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Hugging you takes some practice.
So I'll start out with a cactus.
ーPorcupines, Marilyn Singer.
How do you mend a relationship that has been so ruined, you didn't know where to start?
Mending was Mirabel’s specialty, Isabela mused. Figuratively and literally. When she was six, Mamá taught her how to mend her own pillow. It had been a cactus, Isabela remembered, and it had been so worn out because Mirabel had cuddled with it every night while she slept.
While Mirabel's little fingers had worked on the needle and thread, Julieta's voice calmly asked why she favored the pillow so much. Mirabel, head quietly focused on said stitches, had said that the cactus reminded her of Isabela. Leave it to her youngest sister to figure things out before she did. Maybe the glasses do help with her observation.
It was Mirabel who reached out to her first. Always has been. Isabela never had the courage to take the first step. On the night of the ceremony, she hesitated on the nursery's door, but one look from Alma made her retract to her own. On breakfast, Dolores had told her that Mirabel had cried all night long, and not even Julieta and Agustín's calls went answered. The absence of her youngest sister at the table felt like a stab.
And Tío Bruno was gone.
Breakfast was silent, which was something unusual for the Madrigals. The adults were tryingーIsabella could see that. Even as an eleven years old, she could see the lines at Mamá's face, the obvious ways her Tía kept muttering 'clear skies', and the way Papá and Tío Félix looked like they wanted to fall apart then and there.
Worst of all was Abuela. Abuela looked hardened, Isabela knew that look. It's the look that she wore when she was recounting the stories of Abuelo. It was a hardened mask of sadness.
( Isabela didn't understand what grief was then. She was eleven, and she was very much loved .)
So Isabela did what eleven years old kids do when they see an adult sad: she thought of something that would cheer them up. So, with an utmost concentration on her face, she summoned a rose, and silently presented it to her Abuela.
The way her eyes lit up, albeit for a moment, and the praises that fell from her lips made Isabela's head dizzy. Her Mamá was not short on compliments, but compliments from Abuela were rare.
So Isabela basked in the attention before she gave the rest of the adult flowers, too. Most of them took it and complimented her, and she beamed. Her Papà even puts on his blazer.
For a while, she forgot all her problems. She forgot Mirabel's crying, and her Tío's missing. There's only the world of colorful flowers and praises. She sat back on her seat, proud of herself. Though it was only a while, the tension lessened, and conversation soon entered the table again.
(When she and Dolores were recounting this story years later, they realized that most of the adults were glad for those distractions, because they were avoiding the elephant in the roomーMirabel and Tío Bruno.)
From then on, flowers had been her personality. Isabela was freely experimenting up until that point. But seeing that flowers were the one that gave her the praises, the nodded encouragement, and the smiles, she couldn't help herself.
Isabela wanted to be a good girl. So she made rows and rows of roses.
***
"Mamá, does Isa hate me?"
Isabela stopped in her tracks. She had been walking back from the village, someone needed a flower arrangement for their wedding and Isabela was happy to help. She had been Encanto's resident flower girl, and this one occasion was no exception, and the one she didn't mind either. Valeria was a lovely woman and their baker, and she was always so sweet to Isabela and her sisters.
Discussing flowers with Valeria had been a delight. She had not only thanked Isabela, but offered her the many treats that she had baked in her shops. Isabela politely declined, but the more she declined, the more the woman insisted. At some point she threatened Isabela to empty out her store.
Isabela laughed, a perfect, poised, polite laugh. She had been practicing, partly by mimicking her mom, partly by observing the adults reaction to her own gestures. By now, she knew which ones earned smiles and compliments the most, the adoring stares, the doting replies. Sometimes, it gets tiring to do that, but she, as a Madrigal, had a reputation to uphold.
A reputation she could not bear to lose.
The woman rolled her eyes, but still insisted that she took something for her help. She sighed, realizing that she could not walk away freely from Valeria's request. She darted her eyes across the store, and that's when her eyes caught Pastel de Gloria lined up on the shelf. Mirabel's favorite. Every time Mamá made one, she would be the one that snatched the pastry before anyone else had a chance to.
So Isa made a decision. She asked for the pastry, and had to stop Valeria from giving her a basketful of them. She still gave her a lot though, and Isabela was excited to share it with her sisters. Ever since she got her gift, she got busier and busier and barely had any time to spend with them. Especially Mirabel. Ever since her ceremony, they had been tiptoeing around each other.
