Part 2: Keeping You
Bruno set off under the December sky just after dawn to perform his ritual of casting pinches of salt around Casita. In the months since the family's supernatural fortune had been his full time occupation, most of his practices had fallen by the wayside. There was less time for the more intricate ones like praying the rosary for each family member. Others felt unnecessary, thank Dios. But the salt stuck.
Bruno wrapped his ruana tight around himself and flipped its hood up as he trudged out into the grounds. No sense putting it off. He cast the first pinch of salt over his shoulder, a little prayer that things would get better, or at least stay the same for a while.
"Hey, wait!"
Bruno jumped mid-step even though he knew who it was. He glanced over his shoulder to find Mirabel jogging determinedly, carrying a large umbrella. It was probably one of the last remaining in Casita's entryway. The smaller, more convenient ones were the Madrigal family's favorites and tended to be misplaced soonest into the muggy season. Bruno laughed at the mismatch between the short girl and unwieldy umbrella frame.
By then Mirabel had made it across the lawn and skidded beside him, sneaking her hand into his to more seamlessly match their strides. Bruno stumbled anyway of course- trying to catch the umbrella before it unbalanced and landed in the mud. Mirabel took in his awkward shuffling with satisfied mirth, like watching Bruno scramble was a reward for good services performed.
"How is your hand practically scalding on a day like this?" Bruno said instead of thanking her, raising their interlocked hands.
The mid-winter morning in the valley was testy more than tempestuous- not a storm but a mild rain. Cold enough to make the air hang seasonably bitter around the house, and the limbs of trees and palms sag with accumulated dew.
"My hand is normal," Mirabel scoffed, as they turned a corner. "You're the one with the circulation of a vampire."
Then, as if to cushion the non-existent sting of her words, she pulled their hands up to her face and laid her warm cheek on the back of his hand. Her eyes were lit up with happiness at the small gesture, like there was no place she'd rather be.
Bruno smiled back, feeling his heart skip as he noticed yet again how Mirabel had eclipsed so many of the mild sources of joy that used to tide him over. Scraps of personal happiness had previously sustained him. The sound of the family laughing, audible from within the walls of Casita. A cup of coffee that he did not have to prepare for himself. The milhoja that manifested at each wedding in the village. Mirabel was so lovely, he almost wished she would stop before it was too late for the smaller things to matter.
Bruno knew she was on loan from some brilliant future. But he couldn't conceive of any step to guard himself for when she was gone- no more than an untroubled person could conceive of chopping off their arm. He gave their intertwined fingers a squeeze before letting go, just glad to walk beside her.
He was going to feel horribly alone when she left.
Bruno cast another pinch of salt with his free hand. They were about level with the hiding place where he had found her crying, but so many of their circuits had sapped the location of its sordid emotional history.
By the time Bruno and Mirabel finished the loop around Casita's grounds, the sun had burned away enough mist that even the most determined laggards couldn't deny the beginning of the next day. As they turned the last corner, Bruno could already make out two neighbors lingering at the front door of Casita. The ones that came this early were looking for soothing, to confide worries that occurred in the night - not Luisa's ability to reroute rivers or Isabela's floral arrangements. Mirabel's people.
Mirabel stopped in her tracks and let out a short exhale.
"Already?" She whispered. Her expression was torn.
"Take the umbrella-" Bruno tried to affect an encouraging expression. He thought it probably looked silly on his face, but Mirabel never seemed to mind. "I'll wrap things up and find you later."
Mirabel smiled back, satisfied by the promise. She took off a light jog, still so full of energy to meet the incredible responsibility that was placed on her. Bruno watched her greet and hug both of the neighbors, invite them in for coffee like it was her idea that they should visit so early.
Bruno still saw sorrow in her smiles, but he imagined he saw it less. He had sought out promises he could make to Mirabel- the ones like the dancing. Small things. Letting her accompany his ritual. Bringing her lunch if she couldn't get away from the village, sitting with her when she ate. She now used the couch and table in his room to lay out her larger art projects whenever she needed. He hoped it wasn't just his imagination that they added up.
