Milo's Journey

Chapter 24: The Smell of Home

Jose opened his eyes slowly. It was still dark outside, and for a moment he didn’t recognize where he was. Then he smelled it—the familiar scent of sandalwood and myrrh. Milo, his brain whispered, and he relaxed back into the bed, snuggling into the covers.

Jose drifted back to sleep, only to be awakened by a wet nose nudging his cheek. When he opened his eyes, he saw that the sun had risen, a golden glow streaming in through a crack in the curtains.

Jose opened his eyes as Piyelito jumped on the bed and began giving him wet dog kisses. He calmed him, petting him as he settled next to him.

Milo came over and sat on the bed, stroking Jose’s hair. He didn’t speak, just stayed there, letting Jose adjust to waking at his own pace.

Milo looked at Jose and smiled. “I’ve done all the morning chores and fed the animals already. It’s Saturday, so there’s no rush if you want to sleep a little longer—or would you like some breakfast?”

Jose sat up in bed and leaned against Milo. Milo automatically put his arm around him. Jose rested his head against Milo’s chest and said in a small voice,

“I’m a bit hungry, but I’m not ready to see anyone yet. Could I eat in here, please?”

“Of course, querido,” Milo said, kissing Jose on the top of the head. “One breakfast in bed coming up.”

He shifted Jose over and fluffed his pillow before getting up to prepare breakfast.

“Piyelito, you will not be having breakfast in bed, so you’d better come with me now if you want to eat,” Milo said with mock sternness.

Piyelito raised his head, huffed out a small bark, and after a quick nudge of Jose’s hand, bounded off the bed to follow Milo.

A little while later, Milo came back carrying a tray with a large pile of scrambled eggs, bacon, and fresh bread slathered with freshly churned butter, along with two small cups of strong black coffee. He set the tray down on the bed and produced two forks and napkins.

Handing a fork to Jose, he waited until Jose took his first bite of eggs before digging into the pile himself. He had purposely brought one plate, figuring it would be easier for Jose to ease back into everyday things if he wasn’t forced to eat on his own.

They ate in silence, enjoying the food and the respite from the world created by the four walls of Milo’s room—a room Jose was very familiar with, having spent so much time there over the years.

The sun was high in the sky when Diego entered the farmhouse. Natalia was busy wrapping pasteles made from yuca and filled with savory pork. Milo came down the stairs as Diego greeted her.

“Hey, what’s up?” Milo said, clasping Diego’s hand.

“I just thought I’d check in with you and Jose,” Diego said, concern showing on his face.

“He’s been sleeping most of the day. I got some food in him, and then he went back to sleep. I’ve just been staying with him—no pressure, no demands. Letting him move at his own pace,” Milo said as he sat at the kitchen table.

“Adriana was worried as well. She noticed how quiet he was when we arrived. I did my best to reassure her that everything was okay and that you had things under control.”

“I think for now, we just let him rest and regain his balance. Everything else can wait. He’s my priority right now.”

Diego nodded. “Maybe I can bring Adriana by tomorrow. It’s Sunday, and maybe by then Jose will want to see people, and we can hang out under the palo santos.”

Diego got up to leave. He kissed Natalia on the cheek and hugged Milo before heading out the door.

Natalia continued to wrap pasteles for a moment, waiting for Milo. Milo went to the fridge and took out a malta. He opened the bottle and sat back down at the table.

“Mama, do you think you could ask Doña Aurora to let Jose stay one more night? I think he really needs another day to regain his balance.”

“Of course, mijo. How much do you want to tell Aurora?”

“Just tell her that Jose wants to spend time with me. There’s no need to worry her right now. Jose hasn’t spoken about what happened yet—I’m giving him time.”

Milo was setting the table when he heard the bark. Piyelito scampered into the kitchen, chasing his tail and running back and forth.

As Milo looked up, he saw Jose tentatively peeking into the kitchen. It broke his heart to see the hesitation there.

He squared his shoulders and kept his voice light.

“Piyelito, I see you finally got your master up out of bed. Is he hungry, or is it just you?” Milo grinned.

Natalia looked up from the stove as she lifted out the pasteles she had just finished boiling. She placed them on the table alongside yellow rice, beans, avocado, and bacalaítos—Jose’s favorites. She smiled warmly.

“Come sit down, papito. Dinner is ready.”

She moved with casual efficiency, as if this were any other evening meal served in her house.