Isabela's second engagement dinner was well underway. Rather than the kind of intimate dinner that Abuela preferred where you sat with a napkin on your lap and ate slowly to pass the time, Isabela and Bubo had invited as many people as feasibly related to them to witness the proposal. Bruno felt every year his age and every hour he had been awake, even watching from the sidelines.
The couple were also fiend for color. Vines of bougainvillea spilled over the balconies and trailed along the stucco walls of the house. Garlands of marigolds, carnations, and snapdragons framed the entrance to the courtyard- an atmosphere of carnival. The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and Antonio's leopard Parce sent clouds of pollen flying as he pounced into hibiscus bushes. It was so close to Christmas, that they would have to take it all down tomorrow and start decorating again. But despite that, and despite the garishness of the color scheme, there was a flagrancy that dared you to suggest they should have held back. Anyway, Camilo had mocked Isabela so exhaustively that no one even bothered. Bruno wondered if he had done this on purpose- a gift.
Mirabel seemed to approve, anyway. She glittered all night in her usual blue- looking sappy with joy. Incredible stamina for events. As the music started up for yet another dance, Bruno slipped upstairs, away from the party to lock himself in his room.
In an untimely coincidence, Felix and Agustin happened to be gathered just in front of his door. Bruno was instantly spotted and waved over. Felix had brand new cigar clutched in his teeth, embering at the end and emitting the heady fumes that Bruno and his sisters had tried and failed to like.
"Hola Bruno!" said Felix, already a bit red with aguardiente. "A toast to Isabela's fortune?"
Bruno dragged himself over with a wan smile. Agustin and Felix were fine people and made his sisters happy. But he didn't have much in common with them. It was a tiny shard of insecurity he guarded closely and tried not to think about. Agustin gave him a small glass and tipped a good helping aguardiente into it. About half spilled onto the tiles.
"To Isa!" Agustin raised his glass above his head. Sparkling light glinted off the tiny glass of clear liquid and sent rainbow refractions over the dim hallway.
"To a happily wedded life," added Felix. He seemed to become choked up as he transferred the cigar into the other hand as he raised his glass too. "Never alone against the world."
They looked to Bruno for the last toast. Uh?
"How about, to many children," Agustin finished for him after a brief mortified pause. Obviously.
The three men clinked their glasses together, Agustin doubling back multiple times. Bruno made the split second decision to throw back the whole drink. It burned all the way down his throat, sending him into a coughing fit so hard that Felix clapped him on the back a couple times. When he could breathe again, the warmth had spread through his entire body- a haze settling around his head. Bruno shuddered. That put a very finite timer on his night.
"Isn't it marvelous," said Felix, still emotionally overcome. "All of them about to start their families. Casita will be so full of young children. Like when the girls were young."
"Yes!" said Bruno. That was definitely the right response.
"Luisa and that Angelo are inseparable too," added Agustin, eyes crinkling at the edges. "Julieta and I are hoping for the whole set to be locked in by next Christmas"
"You mean Mirabel?" Bruno asked, and received slurred affirmations. "Isn't she a bit young to-?"
"Mirabel thinks she's above it all," interrupted Felix, and then adopted an airy voice that must be his impression of Mirabel "'Felix, I don't feel like dealing with a relationship right now.'"
Felix guffawed at his own joke and Agustin also chuckled, clearly knowing the conversation to which Felix was referring. Bruno meant to put down his glass and make excuses to leave, but at some point it had been refilled.
"Love wins in the end," Agustin agreed. "Speaking of..."
Agustin pointed. Sure enough Mirabel was at the epicenter of the music, unmistakable in the incautious twirls that characterized her dancing. She had Antonio by the hands and spun him, a flurry of his parrots flapping around them. Bruno realized that she looked so much more adult than she used to. Not that much taller, but more assured. She took up more space, from her confidence as she danced to the ever-escaping halo of curls around her face. Beautiful.
"Maybe she'll injure someone. Meet cute," said Agustin
"What, like you and Julieta? Ha!"
A riot of colorful embroidery flecked over the azure cloth of Mirabel's dress much like the swarm of jungle birds around her. The fabric fell differently than it used to at the graceful bend of elbow and neck and it pooled in a lovely way at her slim waist. He wondered how close fingers would come touching if he encircled his hands- Bruno cut that train of thought off, shocked at himself. He hurriedly drained his shot, coughing as it went down harder than the first. Just alcohol.