And now her own sister thought that she hated her. Isabela gripped the handle of her basket tightly, while still hiding in her position, behind the wall in Casita's living room. Her sister and her mother were cooking, something that they do a lot nowadays. Come to think about it, they spent a lot of time together after the ceremony. It's as if their mom wanted her daughter to know that she was not alone, that she was still included.
Julieta stopped stirring the pot. The ajiaco smells wonderful, and Isa's stomach growls. She thanked the heavens that Dolores was not nearby. She continued listening to the conversation, paying attention to how worried Julieta's expression became. Their Mamá were always like that, worried about something, always ready to fix everything.
Mirabel fidgeted under her mother's worried glance. She toyed with the ribbon on her head, it's green this time, matched with her new glasses. Mirabel had got them replaced at least a dozen of times, her daring personality had not done well with it. Luckily she did not inherit their dad's misfortune and accident-prone nature.
( Isabela had inherited that instead. Almost no one remembered it now, but for the first year of learning how to swing on her vines, she was literally a walking, no, swinging danger. She looked back at that time with a shame burning in her heart, and she will never forgive Dolores for telling that to Mirabel and Camilo during their sleepover after they rebuild Casita. Nevermind that it was a revenge on Isabela telling Antonio that Dolores used to have a lisp when she was his age. Little guy was feeling down, okay? Telling the devil twins of Isabela's own demise was not an acceptable payback .)
"What makes you think of that, corazón?" Julieta asked, the tone of worry clear on her face. Mirabel still fidgeted in her place, this time playing with the lace on her dress. From her place, Isabela could only see the mop of curls that was Mirabel's head.
"...Well, she seemed to really hate me. She never wanted to spend time with me again, she always iced me out, and worst of all...yesterday, at dinner," Mirabel said in a wobbly voice. Isabela held back her laugh. Okay, she needs to stop teasing her little sister too much.
"What happened yesterday?" Julieta excused herself early yesterday night because she did not feel well. The week prior was way too busy for her, and that made her feel weak. Agustín had been accompanying their Mamá and guiding her every step. Conversations went out after that, everyone clearly worried about Julieta.
That, and there was only one Pastel de Gloria left on the table. The grandkids eyed each other warily, each aware of the competition to get their hands on it. Julieta's baking skills were legendary, and every single time the kids always scramble for more. This time was not an exception. Looks were exchanged, and nobody dared to move.
Mirabel moved first, she was quick, and beat Camilo's hand just by a minute. Isabela smiled at them, but then felt the urge to do something mischievous. It had been so long since she messed with her youngest sister, after all, duties and school works and lessons had taken up her time. Isabela knew what she's about to do was childish , but she couldn't help herself.
As Mirabel happily claimed the dessert and went to take a bite, Isabela sent some of her vines to her youngest sister's direction. The vines held the pastry out of Mirabel's reach, and everytime she tried to take a bite out of it, the vines raised it just above her reach. Isabela had been reading the myth of Tantalus that week, in a very tattered book of what seemed to be Greek mythology. Needless to say, she was inspired to do some things.
Apparently, her sister took that personally. Isabela had to bite her lip to cover her laughter as Mirabel recounted that story to their mother, passionate gesture and pouting lips. Their mother looked relieved now, and somewhat, amused. She hugged Mirabel to her chest and began poking her cheek, making the girl giggled.
"Ay, Mirabel. Listen, your sister does not hate you, okay? Maybe she teases you too much, and I will have a word with her about that, but she loves you, clearly."
"But why is she so mean to me? She never did that to Luisa! Or Camilo, or even Dolores!" Mirabel said, anger evident in her voice. Julieta hugged her daughter closer, planting kisses after kisses on her cheek, and Mirabel was giggling again.
Isabela was stunned for a moment. She loved both of her sisters, in a different way. Luisa was gentle at heart, and from day one, she awakened Isabela's protective instinct. Mirabel, however, was stubborn even as a baby. She woke everyone with her cries, she zigzagged through Casita's stairs as a toddler. With Camilo, she wreaked havoc on the city and gave their Abuela a headache. So with Mirabel, Isabela's love was never gentle, but the teasing kind, the playful kind, the kind that, if she had been honest with herself, fulfilled her own childish gain.
Mirabel had read it wrong, apparently. The basket suddenly felt heavy on her hands. Did she do something wrong? Was she too harsh? It took a lot for your own sister to think that you hate her. Maybe she needs to show that she cares, especially after all that happened.
