At Casita's back garden, Isabela was sitting on a wrought iron bench beside Señora Aya while watching Antonio, Camilo, Mirabel, Dolores, and Tío Bruno rehearsing a zarzuela with a small group of young people. It was mid-October, meaning it was almost the Madrigal triplets' fifty-second birthday, which was also the fifty-second anniversary of their father's death and the fifty-second anniversary of the founding of the Encanto. While there was still going to be a town-wide fiesta, the Madrigals decided that the triplets' birthday was going to be a family-only event, to the enormous relief of the triplets, especially Bruno, who liked quiet more than anything.
But it was something of a compromise that Camilo and Bruno had gotten Padre Flores' blessing to produce a zarzuela about the life and death of San Ignacio de Antioquia, the saint to whom their parish church was dedicated. Tío Bruno worked with Dolores for the script and music while he co-directed the players with Camilo. Isabela had helped Tío Bruno with the backdrops, which they had already finished a week ago. San Ignacio would be played by Tío Bruno for only the third act. He had been reluctant at first, but Camilo and Dolores had cajoled him into it.
They were doing a dress rehearsal today. Mirabel was in charge of costuming, and she wanted to make sure that the costumes fit well and that they weren't going to fall apart during the performance. It was strange seeing Tío Bruno wearing something that was not green, but he did look nice wearing bishop's vestments inspired from a Byzantine icon of the saint—a pale blue alb, a faded red chasuble over it, and a white stole with black crosses over his shoulders. After the first run-through, a bespectacled young man wearing a checkered shirt and a blazer with matching slacks praised Mirabel's handiwork. "Wow, am I in Rome or what? You've outdone yourself, Mirabel."
Mirabel stood straight and adjusted her glasses for effect. "Your notes on historical accuracy gave me inspiration, Bubo."
Bubo Márquez was one of the Encanto's recent newcomers. He had moved in from Bogotá shortly after Casita was rebuilt. Thin, tan, and short, with a big nose, he could pass off as Bruno's son at first glance. But Bubo's black hair was straight and short like Agustín's. He had a weaker chin than Bruno. His mustache and goatee were faint and wispy. Bubo's glasses made his eyes look bigger than they really were. It gave him a look of childlike wonder. Isabela and Bubo smiled at each other.
Isabela giggled when a very pretty yellow cat tried to reach for the sugarcane juice she was holding.
"Whoa, easy!" laughed Señora Aya as a black cat swiped at her own glass.
"Hey, leave them alone," Antonio chided the cats. "I'll give you some water and snacks, okay?" The cats herded toward Antonio, who led them to the kitchen. Antonio had been training the cats to act as the lions that would maul San Ignacio to death in the end.
Isabela continued sipping her sugarcane juice when the cats left; Señora Aya emptied her glass and put it down to help Tío Bruno out of his costume. Underneath, he was wearing maroon pants and a white short-sleeved guayabera embroidered with yellow flowers, green caterpillars, and blue butterflies. It was a stark contrast to Señora Aya's black dress embroidered with shamrocks and tiny yellow blossoms. Isabela caught a glimpse of a jadeite band around Señora Aya's left ring finger. Tío Bruno had gifted Señora Aya the ring, one week after he had already proposed. Isabela was happy for her tío and soon-to-be tía. They had waited for far too long, for reasons still unclear to Isabela and the other Madrigal grandkids.
Her eyes on Tío Bruno and Señora Aya stealing a kiss, Isabela hadn't noticed Bubo coming until he was sitting beside her on the bench. He was sipping on his own glass of sugarcane juice. "You guys are amazing," he said. "This zarzuela is a labor of love."
"Well, that's how we do things around here, with a lot of love," said Isabela. She watched with soft eyes at Tío Bruno and Señora Aya flirting; at Mirabel and Camilo bantering while organizing the few costumes that still needed adjusting; Antonio and Dolores petting cats. Her cheeks heated when it occurred to her that Bubo was praising their entirely non-magical efforts in producing this play.
"Oh, what is that perfume?" asked Bubo, looking around him.
"Oh, that's me," said Isabela, grinning at him. "Señora Aya gave me some ylang-ylang perfume on my birthday. She got it from the Asian stores in the city." With a wave of her hands, she conjured a cluster of flowers that looked like miniature banana peels, but which exuded such a sweet but strong fragrance that everyone in the area looked up. "Señora Aya learned a lot from Asian medical traditions, which she's been teaching me. There were also stories. She once met a Philippine-born Spaniard in Riohacha that told her this folk tale about the ylang-ylang."
When Bubo leaned forward eagerly to listen, Isabela continued, "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful girl named Ilang. She was the only daughter of a wealthy couple who allowed only the richest men in the land to court their precious daughter. Alas, she was already in love with a poor young man named Edo. Her parents once spotted her and Edo at their secret meeting place at the river and forbade Ilang from seeing Edo again. And so, Ilang locked herself up in her room, where her sorrow made her so sick until she died of a broken heart. Remorseful, Ilang's parents buried her at the secret meeting place. A new plant sprouted at her grave, and Edo took care of it until it grew into a tree with slender branches, boat shaped leaves, and the most fragrant blossoms. Before long, Edo also died of a broken heart while calling out, 'Ilang! Ilang!' while embracing the tree. And from then on, that became the name of the tree and its flowers, ylang-ylang."