At the same time as his small promises mended the tiny infelicities in Mirabel's day to day, he saw her throw whole bridges between members of the estranged Madrigal family. If Bruno was a scientist instead of a seer, it would have been of anthropological interest how Mirabel's return brought the rest of the family back together. She had a way of provoking conversations, generating ruses with gravitational pull. Her popularity with her nieces and nephew meant that Dolores spent more time around Casita rather than the houses of her in-laws.
Bruno himself was a beneficiary. Sometimes he would think back on what he did and shock himself with the amount of events he'd been a part of due to Mirabel's influence.
That evening happened to be one of them. Night had just fallen on the village, the last orange hues of sunlight drawing up the walls to the rooftops before the sun vanished behind the mountains. As if the early visitors at Casita had been an omen, the day had turned out to be one of those odd confluences of frenetic activity that made it difficult for Bruno to stay out of people's way. He mostly hunkered down in his room to weather it. But now it was quiet. Bruno, as promised, went to find Mirabel.
As he turned the corner of the hall, Bruno was surprised to find Mirabel's door already open with light spilling out. Bruno warily poked his head in the door.
What he saw first was Luisa perched gingerly on Mirabel's bed, a meadow of bright clothing spread out around her on the embroidered blue quilt. Isabela was hovering behind her, reviewing the clothes with a critical eye. Sitting in the chair of Mirabel's vanity- a kid from the village that Bruno was pretty sure was named "Amelio" or something. He was primarily known to Bruno as the soft-voiced, Werther-ish young man in his vision of Luisa's wedding. At the moment his eyes were filled with exaggerated admiration for Luisa and he made a swooning gesture as if overcome with sentiment. He was clearly Camilo.
"Luisa," cried Camilo, wringing his hands. "You are so mighty, how could I ever measure up to you?"
"He wouldn't say that," admonished Mirabel, hands on her hips. She had her back to the door and was clearly overseeing the whole operation. Her hair had puffed up over the course of the day, defeating the pins she used to keep it bundled at the nape of her neck. A proper lion's mane to scatter her cousins into behaving. Luisa gripped her hands together in her skirts, looking like she was about to quit and run.
"But what if he does say that? What should I do?" She looked to Mirabel with panic, and then happened to lock eyes with Bruno in the doorway.
"Does he say that?" she blurted, clearly desperate for an objective read.
All eyes turned on him, and in the moment, Bruno wished he could rewind time and put the situation back to the status quo. Sorry to darken your door. Bruno didn't know the specifics, but he did happen to know this date would be successful eventually.
"Uh, I wouldn't think so…" he said. Really, that was the best he could do? Bruno shook his head at himself.
"Is that good or bad?" Luisa brought her hand up to her mouth to chew her nails. Isabela batted the hand away, murmuring about how she'd ruin her nails in an instant.
"It's good, because you don't have to think of the answer to Camilo's dumb question." Mirabel narrowed her eyes at Camilo when she said his name.
Camilo batted his borrowed eyelashes innocently. Bruno was about to escape this tableau of niece and nephew coordination, but Mirabel excitedly beckoned him in and he couldn't refuse. He hovered at Mirabel's left, clasping his elbow behind the small of his back and trying not to look out of place. As Mirabel continued to coach Luisa and Camilo, Isabela raised a skeptical eyebrow at him from behind the bed. Bruno tried to convey in a shrug 'what are we gonna do about it, Mirabel makes the rules around here.'
"Anyway, Angelo is different," proclaimed Mirabel to the gathered audience. That's the name, Bruno thought. "He's nice and bookish. He'd say 'Luisa, what is your favorite type of poem so I can l write one for you?"
"Some move," Camilo gave Angelo's face a disdainful smirk, entirely unimpressed.
"He's not concerned with moves!" retorted Mirabel. "That's the difference between you and him."
"Why don't you play him then," said Camilo, reverting to his own face without flourish.
