"Goooood morning, Tío!" Mirabel called, as she bumped the barn door open with her hip, carefully balancing two plates in her hands.
She'd managed to rise early that morning, beating even her mother to the kitchen. As quickly and as quietly as possible, she threw together two heaping plates of rewarmed leftovers and headed out to the barn.
But when Bruno didn't answer, Mirabel's smile faded.
"Tío Bruno?" she called.
Still no answer.
Mirabel set down one of the plates and hurried to the ladder. She climbed as fast as she could, balancing the other plate in her hand, and cautiously peeked over the side of the hayloft.
She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Bruno curled up on a pile of hay, half-hidden beneath his quilt, sound asleep.
Slowly, so as not to wake him, she climbed up the rest of the way and tiptoed over to place the plate on the floor where he'd be sure to see it when he woke up.
She was just turning to go when Bruno let out a quiet whimper. She froze and looked back at him.
Bruno's brow furrowed in his sleep, his snout wrinkling, and he jerked a little under the quilt. Mirabel's face pinched in concern. She kneeled in the hay next to him, unsure if she should shake him or let him wake up on his own.
He whimpered again and she reached for him.
"Tío Bruno?" she whispered. "Tío, it's okay, it's just—"
Bruno gasped at the sound of her voice and his eyes flew open. Mirabel saw a hint of green before the glow faded, and he stared through her, like he didn't know she was there.
"No—" he whimpered, sitting up and lunging blindly for Mirabel's arm. He clamped down hard and she winced. "I'm sorry—please—don't—"
"It's-it's okay, Tío," Mirabel said, confused, placing her free hand on his and squeezing lightly. "It's just me, it's Mirabel—"
Bruno's eyes refocused. "Mirabel?" He blinked a few times, disoriented. "What-what time is it?"
"Early," Mirabel said, giving him a small smile. "I brought you breakfast."
Bruno nodded jerkily, focusing in on the plate sitting next to Mirabel's knees. He drew in a shuddering breath.
Mirabel squeezed his hand again. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Bruno shook his head. He slowly withdrew his hand from Mirabel's arm to knock several times on the floor before reaching for the plate of food. He wouldn't look at her.
Mirabel was at a loss. "I'm, um, going to go—"
Bruno's head jerked up. His eyes were huge in his face.
"Go get my food," Mirabel clarified quickly. She waved her hands. "I left it down there. I'll be right back, I promise."
Bruno ducked his head and his hair covered his face again. He took a bite of food.
Mirabel returned with her plate in record time.
They ate in silence. Bruno still wouldn't look at her as he mechanically cleaned his plate. Mirabel picked at her own food until finally she put her plate down and scooted it toward him.
Bruno's eyes flicked to it.
"I'm not hungry," Mirabel said. "You can—"
Bruno was already reaching for the plate before she could finish her sentence. Mirabel took a deep breath and let it out again.
"Um, Pá and I finished Dolores' dress yesterday," she said, just to fill the silence. "She'd described it in one of her letters when she picked it out, but I hadn't seen it in person until yesterday. And she finally got her ring back from the jeweler's—she had to get it resized. I guess it used to be Mariano's great grandmother's, and she had the tiniest fingers…"
Mirabel chattered at him, describing the decorations at the church and out in the yard in front of the farmhouse, never expecting a response as he cleaned her plate and set it on top of his.
"...And then the guitar player turned out to be Tío Félix's old university amigo, so they've been belting out songs all over the square—"
"What–what kinds of songs?"
Mirabel blinked, glancing at Bruno. He still had his hair in front of his face, and he was twisting the hem of his ruana, but at least he didn't seem nearly as tense.
"I didn't recognize any of them, so they must be old and therefore irrelevant," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "I mean, Tío Félix is, like, fifty, so I think his taste has corroded with age."
Bruno huffed. "If fif–fifty is old, then what does–what does that make me?"
"Oh, don't worry, you're old too, Tío. Ancient, even."
Bruno snorted and finally looked up.
Mirabel smiled. "Still hungry?"
He shook his head. "No, gracias, Mirabel. Lo—"
"Don't be sorry, Tío Bruno," Mirabel said firmly.
"I didn't–didn't hurt you, did I?"
Mirabel flexed her arm. It felt a bit sore where he'd grabbed her, but no way was she going to tell him that. Nothing her mamá couldn't fix.
"Feels fine to me."
Bruno eyed her, like he knew she wasn't being fully honest with him.
"So, uh," Mirabel said, clearing her throat. "Is there anything…different today?"
When Bruno didn't answer immediately, Mirabel went on, "I mean, first your hands and then yesterday your tail…is there anything that you noticed today…?"
"No. There-there's nothing."
Mirabel's mouth snapped shut. Bruno twisted a piece of hay through his fingers and wouldn't look at her.
