Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started with a small limp. It was so minor an action that it would have been completely indiscernible to anyone watching that Luisa was baby-ing her right leg ever so slightly; which is what she was counting on. The last thing that the strongest and arguably most prideful of the Madrigal children wanted was any attention being drawn to herself in such a negative light. If Luisa was hurt- as in, truly hurt with the sort of injury that would take more than just one of her mother’s arepas to heal, the town would go berserk, and just thinking about the mere look on Abuela’s face…it was enough to make Luisa shoulder the regular aches and pains of her body daily. Even after Casita fell and Abuela vowed to amend her ways…old habits die hard, and some patterns are all but impossible to break. There was no doubt in Luisa’s mind that things were better , but they were certainly still far from being perfect- one look at any member of the Madrigal family that lasted longer than even a moment could convey that. A lifetime of trauma could not realistically be undone in a single day…but Luisa was lying if she didn’t admit to thinking things were changing remarkably slowly. 

Luisa was no exception to this. Being as stubborn as she was, most of her bad habits continued on strongly without change following the events of casita’s falling. Aside from being made to take mandatory breaks from her work in town on Saturdays (much to her dismay, mind you) the remainder of Luisa’s days appeared the same as before: She would eat an arepa at breakfast to curb the pain from her tedious and demanding work the day before, which helped just long enough for her to make it through the day and complete all her chores, and then she would submit to the tension and pain of her body only at night when she was alone in the solitude of her room. She’d stay up late attempting to sooth her muscles: ice baths, hot bags of rice, wraps, massages, stretching, until finally she had to submit to her least favorite form of selfcare: rest. It was her routine, and no amount of looks from Isa or long talks from Mirabel was going to make her change that- at least not without a fight.

This new and foreign onslaught of calling one another out had certainly led to a spiderweb of complicated new tensions in the Madrigal household- and Luisa and her two sisters were far from being exempt in that regard. Every time her little sister would nag her about working too hard it made Luisa want to work even harder just to prove her wrong (even when she was right), and whenever Isa was bold enough to make some comment about the bags under her eyes (which being her older and more entitled sister was often) Luisa’s eye would twitch with hypocrisy. Every comment came from a place of love and concern, she knew, but it was just so different from the 19 years of ignorant bliss she’d grown to love and know. Every day felt like a balancing act of looking out for one another without overstepping. Luisa had to wonder if this was really how families were meant to behave with one another all along, and if so, how exactly had the Madrigals gotten it so wrong for so long?

What’s more about her family’s largely misplaced concern is that Luisa enjoyed doing her work- at least, she enjoyed the way that she felt when she completed a job well done. She liked feeling depended upon, relied on, important and valuable to people. Nothing was more validating to her than the impressed look on a person’s face when she showed off her gifted abilities, or carelessly helped someone out. Every callus, every bruise, every arepa greedily eaten, they were all physical manifestations of her dedication to her family and her people. She knew that it was unhealthy to rely so heavily on outside validation…but until she could figure out what exactly was meant to fill the hole left unfilled by not working herself to the bone, she continued in her ways happily. Well, maybe not happily…but there was a certain comfort to be taken in something familiar. Feeling exhausted and sore was Luisa’s own personal normal, and if she no longer had that, what did she have? 

That was why, when Luisa woke up with a sharp pain in her right foot that persisted even as she walked from her room to the bathroom and down the stairs to the kitchen, it was easy for her to shake it off. Luisa persistently had odd pains from all her hard labor, so she chalked it up to pushing herself a little too hard the night prior. She had to reroute the river not once, but twice, after all- which was by far her least favorite chore of the many that the town frequently assigned her. Trudging through waist-high water so jagged rocks could be be pummeled through with her bare fists, shrapnel blowing into her face as she blindly swung, and then retracing her steps to create dams with fistfuls of wet clay and rocks, so sharp they split open her palms and cake her cuts with mud- it took hours of painstaking, careful work so exhausting that it usually wiped her out for the rest of the day. 

But yesterday she had messed up. Luisa was strong, no doubt, and she also had a heart of pure gold (ask anybody), but she was… easily distracted. She hadn’t noticed until two hours into her work that she’d been redirecting the Juanas river, which was meant to go left of the church, right - straight towards the Alverez’s crops. And so that’s why Luisa felt she had to work until dark to get the job finished; after all, it’d been her own careless mistake that had set her back hours so it was her issue to rectify. By the time she finally finished patching up the initial route she’d created and properly redirecting the river, Luisa was so exhausted that she skipped dinner and headed straight for bed, deciding it was worth the earful she’d get from her mother in the morning for sleeping on an empty stomach. That was probably why she hadn’t noticed her swollen, painful ankle until the following day- she was just too tired. 

She studied the appendage skeptically as she walked about her room, wincing ever so slightly. It was a little swollen, but not too swollen, she thought. Maybe she’d twisted her ankle when navigating across slippery wet rocks, or accidentally dropped some sort of heavy boulder on her foot without having realized. It wasn’t uncommon for Luisa to get so invested in her work that she zoned out and forgot the world around her- thus the river rerouting accident to begin with. Because of Luisa’s gift, which meant adrenaline (a natural pain suppressant) was constantly flowing through her bloodstream, she sometimes found it difficult to feel pain in the same way others did. Not that she couldn’t get hurt, because she certainly could, but it was sometimes harder for her to notice injuries and then determine how serious or not serious they were. For all she knew, her foot could’ve been injured for days and she was just now realizing. 

No matter though, Luisa thought- she would just baby it a bit during her work, eat an extra arepa or two throughout the day, and be sure to ice it before bed that night. 

If anyone noticed she was in pain when she sat down with her family at breakfast, they didn’t acknowledge it. As she expected, however, Julieta did lay into her daughter for skipping dinner the night before.
“Mi vida, you better eat double your usual breakfast this morning- no, TRIPLE! Can’t believe my daughter- Julieta’s daughter going to bed on an empty stomach! Of all the kids in Columbia-”
Luisa cut her mother off by kissing her fiercely on the cheek as she leaned down to set her plate in front of her.
“Lo siento mami, I don’t know how many times you want me to say it!”
Julieta shot her a look, but finally dropped the topic as she moved back towards the oven, shouting over her shoulder.
“ Don’t make a habit of it!”

