A brisk knock at Mirabel's door shattered through hazy, half dreams. That was nice, dreaming. She felt like she hadn't for a while. She ratcheted her eyes open- blinking at the unfamiliar view of Casita's baseboards in front of her. As she stirred, she felt blood rush into the limbs that had been pressed into the cold tiles of the floor. She supposed she'd slept there. Why?
The memory of last night hit her all at once and she snapped fully upright. A blanket that had been draped over her shoulders pooled at the ground. Rubbing the sand from her eyes in the morning-drenched room, she felt her heart convulse with a wave of embarrassment.
She hadn't really lost it on Bruno, had she?
Mirabel flushed in discomfiture and a little shame. She had done exactly what she was trying to avoid the weeks before.
A second knock at her door- this one diffident, almost inaudible. Mirabel had a hunch that it was Bruno. No skipping breakfast for her. She'd accept that if it meant Bruno would have to attend as well.
She stood and glanced at the circular mirror on her closet door, grimacing at the reflection that greeted her. Mirabel looked exactly like a person who had cried a whole night and slept on the floor, puffy eyes and the imprint of mortar on her cheek. She smoothed out the folds of her skirt and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get the worst of the curls to stay in place. Futile.
Another knock, this one a little louder. She decided to let it go.
Mirabel opened the door a crack, and sure enough- Bruno. He wasn't in great shape either despite a shave and change of clothes. He had a shiner on his right eye bordered by a shallow scrape where his face had hit the bed frame. He seemed to be favoring his left side, the one Mirabel dragged onto the floor. Mirabel felt horrible about insisting Bruno stay with her, the fighting before that…
"I am so sorry," Mirabel's voice sounding more mortified than she intended.
"Been through worse," he shrugged, hands in his pockets.
Mirabel reluctantly pulled the door open then, eyes downcast. Her arms were mottled with yellow bruises and semicircle imprints that she had left with her fingernails. She pulled down her sleeves to hide them.
"Julieta will help," Bruno assured her. Mirabel glanced away, gaze landing three wrapped packages on her vanity. Presents. She really had intended to go to that dinner.
"Do you think they'll be mad at me?" She had missed October 17th entirely.
"Who?"
"Mom. Pepa-" She bit her lip, shamefaced. You. "I ditched your birthdays."
Bruno laughed, and then sobered when he saw her expression.
"Sorry. They'll be happy to see you," Bruno held out his hand and Mirabel took it, a bit shocked. She tried not to marvel at the contact and betray how much it meant to her. Perhaps it was easier for Bruno to reach out to someone when he had fought them and won.
Bruno paused in the hall, their hands still clasped together. His hand was slightly cool in hers and she could feel the heat flooding between them. The sounds of the Madrigal family drifted up to them from the breakfast table.
"I can guess why you didn't tell anyone," Bruno's face was troubled, and he wasn't looking back at her. Mirabel wished she could smooth her thumb over the worry lines over his brows. "The things you said last night."
Mirabel opened her mouth to minimize- maybe deny. But Bruno cut her off.
"You have to," he said with urgency. "Don't let it just fester?"
But Mirabel couldn't. The sorrow over Abuela had become a twisted, selfish thing that could only cause more hurt where there was already so much. And she never thought she'd tell Bruno. Her favorite. The starring role of her worries.
Well, he knew now.
Mirabel craned her neck trying to meet his eyes. She had to settle for watching his profile instead.
"You?" She challenged, trying to sound braver than she felt. She didn't know if she could handle rejection at this point- after she'd forced the man to bear her affection at its absolute worst. "I promise I won't… do that again."
Bruno seemed to muster his strength.
"Yes."
The definiteness of the phrase was a balm to Mirabel's nerves. She nodded, and tightened her grip on his hand. Daring him to be there for her, keep his promise.
Last night, she had held him like her grasp was the last thing that tethered him to her world. Even now she could feel the void of his presence like a phantom limb. But she could imagine a fine line between them nevertheless, like the start of a ladder stitch that hadn't been pulled shut.
