It was the evening of the Día de las Velitas weeks later when Mirabel finally had it with Bruno.
The sounds of riotous children's laughter and conversation echoed through the halls of Casita, along with the telltale grind of the house reshuffling itself to make room. Dolores, Antonio, and Antonio's menagerie had taken charge of the courtyard, carefully arranging intricate patterns of twinkling candles that would transform it at night. The smell of tamales emanated throughout the yellow-hued kitchen where Mirabel and Bruno chopped massive baskets of corn and potatoes destined for incorporation into a giant batch of soup.
Maybe, in retrospect, she shouldn't have made a promise to herself involving another person. But it was too late for that.
It was the new tic that Mirabel had noticed in Bruno that day, the slight pull of a muscle in his back. Perhaps it was just the natural consequences of his favorite nervous habit of clutching his left arm. But as Mirabel's focus narrowed in on it, she figured out that it had become clockwork, starting mid morning and gradually twisting him until the next meal with her mom, sometimes as late as dinner. Mirabel brought it up to Julieta, but her mom said she was just imagining things. Mirabel thought it was obvious if you spent any time with Bruno.
The worst part was, Mirabel knew she could fix it if he'd let her. Even without the healing powers.
"Dios, Bruno, it's not an amputation! I help Luisa with this all the time." They were momentarily alone. Julieta had wandered off to source some spices from a neighbor and Isabela followed shortly after. Mirabel picked up this latest topic of conversation like a dog gnawing on a bone.
"Just age. Nothing for being an old geezer." Bruno didn't even raise his eyes as he took another stripe of potato peel off with his knife. Not that old, Mirabel thought. You'd think he had a foot in the grave. She sighed as she dumped an ear's worth of corn into a large bowl, muttering to herself about stubborn individuals who were too set in their ways to accept help.
"Is it because I said it would hurt a little? Julieta taught me. Certified safe."
Mirabel stuck her knife into the cutting board with an impressive thunk in a way she knew her mom hated (certified unsafe). She crossed her arms.
"I promise, that's how it works. You'll be turning cart wheels out of this kitchen after."
"No, I believe you."
If he did, what was the hold up? Mirabel took up the knife again. She hated when he would agree to everything except the actual thing she meant to communicate. It was just so silly. She could fix his stupid back and then he'd stop looking like a tortured saint.
The thing is, it made her remember how human and fragile he was. How powerless Mirabel was if something serious happened. What was the point if she couldn't even fix this small thing for him? Mirabel's chopping slowed as she was hit with a fresh new wave of the anxiety she remembered from the early days after Abuela's death. The dull fear was stewing safely below the surface of her thoughts, but it was ready to explode if she poked at it.
As the sound of her knife slowed, Bruno glanced up at her face. He immediately paused his own work, looking stricken.
"Sorry,' she told him, dumping the corn she had partially chopped into the large pot behind them. Mirabel hadn't meant to worry him. "Just stress probably."
Bruno cleared his throat and Mirabel turned, hoping her face was back to normal by now.
"If I let you do this," Bruno worked to free the words from his jaws. "Will you feel better?"
Yes. She nodded, shocked at the sudden turnaround and not wanting to chance saying anything that would dissuade him.
"What do I do." Bruno crossed his arms in front of him and dug his fingers into the opposite sleeves of his ruana.
Mirabel directed him to sit sideways on a chair by the green kitchen table, so she could reach his back. Bruno gripped the side of the table like he was hanging off a cliff, which - hello, kind of dramatic? But Mirabel wasn't going to complain. She stretched out her hand towards the left side of his back, where she was sure the knot was. The instant her fingers made contact, Bruno shied away like he had been burned. Mirabel snatched her hand away.
"Did that hurt you?" She offered weakly.
She had forgotten. Touch came to her so easily, a vital part of her relationships with those she loved most. She had somehow forgotten that Bruno held himself like he was filled with lightning, shocking on contact. He weathered hugs and accepted a hand on his like he was carrying a hot plate.