Luisa gave her a thumbs up and started shoveling her food into her mouth, truly feeling the effects of having not eaten the night before. It was not only sweet that Julieta’s version of laying into her kids was really just aggressive caring, but lucky for Luisa too, who could enjoy her breakfast mostly in peace. And enjoying it she was . Maybe it was just a coincidence, but mom had made her absolute favorite: tortilla paisa. Pepa, who always sat next to Luisa at the table, eyed her amusedly as she ate her own breakfast at a normal pace. Her amusement in the sight of Luisa all but inhaling her food manifested as puffy cumulonimbus clouds that whisped and bounced over her head and the table. Antonio batted at them playfully from where he was seated. 

“Remember to chew, conejito.”
Luisa looked up to smile at Pepa as she elbowed her gently, and maybe even shoot back a snarky reply (with her mouth still full), but she was stopped by the odd look Isa was giving her from across the table. It might have looked relatively passive to most, but Luisa knew her older sister much better than most, and she could tell by the way her eyebrows were ever so furrowed and her lips more pursed that something was bothering her. Isabela had a, for lack of a better term, sort of bitchy resting face as it was (particularly in the morning) but no, there was definitely something on her mind at the breakfast table. Something that had to do with Luisa, she figured, judging by the way her eyes were barring right through her. 

Luisa quickly looked back down at her own plate to avoid her gaze and, much like the pain in her ankle, attempted to shake the interaction off. 

It wasn’t until around three in the afternoon that Luisa’s leg really started to bother her. She’d been trying to steadily ignore it all day to the point where she nearly forgot it was even irritated to begin with- but then the Mejia family kindly asked her to fix the way their house was tilting a little too far right (which she, of course, said yes to) and the easiest way for her to do that was by using her legs to push it up. When she laid down and kicked the side of the house, however, a pain radiated up her leg so powerful it actually made her gasp out loud. Seeing the confused look on Lopez Mejia, Luisa quickly finished the job with another slightly less powerful kick, and then excused herself, sneaking away behind some houses to gobble up another arepa that she’d shoved away in her pocket at lunch. 

It was odd- she’d probably eaten throughout the day a total of four of her mom’s magical arepas, and yet, her ankle still hurt just as much as it had that morning- if not more. The thing about the way Julieta’s gift worked was that it didn’t matter so much what she made, but rather, how she made it that would impact its effects on the consumer. Julieta could just as easily make a magical carimanola or carne oreada, she just made arepas because they were simple and delicious, but it was the intentions she had when cooking that infused the food she created with her gift of healing. The arepas she made in bulk for the town and kept around the house, such as the one Luisa was eating now, for example, were made to be quick fixes for small things- tiny cuts or bruises, headaches, because she wasn’t concentrating her magic as much when cooking them. 

But this sort of small arepa should’ve been all Luisa needed! Never before had her mom’s arepas failed to mend a strained or sore muscle of her’s. Maybe it was sprained? When Luisa carefully pulled up her skirt and slipped off her shoe to examine her ankle, she was shocked to see it was a little discolored . A deep purple and bright, angry red, which ran along the side of her foot like a stroke of Mirabel’s paints. She touched the area gingerly, grimacing a little when she put pressure on the bruised area with her fingers…could twisted ankles really get this nasty looking? Her eye twitched nervously as she slipped her shoe back on and stood up. Glancing at her watch it was 3:45PM, only another hour or so until dinner. 

Surely she could tough it out until dinner?

Dinner was… unpleasant , to say the least. 

Not only was Luisa’s ankle killing her beneath the table regardless of whichever way she attempted to rest it on the floor, but Pepa was worked up over something which Abuela had said (a common occurrence)- meaning that their food was served with a side of frigid rain water. None of them could blame their tia, of course, but that didn’t mean it was a welcomed side with dinner. It was one they’d all somewhat come to expect, however, so that alone didn’t make dinner particularly unpleasant. No, what made dinner unpleasant was the way in which Isa stared at Luisa seemingly the entire meal. The feeling of her eyes on her, which faithfully tracked her every move (however discreet) made Luisa’s eye twitch with nerves- which, in turn, caught the attention of Dolores, of course, who then joined in on the staring in an attempt at discerning what was happening between the two sisters. Luisa would’ve loved to tell her from across the table that she too was in the dark in regards to their little staring contest which had persisted since breakfast, but instead she just tried to ignore the both of them and enjoy her food. It went poorly, obviously, but it was all she could do to stop from shouting at Isabela in front of everyone to leave her ALONE! 

Once Abuela excused everyone from the dinner table Luisa practically ran from the room, ignoring the pain in her ankle and taking the stairs of casita two at a time in order to make it to her room before-
“Luisa!”
The sound of a hanging vine whipping in the air and then snapping back as Isabela landed gracefully behind her was enough to make Luisa groan outwardly as she turned around and away from her door- her sanctuary .
“ What, Isa?”
Her older sister raised her eyebrows in both surprise and indignance at Luisa’s sharp tone, crossing her arms. Luisa quickly shrunk under her gaze.
“Wow, what a warm greeting from my dear little sister.”
The sarcasm in her voice was thick, but Luisa ran a hand through her hair and sighed.

She knew she was being rude, but she just wished so ridiculously badly to lay down with her foot elevated in the air already. This day had felt never-ending.
“I’m sorry, it’s not you. I’m just-”
“Stressed?”
Isabela finished her sentence for her, stepping a bit closer with this knowing look in her eye that bothered Luisa to no end. Sometimes she could be so smug, even when her intentions were pure.
“I was going to say tired , actually…but I guess stressed works too.”
Isabela nodded a bit bashfully, like maybe she realized it hadn’t been her place to finish Luisa’s thought for her, and the two sisters stood in silence for a moment. 