"The point is to help Luisa practice, and feel less nervous,"
"It's not working," trilled Isabela, raising a pink shawl up to Luisa's face and then discarding it with the others on the bed. Luisa herself was darting her eyes between Mirabel and Camilo, sitting on her hands to avoid chewing at the nails.
"If he's the one he probably won't mind whatever you do," offered Bruno. "You know, Pepa and Felix…" he cut himself off.
Pepa might never forgive him for reviving that choice piece of gossip from their teenage years. It was never easy to date, much less so when your feelings were so legible… so capable of property damage. To his surprise, Luisa nodded, mollified. He supposed those gathered in the room had experienced a lifetime of Pepa's emotional range.
"He's here, up the path!" Dolores ran past the room, juggling her twins in her arms.
Everyone in the room looked at Luisa. She rose to her feet with a grim expression and plodded out of the room, looking like she was going to her death. As soon as she was out of eyeshot, Camilo leapt to his feet and took off in a run, no doubt up to something. Isabela rolled her eyes. She spared a nod before swooping after her cousin.
That left Mirabel and Bruno. The departure of the others had drained the room of jittery excitement. Mirabel began to gather up Luisa's date outfit incarnations, folding them for transport back to her room. Bruno helped, though his folding never turned out as well as Mirabel's.
It was really a lot of different outfits. Perhaps every one that Luisa owned. She must really have been banking on this one to turn out right.
"Saints preserve our Luisa," chuckled Bruno, attempting to fold a white shirt into the neat lines that Abuela had taught him years ago. Mirabel giggled, taking the cue to gossip. Bruno was happy to hear her sounding more like herself these days.
"She's been agonizing about this since he asked her yesterday. Pacing the halls, trying new things with her hair… I think she's had a crush for a while now." Bruno could remember the anxiety and uncertainty of young adult romance. Truly gruesome. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the carousel of worst memories circled uncontrollably.
"But Angelo's so shy," Mirabel continued, "Took him waaaay too long to notice. I think Dolores told him in the end. If only it was as obvious as in telenovelas!"
"Never as obvious as telenovelas," he agreed, finishing the white shirt as well as he could and picking up another, slightly bluer one.
Mirabel dropped the skirt she was shaking out and turned to him.
"Wait, did you date?" Her eyes brimmed with keen interest. At some point she had stepped closer so her gaze was inescapable. Bruno felt blood rise to his face. He took a step back, trying to appear nonchalant and definitely not defensive.
"I mean, well, yes," he mumbled.
The parade of embarrassing memories began anew. The upturned nose and terrier-like energy of the young girl who apparently had a crush on him for a summer- who then relentlessly bullied him when he "broke her heart" by not knowing. Pepa's pretty friend after he accidentally knocked a pitcher of aqua fresca over her. The smart, dark-haired one who now maintained the village's library. They saw each other on-and-off for a year before she tired of his hesitancy. The match he was set up with because the two were the last unpaired in their generation, and then he predicted the untimely end of her goldfish.
"I did date a little. We all did." Bruno tried to smile. He really was over it, just had an aptitude for vividly re-experiencing the most embarrassing moments of his life both past and future.
"Who? What happened?" Mirabel's face was lit up with curiosity. She examined him as if expecting to find something new, now that this detail of his history was known to her. Bruno locked his arms under his ruana, feeling exposed.
"Well," Bruno laughed nervously. He shouldn't get into the gory details. Couldn't really say he had a perfectly standard time without lying either. "Some people married and I didn't."
Mirabel's face fell and Bruno could kick himself. He didn't mean to burden Mirabel with any of the baggage from that part of his life. There were plenty of suitors- he was a Madrigal! He was just a bit too odd. And when he wasn't, his visions meant he could know if things worked out after just the first date. The trouble with seeing the future- a real chicken and egg situation. The ordeal was over, and he was happy being a part of the Madrigal family.
"But you know whose date goes well?" Bruno decided to break a personal rule. Mirabel looked at him with confusion, until it dawned on her.