"Oh." She shook her head, curls bouncing, and tried to smile. "Well, that's okay! That's still two things, I'm sure we'll figure out—"
"Three," Bruno murmured, so softly she almost missed it.
But before she could question him, she heard the sound of the barn door opening and shutting below.
"Tío? Mirabel?"
Camilo's head poked up from the ladder. "Buenos días!" he crowed. "I see Mirabel finally decided to get up early for once!"
Mirabel rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks."
The barn door opened again and more voices trickled in from downstairs. Mirabel stood up and saw everyone file in—Antonio riding on Luisa's shoulders and Isabela and Dolores whispering together behind them.
Soon, they were all up in the hayloft, in generally high spirits. Bruno perked up a little at the sight of them all, especially Antonio, but Mirabel could tell he wasn't nearly as animated as he was last night, and she wondered again how long he'd slept before the nightmare showed its ugly face.
Bruno wasn't the only one a little subdued this morning—Dolores was drifting along the fringes of their little group, deep bags under her eyes, and the first chance she got, Mirabel wandered over and nudged her side.
"I'm going to tell Mariano today," Dolores whispered, eyeing the others to make sure they hadn't heard.
Mirabel's eyes widened. "Really? That's great! Uh." She lowered her voice. "I mean, are you sure?"
Dolores nodded. "I talked to Tío Bruno about it last night, and he said I should tell Mariano the truth. So…I will."
Mirabel put her hand on Dolores' arm and gave her cousin a small smile. "We'll be here for you no matter what happens, you know that, right?"
Dolores shrugged, not looking at her. "At least until you all go home again."
Mirabel didn't know how to respond to that.
The rest of the morning passed much the same as the one before—all of the kids, minus Antonio, were recruited for jobs that kept them all separate and very busy until lunch, which Mirabel and Isabela were able to sneak out to the barn this time.
Bruno was still quiet, even with Mirabel's best attempts to make him laugh as she skimmed through the thick folder Abuela had given her yesterday.
"What's that for?" Bruno had asked politely.
"Abuela roped me into going to a stupid council meeting this afternoon," Mirabel said with a groan, flicking the folder closed. "You'd think after three years of me living somewhere else she'd give up but noooo." She flopped down into the hay and buried her face in her hands. "You make one vaguely insightful comment when you're nine and suddenly you're meant to lead the village…"
"Dios, could you imagine?" Isabela said, laughing outright. "You in charge?"
Mirabel sat up and gave her a dirty look. "What, I could do it!" She turned to Bruno. "I could run a town, couldn't I, Tío Bruno?"
Bruno looked nervously between the sisters. "No, uh, no comment?"
Isabela guffawed while Mirabel groaned and flopped back into the hay again.
"Betrayed! By my own flesh and blood!"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruno crack a smile, so she counted it as a win in her book.
Before they had to get back to work, Mirabel pulled Bruno aside.
"Did you get enough to eat, Tío?"
Bruno gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You sound like your mamá when you say that."
Mirabel huffed. "Oh, great. Next you'll be telling me I sound like Abuela."
"Well…"
Mirabel gave him the stinkiest stink-eye she could and his smile stretched into a more genuine one.
After a moment, Mirabel rolled her eyes and laughed. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, do you think you'll be able to take a nap today?"
Bruno's smile faded. "I don't sleep much. You…saw why."
Mirabel nodded. "Yeah. Was it–was it a vision?" she asked, her voice hushed.
Bruno's nose twitched and he looked down. "Maybe."
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Mirabel said, holding out her hand.
He didn't take it. "I know, Mirabel." He twisted the hem of his ruana and peered at her through his hair. "Don't—don't worry about me today, okay? I think…you have enough on your plate." He tapped the folder in her hands.
Mirabel withdrew her hand, stung. "But—"
"Mirabel," Bruno said, cutting her off. He sighed. "Por favor. Just try…try to have some-some fun today, okay? You can come complain about municipalities or principalities or whatever when you get back."
Mirabel snorted, shoving down the feeling that he was trying to get rid of her. "You're gonna regret that. I'm gonna talk your ear off."
Bruno shook his head, his whiskers twitching. "Never."
An hour before the council meeting, Mirabel changed into nicer clothes and did her hair and make-up before suddenly finding herself with nothing to do. She wandered into the kitchen to skim the rest of the agenda before it was time to leave.
Julieta was reading quietly at the table, a cup of coffee sitting beside her, and she looked up and smiled when she saw Mirabel enter.
"You clean up nicely, mi vida," she teased and Mirabel rolled her eyes.
"What are you reading?"
Julieta held up her book so Mirabel could read the cover: La Hojarasca.
Mirabel wrinkled her nose. "Is it any good?"