Luisa listened to the muffled voices of their family from downstairs absentmindedly, just hardly making out a hushed argument between Abuela and Pepa in the kitchen, no doubt about the events of dinner. Isabela, having also heard the argument Luisa presumed, cleared her throat awkwardly before finally speaking again.
“Maybe let’s go in your room?”
Luisa raised her eyebrow; skeptical. Isabela didn’t really like going into Luisa's room very much- it wasn’t her style.
“Oh, are you actually going to tell me what was with your little staring contest at dinner?”
It was Luisa who was being sarcastic now, and she expected Isa to at least smile at her tone, but instead her face actually fell slightly, and she merely shrugged before nodding her head towards Luisa’s door again. 

Luisa’s eye twitched anxiously, but without a word she quickly obeyed her sister and opened her glowing bedroom door, holding it open for and letting in Isabela under her arm before shutting it behind the two of them. To grant poor Dolores some reprieve from her gift (which could sometimes seem more like a curse), all of the magical bedrooms in casita were soundproof- or, well, sound resistant . Dolores claimed to still hear them occasionally, particularly if she concentrated her power enough to, but all things considered their rooms were about as soundproof as they could be. Outside of preserving Dolores' ears, this little commodity had another perk, which was that when behind closed doors the kids and adults of the house could have some sort of privacy. This would be a luxury in any family their size, but especially in a family which had a relative with the gift of super hearing. 

Luisa’s room was not what most people expected. It wasn’t some sort of glorious gym with rows and rows of steel benches and heavy weights- no, it was actually something more akin to the tranquil area you would see a training montage of in some old kung fu movie. The room appeared as though it were outside, much like Antonio’s room, though instead of a jungle with thick trees her bed was surrounded with high snowy mountain tops and vast valleys between the treacherous peaks. In the valleys there were hot streams and rivers, where Luisa could help sooth her muscles after a long workout, and on the mountain tops there was equipment to keep her in tip top shape. The room was often humid and filled with a soothing sort of fog, and her bed was a large hammock, hanging over one of the valleys- a beautiful bed of grass. The mountains groaned occasionally, daunting overhead yet hauntingly beautiful and admirably strong. Luisa felt safe and  secure in her room; it was perfectly created to meet the needs of both aspects of herself- even if she sometimes neglected one more than the other. 

Isabela, however, quite disliked Luisa’s room- she said the humidity made her hair frizzy and the mountains made her anxious. As such, she found herself now sort of tiptoeing around the room cautiously, as though an avalanche might come along at any moment and carry her away. Both sisters knew casita would never actually let that happen, of course, but the older girl seemed nervous regardless. She finally settled herself on a patch of grass near Luisa’s bed, and with a wave of her hand forced several pink blossoms to surround her, as though the flowers might protect her in an emergency. Luisa smiled at the sight before launching herself into the air and landing on her hammock with a loud thunk , reveling in the way tension immediately left her body as she swayed back and forth within the bed and stretched out her tired limbs.

She wanted to go fetch an ice pack from one of the mountains, but that would raise alarm bells for Isa that she was hurt, so instead she just swayed in silence, waiting for her sister to eventually speak.
“So, Mirabel is worried about you. She said that every day she’s gone into town with tio Bruno this week you’ve been pushing yourself just as hard as you were before casita fell; if not harder.”
Though Luisa couldn’t see Isabel’s face from where she was laying, she could hear the uncharacteristic hesitation in her voice. Which made sense…these really weren't the sorts of conversations Isabela front lined. It wasn’t that Isabela and Luisa weren’t plenty close, because they certainly were, but they just weren’t usually close in this sort of way…they usually just, stayed out of one another’s business to refrain from stepping on toes. Obviously since casita fell, Isa was trying something new, something more akin to the typical older sister role. It made Luisa a little uncomfortable. 

“Well then Mirabel should tell me that herself.”
Isabela scoffed, and Luisa rolled on her side in the hammock to peek down at her on the ground, playing idly with the smooth petals of her flowers.
“Please, as if she doesn’t already! She tells you off all the time for working yourself too hard…she thought maybe if I talked to you about it you’d actually listen.”
“So…the staring at breakfast and dinner?”
Isa turned to make eye contact with her sister, looking a little embarrassed with herself.
“I was trying to see if she was right. About you overworking yourself, I mean.”
Luisa sat up on her elbows, looking at her sister expectantly as though to say “and?”. 

“And she’s right, Luisa. You look exhausted. And I feel like the worst sister in the world for not having noticed so myself.”

Luisa rolled her eyes and turned away from Isabela as she stood up from the grass, defenses coming up.
“I’m not- Mirabel worries too much I’m- ”
“If the townspeople are still asking too much of you, Abuela will talk to them for you Luisa, you know she will. Or, if you don’t want Abuela to know I can even-”
Luisa put up her hand frustratedly, swinging her legs over the side of her hammock.
“Isa stop! You’re not listening to me, I’m telling you I’m fine.”
Isa stomped her foot defiantly, almost like she was a little kid and not the older sibling in this situation.
“Okay? And I’m telling you you’re not! Luisa, you promised the familia you’d stop overworking yourself and start listening to your body!”

Luisa crossed her arms, feeling her cheeks go warm as the mountains surrounding both girls rumbled threateningly.
“You’re one to talk Isa, how many promises made since casita fell have you kept?”
A batch of carnivorous honeydew flowers sprouted around Isabela and shot up into the air, glowering at Luisa with widely spread petals as her sister’s face grew red. Isa had a temper and Luisa knew it, so if she could just push the right buttons she could hopefully get her sister off her case.
“This isn’t ABOUT ME! This is about YOUR wellbeing, Luisa!”
Luisa tugged at her hair.
“WHO CARES?”
“I CARE!”
“WELL STOP!”


Isabela stomped her foot again, this time a tall row of spined cactus sprouting behind her tiny frame.
“YOU WANT ME TO STOP CARING!?”
“YES! JUST STOP-”
Luisa, in her aggravation, went to jump out of her hammock- however, in landing heavily on her feet, she suddenly was reminded of the pain in her ankle by a huge spike of pain shooting through her leg. It was so sudden and painful that she actually yelped out loud, all but falling over onto the ground as she grabbed blindly for her swinging bed for support. The noise surprised Isa so much that any sign of anger immediately left her face, and both the honeydew and cactus having grown out of anger shriveled up and died around her immediately. Without another thought she leapt forward, grabbing Luisa by the arm to help keep her steady on her feet.
“Are you okay?”