"Luisa's?" She asked, excitement ignited once again. Bruno put a finger over his lips. Mirabel whooped and grabbed his hands, spinning them in a clumsy circle. Bruno allowed himself to be drawn into a good mood. Mirabel made it easy.
"Yes! Luisa likes him so much! I was really hoping-" Mirabel cut herself off with a brilliant smile. "I'll keep it to myself."
They returned to folding, Mirabel with more vigor than before. Bruno wondered if she was already planning the wedding.
"Would you also tell me what happened with Pepa?" asked Mirabel as they headed to Luisa's room to drop off her outfits.
"I think she'd kill me," he said, crossing himself as well as he could with an armful of clothes.
"Okay, don't tell me…" Mirabel said, giving him a knowing look over her shoulder. She'd get the story out of him eventually.
It was worth breaking the rule this time, Bruno decided.
Maybe he'd break more.
Maybe, he thought, as the door to his room closed behind him that night, he'd look into Mirabel's future.
Bruno hadn't been looking into the future lately. Hadn't done a "real" vision since the last one Mirabel requested of him, before Casita fell. Over his years of intense practice- back when his mother would ask him to search out every tragedy - he'd grown to be terrified of what he'd find. Yet another death? The family torn apart again? Another failed love for a young girl? Without Abuela to ask him any more, he simply didn't try.
He kicked off his sandals without regard for where they landed and drew near to the window overlooking the village. Two rats dozed in a pile and he didn't want to bother them- the others evidentially exploring elsewhere. A strange pang of loneliness. Bruno wished he felt comfortable talking to Casita like Mirabel did- and Abuela had.
But visions still had their way of stealing over his eyes without his permission. He figured they were ones his gift deemed them too important for him to miss.
For Luisa, a wedding, Casita filled with red and blue flowers and the sounds of merriment.
For Antonio, unfortunately, a broken arm - which couldn't be far off judging by his age. Thank god for Julieta.
As for her, he saw at least four grandchildren making themselves a nuisance in the kitchen as they prepared for a Christmas not long from now.
He saw a storm in Pepa's future and he didn't even need to be psychic to guarantee that.
Mirabel's future tempted him to take just one last hard look. Nothing was simple for her, even since his original vision of her role in Casita's fall.
Here were the two visions he received:
The first was Mirabel at the very end of what appeared to be an Easter procession, where Abuela had once stood. The Mirabel of today would shrink from the position. But in his vision she looked stronger, and carried herself with an assuredness that Bruno envied. The Madrigal family was united again, two by two along the procession.
The second, much stranger, was Mirabel draped in the blue embroidered blanket that Bruno recognized from her bedroom- bare feet curled beneath her. She had wrapped her arms around herself in a sort of hug, a position of self soothing that Bruno recognized himself in. But despite the vulnerability of the pose, her eyes were fierce and certain. Like she knew without a shred of doubt what she had to do, whatever it was, and god have mercy on whatever stood in her way.
The two visions did not cohere into a narrative. Why was she alone? Where were the weddings and children like her sisters and cousins?
Bruno ambled to his bed and pulled out the dusty trunk underneath where he was sure he had kept his matches and candles. He rummaged for a time and finally tucked the bundle of supplies under his arm. As for the sand, he probably could borrow some from downstairs. He always had plenty of salt. Bruno wanted to see Mirabel surrounded by family, fulfilled as the next leader of the village- happy. Maybe a vision could be what got her to that next stage. A sneak peak, teaser. The direction she should run.
But as he continued to walk towards the door, his steps seemed to slow of their own accord. Bruno's heart beat dully, feeling leaden. Why was the prospect so unappealing to him? Was he truly that scared to find another disaster in Mirabel's future? He knew for a fact she was capable of beating any odds. Bruno stopped with his hand on the doorknob, unable to go further.
Instead, he was forced to acknowledge a bitter, selfish part of himself.
Mirabel had a wonderful future- a perfect husband and a family of her own. But Bruno wasn't going to try to get her there sooner.