With a sigh, Isabela made her way towards the kitchen, making her presence known. Julieta let go of Mirabel and greeted her daughter with a kiss on her forehead. Isabela rolled her eyes, their Mamá was always very insistent in showing her love with physical gestures. Isabela was seventeen now, surely she could let up.
Still, she squeezed Mamá's hand. Her mom made a humming noise, then took the basket full of Pastel de Gloria from her hand. Mirabel's eyes glowed when she saw her favorite dessert. Though nothing beat Mamás baking, Valeria was a skilled baker as well. The aroma of the bread, the guava jam, as well as the sugar dusted on top tantalizes Mirabel's taste buds. Isabela offered one to Mirabel, suppressing her giggles at her sister who was practically drooling over it.
"Have a taste. Valeria just baked it this morning. I won't try anything, promise." Isabela made a show of crossing her heart, and Mirabel snatched the pastry so fast from her hand. She chewed on it, relishing the sweetness that came from the paste.
"Slow down, you look like a capybara," Isabela teased. Mirabel stuck her tongue out at her, the guava jam stuck on her teeth. Isabela stuck her tongue back, and everything was easy that day. An apology disguised as a teasing remark and a basket of deserts.
If only it stayed that way, she mused.
***
Isabela had been so busy .
Left and right, people seemed to need her attention and her Gift. She wasn't as busy as Luisa, who literally had been working like a donkey, but that didn't mean that she wasn't tired every time she walked back to Casita.
That also meant she knew less about what her sisters were doing. Sure, she met them at the dining table, but rarely did she pay attention to what actually happened. That, and Abuela had been proposing to match her with Mariano. Isabela liked Mariano well enough, he was a good friend to her, and Mariano practically adored Isabela.
Like the rest of the village, nothing new, really. It wasn't like she did not like him, but his perception of romance was very….technical. Like sending her flowers every two weeks. Did the man not know that she could grow her own flowers? The sentiment was nice, but not needed.
She sighed. Mariano had only meant well, she thought. If Isabela was being true to herself, she was a little unsure of her matchmaking with Mariano. There was a lack of...chemistry between them. They liked each other enough, but that was it. Wasn't she supposed to feel something? Wasn't this supposed to be exciting? Every bride that she had talked to, every lover that she conversed with, seemed to be over the moon with their partner.
She had felt none of that, not with Mariano. She kind of felt guilty about it, she knew that this matchmaking would be good for the family, with the Guzmáns being the most powerful family beside the Madrigals. She had seen long enough of Abuela's passive aggressive banter with Señora Guzmán to notice that this was bigger than her and Mariano.
It was not really her fault that she became snappy at her youngest sister the past few years. She would not admit to anyone, but she envied Mirabel's life. That she had no Gift meant that she had no expectation upon her life. No one dangling an invisible target she had to reach. Isabela had been made to reach that target for her whole life, and she was so tired.
Tired of putting on a smile. Of trying to be pretty, of trying to achieve perfection that she found, day by day, was outside her reach. She felt like she was standing on a moving ground; tethered only by her vines and the resolve not to break down. She couldn't break down. She was Isabela Madrigal, and she could do this. For the family.
So excuse her if she was being harsh. She didn't know exactly when the teasing became a jab. When the playful shove became just a shove. When the smirk became glares. Mirabel was not blinded by that, and maybe this made Isabela a bad sister, but she sometimes relished doing the torment.
Luisa had called her out on that.
"Must you do that?" Luisa had confronted her one day. Isabela narrowed her eyes. Luisa was usually quiet, and steered away from whatever Isabela and Mirabel had going on. She had been aware of how her sister drifted away, she had drifted away too. For Luisa to confront her like this meant that she had crossed a line.
She didn't know which lines. They're tangled together, a webbed mess.
"Do what, exactly?" she asked, eyebrows shoot up. Luisa shrank a bit at that, Isabela noticed. Probably because of her tone. Isabela had mastered the tone of authority for as long as she lived. She never used it on Luisa, though, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down before asking once more, gently this time.
"What did I do?"
And in that tone, Luisa recognized something: the crack beneath her sister's façade. Isabela was usually fierce and fearless. Standing tall and proud, and to quote Mirabel's words: a little bit of a diva . But there was something in her sister's tone, something Luisa recognized because she had felt it too. Fear. Exhaustion. Helplessness. Trapped. Isabela had asked what had she done, but what she actually meant was; what else did I ruin?