Luisa tried to respond, but she was left speechless by the event, staring dumbfounded down at her ankle which throbbed painfully. Never had Luisa been in pain like this before- she honestly wasn’t sure it was even sure until now that it was possible for her to get hurt like this, in a way that required… help. She thought she was invincible. But she wasn’t, and that realization was humbling but also sort of terrifying and simultaneously comforting. Maybe she wasn’t so different from everyone else after all. She was still human too.
“Did I hurt you?? Was it one of my cactus needles you stepped on?”
The sound of Isabela’s panicked voice quickly brought Luisa back to reality, and she hurriedly shook her head no to reassure her sister who was spiraling. Seeing Luisa injured was probably just as weird for her as it was Luisa, after all.


“I’m sorry, oh my gosh I’m sorry. I just got so angry you weren’t listening and I- here, let’s sit down and I’ll…I’ll go get mom! Yeah, I’ll get mom to-”
Luisa put both of her strong hands on Isabela’s shoulders, which made the words die on her tongue, and she gently guided them both down onto the grass, being extra cautious not to maneuver her ankle too much as she did so.
“Isa calm down, you didn’t hurt me.”
The tears pricking Isabela’s eyes dissipated, but her face was still filled with worry, and in turn that made Luisa’s stomach twist with guilt.
“I actually hurt my ankle working. Apt for this conversation, I know.”
If Luisa hadn’t sounded so pathetically sorry for herself, Isa probably would’ve gloated for her worry not having been misplaced and her argument having been right. Instead, the older sister took a moment to school her expression and then gestured to Luisa’s ankle.
“Can I look at it?”


Luisa looked from Isabela to her foot and then back again before hesitantly nodding her head yes, slipping off her shoe so that the discoloration and increased swelling of her ankle was in full view. It was obvious by Isabela’s wide-eyed expression that she was desperately trying to decide what to say (and, more likely, how to say it).
“Dios mio, Luisa. Why haven’t you told anyone about this?”
It was the sort of question in which the answer was abundantly obvious, so Luisa just guiltily rubbed the back of her neck.
“I’ve been eating mom’s arepas all day, but honestly it looks even worse than it did this morning.”
Isabela was scowling, gently prodding Luisa’s ankle with her fingers to see which areas would produce a wince out of her sister.


“Well no wonder the arepas aren’t helping, Luisa. Your ankle’s broken. I don’t know how you’re even walking, let alone working all day.”
Luisa opened her mouth to try and argue with Isa’s verdict- but then she remembered when Camilo broke his own ankle last summer, and before Julietta healed it with her magical food, it’d looked just like her ankle. Swollen, purple and red…she hadn’t realized it before, because her bone being broken just seemed so out of the question…
“Luisa we have to tell mom, you can’t just keep walking on this.”
The way Isabela said it in her resolute, bossy big sister voice left no room for argument- and honestly, Luisa was too tired out from their fight earlier to try and weasel her way out of things. She’d made her bed by overworking herself, and now she had to lay in it. 

Seeing the look of utter despair on her sister’s face, Isabel’s prickly exterior softened, and she placed a comforting hand on Luisa’s shoulder.
“Look, I know you put a lot of pressure on yourself to never let anyone in la familia down…trust me, I know the feeling well.”
Isabela tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and cleared her throat awkwardly before continuing.
“...but I promise you Luisa, no one is disappointed by the idea of you taking care of yourself. We all want you to put yourself first before anyone else; the people in town, the primos pequenos, Abuela …we care a lot about you and that’s not going to change.”
Isabela took her hand off from Luisa’s shoulder in order to fidget uncomfortably with a flower she grew in her palm, squirming under Luisa’s focused gaze. Isabela was never this vulnerable with others.
“I know in the past I haven’t always…been there for you and Mira like I maybe should have been. But I’m trying to be different. Since casita fell I’ve tried to be…better. I know that-”

Isabela was cut off by Luisa pulling her into a sudden bone-crushing hug, tucking her face into the side of her big sister’s neck where she could mumble into the collar of her dress. Plus, then her face would be hidden in case she started to cry…secretly (or maybe not so secretly, depending on who you asked) Luisa was quite the crier.
“You’re an amazing sister, Isabela. Thank you.”
Isabela returned the hug slowly and awkwardly, but not without genuine feeling.
“O-of course! I mean, somebody had to talk some sense into you, hmm?”
Now there was the cocky older sister Luisa loved. 

As Julietta stood by the oven with her eyes closed and quietly murmured to herself, whipping up a stronger, more potent batch of arepas for Luisa’s ankle, the three Madrigal sisters sat quietly at the dining table. It was late and the rest of the house was settling down for the night, but when Isabela and Luisa went together to their parent’s room and told Julietta about her ankle, their mother (predictably) insisted that her daughter was healed as soon as possible. Confessing her injury to her mom was just about as awful as Luisa imagined it would be, what with the horrified and worried look on her face that persisted even now in the way her forehead creased, but Isa being there to help deliver the confession no doubt made things easier. She held onto her arm the entire time. 

Mirabel had joined the three ladies when she heard clanking of pans in the kitchen from where she’d been cross-stitching in the family room, thinking it was tio Bruno looking for some late night snack. When she saw it was her sisters and mother, however, curiosity made her join the little group, and she sat with them all until Luisa finally confessed to her about her injury. Mirabel tried to keep her face placid, though Luisa could tell she was slightly pleased at having been right once again in regards to her sister carrying too much.
“I guess I owe you an apology for disregarding all your earlier concern to the point where you felt you had to send Isa in order to get through to me. Though, I’m glad you did.”
Mirabel shrugged, not looking at all like she really held a grudge, which made Luisa’s heart swell. 