Mirabel allowed herself to be led to breakfast. The electric embarrassment was almost a relief after trying to feel nothing for so long. Her eyes adjusted to the wan fall sunlight that was burning through the morning rain clouds. In autumn, the valley's greens turned darker and made the edges of shadows soft like unspun wool. A slight chill and a smell of peat in the air tided the arrival of winter holidays. Mirabel felt, despite everything, more alive than she had for a long time.
The Madrigal family were already halfway through their breakfast when Mirabel and Bruno arrived. A good number had attended, including Dolores and her family. Pitchers of orange juice were nearly empty, the table spread was down to the stalwart and ever renewing bowls of rice and beans. Mirabel and Bruno tacitly agreed to sidle in and draw as little attention to themselves as possible.
However, when Mirabel's mother caught sight of her, the expression on her face was so excited and hopeful that Mirabel couldn't help but smile back. The once familiar expression felt oddly foreign on her face. Julieta stood up and rushed around the table to pull her into a crushing hug.
"Mom," Mirabel complained, more out of obligation than anything.
"We were worried about you," Julieta told her. Mirabel had a sense that it wasn't just last night she was referring to. She realized she had been distant from her mom- from everyone- in her effort to fall on the grenade of her misery.
"Well, I'm here now…" Mirabel said, muffled. Her mother smelled like smoke and cilantro, like she always did.
"I can heat up something else, mija. Bruno. We didn't know if you two would be joining us…"
Julieta continued to fuss as she sat Mirabel down in a chair. A plate was placed in front of her and loaded up with several helpings of beans and rice, the last couple of arepas snatched from the jaws of Camilo. Mirabel could hear the rest of the family laughing at the excess, but it seemed everyone was cheered by Julieta acting characteristically after so long. Another way you could miss someone who was still there.
"What happened to your eye?" She heard Antonio say. From where she was at the table, Mirabel could see Bruno had sat down next to him and was trying to hide the bruise on his eye by casually resting his head on his hand. Smooth.
"I hit it on a bed frame?" Bruno offered, somewhat truthfully.
"We brawled.," Mirabel cut in, raising her fists as if they had boxed. "Mano a mano." Antonio was shocked into giggling like he hadn't for a long time since becoming a teenager. Julieta inspected Bruno's face with suspicion.
"Not really?" She asked them both.
"Really," Mirabel let a dry tone add ambiguity to her statement and took a bite of arepa.
"Who won?" asked Camilo, interest piqued.
Mirabel thoughtfully chewed the arepa and sighed in relief as she felt the itch of incipient bruises on her arms fade abrasion on Bruno's eyebrow was already knitting back together. Though the wounds were gone, she could still see the lines of connection that had formed. Mirabel chewed, considering.
"Draw," she decided.
It never did get as bad as that first time.
She and Bruno refused to let each other skip any meals which meant the two of them were back on perfect attendance. Since the two of them so frequently ended up sitting together, the composition of the table and chairs shifted for the first time since after Abuela's death. Felix and Agustin were usually separated- their facilities and maintenance talk forestalled. New conversations were happening again. Mirabel wished she had thought to do this on purpose.
Maybe the family had already been healing, but now Mirabel was able to see it. It was always in unexpected ways.
Camilo went an entire week in disguise, just to see if he could get away with it. (This proved another incentive for all members to attend each dinner, or he would happilly borrow their space at the table for the evening.)
Her mom rediscovered an old cookbook, and freed from Abuela's strict sensibilities, served the family recipes from countries far beyond their hidden village. She had to replace most of the foreign spices with the ones available in the valley, leading to implausible configurations of flavors. Exceedingly subtle or radiantly spicy meals- some dishes where no one could tell if they were supposed to be deserts or main courses. At least she was having fun.
One afternoon, Mirabel found Antonio and Luisa in the courtyard of Casita with no less than ten of the village's donkeys. Hidden on the second floor behind a pillar thick with vines, Mirabel shook her head in disbelief. Donkeys in Casita! What would Abuela have thought? Mirabel could practically envision the restrained, yet ominous alarm she'd wear on her face. She was protective of indoor sensibilities, the cleanliness of the house. A damning chastisement would be due. Mirabel was again struck by how strange it was that she was not here. But Mirabel didn't have the same concerns, and she was incredibly curious about what issue they were facing.
lt was clearly important. Antonio gestured at a donkey that looked particularly woebegone, saying something about "indignity."