Luisa will not get that deter her, though. This was for Isabela, no, for their sisterhood . Luisa needs her older sister back, and so does certain someone tossing and turning in her room, clutching a cup of tea and wiping her tears. Luisa didn't need Dolores' hearing to know that. After all, she was the one Mirabel approached, demanding a hug.
"Be mean to Mirabel," Luisa cut to the chase and Isabela sighed. It was always Mirabel this, Mirabel that. The girl was not even speー
Isabela stopped her thought. What was she thinking? Mirabel was her sister whether she had a Gift or not. Julieta had nailed that to the girls' head since her failed ceremony. She was a Madrigal just as much as the rest of her family. The envy on her chest, the burning feeling and longing for freedom, was raging, though.
"And how exactly have I been mean to her? It's not my fault that she is so annoying," Isabela managed to say the sentence with a level voice and an eye roll. It was not a complete lie. Isabela had been in a hurry to go to the village when Mirabel collided, and quite literally, fell into her arms.
She had been annoyed, and screamed at her youngest sister, who unlike usual, apologized and hurried away. Isabela did not think of it at first, too busy and preoccupied with her responsibilities. When she thought about it now, it was strange. Usually Mirabel was more than ready to fire back at her. That her youngest sister would yield so easily seemed strange.
"Isa, she's unwell. She's on her period and you know how bad it is. You screamed at her, Isa, just because she fell and what, ruined your perfect dress?" Luisa had asked the question with such venom that Isabela was stunned. Several flowers had sprouted around her head, the rage mixing with embarrassment and worry .
But Isabela Madrigal was not the one to back down. She shook her head, and with her chin held up, spoke one thing she knew she would regret, "And? What should I do? Sing lullabies to her? Nurse her back to health? She has Mamá's cooking, she'll be fine."
There was an unspoken 'wouldn't she?' at the end of her sentence, but Isabela didn't dare to say it out loud. She heard Luisa's heavy breathing, a clear sign that she was upset. Luisa was the peacekeeper, but Isabela saw her hands clenched.
Luisa couldn't believe what she was hearing. Distantly, she remembered Isabela from the years before. Isabela who braided her hair, who put flower crowns in her hair, who calmed her down when she had a panic attack. Isabela who had a daisy chain necklace for Mirabel, who, she knew, always sneaked her youngest sister Pastel de Gloria from Valeria's bakery. That Isabela. Her older sister.
She didn't recognize her anymore. Luisa let out a sigh. Her resolve was hardened. Isabela was too grown up to be their sister? Fine, she'll take the responsibility as her own, as she always did. She held her hand up, stopping whatever Isabela was about to say.
"I'm not here to fight with you. I shouldn't fight with my sister; especially when all I asked from her was being a sister ."
And with that, Luisa closed the door to Isabela's room. Isabela let out a frustrated sigh, tears stinging her eyes. That's not what she meant! She cared about Mirabel. She did. It's just….she was tired today, okay? And how would she know Mirabel was unwell? She grows flowers, she was not a mind reader!
Isabela twirled a few flowers in her palms, her mind racing. It was too late for her to come to her, but she could do something . Valeria was still open, she could get some Pastel de Gloria, the one filled with dulce instead of guava paste. She knew Mirabel preferred that.
Two hours later, she was back in Casita, a bag in her hand. She managed to conviced Valeria to bake some Pastel de Gloria, and she was going to take it to Mirabel's room. Peace offering, as usual since they were children. Isabela smiled, her guilt lessened.
When she reached the nursery, the door was slightly open. On the bed, she saw Luisa and Mirabel, cuddling. Luisa had her hair down and Mirabel was idly playing with it. A smile ghosted Isabela's face. Mirabel was always touchy, especially when she was sick. Luisa had indulged this since Mirabel was six years old and demanded Luisa to cuddle her when she was having a fever.
Apparently, some things never change, though Mirabel herself was now fourteen. Her curly hair was splayed on Luisa's lap, her face in pain. Luisa tried to persuade Mirabel to eat something, or drink the concoction their Mamá had made, but the girl only flipped on her back and groaned.
"I don't wanna eat," came the muffled sound.
"Then drink the tea," Luisa said patiently, her hand stroking Mirabel's head ever so gently. Mirabel wrinkled her nose in disgust. Isabela knew it's because she hated spearmint tea.
