Who Am I Now?

A Healing Touch

Julieta stirred the boiling rice mixture slowly, her expression showing her exhaustion. For once, her heart wasn't in her cooking. What was the point when her food couldn't heal anymore? Her heart was especially grieved when she looked up and saw her husband through the window. Once again, he had managed to aggravate a beehive, and he was swollen and itchy, and after the busy day of clearing rubble, he was starting to become lethargic. Agustín hadn't said a thing about Julieta not being able to heal him, and somewhere in her, she knew she really couldn't do anything for her beloved. But the physical health of the whole town had been on her shoulders for so many years, and now she had nothing to offer to even those closest to her. She knew it was wrong, but she still felt guilty.

At five years old, her love of caring for her family with food had been turned into a beautiful gift of healing. Ever since then, her care had grown to encompass the entire village of the Encanto. Breaks, sprains, major and minor injuries of every kind had disappeared as she lovingly labored over arepas, arroz atollado, sudado de pollo, and other delicacies to feed and nurture the health of all in the Encanto. But the magic was no more, the candle that had burned so brightly for fifty years was extinguished, and their beloved miracle Casita was gone. And with them, Julieta's purpose. Who was she now that all she'd known was gone and might never come back?

"Juli?"

The question was soft, tentative, and it came from somebody she had feared that she'd lost forever. She stopped her stirring and looked up to confirm that it really was her brother speaking.

"Changuito," she sighed, her face softening as she took in the hollow, hungry look on his face. Hungry for food, hungry for love, hungry for acceptance. She could give him those things. Healing for his sliced hand, though, was beyond her ability now.

Bruno shifted uneasily, anxiety in his hunched-over form as he wrung his hands together. "Are there any arepas? I..." He sucked in a breath and jumped over to the table. "Knock knock, knock knock knock, knock on wood," he muttered, rapping his knuckles five times on the table then once on his head. Then he glanced over, fright on his face, worried that he'd bothered her. "I'm hungry," he muttered.

Julieta smiled at her brother. Pepa and Alma had always been irritated by or indifferent to his impulses, but she was fond of them. Brushing her hands over her apron, she stirred the pot again then walked over and grabbed two arepas. She handed them over, and he smiled and took a large bite.

"They're good," he sighed. "They're always good, Juli."

"So you've been sneaking food?" Julieta asked, turning back to the pot.

"Bits and pieces," Bruno murmured through a second mouthful. "Never wanted to steal too much, ya know? Gotta leave enough for the niños. Growing kids need a lot of food." He paused to swallow and take another bite. "I did, at least."

"If I'd known I was still feeding you, I could have made more," Julieta said, her face falling as she dropped into a chair. To think her own brother had needed food, and she hadn't made enough for him...

Bruno stopped chewing then swallowed down the last of the arepa. "Juli? Juli, what's wrong?" he asked. There were footsteps before she could answer.

"¿Mamá?" Mirabel peeked her head in, a smile on her dusty face. Her smile faded when she saw her mother drooping in a chair. Julieta sat up when she registered her daughter and smiled.

"¿Sí, mi vida?"

Mirabel came in and saw her tío Bruno's concerned face then looked at her mother again. "Is everything okay, mamá?"

"Of course."

"No," Bruno said bluntly.

Julieta sighed and stood up to check on the pork and rice risotto. Arroz atollado had been one of Bruno's favorite dishes growing up, and seeing her brother for the first time in a decade had inspired her to cook the dish.