Work Text:
1918...
Julieta dried the last plate and added it to a pile on the bench. The Casita then bumped the pile along a little to make way for the glasses that her mother started washing. Just as she started drying the first glass, the doorbell sounded. Her mother dried her hands and headed to the front door. It was fairly unusual for visitors to call unannounced after the bells rang for 9 pm, so Julieta stood at the entrance to the kitchen to hear what was happening.
"Alfonso, Maria, what can we do for you?" she heard her mother say from the lobby.
Julieta could not make out Alfonso's reply, but his tone sounded excited.
"Another baby? Oh, how wonderful! Of course, of course. It's not too late at all. Come in."
Her mother then shouted, "Bruno! The Señores Méndez would like a vision!”
Julieta’s heart sank. After the effort it took to get her brother to come down from his tower, he was already being sent back up?
"Of course!” he replied, climbing awkwardly down from a hammock where he’d been relaxing under the arches. He sounded enthusiastic but Julieta knew it was forced.
“Bruno!” she called out as he crossed the courtyard. He turned his head and smiled as if to say, ‘thanks for trying,’ then continued up the back stairs, the Méndezes eagerly following close behind him.
Her hopes were dashed. Julieta knew her brother wouldn’t be back that evening.
She returned to the kitchen sink without a word and continued drying the dishes while her mother washed.
After a few more glasses were added to the bench, she couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
"Mamá, can we talk about Bruno?"
"There's nothing to discuss," her mother replied sharply. "If he wants to stay up in his tower, then that is his choice."
"I just think that..." Julieta hesitated while she chose her next words. "Don't you think he could use a break from the visions? A day off once in a while?"
"A break?" her mother's voice cracked. "He gets plenty of time to himself. People don’t come for visions every day, and he gets time off for festivals and his birthday."
"But we always have so much to do on those days, and he never knows when someone will want a vision. He’s constantly on edge. Waiting. He never gets to just spend time with us and do nothing," she pleaded. "Maybe that’s why his visions are so often negative now. He's too stressed to see the positives, and the pressure he's under to do better is surely making it worse."
Her mother’s nostrils flared as she let out a sharp breath. "Must I remind you how lucky we are to be blessed by our miracle? We owe our lives to it. If this is what the miracle needs from our family in return, then it’s a small price to pay. The reason Bruno is making so many bad prophesies is that he’s lost sight of that. And the reason he upsets so many people is he doesn’t know when to hold his tongue. If you really want to help him, I suggest that you stop indulging his selfish behaviour and encourage him to remember his duty to honour the miracle.
"But Mamá, he is honouring the miracle. He takes his duty more seriously than any of us. And that's the problem. He's exhausted. And terribly unhappy. Yet he never complains. He puts up with it because he wants to do the right thing."
When her mother finished washing the last glass, she picked up the pile of plates and carried them to the adjoining dining room. She didn’t speak as she placed them neatly on the unit in the corner.
Despite her better judgment, Julieta kept trying.
"His tower seems to be getting taller and wider every time I see it," she said from the steps. Casita was bouncing a jug on the bench beside her, hinting that it needed to be put away, so she picked it up to stop the clattering.
"Then that’s his fault!” her mother snapped. “The rooms respond to what you want."
"No... they respond to what we need. He needs time to himself and doesn't know how else to get it."
"I can't help it if he chooses to stay up there!"
"He chooses to stay up there because it's pointless coming down. The second he does, he's being sent back up to have another vision," Julieta pleaded as tears gathered in her eyes. "And it’s not good for him to have too many. Surely you know that? He’s tried to tell you. Can't he just have a weekend off? A day even? Just to take a break from the visions and that horrible tower!"
Her mother's annoyance was palpable but she didn't answer. Julieta knew she was pushing her luck, but her emotions had become too intense to stop herself.
"He's not himself, Mamá. He's acting all weird, even for him, and... well, it's starting to feel like I'm losing my brother," she continued as tears dampened her cheeks.
"And if that's the case, then that's on him!" her mother yelled, coming into the kitchen and snatching the jug from Julieta’s hands. Her voice was shrill and her face reddening with rage.
Julieta realised she’d overstepped the mark.
"If I hear one more word from you about Bruno, trust me, it won’t end well for either of you," her mother warned and Julieta knew she meant it. "Now finish up here then go to your room. I don't want to see you again until morning."
She then watched as her mother slammed the jug down on a shelf then stormed from the kitchen.
That would be the last time Julieta tried to talk to her mother about Bruno.