"Do we have any other remedies that are not food?" she asked. Luisa shook her head, her curls bouncing as she did so. Mirabel sighed, stood from her sleeping position, and with a grimace, started scooping changua out of the bowl. It tasted heavenly, like everything else their mom made. Isabela saw Mirabel's face relaxed a little, her pain must be lessening. Good.
Mirabel sat on the bed, holding Luisa's hand. She looked….sad. Isabela felt a stab of guilt. This was her doing, wasn't it? She felt like she had been doing this before. Holding the same pastries, even. She gulped when she heard Mirabel's voice, barely a whisper, but shocked her nonetheless.
"Isa hates me, doesn't she?"
There was silence. Luisa held Mirabel's hand a little bit tighter, and Mirabel ranted about Isabela. About the closeness that drifted away year by year. About the missing candies, cocadas, and Pastel de Glorias. The rift that started as a valley and ended up as a cliff. Impossible to cross.
At that point, Luisa noticed that Isabela was standing behind the door. Perhaps because of what just happened, or perhaps because of the disappointment that she felt, the wound that still not fully healed, she caught Isabela's eyes while proclaiming something, loud enough for Isabela to hear.
"Don't worry, Mira, you still have me ."
Isabela breathed in and out. She left the bag of Pastel de Gloria by the door, then turned to her room. She did not realize when she had started crying, but when she did, she could not stop herself. In her mind, the voice that said that she deserved this, that she was an awful sister, kept repeating itself. She cried until there was nothing to be cried anymore, until her sadness became rage, and guilt, and then rage again.
It was better. Anger she could work with. Guilt and shame and sadness were no use for her.
( Isabela didn't know that Mirabel had found the Pastel de Glorias she left for her. Didn't know that her youngest sister was overjoyed that Isabela still remembered. Didn't hear Luisa's talk to Mirabel that the way Isa showed that she cares was just different . Didn't see the joy on Mirabel's face as she bites into the pastry. Maybe if she sees all of these, nothing would have happened. Casita wouldn't fall. But as Mirabel said, to build something new, we need a new foundation, and to build a new foundation, we had to destroy the previous one. )
***
It was supposed to be perfect, Isabela fumed. The engagement dinner was supposed to be a dinner where she could finally be together with Mariano. The Guzmáns and The Madrigals finally unite. But then, Mirabel had to ruin it. The youngest Madrigal had to ruin the perfect scheme that Isabela had planned since she was eighteen.
Was it not enough for her to ruin Antonio's ceremony? Must she ruin her night, too ? Mirabel was going to ruin something that Isa had worked really hard for. Every careful pick for dresses, every elaborate gesture. Something she knew she had to do for her family, and her family included Mirabel, too.
But she had to ruin that. Her and the prophecy. Isabela had run away from the adults immediately, burning with shame and fear. She saw the cracks. She knew Casita was dying. She could feel her own Gift dwindling. Flexing her hand, Isabela tried to focus. Roses sprouted from her palm, still as delicate and perfect as always. Everything was fine.
Then she heard the knock on her door.
"Isa?" She heard a voice. Mirabel. Isabela's anger rose. What else did she want from her? Didn't she know that Isabela wanted to be left alone? With a flick of her hand, Isabela changed the writing on doormats. GO AWAY it reads now, but she should've known that Mirabel would ignore that, her youngest sister was nothing if not persistent.
Awkwardly, Mirabel stepped in. Casita must have let her in. Isabela rolled her eyes. Even the house seemed to always favored Mirabel, communicating with her in a way that no other family members could do. Mirabel's expression was a mixture of guilt and 'oh-God-why-should-I-do-this'. Perhaps Mamá told her to apologize for the mayhem she had caused tonight.
However, Mirabel had asked for the unreasonable: she asked Isabela to hug it out. The anger that has disappeared the moment before resurface again. Hug it out? Was her sister out of her mind? She ruined her engagement dinner, possibly endanger their Miracles, and she wanted to hug it out?
And what was she saying about wanting to be a better sister? After everything she had done? The least Mirabel could do to her was apologize . Apologize for ruining the night, the most important night of her life. Behind the barricade of thorns and ivies, Isabela said with a haughty expression.
"You want to be a better sister? Then apologize." When Mirabel said nothing, she continued, "Apologize. For. Ruining! My! Life!" Isabela said with a rising anger on her every word. She saw Mirabel's expression falter, and there was an unreadable expression on her sister's face. Seeing this, Isabela put on a triumphant expression.