"You wouldn't happen to know something about this?" Agustin batted the conversation back into Bruno's court.
Bruno bit the inside of his cheek, feeling off balance from the party, the awkward conversation, the liquor, and a thought he was still shaking from his mind. The burning in his chest reminded him that it had been years since he last drank anything serious. He wished he had seen something, really anything that suggested a conventional romantic future for Mirabel.
"I don't look much these days," he said instead, smiling in what he hoped was a placating way. "Grown to like surprises."
"I see, secret," said Felix, tapping his lips. Bruno nodded, hoping it conveyed a "just you wait!" sort of attitude and not one of foreboding ambiguity. His glass was filled again.
Felix and Agustin began to debate which eligible village youth Mirabel might finally win her over. There weren't a lot of great options.
"Ricardo?" offered Agustin, and then screwed his face up a little after thinking through it. "Bit dull. Can't dance either."
"There's the brother… I forget his name." Felix snapped his fingers. "Martin."
"Only seventeen, though," mused August, stroking his mustache. "Perhaps in a few years. How about Pietro?"
"Mirabel broke up with him," said Bruno, happy to have something helpful to contribute to this conversation. "She said he was too clingy."
Agustin shook his head somberly.
"Alejandro?" said Felix.
"Oh! Mirabel broke up with him too," said Bruno. Two in a row, he was killing it.
"Miercoles," said Agustin. There was a grim silence. Bruno belatedly realized how discouraging he had been.
"Can we have a hint?" Felix asked, "Age, occupation- hair color?"
"I really haven't seen anything," Bruno promised. In fact, he had refused to even look. Mirabel deserved to be happy, and clearly to Agustin and Felix it meant starting a family. Who was Bruno to disagree? He'd led a miserable life for decades. Mirabel deserved better, he repeated to himself.
So what was this hesitation? Was he really going to let his attachment to the … whatever they had stop him from finding her future? He took his shot, ready for the burn this time.
"Hey chismosas! Talking behind my hija's back?" Julieta emerged from her room, the door framed by a wreath of the begonias. Julieta fixed them all with a stern glare.
"Harmless gossip among old men!" apologized Agustin. "We'd talk about Camilo too if anyone could keep track."
Bruno made a hasty excuse about his drink, leaving Felix and Agustin to Julieta's ribbing. This unfortunately sent him down the stairs again, farther from his goal. He sat down heavily in Casita's living room which was emptied to the dance floor and half lit by the lanterns in the courtyard. Bruno folded his arms over his eyes. Mirabel deserved to start moving to the incredible future she had in store. She deserved someone young and handsome, strong enough to help her be the leader of the Encanto. Someone with mental fortitude and emotional insight, who could take care of her— someone very not like Bruno. Bruno had to stop holding onto her, sentimental old fool.
Bruno considered other escapes since the way to his room was blocked- perhaps outside? But his thoughts had started looping in on themselves. The wicker couch he was sinking into shouldn't be nearly as comfortable as it felt to him in this moment. Mierda. He'd really mishandled this scenario from the very beginning. He was forced to sit with his dread, becoming drunker and drunker. Between his fingers, he could see a shadow fall over him. He didn't raise his head, willing for whoever to go away. Alas.
"You okay?"
Bruno lifted his head, noticing a new tilt in the room. It was exactly the person he didn't want to see. Or, really, wanted to see most. Resplendent in color, shining with the innate glow of being a lovely person. Warm, brown eyes. An expression of concern plainly legible.
"Gah," Bruno said, putting a hand between their faces. "Don't look at me."
"You've been drinking!" said Mirabel, mock consternation in her voice. She tried to dodge the hand he held between them and laughed, a pretty cascading sound.
"I miscalculated," Bruno said by way of explanation. "I'll be fine in a ... soon."
Mirabel caught Bruno's hand and studied his face.
"Always wanted to know what sort of drunk you'd be."
Bruno flushed at the scrutiny. He realized he lived for her attention, her interest in him. Bruno wanted to tell her everything. Bruno wanted to be that person who would walk with her into the future. A chill ran down his spine like someone had walked across his grave. He definitely was not.
