What Mothers Do (The Owl House)

What Mothers Do

The first night, Camila makes them all congri.

She'd already been making it, already gone through the effort of soaking the beans overnight. Vee doesn't tear up when she cuts onions, so she's usually in charge of the sofrito. Camila is in charge of the long process of boiling, but they're out of sazón completa, so she hopes Luz doesn't notice the difference. It probably won't matter.

Camila stands in the kitchen and looks out into the living room. There's her daughter. There's Luz.

It's not, however, her niñita. It's not la muñequita, with her chubby little cheeks and that sweet little laugh and a sparkle in her eyes ("Tu risa como un manantial..." Alberto had sung, holding their infant daughter in his arms.) This is Luz with a gap in the middle. A little light flickering off-on-off-on.

"Amor," she says, and her voice is not certain, and Luz looks up. Looks right through her. "The aguacates are ready. Would you... would everyone like some with dinner?"

Luz's friends all look at Luz, and as much as it pains her to feel proud when her baby is hurting, she does. She is. She's proud because Luz's friends trust her, and they love her, and Luz has good friends like she's always deserved.

"I don't know what you guys can eat here." Luz swallows hard, her eyes unfocus. She blinks and looks back at Camila. "We should try."

"Thank you Mrs. Noceda," come a chorus of mumbles.

Of course, Luz has found her people in another universe. It terrifies her, but Camila understands it for what it is. If only Luz had spent more time here, more time searching for the kids that watch the anime, or the ones that play that game so many mothers thought was demonic when Camila was young. Because Luz could have fit in with those kinds of kids. Luz could have been safe.

Instead, here sits her daughter, plastered with bandages from the mythical creature that lives in her home, surrounded by teenagers with real pointy ears, staring at a wall.

She doesn't know what else to do. So she cooks.

When Camila was little, when she'd been sick or sad or hurt-her mother had cooked for her.

When Santo Domingo was all she had known, and her father had told her they were moving to the States-her mother had cooked for her.

When the other kids in school bullied her in a language she didn't understand yet-her mother had cooked for her.

So she will cook for Luz, and the people who Luz has come home with, because Camila is her mother, and this is what mothers do.

The second night, Camila makes them all mofongo.

The other kids haven't said much, and now they're all wearing Luz's clothes to varying degrees of success, so things feel a little more normal. Vee has put on a documentary about different animals for them, and Camila sees them in front of the TV, but it doesn't look like they're really watching it.

Vee slides into the kitchen, sitting at the table to smash the boiled platanos. The heat doesn't hurt her hands, so she always volunteers because she enjoys the process and getting her hands dirty.

"Do we have any more of the rocky road? I think they might like ice cream if they tried it."

Camila looks up from her cutting. "I think so," she says while Vee roots around in the freezer. "Behind the yuca?"

Vee holds the carton up, triumphant.

Camila has only been buying rocky road. She buys it because it's Luz's favorite, and because when Luz comes home, she wants to make sure she has her favorite.