Julieta sat on the sandy floor of Bruno's tower, the stairs ahead of her cold and ominous. Her hand traced lines in the sand, the smooth yet grainy texture rubbing against her fingers. She imagined Bruno walking down the stairs, his ruana flowing behind him as he petted a rat in his hand. His hair would be bouncing up and down with each step he took, his face calmer than ever. Julieta always marvels at how he felt at home in this tower, but, then again, he spent most of his time in this large room.
But this time she didn't see him come down the stairs. He wasn't here anymore.
When Julieta first found out from Pepa that Bruno wasn't at home, she panicked. No matter how hurt Bruno was, or how much he wanted to be alone, he would never leave. Their Casita was his home, even though he sometimes felt out of place. Was he hurt somewhere? Was he dead? Why was his door, once alight with orange magic, as dark and cold as a cloudy night sky?
No one knew what happened, not even Alma. No one had seen him leave, and everyone searched the whole Casita, his tower, even the whole village, but Bruno wasn't anywhere to be seen.
Julieta shouldn't have been surprised. Her brother was an anxious person, unable to be around people for very long, and afraid of many things. Yet, she knew that it couldn't be possible. Why would he leave? He loved his family.
She could remember how he was so fond of the children, always playing with them, no matter how strange the games were. He would hold each of them when they cried, smile and tell lame jokes when they needed it. He was their Tío.
And now he's gone.
It had only been a week and Julieta found herself in his room, tears falling down her cheeks and the sand tangled itself in her clothes, the dust making her throat dry as she sobbed. She would have helped him. Whatever happened, she was the older sister, she had to take care of him.
"Oh, Bruno…" She cried, her sandy hands rubbing her tear stained face. She didn't hear the door open and close, soft footfalls making their way towards her. Yet, she automatically leaned into the hand that landed on her shoulder, gripping the hand and pressing her face into the soft skin.
Agustín knelt down beside her, kissing her cheek comfortingly.
"It's going to be alright, mi amor ." He whispered, "It's going to be alright."
Julieta shook her head frantically. "No, he's gone, Bruno's gone…"
Agustín wrapped his arms around her and let her sob into his chest, sand falling from her skirt and into his lap. He was thankful that he didn't bring any of the children with him, like he planned on doing. He knew that Julieta was struggling with her brother's disappearance, but he didn't know how much. She, like her mother, was good at hiding her emotions, especially around her children.
"I just want him to come home." She sobbed, and her husband whispered assurances in her hair. "I just want everything to go back to normal. First Mirabel, and now Bruno…"
He nodded. "I know. But, we both know that Mirabel doesn't need a gift to be special. And your brother is resourceful, he'll be okay."
"You can't know that!"
"I can only have faith, Julieta. Faith and hope. He loves this family, I can't imagine that he would leave it forever."
"But…but after everything with Mama and the townspeople…he probably hates us." She sounded so heartbroken, Agustín knew that he had to comfort her. He couldn't make the pain go away, but he would try his best to make it hurt less.
"Shh…mi amor, don't think about that. We both know that he may have had a rough relationship with Alma and the people of Encanto, but he loved you, me, and Pepa, and Felix, and all of the children. If he left willingly we know that it was out of his love for us."
Julieta nodded into his chest, wiping tears off of her cheeks. "I just want him to come home."
Agustín gave a sad smile. "I know. I do too. We all do."
Julieta straightened herself in his grip, and he loosened his hold on her, allowing her to readjust herself so they were both facing the stairs.
"I remember when there was only one stair." Julieta said quietly after a moment, as she held Agustín's hand. "It was the day we all got our gifts, our own rooms. Bruno was really disappointed with his, but he loved the sand. He couldn't stop playing in it."
Agustín looked around the room observingly. "I don't even see a bed. How could he be comfortable here?"
Julieta shrugged. "He used to have a bed, but I don't know when it disappeared. All of the changes were so…gradual, I was completely oblivious to them as a child. Looking back..it was so obvious that his room was becoming less homey and more…you know."
"More isolated and cold?"
She nodded. "We used to build sandcastles here. We would get buckets of water and make the sand wet, building as many houses and towers as we could before the sand dried."
Agustín gave a small laugh. "It must've been fun."
Julieta smiled, eyes distant with memories. "It was. We got so dirty, but it was the only quality time I spent with Bruno. We were always so busy…He actually kept one of the buckets we used, once. I'm not sure what he did with it, but he loved that one bucket. It was gray, covered in rust, with a huge dent near the bottom, but that bucket was his favorite. It was sweet to see. A bit odd, but it was Bruno. We didn't mind."
"Why don't we build some?" He asked suddenly, and she glanced up at his face, confused.
"What?"
"Just you and me. We can build sandcastles. I'm sure Bruno wouldn't mind. Maybe he will come back and join us."
Both of them knew that the last comment was a lie, but Julieta nodded.
Agustín got up and promised to come back with some water, rushing out of the room and going to the kitchen, grabbing as many containers of water as he could. It was a bit difficult avoiding the children, but he finally completed the task and returned to Bruno's room. Julieta glanced up at him with a smile, and a quick look told him that she had already started working.
There was a huge pile of sand in the middle of the room, a trench in the middle of the pile, and his wife was covered in sand.
He gave her one of the buckets of water and she poured it into the trench, allowing the water to soak the sand and get the pile wet. Agustín poured more water on some sand and put some sand into the container, making sure that it was wet enough before flipping it over and waiting for the sand to solidify. Juileta was doing the same thing, her hands covered in wet sand instead of dough.
It didn't take long for one sandcastle to become two, more tiny homes to be built around them, and roads created with the palms of their hands surrounding the small, fragile structures. But, it was never complete. More buildings would be made, each of them more detailed than the next. Fingerprints became windows, small herbs Julieta kept in her pocket became trees.
The two of them got dirty, but they didn't care. By the time they were both tired, their hands and clothes were covered in sand, their shoes full of the grainy substance. Sand caked their arms and legs, even patches of their face, but they were smiling, Julieta's brighter than ever. Agustín hadn't seen her smile this much in over a week.
Julieta let out a content sigh and stood up after she created another road, hugging herself softly as she looked at the thing they created. Agustín got up and beside her, adjusting his glasses and sniffing away the sand that landed on his nose.
"It's perfect. Bruno would be so happy." She said quietly, and Agustín pulled her into a side hug.
"It is quite remarkable. He would be very proud of it."
Julieta smiled. "Yes. I wish that he could see it."
The two fell into a comfortable silence, the sand doorway being the only sound in the whole room.
Agustín gently tugged Julieta away from the sand city, kissing her forehead lovingly. "We should probably get some sleep."
She hummed in response, reluctantly turning away from the beautiful city they created. She let him lead her to the exit, and, after casting one last glance at the reminder of her brother, shut the dead door with a thump.
Days passed, and no one came to see the sandcastles. Like all things that are forgotten and isolated, the sand soon began to crumble where it stood, falling to the floor in clumps, shedding sand as it fell. The moat dried, the towers, so carefully and lovingly built, leaned then collapsed under the pressure they faced. The foundation of shifting sand wasn't stable, and soon the whole city became a pile of sand once again, getting higher and higher as sand from the doorway tumbled down upon it as the room became forgotten.
Days turned into years, years turned into a decade, and it remained lost until one day it broke the fall of one adventurous Madrigal.
That's when everything changed.