"Go on," she goaded, "Apologize," she said, dragging every syllable, smirks showing. She saw Mirabel roll her eyes, and Isabela smirks grow wider. She would be lying if she said that she did not enjoy this a little. Mirabel should've apologized earlier.
"Fine! I apologize…." Her youngest sister dragged her words, "That your life is so perfect!" Isabela's eyes widened at that, her anger flaring. Perfect, Mirabel had said. If it was perfect none of this would happen. If it was perfect, she wouldn't feel the numb, empty feelings that she had felt growing up. If her life was perfect, she could be anything she wanted.
Like Mirabel.
"OUT!" She screamed, dragging Mirabel using her vines. The girl screamed, and clawed her ways in Isa's room, but the vines were stronger. While Mirabel clawed, she started sprouting apologies, but it was too late for Isabela.
"You selfish, entitled princess!" Mirabel screamed, and Isabela saw red.
"Selfish?! I don't even want to marry him, I was doing it for the family! " she screamed. Isabela didn't want to look around her, the vegetation must be blooming and sprouting everywhere, her emotion and fading Miracles had an effect on that. Isabela never lashed out like this before, she was always calm, perfect, poised. The picture of perfection.
Isabela was well aware of how the others saw the image of her family through her. Everything she did, she was doing for the sake of La Familia Madrigal. It was always the family above anything else, even her own wants.
Mirabel was stunned. "Isaー"
But Isabela's attention was elsewhere, amidst all of the emotion and screaming, a cactus had sprouted. To say she was awed was an understatement. All her life, all those flowers, and she never knew that she could create something new. What followed next was a beautiful chaos, and Isabela knew that she would look at this moment fondly.
( And she would. She would look at this moment, the one she shared with Mirabel, experimenting on her gift. Of throwing the color powder on herself, to Mirabel, everywhere. Later, much later, the color powder war will be a monthly occurrence for the Grandkids, much to Abuela's headache and the adults' half-hearted complaints. But that is the story of later, of a healing family, and this was a step towards that long journey of being healed.)
Now, Isabela lay on the floor, giggling along with Mirabel. You are a bad influence, she said, and she felt lighter than ever. She felt free. Something she hadn't felt in years.
Then Abuela entered.
And all hell breaks loose.
***
Isabela told herself that she didn't want to remember Casita's fall. She told herself that the event was a blank, that everything happened in such a hurry she barely had a moment to register what had happened. There were so many things happening; the candle dying, the house collapsing, Mirabel missingー
Mirabel's missing. She still had nightmares about that. She had nightmares about many things, they all have, after the ordeal. There was a reason why the Madrigals huddled together when they slept months after the incident. Mamá and Tía Pepa did not want to lose Tío Bruno again, Luisa and Isabela did not want to lose Mirabel again. Tío Félix, Dolores, and Camilo simply couldn't bear the thought of Antonio being in harm. Especially Tío Félix.
The protests from these three went unheard. Or silenced by a hug, a kiss, a scowl, or a dramatic monologue (Mamá and Tía Pepa were good at that, apparently. Tío Bruno, Antonio, and Mirabel were frequent targets, and they have formed solidarity on this.)
For months while they rebuild Casita, the Madrigals learn to be a family again. Isabela learntーadmittedーthat her youngest sister was funny. She learnt that Luisa was a literal human form of a marshmallow. That their Mamá was often burned out, and that Luisa, of all people, was the one that could drag her from her overworking mode.
They also learnt that Tía Pepa and Tío Bruno were menaces. Separately, they were responsible mature adults, together they were chaos incarnate. A common sight in those months was Mamá scolding her siblings, while Abuela tried to look stern, but clearly holding back her laughter.
Not all discoveries were pleasant. The first few months were spent looking after Tío Bruno's condition. Of listening to his story. So many apologies and tears were shed. Times were made to spend with their long lost tío, getting to know someone who had been a part of their life, locked from memory, and now surfacing again.
The talk was also about the Miracles. About expectation and ideals. Many fights ensue, guilt and anger and long-term grudges spilling over the borrowed dinner table. Sometimes, the fights were long, sometimes, they were short-lived. They tried, as a family, they tried.
When Casita was finally rebuilt, Isabela knew that it was her time to do her own talk. There was a person she needed to apologize to.
