Disclaimer: Encanto does not belong to me. This story is not for profit.
Chapter 5
October 21st
Mirabel woke up to find Antonio snuggled up to Camilo's side and Luisa snoring. Antonio's sleeping face was angelic. Camilo's face was unusually relaxed. This is the way it should be. Mostly she was happy that Camilo was getting to experience how wonderful Antonio was. A tiny part of her didn't want to give up her time with Antonio. But it's not like Antonio is really going anywhere. I can cope. She shifted onto her side, put her glasses on, and sat up. Isabela was awake and combing her hair, and for once, Isabela tending to her hair didn't make Mirabel want to retch. Besides, I'm bonding with my siblings, too.
Isabela suddenly met Mirabel's gaze. Her face lit up, and she waved. "Hey, let's eat breakfast together this morning, OK?"
Mirabel scrambled to get herself together. "OK!" The little kid part of herself who had always wanted to be invited to do something special with Isabela was so excited she thought she might burst.
They ate breakfast together in the home of the village seamstress, Señora Torres, who chatted excitedly with Isabela about ideas for flower-themed dresses and with Mirabel about applique techniques. Señora Torres was like a best friend and teacher to Mirabel rolled into one. She was in her early thirties and always dressed with unique flair – Mirabel's fashion hero.
"I don't think I'm very good yet," Mirabel said.
Isabela looked shocked. "What are you talking about? I've been jealous of your ability to design your own clothes for forever. Everything you make looks so you. I wanted to be real; I was just scared of what Abuela would say."
Mirabel flushed and grinned. "Let me design something for you!"
"Let's both design it together," Isabela said. "I want to learn."
Between the three of them, Mirabel, Señora Torres, and Isabela, they drew out design ideas on the spot, using some of the seamstress' paper and pens. Señora Torres kept their drawings for them and promised to let Mirabel come back and use her sewing station and dress forms.
Today was Sunday, so Señora Torres and her family walked back to the church with Mirabel and Isabela. While they had been gone, the bedding had been cleared away and tucked out of sight so that the church could be used for its regular purpose.
After Father Agudelo's church service, Abuela took Bruno back into one of the church offices. He looked angry – and so did she. Most of the family hustled out the door. Mirabel, Dolores, Camilo, and Antonio lingered behind. Pepa came back for Antonio and took him away by the hand.
Mirabel strained to listen at first, but gradually Abuela and Bruno's voices rose.
"Because you were going to hurt Mirabel, that's why!" Bruno yelled.
Abuela's retort couldn't be heard clearly.
"She was only five years old!" came Bruno's voice.
Abuela's voice rose enough that hers now came through the wall clearly as well. "We could have taken measures!"
"Like what? Admit it. You thought my vision would come true no matter what, exactly like everyone else! No one does anything in this town to avoid anything."
"What you see is destiny!"
"I don't believe that anymore! Whatever I see is so out of context, it's misleading. I'm never having another vision again, so what's the use? Maybe it wouldn't come true if people wouldn't make it come true!" Bruno stormed out of the church office into the nave of the church, and out the front door.
Abuela came out next, her face tight with anger. "Bruno. How dare you walk away from me before I am done speaking with you?"
Pepa came back, sans Antonio, and converged on her. "Mamá, he only now came home and you're going to chase him away again?"
"Home," Abuela scoffed. "He was hiding in the walls!"
"An inch away or a mile away or a world away, he was still gone, and he is still back now," Pepa said. She frowned at Abuela. "And you're still driving him away." She took off after Bruno. "Bruno? Bruno! Wait!"
Abuela locked her angry gaze on Mirabel.
Mirabel took a step back, surprised, and then glared in return, squaring her shoulders.
But Abuela's gaze then passed to Dolores.
Dolores squeaked and ran away.
Abuela once more turned to Mirabel. "When?" she demanded.
