, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she flattened the front of her dress, looking away. “I’m glad you’re here now.”
“I’m glad I’m here, too.”
“But!” She exclaimed, determination crossing her features, “you are going to eat more! For now on you eat six times a day! I expect you to eat as much as you can at every meal and come to me for food between meals. If you do not, I will drag you by the ear in the middle of town and force you to help in my kitchen at the crack of dawn for a week. Understand?”
The only thing missing was a knife to his throat and then the threat would have been complete. “Sì, sì, hermana,” he said through a grin.
“Good.” She moved to the counter where there was dough layed out. “Now I’ll need help with getting dinner ready on time, so go wash your hands.”
“Yes, Julieta.”
“And there better be no rats in your rauna!”
“Impossible!”
“Make it possible or I’m sicking Antonio on them.”
Bruno gasped as though taking offense to the gentle teasing, and left to get ready to help with dinner.