“I get it- it’s easy to feel like your little sister is on your case…I just, hope that from now on you might take our worries a little more seriously. Next time it could be more than just a broken bone, ya know?”
Mirabel toyed with a stray thread on her skirt as she spoke, averting her eyes from her sister’s, but the sincerity in her voice was palpable. Even though it made Luisa’s gut twist in guilt once again, she let the feeling linger, hoping it might fuel her to make the right choices in the future. It was easy to overwork herself in order to receive external validation about her importance within her family; and it was even easier to shut out those closest to her in order to easily fulfill her own agenda without having to deal with the repercussion that harming herself inevitably would harm others, but the easiest thing to do was rarely the right thing to do.

“Lo prometo.”
And this time, she meant it.

Chapter Text

Some mornings Dolores woke up and all she heard were the sweet sounds of distant tropical bird songs and a mother’s swift kiss on the crown of her child’s head; the rumble of someone far away’s stomach eager for breakfast and a baby’s innocent laughter. Other mornings, Dolores woke up and the sound of her own pulse was deafening , her hot ear engorged with blood and flush against her pillow, the grating sound of cotton shifting inescapable. Even in her room which was meant to keep the noise of the world down to a dull roar, some mornings the noise was just too much , and she’d have to sooth herself for hours before working up the nerves to finally leave her sanctuary and face that bitter, painful noise. Fidgeting with the calming objects Mirabel had worked so hard to make for her, beckoning her magical room to play calming music that was reminiscent of Pepa’s lullabies, distracting herself with a book- until at long last she felt calm enough to face her family with the quiet confidence they’d come to expect from her. 

Dolores prided herself on keeping these moments of weakness private and putting on a smile for her family, even on days when her head felt as though it might split in two from the onslaught of sound. Talking, breathing, chewing, grating, blinking, beating, swallowing, laughing, crying, screaming- a kaleidoscope of noise which blended together into an indistinguishable garble; like the sort of sound a child’s imaginary bedtime monster might produce from underneath the dark bed. If she focused her magic and concentrated, Dolores could single out distinct sounds: someone familiar’s lilting voice, her little brother’s laugh, Luisa’s eye-twitching, tio Bruno’s rats scurrying in the walls…but generally, it was just a sort of wash of white noise. Very loud white noise, that overloaded her senses and made it impossible to function normally. 

On this particular morning, Dolores had woken up not ridiculously overwhelmed, but irritable. A creaking board in the floor just outside her doorway had kept her up all night- the soft groaning of casita’s old bones like a nagging poke in her side. As she sat up in her bed to the quiet beeping of her alarm and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she made a mental note to tell Luisa about the creaking; maybe she could fix the floorboard using something from her tool kit. Luisa loved any excuse to use her hammer- though the mere thought of hearing the steady, powerful thwack, thwack, thwack of a metal hammer on wood echoing throughout the rooms of casita all afternoon sent a chill down Dolores’ spine. Perhaps she’d have Luisa fix the creaking floorboard on a day when she wasn’t home. 

Today, however, was not such a day. Today, Dolores was committed to plans with Mirabel which kept her bound to casita- not that she minded, given how noisy the town center generally was. Plus, she was actually pretty excited about her and Mirabel’s plans; which were to teach Dolores how to embroider. Mirabel was a wonder at all things crafty- sewing, cross-stitching, embroidery, beading, painting, and Dolores admired her for it. While the eldest Madrigal child had a deep appreciation for the arts, she generally admired them from afar and, (aside from music), didn’t consider herself to be especially gifted in them. Even so, Dolores could certainly understand the appeal of participating in an activity such as embroidery, what with all of its rich ties to their Colombian heritage, and any excuse to spend quality time with her youngest cousin was a good one. 

While Dolores and Mirabel may not have been the closest of the Madrigal children, they got along with one another like a house on fire. Mirabel was calm when she needed to be, which was perfect for Dolores who was easily overstimulated, and moreover she was considerate in the same ways that Dolores’ sweet mother was- always watching Dolores for signs of discomfort in order to prevent a meltdown. Suffice to say, she was looking forward to a quiet afternoon of arts and crafts with her little cousin, tucked away in a quiet room of the house. Perhaps they could even spend the day in Dolores’ bedroom- Mirabel always said she enjoyed the layout of her room. It was a beautifully intricate auditorium with a grand stage, filled to the brim with enchanted musical instruments that played when asked. Beneath the stage in the dark, cozy pit was Dolores’ bed, of course; a giant pile of satiny red velvet like theater curtains to rest her pounding head. 

It was time to depart her aforementioned bedroom, however, and so with only mild hesitance Dolores quickly attempted to tame her characteristic mess of curls before getting dressed and opening her door. She cringed as her ears adjusted to the world, stepping out into the hallway and closing her eyes tight as though that would help ward off the sounds enveloping her. She must’ve stood there for a good few minutes before she finally felt acclimated to her gift, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding in.
“...no, I haven’t talked to her yet.”
Dolores’ mind drifted towards the familiar voice from somewhere far away in the house, her gift grappling onto it in order to better ground herself and drown out the other noises. 

“The sooner you tell her the better, Isa… It’s just going to be harder if you wait…but it isn’t that simple! ...She’s going to be so disappointed.”
Dolores effortlessly identified the soft voice as Isabela’s. She was talking alone in the family room downstairs, presumably to herself. Her voice was even a little mumbly, like maybe she was talking into her hand (a habit Abuela was constantly chastising her for).
“Well what’s worse, disappointing Abuela by telling her the truth, or letting her continue to pair you up on dates with every idiota this side of the river?...What a stupid question, of course disappointing Abuela is worse.”
Upon realizing the nature of this conversation Dolores tried desperately to zone out of it as quickly as she’d zoned in, feeling a little guilty to encroach upon what was obviously a vulnerable moment for her prima. 

Sometimes Dolores’ gift could be extremely isolating. She was constantly overhearing things she wasn’t meant to- secrets a husband kept from his wife, the exciting gift someone was getting for their birthday, the hushed prayers someone spoke privately to a passed loved one. If she tried to keep those secrets she overheard to herself they’d eat her alive, and if she eagerly shared them with others she was labeled as a gossip…but regardless of what she did with the information thrust upon her mind daily without consent, the weight of other’s words and actions weighed heavily upon her like great stacks of flour on each shoulder. It was a hellish, lose-lose situation she found herself perpetually stuck in. 