"Ticklish." Bruno intoned. But he didn't laugh and refused to look up from where his hands gripped the table. There were some times when the detailed and thorough facades that Bruno used to fit in could not hold up, and this was one. So that was why it took this long for him to let her fix his back.
"Okay…" said Mirabel. "At your three o'clock?"
She hovered her hands over his back, hoping he could feel the heat of her palm, and not be caught off guard. This time, when she put her hand down on his back, he braced himself. Mirabel could feel his muscles pulling, like wire girders. No wonder he was messing up his back, if he held himself like this.
"I'm going to move up," She said, lightening the pressure until just her fingertips trailed on the green ruana. "Just tell me when you feel it…"
Bruno nodded curtly, expression curtained by the curls that framed his face. As she began moving her hand up his back, she felt his breathing restrict. Mirabel wished she could reassure him, but perhaps acting casual was as good as she could manage. When she reached about mid back, she felt him freeze.
"Here?" Mirabel said, pausing her fingertips.
"Has to be," said Bruno.
"Okay, this is just 30 seconds." She told him. "Or until you tell me to stop?
When Mirabel hesitated, he continued.
"Go for it," he said.
Mirabel braced one arm on Bruno's shoulders and put the elbow of the other on his back where the sore muscle, increasing the pressure until she was applying as much as she could. Bruno hissed, gripping the table with renewed strength.
"Ow." He said, deadpan but strained.
Mirabel began counting downwards from 25 aloud. She knew exactly how this felt- a dull ache that didn't seem to resolve like a cramp would if you stretched it. By the time she reached the single digits, Bruno had wilted over the table, miserable.
"Three… two… one… And we're done!" Mirabel removed her elbow, and without thinking about it, audibly kissed her palm and placed it where the knot had been. Bruno whipped his head around and gave her a scandalized look. Mirabel belatedly realized what she had done, and felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
"It just occurred to me" she mumbled, picking up her hand and tucking it under her other arm. "That this part of Mom's instructions might not be strictly necessary."
With that, Bruno began to laugh, pulling himself out of the chair.
Mirabel turned away and covered her face. That was dumb. Bruno put a rare hand on her shoulder and turned her back around. She was struck by how much less haggard he seemed with the laughter on his face. Soft like he was with his rats. Handsome. The word came to Mirabel unbidden, and with it giddy feelings that unfurled like a rose in her chest. She shook her head and hid the bloom from herself before it could be trampled.
Mirabel was gratified to see Bruno testing his range of motion, rolling his shoulder away from his chest and lifting his arms.
"Huh," he observed.
I told you so, Mirabel thought to herself. He should trust her more.
She didn't have long to celebrate before there was a commotion at the door.
"Mirabel!" Julieta vigorously waved her over, looking a bit teary and overwhelmed. She still had a wooden spoon clutched in her hands, as if she had forgotten it there. Mirabel rushed over, Bruno in tow.
"Mirabel, mija, such news!" Julieta took a deep breath, unable to say it just yet. She tried to ring her hands around the spoon, and Mirabel took it from her so she could do so properly.
"Your sister is engaged," she said. Mirabel's heart leapt in excitement and disbelief.
"Luisa?" she gasped. Angelo and Luisa had been going steady for a month, and by all means seemed to be attached at the hip. And Mirabel had a hint.
"No," Julieta said, and she almost appeared like she couldn't believe her own words. "Isabela?"
Isabela appeared with effortlessly perfect timing next to Julieta in the doorway with a chagrined smile. She tucked her hair behind her ear and sure enough- a gold ring. Mirabel would need a closer look at that, but it seemed immaterial in the face of her sister- her prickly and independent older sister getting married.
"Who, even?' Mirabel demanded before tacking on- "Congratulations!"
"I know," laughed Isabela. "It's sudden, but not for me. Bubo."