"What do you mean, they don't like to be carried?"
That was Luisa, perfectly audible, arms crossed firmly across her broad chest. Antonio responded, but his voice remained quiet even as he grew into a young adult. Luisa clicked her tongue scornfully and raised an eyebrow at the arc of gathered equines.
Mirabel darted her eyes around - was anyone else seeing this? Lucky for her, Bruno's room was just around the corner. She snuck over and quietly rapped on the door.
"Who is it?" Bruno said. His voice had a strained, formal quality like he was trying to sound more intimidating than he was.
"Me?" Mirabel squeaked. She realized that they had spent so much time together that she had forgotten how different he could be around others. Bruno immediately opened the door, abashed.
"Oh, hi-" he began, before Mirabel shushed him. She grabbed the sleeve of his ruana and brought him to look down at the courtyard behind the pillar. As soon as he saw it, he understood. Chismosas, both of them. Bruno smiled sheepishly at Mirabel's silent, but enthusiastic pointing at the spectacle.
"If they'd walk faster and not wander off, I wouldn't have to!" Luisa threw up her hands. The donkeys all jumped at her exasperation, but Antonio didn't flinch. Mirabel thought she heard him say something, like "they will." Dolores would know.
Mirabel wondered if it was even possible for Antonio to extract a promise of efficiency from a donkey. She wondered why he chose this fight, and this arena. Perhaps he saw himself in those donkeys? The two continued their debate, quieter in respect of the donkey's nerves.
Finally, it appeared that Luisa and Antonio had come to an agreement. Antonio stood at the entrance to Casita's courtyard- arm up, red handkerchief held aloft. Luisa grabbed four unlucky donkeys and stacked them on her back.
The rest of them grouped together, looking scrappy. When Antonio brought his arm down, the donkeys took off at once, skidding along the smooth tiles of the courtyard.
Luisa was in no rush. She strode past Antonio with slow, deliberate steps.
"Their resolve won't last thirty feet," she called over her shoulder.
"Give them a chance!" yelled Antonio, clearly audible for the first time.
"They're racing," Bruno confirmed to Mirabel in a whisper.
Of course. Mirabel giggled. Perhaps sensing his audience, Antonio whipped around, curls rippling, and peered up into the second story. The two of them instinctively ducked behind the pillar.
Luisa won.
The Encanto began to fall back into its rhythms. Early morning hours were the time of fresh-brewed coffee and Calentado. Then, the light over the mountains stirred an exodus of people from their homes like schools of colorful river fishes through the streets. A slower period- siesta- saw the retreat of the neighborhood inside like a tide going out. The village seemed abandoned save for the occasional lounging dog or cat. But as the sun began to set, it came back to life with a swelling chorus of the crickets and frogs that had woken alongside them.
Mirabel would have felt stranded in the ebb and flow. She was still struggling without Abuela when the rest of her world seemed to be moving on. But it was enough that Bruno knew. Mirabel had needed him to know most of all. When she had to, and when they were alone she would pick up the conversation where it left off. Talk of the song and the Madrigal story, the voices missing in the choir. The math. The words always came out fragmented and stuttering. But Bruno had stopped trying to distract her, even if he didn't know what to say. He didn't have to say anything usually.
It was enough that he let her hold his hand. That night had been some mysterious turning point in which Bruno had decided that it was something Mirabel could do.
So she did- when the ripples in the clouds traced by the morning sun reminded her too much of the river Abuela had crossed. The small chores and quotidian goodbyes that used to send Mirabel spiraling. Other times when her family and the people of the village wanted her to be something she just wasn't yet.
As the winter came, warm breezes and fluffy clouds collapsed into cold and damp mists. It was the grace of Pepa if it wasn't raining. She held Bruno's hand and imagined she could will warmth into it. Like her care would moor him to her as they weathered whatever fate would throw at them.
Sometimes she held his hand just because she wanted to- so she could covertly watch his expression shift from surprise to a cautious smile that he hid with a tuck of his chin. This was her favorite. It made her heart feel impossibly large in her chest, as if she was trying to find room to contain every one of those smiles forever. She tried not to abuse the new privilege.