It isn't the first time Mirabel has woken up to find Antonio sprawled across her stomach, and she very much doubts it will be the last. It came with the territory of sharing a room with a five-year-old for most of his life. Her tios got a free baby-sitter, she got a playmate (sort of), and he got a ready made pillow, which y'know, would be fine if Isabela wasn't curled up against her back like a spoon and Luisa didn't have her, Isa, y Toñito wrapped up in her arms like three overgrown stuffed animals, and if they all weren't stealing her air.
She wriggles and worms and struggles her way out of the pile of bodies, abruptly popping out sideways and landing face down in the dirt. She raises herself to her knees and no higher, drinking the morning mist still laden with dust, pollen, and pulverized rock. Her mouth feels chalky, and she spits, watching her saliva mixing in the mud and wishing she didn't know why they had all been sleeping there. She had never known how cold the mountains could be in the pre-dawn, but when she draws her arms around herself, she finds goosebumps running down her neck, shoulders, and forearms.
She shivers as she stands, taking in the sight of her family. Los padres are huddled together under one of the trees, her tios are a bit further off with Dolores y Camilo between them, and her hermanas and youngest primo have already closed in on themselves to make up for her absence.
Someone is missing, though. Someone who had been missing for years and years, whose hugs bring back her to the warmth and light...whose presence makes spending a night or two on the ground tolerable...
"Here."
She muffles her shriek quickly, but her heart is still trying to beat its way out of her chest as she looks up into the startled face of Tío Bruno.
"Oh, right, um...good morning?" He offers apologetically, as though he has only just remembered the social niceties that are typically observed before scaring one's niece half to death. He holds out his patchy green ruana. "Uh...here. This'll – this'll keep you warm."
"Buenos días, Tío." She says shakily and takes the proffered garment. They are of a height, so it fits her surprisingly well, though Tío looks a bit too much like a lost kitten without the ruana to give him some presence. "You aren't cold?"
He turns down his shirtsleeves and the cuffs on his pants. "You're colder, I think. The sun will be up soon anyway."
"How can you tell?"
"See over the mountain?" He points, sighting the split peak down the length of his arm. There's a thin line of turquoise beginning to show under the midnight blue, and through the crack in the mountain, she can just make out a rosy gold under that. "Maybe an hour or so until dawn."
She draws the ruana more closely around herself, breathing in a faint smoky scent that is disconcertingly familiar and foreign, like a memory she should have but can't quite reach. "I've never seen a sunrise outside of Cas...outside...before."
He looks at her, and she barrels passed the name she'd almost said. "I-I would always set the table for breakfast, but the sun was already up most mornings. Or it would be too cloudy, or I'd have other things to do around Cas...a-around the house."
The cold morning air stings her eyes, and she blinks furiously. "Anyway, it's nice." She takes a deep breath. "How long have you been up?"
"Hm? Oh, long enough." He flaps a hand dismissively. "I'm...well, I've become a bit of an early riser."
A light wind blows through the wax palms at the end of the property and as it reaches them, he turns fully into and breathes in, like a drowning man taking his first clear breath and coming back from the edge. His body sways with the wind, thin and light – not wiry like Camilo but fragile like another good breeze would carry him off. He faces the coming dawn head on, still but for the occasional breath and a thumb or forefinger running absently over his pockets.
He turns and catches her staring, offering a tight smile. "It is nice."
"I guess you didn't see too many either." She covers her mouth. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I – I just meant...I don't know what I meant."
"I know." A grimace plays about his mouth, but he swallows it in a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, Mira."
"Oh, uh, right." She shifts nervously and tries to burrow back inside of the extra fabric.
He takes an uncertain step closer then back then two steps forward and reaches carefully for the hood draped down her back. She feels him tuck it in on itself a few times and bring the resultant collar around her neck for extra warmth. He hesitates, then brushes a few tousled curls out of her face and tucks them behind her ear. "You sure you don't want a little more sleep?"
"No," she says. "No, I'm – I'm fine. I'm up, and uh, everyone else will be up soon, and then we, uh...we'll..."
"Mirabel."
" – clear away this mess...and then I guess A-Abuela and the town..."
"Mirabel."
"...so I can wait and just stay out of the way a-and –"
"Mira."
" ...make a plan t-to rebuild Cas..Cas..."
She doesn't realize how badly she's shaking until two skinny arms snake around her and pull her into an embrace that must have taken all of his strength.
Maybe it is something in the pre-dawn stillness, or the way his head tilts just like Mamá's when she's worried, or the way that he says her name, or how her family has piled themselves around her while she slept in the mud, but she shakes her head once, and then her face crumbles and falls into her Tío's arms.
She holds onto him tightly because he is the only solid thing in her world and cries until the rose gold of the morning warms the top of her head. His low raspy voice comes to her from the far end of a tunnel, growing clearer as she sniffles and wipes her nose unobtrusively on the hem of the ruana.
"Sana sana, colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana."
She chuckles, chokes, and coughs roughly into his chest. "I don't think this will be fixed by tomorrow, Tío." Her mouth wobbles and a few more tears escape.
"Hey, hey, no llores, mi mariposa pequeña. Está bien. Estara bien." His encouragement falls a little flat when his lips tremble, too.
She sniffs again and pulls away from him. "What did you say?"
"Oh, uh, I-I'm sorry... I'm a little out of practice...um, don't cry? It's going to be okay?" His face reddens. "I guess it maybe doesn't mean as much at fifteen, and to be honest, I'm not sure it works at five, but it's – "
"No, no, I mean... wh-what...did you call me?"
"Oh, right, um... my... little butterfly." He starts rambling again. "A little too familiar for a long-lost uncle, I guess. I won't – I don't have to – "
"That's what...that's what Cas – Casita called me."
Comprehension dawns on his face, and he pulls her close again. "I know."
She nodded. "You heard."
"No, you told me...the night I left."
"I did?"
"I wanted to call you Burbujita."
She scoffs lightly. "Little Bubble?"
"I still stand by it." He tries for a small grin. "But you were insistent. Casita beat me to it."
She stands in his embrace, letting the sun and sorrow wash over her. "I miss Casita."
"We all do. That's nothing to be ashamed of."
"But it was just a house."
He looks over her head, at their family, who are just beginning to stir and groan as they feel the full effects of sleeping on the ground for a second consecutive night. He looks further on, to the debris. "Was it?"
She turns and looks, too, taking in the skeletal remains littering the northern edge of the property. It's just too... still. Lying there in the grass and dirt. Just toppled walls and a fallen roof and some disjointed stairs and lost furniture. It's just an old, broken house...
"No. It was a home."
"It's still a home, ¿comprendes? It's still our home. We just...have to put it back together, a little at a time."
Author's Note: A sequel to Little Talks - my take on the reconstruction. I have seven chapters posted on AO3 for those who are interested and plan to cross post here. Please favorite/follow to stay updated! And as ever, I would love to hear your thoughts!
(P.S. I know we can only pick four characters here, but basically everyone is going to be involved because they almost have to be.)