Bubo was agape. The others had also stopped to listen. Dolores and Tío Bruno were teary-eyed. "Wow," Tío Bruno said hoarsely, "maybe you should write the next zarzuela."
Both Bubo and Isabela were brimming with inspiration as the others continued rehearsing. Like Señora Aya, Bubo had an unusual affection for Spain. Bubo also had a fascination for its other colonies. Isabela felt drawn to stories of the perilous galleon trade that brought spices, silk, and ivory from China via the Philippines. She gasped from the series of violent uprisings both in the Americas and the distant islands of Guam and the Philippines; of Spanish missionaries that either abused their flock or protected them from their abusive brothers. Then, there were the Hispanic fighters of the American Civil War. Their little community, already a tiny speck in the vastness of Colombia, felt even tinier in the grand scheme of things. There was a bigger world out there, and it was as beautiful and dangerous as Abuela had always said it was.
While Isabela's attention turned momentarily to Camilo and Dolores patiently teaching the actors to control their vocals so as to not strain their cords, Bubo explained that at the time that San Ignacio was alive, the Spain that they knew hadn't even existed yet. Before 200 A.D., Hispania had been but a province of Rome inhabited by tribal peoples that tattooed themselves much like their own Muisca ancestors. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were parted as she tried to imagine the scope of history. When Isabela suspected that she was starting to look like Tío Bruno during a vision, she blinked and returned to the present. She glanced at Tío Bruno, who was laughing when his voice broke while rehearsing an aria. Isabela recalled that he had laughed with joy when he'd given Isabela her vision of her colorful and creative future.
"So, which of you again are Señor Bruno's children?" Bubo asked when he noticed where Isabela's gaze was.
"Oh. None of us. His sister Julieta is my mother; my sisters are Luisa and Mirabel. Dolores, Camilo, and Antonio are Tía Pepa's children," Isabela explained. "Tío Bruno has been with Señora Aya for a very long time, but they have no children because she is barren. I don't know if that's why they haven't married all this time. But the reason doesn't matter to me. I'm just happy that they're finally getting married next month."
"Oh, is that so?" said Bubo. "It's a little confusing because all of you look alike and are very affectionate with each other."
Isabela giggled. "We get that a lot." Isabela and Dolores often got mistaken to be sisters because of their darker skin. Camilo and Mirabel both had round faces and mischievous smiles; as children, they had pretended to be twins. With similar hair, brown skin, and goofy grins, anyone who didn't already know them might mistake Tío Bruno and Mirabel as father and daughter. As for "very affectionate," that was also true. Tío Bruno just kissed Mirabel's cheek after she caught him from stumbling when a black cat had trotted near him. Isabela smiled to herself, realizing that Mirabel would have to update the "Familia Madrigal" song again in the next month.
Bubo had gone quiet as he watched the rehearsal, his eyes lingering on Isabela's relatives. At the end of the day, Isabela offered to walk him home. There was little that Isabela already knew about Bubo Márquez in the several months that she had known him. Newly graduated from la Universidad Santo Tomás, he had fled Bogotá to escape La Violencia and wound up in the Encanto in his search for a more peaceful home. Bubo and Isabela had met when Bubo had been building his new house with Luisa and some of the neighbors. He was an engineer by trade and had since worked alongside Luisa for the growing infrastructure in the Encanto. He was also a history buff, and La Santoto teaching Theology as a mandatory subject for all its enrollees only bolstered the young man's fascination with the past, both in the Old World and the New. That the Encanto was about fifty years behind the times was part of the charm for him. Isabela had introduced Bubo to Mirabel when the latter had asked for help with the costumes.
Isabela and Bubo had become a little closer while helping with the zarzuela, but today was the first time that Isabela got to be with him alone. As she had anticipated, without her sisters and cousins as a buffer between them, Bubo became noticeably more bashful at her side. Isabela had seen this before from the boys that were less attractive than Mariano Guzmán but were just as confident to vie for her attention. Bubo was shorter than her, perhaps the same height as Tío Bruno or Tío Félix. She only noticed because he had dropped his perfect posture. Isabela reached for his hand. He looked genuinely surprised at the gesture.
"It's only me," she said.
Bubo gave her an incredulous look. "It's because it's you that I'm nervous," he admitted.
Isabela smiled at him, attempting to mimic her mamá. "We were just telling each other amazing stories less than an hour ago. I like the way you light up when you tell stories. And I like stories."
"Oh. I thought you were just humoring me, to be polite. And I couldn't stop once I started."
"Well, I really like it. I like you. I like learning. I've learned so much from apprenticing for Señora Aya, and I've been enjoying it. You open my mind to new things. You excite my curiosity."
Bubo's eyes slowly lit up with hope behind his glasses. "You don't think it's boring?"
"Quite the opposite," she said. Isabela held both of his hands. "Tell me more about Bogotá. Tell me more about the people there. Tell me about the past and the future. Tell me more about you."
Bubo was breathless for a moment. "Wow. I must be the luckiest person in the Encanto right now."
"I beg to differ. I think I am."