Bubo? Mirabel immediately knew who that was. The newest family to wander into the Encanto- still much of the villages beyond it about their manners and dress. Bubo was the youngest man in their family and widely considered an eccentric. He would linger around the refreshments for an entire party and then apply himself to a jigsaw puzzle left out for the children like it was his full-time job.
"Bubo though?!" Mirabel wondered aloud with disbelief, "I mean, congratulations!"
"Congratulations!" invoked Bruno. Mirabel shot him a look- did you know? Bruno averted his eyes. Yep.
"I wanted to give you the explanation before the gossip mill did,"
"We-" Isabela appeared to center herself. "Bubo and I had been seeing each other for a year, in secret-"
"I knew," Dolores poked her head in the room before pacing off again. Isabela rolled her eyes before continuing.
"I didn't think Abuela would approve just like that. It was easier to keep to myself," her mouth twisted with something of a wry grimace. "And then, she died."
The mood in the room, which had been ecstatic, dimmed.
"I wasn't going to say- Oh, it's too bad Abuela died, but here's my secret boyfriend she would have probably hated."
The room went silent. All the commotion of party preparations seemed distant, like the admission had put a spell over them.
"So there. Guess we'll never know."
Isabela's pretty face had a defensive, hard set. She seemed to have prepared for the absolute worst. But she didn't have to.
"Abuela always told me she wanted you to have a family," Mirabel said, and glanced at her mom. She nodded at Mirabel to continue. "But only if you decided to, after that first time."
"She would have been so happy you found someone," Mirabel added impulsively. Without warning, those tears she had held in earlier welled up in her eyes. She held out her arms, a wooden spoon still impossibly in her right hand. There was an awkward and delighted three way hug.
"Yeah, gotta go," Bruno said as he squeezed past them in the doorway. Taking off in case someone dragged him in, Mirabel guessed. She smirked at his retreating back.
"I'm going to tell as many people as I can before Dolores spreads the news to every abuelita in the village." Isabela said, breaking away and composing herself.
She took off, leaving Julieta and Mirabel to pick up their work in the kitchen again. Her mom whistled low, and set to adjusting every one of the sauces and soups that she had left to boil. Mirabel couldn't believe she herself had been chopping the same corn cob for this entire time. Mirabel finally tossed the cob in the compost, kernels in the bowl. Her mom was still stirring idly, apparently lost in thought.
"So," Mirabel ventured "How are we feeling about Isabela's secret fiancé?"
Julieta smiled.
"I mean, no one will measure up to my beautiful, precious daughters of course." She wiped her hands on her apron and placed her spoon in a little dish on the counter. Mirabel rolled her eyes half heartedly.
"But Isabela is so happy," Julieta continued, "Abuela's passing was a real blow to her…"
Me too, thought Mirabel. She winced and hid it by chopping the kernels off another cob. This wasn't about her.
The two lapsed into another silence as they progressed the meal preparation into its last stages. The two had finally finished all the work possible at this stage. Julieta sat at the table, and Mirabel had moved on to attending to the dirty dishes in the sink.
"Do you really think Abuela would have accepted this?" Julieta was fiddling with her apron springs, a line across her forehead. Mirabel put down a pot to soak, giving her question some real thought. In fact, Mirabel thought she had a good idea of how Abuela would have reacted. There would have been many steps to broker a peace between the two.
"She'd probably need some softening up," Mirabel admitted. "But I am sure she'd get there in the end."
Her mom laughed, stifled slightly in the palm of her hand.
"Like Agustin and I," she said, "Months, years!"
"What was that story again? I forgot!" Mirabel teased.
Mirabel had heard it many times- they all had. Her dad and mom, love at first sight and then drawn together by innumerable accidents. The gambits necessary for Abuela to accept that there was nothing she could do to dissuade her mom, the ultimate way her dad proved he was the best match for her. But Mirabel's favorites were love stories with happy endings. She would always hear it again.
"First off," began Julieta, "If you find love- you must not let it get away from you so easily, no matter what it takes…"