“Good morning, mi vida!”
The chirpy sound of her mother’s voice woke Dolores from her daze, and she smiled warmly at the welcome and comforting presence only Pepa could bring. As her mother spoke to her she grappled onto the words, and all the other sounds of the world seamlessly faded away.
“Good morning, Mami.”
Dolores’ voice was quiet but content, and Pepa placed a careful hand on her shoulder as they descended the stairs, lowering her voice on impulse (much to her daughter’s appreciation).
“ Is it a good morning?”
Dolores smiled before nodding, deciding that squeaky floorboard, and overhearing Isa’s characteristic panicking aside, it was. 

“Si, me and Mira have exciting plans- she’s going to teach me to embroider.”
The sun above Pepa’s head shined brighter as she smiled, and Dolores actually had to squint her eyes against its rays.
“Oh, excitante! Let’s just hope you didn’t get your artistic ability from your father , dios mio.”
Pepa winked at Dolores, who laughed at her mother’s joke before the two  parted ways- Pepa leaving for the bathroom while Dolores entered the kitchen (despite the noise which emanated from within) in order to be of some help with breakfast.
“Good morning, Dolores! Up early as usual, I see.”
Julieta smiled warmly from her place behind the stove, beckoning her niece closer with a wave of her hand.
“Take a bite of this torrija, would you? I can’t decide if they need to cook longer.”

Julieta placed a bite of the hot torrija on her fork, Dolores cringing ever so slightly as the metal utensil scraped against the sizzling metal pan before eating the bite offered by her tia. She immediately groaned in delight at the taste, giving Julieta a thumbs-up of approval as she finished chewing. Her tia smiled proudly, returning back to her pan.
“Thank you, mija. I know I can trust your senses!”
As Julieta finished breakfast Dolores busied herself setting the dining table, which Luisa had kindly moved to outside upon seeing it was a gorgeous day out. In no time the other members of the Madrigal family slowly trickled into the kitchen and situated themselves at the table, the last being Camilo per usual, still in his pajamas (bedhead and all). 

As the family dug into their meal at long last, quiet conversation filled the table, though it was nothing too much for Dolores, who was quite focused enough on the delicious taste of her meal to be all encompassed by her family’s talking.
“So Dolores, where do you want to hang out today for our little embroidery lesson?”
The sound of her name caught Dolores’ attention, and she pondered over Mirabel’s question as she chewed and swallowed. Before she could answer, however, Mirabel spoke again from across the table. This time Dolores could tell she was a bit nervous by the way she could hear her fingers fidgeting with the loose threads of her skirt underneath the table. It was one of Mira’s nervous habits that Dolores had come to recognize; much like the rest of her family. Luisa’s eye twitched, Isabela’s breath became short, Camilo ground his teeth, Pepa stroked her hair, and Mirabel played with her skirt. 

“I was kind of hoping we could do it in my room, actually…but if that’ll be too loud and distracting for you then we can embroider in your room!”
Dolores smiled at her cousin’s enthusiasm before hesitantly answering.
“Your room is fine.”

The truth was, Mirabel’s room really wasn’t fine…being the only un-magic bedroom in casita meant it wasn’t “soundproof” like the others and, frankly, Dolores found it to be one of the noisiest rooms in the house. The foundation of casita was constantly creaking and groaning in there, no doubt due to the closeness between the house and Mirabel, and because of its central location Dolores could hear into practically every other room from Mirabel’s bed. Not to mention it was directly beside the bathroom, which Dolores hated hearing inside of for obvious reasons. But seeing that hopeful look on Mirabel’s face, how could Dolores possibly say no?
“Oh GREAT! ‘Cause I wasn’t going to say anything, in case you said no and wanted to spend the day in your room, but it’ll be a lot easier to teach you everything in my room. All my embroidery supplies are already in there, ya know? And besides, your room is usually pretty dim- embroidery requires some really good lighting, trust me. At least, I require some really good lighting to embroider.”
Mirabel chuckled and motioned to her glasses, tapping the green metal rim with a smile before returning to her breakfast. 

Even though, logistically, Dolores had no idea what sorts of “supplies” the art of embroidery required, she silently nodded her head in agreement with her cousin anyway, as though to say she found her reasoning totally sound. In reality, she felt a little sick at the idea of spending all day in the loudest room of casita…but she’d do most anything for her baby cousin.
“Oh, I nearly forgot!”
The sound of Luisa exclaiming beside her at the table made Dolores jump and squeak in the characteristic way she always did when frightened or overwhelmed, but one bashful look from Luisa calmed her down again.
“Oh geez, sorry!”
Luisa said this quickly and in a near whisper, comically lowering her deep voice to a degree which made Dolores smile.
“Well, what’s got you so excited?”

Luisa’s embarrassed frown was replaced with a cheeky grin just as quickly as it’d appeared, and Dolores (along with everyone else at the table within earshot), watched curiously as the strong girl gently produced a crumpled up piece of paper from out of her skirt pocket, smoothing the edges carefully before handing it to her cousin with a wink.
“I had to get up at dawn this morning to help Mr.Garcia with something in town and I ran into Mariano. He said to give this to you for him.”
Knowing that the piece of paper she was holding was, no doubt, a romantic love poem from her boyfriend, Dolores blushed a deep shade of red and quickly stuffed the piece of paper into her own pocket. Seeing her face Luisa couldn’t help but bellow out a laugh, and Camilo from across the table quickly laughed along too, listening in on the entire exchange in typical nosy little brother fashion. Dolores rolled her eyes as he quickly transformed into Mariano and made gross, over-dramatic kissy faces at her.

His charade would’ve gone on for longer no doubt, had Abuela not assumed her position at the head of the long table with her own breakfast and quickly shot at him:
“Camilo, no transforming at the breakfast table. You know that, mijo.”
Quickly Camilo turned back into himself (pajamas and all) and gave Abuela a shy, apologetic smile.
“Sorry, Abuela.”
Abuela gave him a curt nod as if to say “I forgive you” (which were words Abuela very seldom ever actually said), before smiling as she began to eat her breakfast alongside the rest of her family.
“Well, speaking of boys.”
Abuela smiled over at Isabela, who was seated just to her left and on the other side of Dolores. Abuela was looking at her eldest granddaughter with a certain expectancy, and Dolores could hear her prima’s heartbeat rise in her chest. It resembled the sound of a pittering mouse or gliding hummingbird, and Dolores longed to reach for Isa’s hand underneath the table, even if she knew it’d embarrass her. 