"I think I'm kind of," with herculean effort, Bruno managed to stand, using the back of the couch to brace himself. "Past drunk…"
Bruno swayed, and Mirabel tucked her arms around his shoulders to steady him. His skin prickled where they made contact, even under two layers of clothing. He wanted her hands on him, like when she insisted on fixing his back, when she had held him on the floor of her bedroom. His body, treacherous animal that it was, yearned for the contact.
He was going to ruin everything they had.
"Th-Thank you, I've got it from here," Bruno tried to clarify. Mirabel gently steered his sorry corpse across the room.
"Let me…" Mirabel said, voice in his ear. The puff of air sent a shiver down his spine. She smelled like milhoja, sweat, and chamomile. He could feel her warmth seeping into the layers of his ruana to warm his skin."I'll take the long way to your room, don't worry. People won't see."
I'm not worried about people, Bruno thought. It was him, the despicable person. He had only done three, maybe four shots. He had done more in the past. How much help did he need, and how much was Bruno just wanting to be around her? He was so mortified he thought he might die.
Bruno let himself be led, and in the safety of his room he prayed that he would have a terrible hangover tomorrow in exchange for forgetting as much of his night as possible.
In the end, he got both.
Bruno awoke with a knock to his door, and then a beam of light knifing in. Ow. Mirabel peered into the room, and Bruno's heart stuttered. That was when the revelations of the previous night hit him. The hangover- and the devastating realization that he was in love with Mirabel. Bruno smacked his own head, sending his headache reverberating through his skull.
Mirabel saw him awake, and her expression shifted to one of worry. He couldn't imagine how awful he looked- still fully dressed on top of his bed.
'Sorry' she mouthed, and then deposited a tray with a steaming cup of black coffee and an arepa. See, thought Bruno, this is exactly why your idiot bastard uncle fell in love with you. Mirabel backed out of the room, taking care to close the door behind her as quietly as possible.
Bruno did not deserve her kindness, or Julieta's healing. He felt sick and he leaned into it- he should feel sick. A snake loose in Casita, a harbinger of ill fortune set in motion by his own hand this time. Or more likely, just a pathetic old man who should know better. He wondered what it would look like- Mirabel's face twisted in disgust and contempt for him.
Bruno crawled under his covers and pulled them over his head. He listened to sounds of the family setting off to the village: the sound of breakfast dishes being cleaned and put away, last minute items retrieved from rooms, the telltale cawing of the toucans leaving their roost to follow Antonio. Then, it was quiet.
It felt as if a gale had gotten into the dusty attic of his mind and began tearing apart the contents of all the boxes that had been left to rot under a tarpaulin. Every insecurity, long forgotten worry, and every terrible thing someone had said about him was pulled into light again and plastered inescapable on the walls. Maladjusted freak of the triplets. Ill-fated dead end on the family tree. Hadn't he had enough mortification, ruined enough things already? Ominous, off-putting, incapable of playing nicely with the others. Burden on his family, no help to anyone. He'd heard it all and told himself a lot too.
But once he was done lambasting himself, he thought more constructively. His mind would always be broken. His soul, probably damned. He had been selfish and stupid. But what really mattered were his actions. Bruno wouldn't harm Mirabel in any way. He would hide these thoughts within himself and hope that the memory of this miserable event faded into obscurity like other ones had. And he would find Mirabel's future for her so she could escape him as quickly as possible.
Bruno snapped upright, swinging his feet down to the ground. He walked over to the tray and drained the coffee which had long since gone cold. He grimaced, but it would help. It was probably the only thing in the room that would.
Bruno hadn't really needed all his rituals to see the future. He had just wanted them.
Bruno took a deep breath, sat on the rug in the center of his room. And finally, he looked. The winds picked up around him- the furniture and the books on his shelves rattling, and his rats escaping to the outdoors through the crack in his window. Motes of dust picked up from the neglected trinkets he had been gifted over the years whipped around him, only visible when they intersected the sharp light coming in from under the door.
And there it was, like a zoetrope resolving into shape after shape- Mirabel's future without him. Mirabel dancing at another party, helping a niece with a scraped knee, mediating an argument between the Guzmans and Garcias. Praying at a church service, another face swimming in the crowd; crying and holding her mother; and again at the very back of the Easter procession as a leader.