Mirabel didn't have to ask which 'When' Abuela was referring to. "Right before Casita broke apart. After I put together the vision and Antonio's animals shared it with you. I was trying to get him to come home. I was trying to save the miracle. I don't care if you believe me or not. The truth is still true regardless of if anyone believes in it." She strode out of the church, not to see if she could find Bruno, but to see if she could find Dolores.
xxx
Mirabel found Dolores behind a stall at the market plaza.
Dolores motioned frantically for Mirabel to hide with her. Mirabel scrambled over. "Wh-" Dolores pressed a finger to Mirabel's lips and gestured with her head. Mirabel peeked around their hiding place.
Mariano had cornered Isabela. Not in a mean way. Mirabel didn't blame him. But Isabela didn't look happy.
Mariano got down on one knee. "Isabela." He took her hand and placed his other hand over his heart. "I want you to know my feelings for you haven't changed."
She stared at him, her face frozen.
"You are still the most graceful of the Madrigals. I still admire you. Will you allow me to serenade you?"
Isabela's face unfroze, and she smiled slightly. "Mariano…I have a confession to make. Abuela ordered me to get married to you. I'm sorry. It's not fair to you to marry you. You have genuine feelings for me. I was acting under orders. That would make a terrible match."
Mariano's eyes widened. "Then…"
Isabela knelt in front of him. "My answer is no. I understand if you are upset. I'm declining because I care about you, and spending your life married to a woman who doesn't love you is agony. I know that someone who loves you will step forward. You're a great person."
Mariano slowly rose. "I understand. You are a very thoughtful person." He slowly walked away, rubbing the back of his neck. His brow was furrowed with intense confusion. He turned to face Isabela, pausing. "Then…your baby sister wanted me to marry you, too?"
Isabela let out a short laugh. "Mirabel didn't know I had been ordered by Abuela. She was only trying to protect my feelings. Oh, and Mariano?"
"Yes?"
"Mirabel isn't really a baby anymore." Isabela smiled.
"Right." Mariano didn't sound combative, only wearily confused. He turned and resumed walking away. He seemed to be headed toward his home, not the construction site.
As soon as Mariano was out of sight, Isabela turned to face the crates that there the hiding place of Dolores and Mirabel. "OK. You can come out now."
Mirabel stumbled out of hiding as Dolores squeaked. "I didn't – I mean, um – Hi. I wasn't listening –"
"Don't be silly. Knowing you and Dolores were there gave me the courage to say what I really felt," Isabela said. She tossed her hair. "I might've chickened out if I hadn't known there was an audience. I've got to set a good example for both of you."
"I am only three months younger than you are," Dolores mumbled, coming out of hiding.
"And still haven't had a date," Isabela said. "You're so shy that you keep running away – from whoever. I wish you would tell me."
"I don't think that's appropriate," Dolores said.
Isabela looked annoyed. "I don't see why we can't be friends."
"Because I'm always in your shadow," Dolores said. "Always, always, from the day I was born. And all because I wasn't born first. Second place right out of the gate."
Mirabel glanced from Dolores to Isabel. "Uh…" She laughed awkwardly. "Maybe I should go."
Dolores took Mirabel's arm. "No. Stay."
Mirabel froze. "Oh…kay…"
Isabela sighed, shoulders slumping. She combed her fingers through her hair like Pepa, and Mirabel realized with shock that Isabela was anxious about this confrontation. "I never knew that you felt that way. I swear. I was always so busy being nitpicked by Abuela that I didn't have time to see anything other than my own reflection." She curled in on herself slightly. "Abuela spent so much time pruning me like a shrub that when I found a chin hair this morning, I was in tears, even though I plucked it immediately. All I kept thinking was, 'I can't let Abuela catch me'. I couldn't tell Mamá what was wrong." She forcibly straightened her shoulders. "That's no excuse, I know. But I wanted you to know my side of it before you assumed I'm some arrogant princess purposefully oppressing you."