Dolores and Isabela Madrigal were a lot closer than many would’ve given them credit for. Being the two oldest grandchildren, and only three months apart no less, the two had known each other all their lives. When they were kids, Isabela and Dolores had been as thick as thieves- Dolores would spy on the people in town to make Isa laugh with their secrets, and Isabela would enchant her cousin with fields of beautiful flowers for the two to play in. Isabela comforted Dolores when Abuela yelled at her out of ignorance for what it was like to bear her gift, and Dolores comforted her in turn on the rare occasion her prima let her walls come down. That was back in a time when Isa was still allowed to get her dress dirty, and still thought it okay to let a few tears slip…

Though it was true that the two girls had grown a bit more distant as time went on, particularly because of the pressures Abuela put on all of them to put the miracle above family, they still knew they could turn to one another for anything should the time come. Dolores was the one person Isa knew she could confide in, especially considering whatever heavy secrets she bore Dolores most likely already (inadvertently) knew. But even if it weren’t for her ‘gift’ of super hearing, Dolores just seemed to know about Isa in a way others didn’t. She picked up on the subtle things- the littlest movements or utterances always tipping Dolores off to her cousin’s innermost thoughts. To others, Isabela was like some impenetrable fortress, just the way she liked it; but not to Dolores. Dolores could read her like a book, and even though that sometimes drove Isabela mad, it was also incredibly comforting. Dolores never failed to remind her she was still, beneath it all, human. 

“I’ve been dying to hear it all morning, hermosa! How did the date with Nicolas go last night?”
Isabela smiled softly, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and anyone who was paying enough attention could tell.
“Good! The date was…good.”
Abuela looked skeptical, and Isabela became suddenly very invested in picking at her food in order to avoid her eye-contact. The other quiet conversations happening at the table had all now simpered down to silence.
“Estuvo bien? O fue genial?”
Isabela waited just long enough before speaking for Abuela to sigh and speak herself, assuming the answer from her hesitance.
“Well, there are still plenty more boys in the village if he’s not-”
Isabela shot up in her chair, eager to rectify her mistake. The look of desperation on her face was startling, and it churned Dolores’ stomach to see that even after all that had happened with casita falling Abuela could still so easily, almost unconsciously, get a fear response out of her. 

Having seen the same thing Dolores had, Julieta jumped in before Isa could speak.
“Alma, let her answer herself.”
Though the words weren’t spoken unkindly, they were spoken with a firmness that made Abuela listen, and she shut her mouth without another word. That was never something Julieta would’ve done prior to casita falling, Dolores thought, but it was a welcomed change. They all waited in silence, rather awkwardly, until Isabela spoke again.
“...The date was good , but it was by no means great. It wasn’t really his fault or anything he did, per say. It’s just that…well, I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you about these dates you’ve been- so kindly, setting me up on…in private. If maybe you had the time this morning or afternoon?”
Though Isabela had started out with some mustered confidence, the tight look on Abuela’s face as she spoke had swept all the wind from her sails as she spoke, and by the end of her little speech she was looking around the table rather awkwardly, flowers of all shades sprouting out of her hair. 

“Segura, Isa. We can talk after breakfast.”
Abuela’s tightlipped smile as she spoke made everyone at the table uneasy. 

***

“So we’re gonna start with the best stitch for beginners, which is the running stitch! It’s super simple, and it’s also great for outlining the design you want to make--sort of like it’s the sketch of your “drawing”, if that makes sense. Anyway, it’s perfect to start with if you’ve never embroidered before.”
Maribel continued to ramble on passionately and, in Dolore’s opinion, rather cutely--her baby cousin got so excited when she spoke about something she loved. She was a lot like Dolores in that way, actually. Dolores may have been quiet and reserved the majority of the time, but if you got her talking about one of her special interests, like music, she could go on for hours . 

“So basically all you want to do to make a running stitch, is weave the needle over and under the fabric. When you poke the needle through the bottom of the fabric, you’re gonna want to pull it all the way through to the knot, and THEN you’re gonna…”
Maribel kept instructing, demonstrating with her own needle and fabric as she spoke, but Dolores couldn’t help but zone out. She paid attention with her eyes, attempting to mimic Mirabel’s fluid movements with her own needle, but she simply couldn’t hear her with all the other noise flooding the house. Directly underneath where they were spread out on the nursery floor, Dolores could hear Julieta vacuuming the courtyard, tiny crumbs from this morning’s torrija being loudly sucked up and deposited in a crinkly bag. Antonio was playing some kind of game (maybe fetch?) with Parce, his jaguar, outside their door in the hallway--the echoey sounds of little feet and paws pitter-pattering back and forth as a rubber ball bounced after them. Someone was making themselves a cold drink down in the kitchen, probably Luisa, the sound of ice cubes rattling against glass loud even from so far away.

But the most distracting sound, by far, was that of Abuela and Isa, who had just settled into the dayroom directly beside the nursery. Abuela relaxed into a wicker chair, the seat groaning a little as she melted into it. Isabela, on the other hand, was much more tense, and there was little noise as she lowered herself down onto the bay window--Dolores only heard that she’d done so because casita flapped the bay window’s shutters as she sat down, probably trying to comfort her. If it weren’t so pained and awkward, Dolores probably would’ve enjoyed the stifling silence that emanated from the room following them both having sat down.
“Dolores?”
Until Mirabel said her name, soft but urgent, Dolores hadn’t realized both her and her cousin had stopped their embroidering. Mirabel’s project was cast aside, their activity forgotten as she noticed the spacey look on her prima’s face no doubt. 

