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Julieta had always kept her hair on the shorter side since she was a child. But now as a teenager who, in part because of her gift, felt she had to mature quicker unlike her siblings, she preferred to keep her hair longer, and typically in a side braid. She felt it made her look more "mature" (whatever mature was because teenagers certainly don't know much about maturity) and because it reminded her of her mama in her younger years when the triplets were still children. Alma had kept her usual two-braid hairstyle for a large portion of her kids' childhoods up until recently, opting for updos like buns. Julieta sat in front of her reflection in the mirror, watching her mother finish braiding her hair before stepping back and meeting her eyes in the mirror.
"Ay Julieta, you're growing up so fast," Alma said, tucking in one of her daughter's stubborn curls behind her ears.
"I know mama, but I'll always be here," Julieta responded, leaning into her mother's touch.
Alma caressed her daughter's face before planting a small kiss on her cheek.
"I wanted to give you a little present before your birthday." As if on cue, Casita's tiles pushed a small box on the dresser in front of where Julieta sat. Julieta grabbed the box and smiled at her mother before opening it.
A pair of gold earrings glistened in the light inside the box. They were beautiful yet familiar, though Julieta couldn't pinpoint exactly where she had seen them.
"Go on, mija. Try them on."
Julieta carefully put them on, clicking them into place once through her ears. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head in both directions and watching the hoops shine as she did so.
"They're beautiful, mama. Gracias." She chimed in a giddy tone, excited about her new addition to her jewelry collection. She loved the look of them on her.
"I'm glad you like them, mija." Alma smiled, "Now go because I have to do Pepa's hair next and you know how wild her hair is."
Julieta chuckled, her eyes still not leaving the mirror as she admired her new earrings. Alma placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders. A comfortable silence set in and Julieta made her depart soon after.
--
She finished up detangling the last chunk of Pepa's hair. Alma had always loved her daughter's hair color and curls. She really was like a ray of sunshine, energetic. Perhaps too energetic and always getting into trouble. The color suited her eccentric nature Alma thought. Pepa liked her hair left down and not in any sort of updo. As she grew up, she started to learn how to express herself differently in a way that sometimes hid her real emotions because of her gift. She felt like her hair was one way she was free to express herself without consequences and worry. Her mother finished by pulling her hair with a yellow headband with a matching bow to which Pepa quickly pulled out strands she wanted to frame her face.
"You look like a ray of sunshine, Pepa. Just stunning." Alma ran her hand through her daughter's wild hair, leaning down and planting a kiss on her forehead.
"Ay mama, I wonder where I got that from," Pepa said playfully, her dark green eyes meeting brown ones in the mirror.
"Certainly not from me." Alma joked though Pepa couldn't tell what she had meant. Did she mean yes she did get that from her, or she got that from her father. Either way, Pepa didn't ask, bringing up the latter might throw off the peaceful atmosphere that she hadn't experienced in a while from her mother.
"I wanted to give you an early birthday present." Her mother interrupted the silence that had set in and again, Casita's tiles pushed a rectangular box forward onto the dresser.
Pepa eagerly, and maybe too quickly, reached for the box, opening it. Inside was a golden necklace with little golden suns attached as charms. Pepa squealed and handed the necklace to her mother so she could put it on her.
"It's gorgeous, mama. Gracias, gracias, gracias!" She exclaimed excitedly, her eyes not leaving the reflection in the mirror, a small rainbow forming above her head.
Much to Alma's surprise, her daughter quickly got up and hugged her. As she pulled away, Alma gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm glad you like them Pepita." She chuckled, "I have to do Bruno's hair next. Can you go get him?"
"Alright mama, pero buena suerte with Brunito's curls." And with that, she was off in search of her younger brother and Alma swore the light coming in through her window was brighter.
--
"My hair is fine the way it is, mama." Bruno protested though these objections fell on deaf ears as Alma combed out any knots. She only stopped when she was able to run her hand through his wild hair without it being interrupted by any rouge chunks of hair.
"Have you ever thought about cutting it off, Brunito? Curls are hard to take care of and you've been...busier nowadays." Alma sighed. She wasn't angry, quite the opposite actually. She never got to spend time with her son these days with him doing visions for the townspeople.
Bruno contemplated the question. He hated change. And his hair was something he had grown used to. Any small change in his routine would throw him off for the rest of the day, he knew it. Change was scary.
But...maybe if he changed, people would see him a little differently. Typically, his hair covered part of his face so maybe if people saw his face, he might seem more...human.
"You don't have to if you don't want to, Brunito. And if you do decide to cut it, it will always grow back." Alma tried to comfort her son. "You won't be calvo anytime soon like Senor Flores." She tried to make him laugh at the ridiculousness of the town priest.
"That wasn't even a vision! I just noticed his receding hairline and said he would probably go bald soon. Not my fault he can't handle an observation." He spoke a lot with his hands, Alma had noticed. Her Pedro would often do the same, throwing his hands about to emphasize whatever it was he was trying to convey. It was something Alma would never forget about him, even now 17 years later. Alma chuckled at her son's antics before resting her head atop his own, both staring in the mirror.
His smile was that of Pedro's. It was a shame he didn't smile more often.
Bruno held up two fingers and made the motion of a pair of scissors, "Just this one time, it'll grow back anyway."
Alma nearly squealed in delight. And so, she got to work.
--
She stepped back, both of them looking up at Bruno's reflection in the mirror. He held up a hand and ran it through his hair as if believing it wasn't real.
A long silence set in between the two of them before Alma broke it.
"You look so much like your father." Her voice nearly broke.
Bruno turned around on the stool, facing his mother who was on the brink of tears.
"I'm sorry, mama. Don't cry." He said helplessly. Of course, he made his own mother cry. He always made bad things happen, he knew that. But this was just evil. He loved his family, he loved his mama.
"No, no, Brunito. I just..." She wiped the formation of tears from her eyes and cleared her throat, "Your father, my Pedro, lives on through you. I see a part of him, in you." She tried to smile, a bittersweet one at best but not entirely sad.
"Still, I'm sorry, mama."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, mijo." She pulled her son into a warm embrace and felt her heart partially break when he didn't hug back for a second before wrapping his arms around her. Had she neglected her son so much that he didn't know how to hug back? She felt horrible.
She pulled away, placing a kiss on his forehead before cupping his face with both hands.
She stared down at his hair. How had canas started showing up in her 17-year-old son's hair? She tried to convince herself it was just genetics but she knew it was stress. How had she not noticed the toll Bruno's gift had been taking on him?
Casita's tiles moved, reminding Alma she had one more gift.
"I want you to have this, mijo." Casita's tiles threw a little bag into Alma's hands.
She placed it into her son's hands, "It was your father's rosario. He loved it so much, it was his prized possession."
Bruno undid the string shutting the bag and reached inside it, revealing a golden rosary.
They stayed there for a moment.
"Te quiero mucho, mami."
"Y yo te quiero mas, mijo."
They stayed there for a moment, the cool autumn air blowing through the window Alma had left cracked open. She looked down at her son, not wanting to let her son go on such a bittersweet note.
They sat for a minute before Alma interrupted.
"Que guapo, mijo! The girls are going to be all over you tomorrow, I bet!" He pinched his cheek, laughing.
"A que no mama! Stop that, it's embarrassing!" Bruno's protests turned into joyful laughter at his mother's teasing.
And for a moment, everything was serene. Bruno had forgotten about his responsibilities and the dread about all the vision appointments he already had set for the next coming weeks. Alma had forgotten all about her future meetings with the townspeople and the stress of running the town.
At that moment, it was just mother and son, and if you squinted, father, too.