Sleepover with Abuela
Camilo had suggested it as a joke, but when Abuela had agreed to let her grandchildren have their monthly sleepover in her room, everyone was pleasantly surprised. Normally, no one was allowed in Abuela’s room. Rarely had anyone seen Abuela with her hair undone and wearing her nightclothes. But a little over a year since Mirabel had revived Casita, there had been a significant shift in her demeanor. She laughed more and joked more. She sang and danced more. Now that Camilo thought about it, maybe allowing them into her private space was not that far behind, after all.
“Bienvenido, mis nietos. Come in, come in,” she said, grinning brightly as stepped aside to let in her grandchildren. Everyone was carrying their own sleeping bag except Antonio; Luisa was carrying Antonio’s and her own. Abuela looked odd wearing a peach-colored robe and her silver hair in pigtails. But she also looked younger and lighter than usual.
“I hope we’re not intruding, Abuela,” said Isabela as she kissed her Abuela’s cheek.
“Not at all. I love having you all here.” Abuela clasped her hands in front of her. “Now, what do you usually do at these sleepovers, huh?”
Everyone looked at Camilo, who squirmed where he stood. “Why are you all looking at me?”
“This was your idea. What did you have in mind when you suggested sleeping over with Abuela?” said Mirabel, smirking at him.
“Um...” His heartbeat mounting, Camilo locked eyes with Abuela. “I guess... I want to know her more. And Abuelo.” His eyes shifted to the gilded picture frame at the nightstand. It was their wedding photo.
“Aww.” Abuela put her hands over her heart. Camilo relaxed when his sister and cousins were now smiling at him. “Then, I’m glad I granted your request. Make yourselves comfortable, mis amores. Antonio, let me...”
They spread out their sleeping bags until they covered most of the floor. Abuela brought out a stack of photo albums from a large wooden chest. “Most of these photographs are of our family here in the Encanto. But I have a few of my own family and also your Abuelo’s.” Abuela sat at the foot of the bed while her grandchildren listened to her stories of her youth outside the Encanto. Abuela seemed to transform in front of their eyes as she spoke about her parents, her extended family, her friends, the animals in their household. Her energy and zest for life was most similar to Pepa, and Abuela’s eyes dimmed ever so slightly as she recalled how she had controlled her daughter throughout her life. “Julieta and Bruno didn’t only get their father’s looks. They are so alike Pedro in their personalities, too.” The grandchildren already knew about Pedro’s writing talent and sense of humor, but they didn’t already know about his passable culinary skills and his desire for an extended alone time.
“We wish we could have met him, Abuela,” said Dolores.
“I like to think that you have. There’s a little of him in all of your parents,” said Abuela.
A few hours later, everyone was asleep. Camilo stirred awake. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight from the window, he noticed that Abuela was sitting up on her bed and watching them. “Abuela? Aren’t you able to sleep?” he whispered, concerned that she had insomnia like Tío Bruno.
“I will sleep soon, Camilo. Just let me admire you all for a little while.”