( The guilt still eats her alive. The night of Mirabel's ceremony was the saddest night of her life, but the day Mirabel went missing was the night Isabela had feel grief ; she felt helpless, Mirabel was gone, Mamá was in panic, Luisa was nearly hysterical because she could've prevented this had she was just strong enough, Papá was clearly trying to be strong for his wife and daughters. Tía Pepa nearly lost her voice screaming Mirabel's name, Tío Félix never leaving her side. Dolores had listened , even after knowing that it was no use , Camilo asked everyone in town, tagging Antonio with him. Isabela had felt numb that day, the scene replaying in her mind: Mirabel under all those rubbles. When they found her, back with Tío BrunoーTío Bruno! And Abuela, Isabela's numbness was molded into anger, and Mirabel took it with barely a huff.
So it's time for her to apologize. )
***
Isabela knocked on Mirabel's door. The door was painted turquoise, little trinkets of each family member etched on the door, a gift the family had given her a few months after the rebuilding of Casita. It has been Tío Bruno's idea, but concealing it from Mirabel had been a difficult task. Mirabel was perceptive, and hiding such a huge gift from a naturally nosy , uhm, perceptive person was a headache.
They managed to do it, though, mostly because everyone kept distracting Mirabel everytime she got closer to finding out. That, and they forbade Luisa to even mention the door. Six months of Mirabel narrowing her eyes suspiciously at them, interrogating every family member, pestering her parents and using her puppy eyes (that one almost works, almost ), and now the door stands.
Isabela opened the door after hearing a muffled hum from the inside. Mirabel's room was not much, not magical like the rest of their room was, but certainly it was an upgrade from the nursery. There was a spacious table there now, a sewing machine, colorful arrays of thread and wool and fabrics. The bed was crowded in sewing patterns and Mirabel sat there, hands concentrating on a particularly complicated embroidery, a needle stuck out from her mouth.
The first thing that Isabela did was put the needle away from Mirabel's mouth. Mirabel pouted while Isabela just glared at her, stabbing the needle forcefully to one of the pin cushions lying around. This habit of Mirabel was something that Isabela, Luisa, and Julieta hated. They knew that Mirabel was careful, but it made them anxious.
Isabela sat in Mirabel's bed, observing her work. Mirabel had been commissioned to sew a skirt, most likely for the upcoming party this week. Her sister had been flooded with an order since the rebuilding of Casita. Sometimes Isabela or Luisa had to drag her from her work table, reminding her to sleep and to take a break.
Mirabel put away her work, seemingly satisfied. She focused all her attention to Isabela now, and Isabela gulped. She was very sure of what she was going to say, but now she lost her confidence. Mirabel was the one who broke the silence.
"Sooo, what brings Señora Perfecta to my humble abode, hm?" Mirabel asked, her tone teasing. Isabela rolled her eyes fondly at her tone.
"Oh, you know, figures that my visit will brighten your miserable life," Isabela said with a grin on her own. Mirabel laughed, and Isabela smiled. She was glad that they could throw jabs and teases way smoothly now, that the snarks were all in good humor.
Isabela pulled something out of the basket she had been carrying. She puts on a teasing smile while Mirabel's eyes follow the cocadas. Mirabel snatched it from Isabela's hand and scarfed it down, shooting her a glare.
"Slow down, capybara," Isabela teased and Mirabel puffed her cheeks.
"This," she said, holding her face, "is filled with love. You'll never understand it, Isa."
Waiting for Mirabel to finish her snacking, Isabela conjured a few vines and idly played with it. Mirabel seemed to notice her older sister's nervousness, and took her time eating. When the last pieces were devoured, Isa took a deep breath before speaking to her.
"I…" why was this so difficult? "...want to say sorry."
To Isabela's surprise, Mirabel's expression actually brightened. Turns out, Dolores had told her that Isabela wanted to apologize. No surprise, since it was Dolores who, firmly, suggested to Isabela to do that. You need to talk it out , she said. Isabela agreed, but now she was unsure.
Mirabel stood up from her bed, walked to the table (that is full of the chaos of sewing patterns, needles, threads, and clothes designs), opened up one of the drawers, and with a triumphant expression, pulled out a list.
The list was clearly old, based on how frayed the paper was. Mirabel gave it to Isabela, her expression full of mischief. Isabela eyed the list warily. When she finally read the list, she huffed out a laugh. The list was the pettiest thing she'd read, and also funniest.