"It's very intriguing, to say the least," Julieta said, sliding a bookmark between the pages. "Jury's still out whether I like it yet." She raised an eyebrow at the folder in Mirabel's hands. "How's yours?"
"Boring."
Julieta laughed. "I bet. Come, sit. You can tell me all about it."
Mirabel hesitated. "Actually, Mamá…could you make something for me?"
"Por supuesto," Julieta said immediately, giving her an appraising look. "What hurts?"
"Nothing major!" Mirabel said quickly. "I think I just lifted something too heavy yesterday; my arm's a little sore."
Julieta clucked her tongue and stood. "One chocolate en leche de coco coming up."
Mirabel followed her to the stove and hopped up on the counter, her legs lightly kicking the cabinets beneath her as her mother assembled ingredients and heated up a saucepan.
"Did you know that this was my go-to drink, when you were little?" Julieta said, pouring coconut milk into the saucepan. When Mirabel shook her head, she continued, "I used to make it after you had a nightmare."
Mirabel didn't remember. "Did I used to have those a lot?"
Julieta hummed. "Not too often. Every couple of weeks, maybe. But I think it must run in the family, because my brother used to have them all the time."
Mirabel stopped swinging her legs. "He…did?"
"Sí. It was because of his Gift, mostly." Julieta paused in her stirring, looking troubled. "I told you he could see the future, didn't I?"
Mirabel nodded weakly, not trusting herself to speak.
"Bueno." Julieta added chocolate to the pan. "He used to see such terrible things, even in his dreams. I would sit up with him, sometimes, when it was a particularly bad night."
Mirabel gripped the countertop so tightly her knuckles went white.
Julieta didn't seem to notice. She let out a long sigh. "Lo siento, I just…I've been thinking about him and Papá a lot this week."
"How come?" Mirabel whispered before she could stop herself.
Julieta shrugged. "Any big family event like this, I think about them. They would have loved to be here." She smiled at Mirabel before turning back to the stove, her eyes bright. "And they would have loved you, Mirabel."
Tears prickled in the corners of Mirabel's eyes, and she hastily pushed her glasses up to wipe them away. When her mamá turned to hand her a steaming mug, she blurted, "I went to the Encanto."
Julieta froze. "When?"
"On my way here. I, um, changed my bus ticket and left on Monday instead of Wednesday."
To her surprise, Julieta laughed. "Of course you did," she said, shaking her head. "My tenacious Mirabel. I wondered why you were asking Pepa about it."
Mirabel winced. "She's not still mad about that, is she?"
"No, no, she's not angry with you, lo prometo. She was just surprised, that's all." Her smiled faded. "How was it?"
Mirabel took a deep breath. "Sad. Really, really sad. No one ever came back to get their stuff, and everything's overgrown…but. Um. Casita's still alive?"
Julieta flinched back, paling. "Impossible."
"No, I saw it! Casita waved its tiles at me," Mirabel said, waving her hands in demonstration, nearly spilling her drink. "And when I touched the front door, it opened by itself. I wound up having to spend the night there, and in the morning it woke me up to show me—" She cut herself off, mouth snapping shut, and she glanced at her mamá with wide eyes.
But Julieta was curious now. "Show you what, Mirabel?"
Mirabel's heart was beating so loudly she was sure Dolores could hear it all the way in town.
"Mirabel," Julieta repeated. She rested her hands on Mirabel's shoulders. "What did Casita show you? Did it–did it have anything to do with—"
"Mirabel? Are you ready, mija?"
Abuela chose that moment to step into the kitchen, her black shawl around her shoulders, but stopped when she saw them. She frowned. "What's going on?"
Mirabel shimmied out from her mother's grip and slid off the counter. She smiled at Abuela, setting her cooling drink on the kitchen table and picking up the folder. "Nothing, Abuela. We were just talking."
Mirabel could feel her mamá's gaze boring into her back.
Abuela nodded. "I see. Well, come along, Mirabel, or we'll be late."
Mirabel followed Abuela out the door, refusing the urge to look back at her mamá. She knew she'd have a lot more questions to answer when she got back.
I won't be gone that long, she thought, taking slow, deep breaths as she walked arm in arm with Abuela. Everything is going to be just fine until I get back.
Translations:
1. Buenos días - Good morning
2. La Hojarasca - or Leaf Storm, as it's known in English, by Gabriel García Márquez (AKA the same author who wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude, the novel that many Encanto fans feel the film references in many places; e.g. the yellow butterflies). I've only read as much as I could find on Google (which was only the first 16 pages haha), but the Wikipedia synopsis is: the characters "find themselves in a spiritual limbo after the death of a man passionately hated by the entire village yet inextricably linked to the patriarch of the family." And, apparently, one of the characters also secludes themselves away in their home for ten years, so. Make of this what you will.
3. Chocolate de leche en coco - hot chocolate made with coconut milk