He saw Mirabel laughing at her birthday- someone had smeared cake across her face. Even now Bruno felt so much for the smile that his heart hurt. Mirabel, the third in line at her sister's wedding, surrounded by lace and silk, flowers and family. But where was her wedding?
Another funeral, candles lit in vigil flickering in Mirabel's eyes. Fields surrounding the town, lush and green- then a drought that withered them into dry husks. Her hand on the shoulder of a young girl who could send sparks flying from her hands; her greeting to a new shell shocked family wandering into the Encanto.
He saw a storm that flooded the streets of the village. A large tree- fallen into the roof of a house. Mirabel with donkeys on a lead, struggling to get purchase on the mud to pull it from the wreckage. Come on, Bruno thought. Anything.
Mirabel in her blue blanket with certainty in her eyes, feet curled underneath her. He had seen this one before. Bruno gasped, blinking his way back into the present. He was lying on the floor, sweat dripping into his eyes from the stress. Useless. He sat up and tried again.
Seasons, holidays, sicknesses. Bickering among his sisters, the family singing around a piano. All of his grand nieces and nephews, and even their names. Funeral after funeral- Bruno tried not to look too closely at these. A fire- was that Alma? Mirabel, a dead end at that one vision. He kept trying.
Something was blocking him. It was like the vision of Casita breaking, but obviously no Mirabel to help this time. He saw river edges eating into the embankments over seasons; candles at night like veins of light through the village streets; wind sending ripples across the grass in spring, the pendulum of scythe and rake during harvest. If anything, he was getting farther.
He kept trying.
Over and over again.
Hoping for something different.
Bruno awoke again to a knock at his door. It was night. His eyes were half glued shut, tongue cottony with residual hangover. His limbs ached like he had fallen from a great height, and every one of them was cold as ice. On the floor again, huh? The day had slipped away while he ransacked the future for answers and found none.
He felt raw, like sandpaper had rubbed off a layer of skin. The headache that throbbed in his skull seemed to have overtaken his entire body, pulse sending minor visual tremors in his sight.
"Bruno?" It was Mirabel again. The yellow light of a candle seeped underneath his door.
Bruno felt his heart gore into his chest. He wasn't going to let her see him like this. And he didn't deserve to see her, even if he wanted to. He used the last of his strength to crawl over to his door and collapse against it.
"How's it going?"
Bruno heard a click and felt a light pressure against his back- Mirabel trying the door.
"It's going," Bruno rasped. He cleared his throat and tried a more plausible lie. "Hangovers hit a lot harder than they used to. Just need rest."
Bruno heard a tray being put down on the tiles outside of his room. There was a small stirring of air, a shift in the candlelight coming from under his door - then, a presence at his back. Mirabel had sat down on the other side.
"You can tell me, right," Mirabel said, gentle. "If something is bothering you..."
Bruno couldn't tell her this- his feelings, her future. Even if it felt impossibly heavy to carry. He said nothing.
"I just wish I could do more, you know?"
Now that was actually wrong.
"Don't ever think that-" Bruno was still reeling and failing to find the right words, "I just don't, can't - really be helped right now."
They sat in silence then. Bruno felt hollow inside- a combination of exhaustion and hunger, the chill of the winter. He imagined he could feel her warmth soaking through the other side of the wooden door, an acceptable comfort with the barrier safely between them. The moon had risen high enough that it could reach through the window of Bruno's room and cast crosses of shadow on his rumpled bedspread. He could hear the crickets chirping under his window frame and a breeze twisting the weathervane at the top of the tower.
"Will you come to breakfast tomorrow?"
Mirabel's voice and the request was so small. Bruno could come to breakfast. He'd roll around in a fire if she asked.
"Of course," The words were like broken glass in his throat.
Bruno would just keep it together. A day of looking into the future was perhaps enough atonement for what he had thought, but not acted on in any way.
"Good." He could hear Mirabel's smile in her words, and he felt better for the first time that day.
Mirabel got up from the floor and left the tray behind, taking the comfort and warmth with her. He didn't deserve it anyway. Bruno should try to go back to the way things were. Just temporarily until a wonderful future had Mirabel safely in its embrace.