It was a list of wrongdoings and there's three pages of them, totalling to almost 200 numbers. It was so ridiculous that Isabela couldn't help but laugh. Mirabel scowled, and Isabela relished how annoyed she looked. Annoyed Mirabel was like an angry puppy, they think they were threatening, but they were adorable instead.
Also, the list itself was...interesting.
"Convinced me into eating the last of the Pastel de Gloria then used her vines to hold it above my height? Mirabel, you were seven ."
"I've been writing this since I was seven. Also, Abuela scolds me, but not you." Mirabel pouted. Isabela's expression softened.
"Alright, I'm sorry about that. But 'shoving my face into the birthday cake and ruining my hair?' Really? You tripped on yourself!"
"Yes, but I don't want to acknowledge that, so I'm blaming you," Mirabel replied cheekily.
"Whatーugh. I'm trying to apologize here, why are you being so annoying?" Isabela's tone was full of frustration. Mirabel grinned, the more annoyed her older sister was, the happier she became.
"Because I'm your younger sister and it is my God-given right to annoy you," she replied with a laugh. Isabela threw the list, and started going after Mirabel. Before long, she had her trapped into a hug. Isabela's eyes lit up with mischief.
"You think this is funny, hm?" Isabela tickled her sister until Mirabel was breathless and begged for mercy. She laid down on the floor, panting, and Isabela laid down beside her. Isabela looked at her sister, her expression changed. There was still guilt gnawing inside her, so she pulled Mirabel into a sitting position and finally spoke her mind.
"Mirabel, I'm sorry. I'm…." Isabela sighed, unable to say what was on her mind. Mirabel looked at her and squeezed her hand. Isabela knew that look, you don’t have to do it; I understand. However, this had been a long overdue apology, and she wasn’t sure she could forgive herself if she didn’t say it.
“I’m sorry I’ve been an awful sister.”
There, she said it. Isabela felt her eyes filled with tears, then she was pulled in an embrace by Mirabel. She managed to hold her tears, but her youngest sisters’ hand on her back broke her. Isabela cried; a cry of guilt, of rage, of embarrassment. This was the tears she had been holding for so long, accompanied by the voice on her head saying she was an awful sister. Mirabel hugged her until she calmed down, then offered to bring her some tea from the kitchen. Isabela nodded, and Mirabel disappeared.
When she came back again, she held a cup of tea and was followed by a very worried Luisa. Isabela took the cup, feeling the warmth but not drinking it yet. Luisa and Mirabel stared at her, both worried but not voicing anything. Slowly, Isabela raised her cup, the warmth of the drink filing her like a hug. Perhaps she should hug her sisters more. She wasn’t a physically affectionate person, unlike Luisa and Mirabel. However, escaping a hug in a Madrigal household was impossible, especially after all that happened. So far, Isabela had been hugged more than she gave hugs, and learning to do that was like learning how to hug a cactus.
She was not opposed to that, though, unfortunately, with Luisa here, the self-proclaimed best hugger in the family, that was not possible. As soon as she finished her cup, Isabela felt herself pulled into a hug again, this time by Luisa. Her younger sister had a habit of squeezing the life out of someone when she hugged them, though. She only let go once Isabela felt suffocated.
There was a silence for a while, then Mirabel spoke, “For the record, Isa, I never think you are an awful sister. Sure you were mean (“Gee, thanks”), annoying, self-entitled, bossy (“Do you even have a good adjective for me?!”), but you are also strong-willed, you’re cool, and most importantly, you are my sister. Isa, an awful sister wouldn't feel guilt, she wouldn’t say sorry about what she did. You do, and I really appreciated that. Stop putting yourself into the zero and hundred narratives, Isa, you are so much more than that.”
And this time, Isabela initiated the hug of both of her sisters. She could hear Luisa’s sniffling, and wipe a tear from her face. They ended up tangled in the room, napping, a smile on their faces.
When Julieta found them hours later, she took a picture before she woke them up.
***
Isabela pretended not to know anything when, months later, Mirabel took her measurement. Her sister was laughably bad at keeping secrets sometimes. She also pretended not to notice Luisa’s very obvious trips to the jeweler in town, and her not-so-casual way to ask Isabela what flowers did she love the most. Just to mess with her, Isa answered different things everytime, getting Luisa agitated and frustrated.
When she opened up the gifts, a dress in a color of light purple, the embroidery of little flower petals and cacti flowers flowing, paired with a matching orchid necklace and earrings, it was Isabela who failed to hide her smile.
She was glad she’s their sister.
***