Pain showed on Dolores' face. "Abuela always said that I wasn't pretty like you, but at least I was useful."
"What?" Mirabel screeched. She grabbed Dolores by the shoulders. "You're beautiful!"
Isabela's face was contorted with horror. "That's horrible." She crossed the distance between them and took Dolores' hands.
Dolores' expression became pinched, and her eyes darted away as if she felt trapped.
"Dolores, that is an awful thing for Abuela to say, and it isn't true," Isabela said. "If I'd had any idea how mean she was being –" She broke off with a frown. "No, the old me would have been too terrified to stand up to her. Seeing Mirabel do it and live, and not be permanently kicked out of the family, made me braver." She squeezed Dolores' hands. "I think you're beautiful, Dolores."
Dolores couldn't meet Isabela's gaze. "I want to believe it's true, but I don't."
"Then we'll help you believe it," Isabela said. "Every woman should feel beautiful, for being the way she is. I know that I don't feel that way, but I know it's wrong to be terrified of chin hairs and blemishes and to think all day about whether or not my skirt is wrinkled or my bra is showing just a tiny bit beside the shoulder of my dress. Abuela's made me neurotic. And she's crushed your self-esteem."
"I spied on you," Dolores admitted. "I helped Abuela oppress you."
Isabela let go of Dolores' hands and propped her hands on her hips with a smirk. "And I helped Abuela oppress you. So let's forgive each other and go after her. OK?"
Dolores' tiny body slowly relaxed. "OK. I forgive you."
Isabela hugged her, startling her. "I forgive you. I want to be friends. Magic or no magic, we're the Madrigals, and we've been held apart from everyone for so long on this damned pedestal that the only friends we're ever truly going to have are each other."
Mirabel watched all this with a tiny smile. We are healing. She imagined the candle burning brighter. This has to matter. Casita or no casita, miracle or no miracle, it can't be too late to save this family. We're all trying so hard.
Isabela glanced at Mirabel and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a three-way hug. Mirabel grinned, pleasantly surprised. I'm not an outsider anymore. I'm not an observer looking in. I'm part of this family – at least the grandkids part. She hugged Isabela and Dolores in return.
xxx
When Mirabel, Isabela, and Dolores walked to the construction site, they discovered that it had been turned into a gathering place for the day. Mirabel's mother put them right to work helping cook the food that would be everyone's lunch. Mirabel accidentally burned her fingers once or twice, but not badly, and it was fun working together with Isabela and Dolores and her mother. "Mamá, teach me how to cook," Mirabel said impulsively.
Julieta was stunned for a split second. Then she hugged Mirabel tightly. "Do you mean that?"
Mirabel nodded, surprised at the question. "Yeah. I think I like it."
"Teach me too, Mamá," Isabela said. "I want to carry on our family traditions. It's important to me." She got a hug, too.
Mirabel didn't feel like Isabela said that just to compete with her; she was willing to give her sister the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Isabela hadn't said she liked it. She wanted to learn for tradition's sake. She waited for a moment, but it never turned into a competition. "This is something we can all do together."
"Yes," Julieta said, beaming at both of them. Then she looked at Dolores, who was silently tending to a pot of stew. "Sobrina, what do you think?"
Dolores stared at her.
Mirabel was confused at why Dolores didn't answer.
Julieta tried again, gentler. "Do you like to cook? Would you like to have lessons with Mirabel and Isabela? It's OK if you don't. But if you do, you're welcome to join us."
Dolores squeaked and ran away.
"What did I say?" Julieta looked to her daughters.
Mirabel cringed. "Mamá, I think we have to face that we shared a roof, but we don't know Dolores that well yet. In some ways, she's practically a stranger."
"Maybe she's feeling overwhelmed," Isabela said. "Until this morning, Dolores thought I hated her."
"Hated her? What is all this? Where did she get that idea from?" Julieta asked, seeming concerned.