Seeing the concerned look on Mira’s face, Dolores set down her project too and wiped her sweaty hands off on her skirt, trying to give Mirabel a reassuring smile.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stop paying attention, it’s just kind of…”
“Loud?”
Dolores sighed with relief at Mirabel’s understanding, sympathetic look, nodding her head eagerly.
“Your room is very… central in the house.” 

Mira’s eyebrows shot up guiltily, and she reached to hold Dolores’ hand, which she eagerly offered up. Holding someone or something helped ground her and keep her from a meltdown when things got too overwhelming.
“I didn’t even think of that when I asked you this morning, I’m sorry. We can move to somewhere else if you want-- your room would be fine?”
When Dolores didn’t respond right away, Mirabel hurriedly spoke again.
“Or hey, we don’t have to embroider at all if you aren’t feeling up to it today. My feelings won’t be hurt at all.” 

Mirabel was so sweet, it sometimes made Dolores’ heart ache . No one but her mami treated Dolores and all her plights with quite as much care and consideration as Mirabel did, and Dolores would never be able to properly articulate that to her. Hopefully squeezing her hand a little bit tighter got across her general point, though. A silent thank you . After a moment, however, Dolores opened her mouth to actually respond, but the sudden sound of voices next door sliced through her conscious like an intrusion on her psyche,
“Mi vida, you said you wanted to talk, si? Then let’s stop with this awkward silence; I have things to do today and I’m sure you do too.”
The old walls of casita were thin, and even Mirabel could hear her abuela’s stern voice from the room over. She eyed Dolores with newfound understanding, crinkling up her nose.
“Dios mio, I didn’t realize they were going to be right next door. I figured they’d go to Abuela’s room.”

Mirabel didn’t have to say she was sorry, because it was obvious already that she was apologetic, so Dolores tried to reassure her with a tender smile, but they both were distracted by another muffled voice from next door (at least, it was muffled for Mirabel).
“Sorry Abuela, I just want to make sure I articulate my words perfectly, so that you aren’t… offended , or there isn’t any confusion.”
There was another pause of silence, and Mirabel moved to stand up from where she was sitting on the floor. She looked woefully uncomfortable, and she rubbed goosebumps off her arms as she got on her feet.
“Maybe we should go to your room…so we aren’t eavesdropping?” 

Dolores was torn, and it was written all over her face. Normally, Dolores was eager to escape the noise--on days like today, she’d lie in bed and hide away from the world, letting her room lull her with sweet, soft music long into the night if she could. But here she was, being offered an out, and she felt entirely glued to her spot on the floor. Fistfuls of her billowy skirt were gripped tightly in her hands, and she twisted them angrily as she fought with herself. On the one hand she knew that eavesdropping was wrong, in fact, Dolores normally did everything in her power to avoid overhearing things she had no right overhearing. 

When she walked about town she frequently wore earplugs, or busied herself with a bracelet to fidget with, and if she happened to overhear something private it made her feel squirmy and guilty all day. Whether it was something positive, like the whispered plans for a surprise proposal near the church, or something negative, like the sounds of a husband kissing some other mistress in an alleyway, it made Dolores feel guilty and twitchy all the same. It weighed heavy on her, like some great pressure to keep all her thrusted knowledge at bay, and it gave her the reputation of being a “blabber-mouth”, someone untrustworthy, as though she wasn’t making the constant effort to be silent, and quiet, and unassuming. 

The only exception to this, the one instance in which she not only endured her power but actively employed it, was when it came to her family. She would do anything to keep her family safe, and there had been more than one occasion in which her power helped protect the “amazing” Madrigals. When she overheard people in town saying one of her family member’s names, she couldn’t help but listen, and even if it was exhausting constantly meddling in her family’s affairs by listening in on their intimate moments ,(such as Isabela’s argument with herself that morning), Dolores listened because it often helped her be a better cousin, sister, daughter, niece, granddaughter--and friend for that matter. 

Social interactions didn’t come naturally to Dolores, they never had. She couldn’t understand the intricacies of conversation and social cues like most could effortlessly. As such, she allowed herself the advantage of slight snooping, for lack of a better term. If it took listening in on her family’s private conversations every once in a while for her to properly offer advice and guidance, then so be it. She often felt that without the help of her gift, she was useless to better her family otherwise. When surprised with confrontation, or emotional confessions, or pleads for advice and comfort, Dolores fell speechless--she wasn’t effortlessly poised like Isa, or easily empathetic like Luisa, or simply kind and warm like Mirabel…but if she just had time to prep, and the insight of someone who could hear otherwise secluded conversations, then she could help her cousins and siblings as she was meant to. 

And she knew it was a little bit corrupt and wrong…a part of her did feel guilty whenever she strained her ears to intrude upon one of her family member’s most confidential conversations. But she’d justified it to herself time and time again--and it wasn’t like she did it all the time. For starters, the magical bedrooms of casita were all sound proof, much to Dolore’s appreciation. Secondly, the act of listening to the woes of those around her constantly was, as she’d mentioned, exhausting. Not just physically, in the sense that it gave her total sensory overload, but also in the emotional sort of way. It was impossible to try and be the shoulder to cry on for everyone-- but Dolores frequently found herself in that such position, unable to say no. It was the least she could do to better her family, right? To have purpose? 

And though Dolores couldn’t bring herself to say any of this out loud, somehow Mirabel understood. Or maybe just the look on Dolores’ face was enough to convey some of what she was feeling. Regardless, Mira grabbed her cousin’s hands, disentangling them from her skirt as she gently guided her up from the ground. The sound of voices reemerging from next door was almost distracting enough for her to resume listening, but Mirabel pulled her attention with her own soothing voice, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.
“You don’t have to listen to them, Dolores.”
In just those few words, Mirabel expressed a deep understanding of Dolores and her obligations. 

Dolores felt heard . And as she walked back to her own bedroom with Mirabel, away from outside noise, she only felt the slightest bit guilty. She couldn't shake entirely the sense that she was somehow letting Isabela down--if she came to her later about what unfolded between her and Abuela, Dolores would be in the dark. But at the same time, she truly did feel heard in this moment, no obligations to anyone, and as the sweet silence of her bedroom engulfed her, she couldn’t help but think this feeling felt good .