Isabela sighed. "Something Abuela said."
Julieta frowned. "I see. Madre." She did not say the word 'Madre' with affection.
Mirabel thought of this morning. "Yeah, about Abuela, is Tio Bruno OK?"
Julieta stirred her frying vegetables. "Honestly, he probably isn't, mi hija. Bruno has never spoken to Madre like that. He is probably hiding because he is terrified to face the consequences of having done so. And without his room or the walls to hide in, I don't know where he would go. He has always needed a lot of time to himself. Ever since he was a little kid. We never knew where we would find him in those days. He always seemed to find a new hiding place in Casita. Of course, the fact that it was Madre and the three of us all alone in that big house made it easy for him."
"Should I look for him?" Mirabel asked.
"If he doesn't come for lunch, then I will start to worry. If nothing else, he'll want food for his rats."
xxx
Just like Julieta predicted, Bruno showed up at lunchtime. "Hey, can I have a plate of food for my rats? They loved the fruit and vegetables last time, a-and that's probably better for them than a steady diet of arepas." He chuckled nervously. "You haven't seen Mamá, have you?"
Julieta shook her head. "I don't know where she is." She dealt a plate of fruit and vegetable scraps. Then she handed Bruno a second plate weighed down with a bowl of stew, shredded pork, fried potatoes, and two sugar cookies.
Bruno grunted at the weight of it. "Hermana…"
"If you can't eat it all, I know someone who will be willing to eat the rest," Julieta said with a smile.
"Huh?" Bruno glanced down.
Antonio was beside him, grinning. He tugged the hem of Bruno's ruana gently. "Can I see the rats, Tio Bruno?"
Mirabel smiled at that.
"If you help me eat all this, sure," Bruno said. "Let's find a bench to sit on down the street, OK?" He and Antonio left the swarming line of people and walked out toward the village. As few people as possible would stare at him and his rats. Mirabel was well aware of the second motive.
xxx
After everyone had been served their lunch, Mirabel went to check on Bruno and Antonio.
Antonio sat with Bruno and petted one of Bruno's rats. The feeding plate was empty. Bruno had four rats on him, two on his lap and one on each shoulder.
"Isn't it sad that they don't live very long?" Antonio asked.
"Well, two years is a long time for a rat," Bruno said. "See, they feel time differently. Every day is so long that it's a week. So, uh, if you do the math on that, then each rat lives a – a good, long time. That's 365 times two times seven, divided by 365…s-so, fourteen years. That's like a dog. So think of rats like little dogs." He looked as if he had surprised himself. "Actually, that's pretty accurate. They do tricks and understand your voice and come when they're called, all the stuff dogs are known for." He grinned. "Plus, they're so small that you can have like a – a dozen – and they hardly take up any space. Who has room for twelve dogs? Being friends with rats is great."
Antonio giggled.
Camilo wasn't far away. He stood against the wall of the building with his arms crossed casually. "There isn't an animal that Antonio doesn't like."
"I kn-know that rats aren't for everyone," Bruno said. "I'm not off…offen…I don't mind."
"Mamá is afraid of rats. Maybe that rubbed off a little on me," Camilo said.
Mirabel sat down on Bruno's other side. "I don't mind them. I think they're kinda cute."
Antonio stroked the rat he'd been allowed to hold with an expression of fascinated adoration, then looked at Camilo. "Mamá's afraid of rats? Why?"
"I don't know. How am I supposed to know? I never asked her why," Camilo said.
"Rats just like me," Bruno said. "I don't know why. They showed up in my room as a kid and that – yeah, that was that." He shifted on the bench. "But Pepa – Pepa didn't see it that way. She thought I was – I don't know what she thought." He petted a rat's head with one finger. "But when we were little –" His head jerked up and he looked at his niece and nephews' attentive faces. "Maybe I shouldn't tell the story. Maybe you should ask her."
"What if she doesn't tell us?" Antonio asked.
Camilo frowned. "Do you really want Mamá to be the one to tell us what happened? You know what she's like."
Bruno sighed. "She fell down in the sand and my rats tried to help her, but she thought they were attacking her and she screamed, and I came running, and I found her half-drowned in the sand just inside my room and crying. So she thinks I saved her from the rats, and I'm trying to comfort her and the rats at the same time, because her screaming scared the rats."
Camilo was wide-eyed, wearing an expression very similar to when he had learned about the prophecy concerning Mirabel and their magic. "What did you do?"
Bruno looked at Camilo with an expression of cringing shame. "She refused to ever set foot in my room again. If I wanted to talk to her, it had to be in her room."
"But it was just a misunderstanding," Mirabel said.
Bruno hunched in on himself and picked at the hem of his ruana.
Mirabel and Camilo glanced at each other.
"You mean you never talked about it?" Mirabel asked.
"We don't talk about things in this family," Bruno muttered. "It's like a rule. You see how that went. I knew what was going to happen to me, and sure enough: We Don't Talk About Bruno."
Antonio surprised everyone by climbing onto Bruno's lap and giving him a tight hug. "I'll tell Mama your rats were only trying to help her."
"That's very sweet, Sobrino, but I'm not sure that it will help," Bruno said. "Y-You see, the problems between your Mamá and me are bigger than that."
"You made it rain on her wedding day," Antonio said.
"Mamá made it rain on Mamá's wedding day," Camilo said sharply. "And Mamá only cared about the rain because she's always cared about it, and I don't know why she cares so much. It's just rain. It didn't hurt anybody. She cares so much about the rain that she doesn't care about the feelings that caused the rain in the first place. If everyone was nicer to her all the time, it wouldn't happen."
Bruno nodded and looked away. "You're right. Y-You're right, and that's always been the problem." He belatedly hugged Antonio, who still sat on his lap. "A-Also, like most people, Pe-Pepa doesn't remember what I actually said to her."
"What did you say to her?" Camilo asked.
"I-It's OK. Memories get confused. I get confused." Bruno buckled under the weight of the rest of them staring at him expectantly. "I said it would be OK if it rained. And then Madre cut me off and told Pepa it wasn't going to rain, because she was doing perfectly. And then it rained, and Madre was so upset that she made it worse on Pepa, and it turned into a hurricane."
"And then they blamed you for bringing up rain?" Camilo asked.
Bruno nodded.
Camilo frowned. "But that's not fair."
Bruno played with his rats for a few moments in silence. "I-I think we should get off this topic. It's not helping."
Camilo strode forward and stuck out his arm. "Put a rat on me."
"What?" Bruno looked confused.
Antonio lifted the rat he'd been holding and put it on Camilo's arm gently. The rat easily perched there. Camilo stayed still. After a moment, the rat ran up Camilo's arm and onto his shoulder, sniffing his ear.
Camilo squirmed. "That tickles."
Bruno had frozen, barely breathing, but now he smiled and chuckled. "He likes you. His name is Dominico – a-at least it is when he helps me with my telenovelas. Rats don't really have names – or if they do, it's said in squeaks, so I wouldn't be able to pronounce it." He asked Antonio, "Do rats have names?"
"Actually, rats have smells as names!" Antonio bounced on the bench excitedly.
"Then I definitely won't be able to pronounce their names, because their names aren't words," Bruno said.
The rat visiting Camilo was now snuggled up against Camilo's neck. Camilo was still squirming a little, but he was also smiling. "They're softer than I thought they would be." He petted the rat with one finger. "And it doesn't smell gross. Mamá says they smell. But this one just smells like nuts."
"My rats are very clean," Bruno said. He looked rueful. "That said, they d-do smell – that is, it's an acquired taste. Usually I think mine all smell a little like food. Males have stronger scents than females."
"We could say Dominico's real name is Peanut," Antonio suggested.
Bruno hugged him. "OK. His name is Peanut."
Mirabel brought the rat she held up to her face, and it sniffed her cheek and then gave her a little lick. She was instantly charmed. "This one smells a little like lotion, or perfume."
"She's a female," Bruno explained. "Her character's name is Manuela."
Antonio smelled her. "I think she smells like vanilla."
"You're right," Mirabel agreed. "She does kind of smell like vanilla."
"Vanilla it is, then," Bruno said. "Vanilla plays the part of Manuela."
They spent the rest of the afternoon naming Bruno's rats and playing with them. Bruno explained as much of his ongoing telenovela to them as he could. Mirabel wasn't sure she would remember it all, but it occurred to her that she could ask Dolores if she got anything confused. Dolores had to have heard it through the wall.
That evening, Bruno ate dinner with Antonio, seeming to take comfort from being able to give Antonio everything he couldn't personally eat.
Mirabel's mother gently took her aside, smiling, and murmured, "He looks so much better than he did this morning. How did you help him?"
"We talked about his rats and his telenovela all afternoon," Mirabel murmured in return.
"Well, he's glowing." Julieta hugged her gently. "I haven't seen him so happy since Señor Zapata made him props for his make-believe games as an eighth birthday present."
"Props? Were these colored panels with holes in them for the rats to stick their heads through?" Mirabel asked.
"That's right. How did you know that?"
"He still had them," Mirabel said. "Behind the wall. He took them with him."
Pain flashed over Julieta's face. "And now they're gone. He must have treasured them so much if they were one of the few things he took with him. He left almost everything behind in his room."
"Maybe we can make him new ones!"
Julieta hugged her. "That would be a lovely present – especially if it came from you children. I know he wants so much to connect with you again – and Antonio for the first time. As much trouble as my brother has had with people his own age, he loves children. I always knew he would never have any of his own, but he doted on you and your sisters and cousins."
At bedtime Mirabel gathered her sisters and cousins into a single cluster on the floor with their sleeping blankets and pillows and told them everything she'd learned about the props and how important they were to Bruno.
"We could also ask Señora Torres to make little costumes for the rats," Isabela suggested.
"It would have to be something they like wearing," Antonio said. "I'll help figure it out. I don't want the rats to feel like they can't move. That will make them unhappy."
"When is Tio Bruno's birthday?" Luisa asked.
Mirabel gasped. "I don't know."
"How can we know a thing like that?" Camilo asked. "We weren't allowed to talk about him."
"I remember," Dolores whispered. When everyone looked at her, she seemed intimidated, but after glancing around the room and seeing that the adults were settling in for bed and not paying attention to their children, she leaned in and whispered even quieter, "It's in November. November 7th."
"Then it's coming up," Mirabel said. "That's perfect!"
"As long as the adults have time to help us," Luisa said. "They might all be busy with the house."
"If they give us the materials, then we'll do it," Mirabel said. "I know how to make clothes."
"And I can paint," Camilo said.
The only person who didn't look surprised at this was Dolores.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Nothing! Having something you enjoy doing is great," Mirabel said. "I just wish I'd known."
Camilo shrugged and looked away. "It's no big deal. Mamá and Papá forget about it. How am I supposed to expect someone else to know?"
Mirabel resolved to corner Camilo tomorrow and ask him all about painting. If we don't all learn about each other for real, the miracle won't come back. I know it. "Well, then, you do know who you are – at least one thing about who you are. You like to paint."
"I guess." Camilo grunted. "I'm tired."
"It's been a long day," Luisa admitted in a guilty tone, as if pointing that out were somehow taboo.
Isabela settled down on her blankets and pillows. "You're right. Let's get some sleep." She spoke as if not noticing Luisa's guilt.
Camilo flopped down and rolled onto his side away from everyone else, but his demeanor softened when Antonio snuggled up to him.
