Chapter Text
Julieta concluded her tragic tale with a wistful sigh. Then, took Mirabel’s empty bowl to the sink, to be washed.
“Are you still angry with your Tio Bruno hiding from us in the walls, mi corazon?” Julieta asked her daughter, before rinsing the empty bowl and rubbing it dry.
“No, I understand now,” Mirabel sighed sadly, “…He was afraid of what Abuela might do to him if he came back.”
“That’s right,” Julieta confirmed with a knowing smile.
“But that’s not the whole story, is it? What about after us kids were born?” Mirabel probed, wanting to understand her own role in Bruno’s disappearance better.
“Well...after you kids were born,” Julieta said, sitting down across from Mirabel, and resting her elbows on the table, “Bruno came out of his shell a little bit. He struggled a lot with his shyness, I think, but he really tried to be present as much as possible for you and your sisters and cousins. He would babysit for your Tia Pepa and me sometimes, when we had to work late, or when we wanted some time to ourselves, and he loved that, he always had so much fun reading you stories, and playing pretend. But you probably don’t remember that do you, Mirabel? You were too little.”
“Dolores remembers,” Mirabel recalled with a smile, “She says that Tio Bruno used to read her this story about a quiet mouse that listens through walls, then squeaks when it’s discovered and runs off to hide.”
“That’s right, I remember too,” Julieta said, mirroring her daughter’s smile, “And little Dolores used to love that story so much. I remember she would squeak with the mouse! Ah, but Mama didn’t like it when Bruno babysat too much, because you would all run around, and scream, and be out of control. Your Tio Bruno didn’t believe in enforcing any kind of rules. He let you kids throw tantrums, and make messes, and color on the walls. Oh, it drove Mama craaazy, and she would yell at him some times and call him an ‘irresponsible man child’ for not making you kids clean up after yourselves, or eat your vegetables. And for not making Isabella and Dolores do their homework. Ah haha…but my brother never listened. He was always pretty brave when it came to sticking up for you kids.”
“Yeah… After everything Abuela’s put him through, I can see why,” Mirabel commented darkly.
“I didn’t understand exactly why he left either, when it happened,” Julieta confessed, “At the time, I felt confused and betrayed…but now that I know what his final vision was, I think I finally understand…Bruno was afraid that if he showed Abuela that vision—”
“—That she would blame me for everything that was going to happen to Casita and I would become the new Bruno,” Mirabel completed the thought quickly.
“Exactly,” Julieta confirmed, “…I remember the big shouting match your Abuela and your Tio Bruno had over him not showing her that vision. Oh, it was a terrible, terrible fight. And, in the end, Abuela got so mad that she threatened to spank the information out of Bruno if he didn’t tell her what was in that vision! I remember, when Bruno heard that, he got so mad that he threatened to leave forever, so Mama said: ‘Bruno, if you leave, you’re going to have to take such a thrashing before I ever let you back into my house! I don’t care how old you are, do you hear me? I’ll do it! I’ll do it in front of the children too! Don’t think that I won’t!”
Mirabel sighed sadly, and shook her head, now comprehending the puzzling tragedy of Bruno’s decade-long disappearance with more clarity than ever before.
Mirabel turned and said to her mother: “You had to go and ruin my good mood today by telling me that awful story, didn’t you? Poor Tio Bruno. Now I feel like I’ll have to go find him and hug him. Where is he today?”
“He’s left for rehearsal early, I think,” Julieta informed her daughter.
Mirabel smacked herself on the forehead, stood up, and exclaimed: “Oh, that’s right! I’m going to be late for rehearsal!”
“I wouldn’t fret about it dear, your cousin Camilo is always late,” Julieta said.
“And I always tell him off for it too. Now he’ll say I’m a hypocrite,” Mirabel said quickly as she grabbed her backpack, and darted from the room.
…
The Encanto was a remote, rural village where few residents owned televisions and radios. Merchants from the outside rarely ventured past The Encanto’s mountain embankment to sell their wares, and, on the infrequent occasions when such merchants braved the hazardous journey, few villagers were affluent enough to afford the expensive modern amenities they peddled. As a result, there was a high demand, in the community, for more traditional forms of entertainment, like parties, parades, and live performances.
This had given Mirabel an idea about how her Tio Bruno could serve the community (and keep the miracle burning) without ever using his magic again (if he didn’t want to). After discovering a stack of Bruno’s old plays in the attack, Mirabel started sewing costumes for all of the characters, dressing up with her sisters and cousins, and trying out lines from the script. Eventually, this led to the family regularly performing Bruno’s plays, for the villagers, in the church basement.
“Ayyyyy! Will no one help me? Does no one love me? Why does no one c—care?” Camilo bellowed dramatically from the center of the stage, as he pretended to fall down on the ground, and writhe around in agony. Camilo’s shape-shifting ability made him an excellent actor, and for this particular role, he had assumed the appearance of a young matador, with big muscles and long, thick wavy hair.
Today, Mirabel’s sisters and cousins were rehearsing for a production of The Bull and The Matador.
Luisa, who was playing the matador’s wife, stomped onto the stage and shouted: “You are not a man! You are a disgrace! Why do you always whine so much?”
“Try that again Luisa, but this time, louder. Be more angry and disgusted,” Bruno directed her from a chair in the front row of an otherwise vacant collection of chairs.
Luisa repeated the line again, but this time, with more feeling: “You are not a man! You are—a disgrace! Whhhy, do you always whine so much!”
“Brava, brava, Luisa! Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Bruno clapped for his niece enthusiastically. He put his feet up on a barrel, in front of his chair, and leaned back, grinning. Luisa smiled at him and curtsied, looking very pleased with herself.
Mirabel entered the church basement and put her backpack down in the chair next to Bruno.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she huffed, unzipping the backpack and pulling out a furry bull costume, and a headband attached to a couple of fake horns, “I finished Isabella’s costume.”
Bruno picked up the costume and looked it over a little bit, turning it inside-out to better observe the stitching on it’s seams. Sewing was a passion that Mirabel and Bruno shared, and they often worked on making costumes and props for the family’s performances together.
“This is beautiful, Mirabel, but the stitching on the left sleeve is a little loose. Remember what I taught you about this kind of stitch, you always go back over it once, to make sure it’s secure,” Bruno said. He took out a needle and thread and proceeded to demonstrate what he was talking about. Mirabel watched Bruno repair the loose stitch with an experienced hand, as Camillo and Luisa continued their heated discourse, on the stage, in the background.
“I was rushing a bit,” Mirabel admitted. She moved her backpack and sat down in the chair next to Bruno, “And Mama was distracting me again by telling me terrible stories about your childhood…..I mean, I guess I did ask but…I mean…wow. I was not expecting her to unload all of that on me.”
“Was your Mama telling embarrassing stories about me again?” Bruno laughed nervously.
“She told me about the time that you told the entire village that you were going to curse them, so that everyone in town started calling you The Harbinger of Doom,” Mirabel confirmed.
“Oh, you mean the time that I got spankings for a month?”
“She might have mentioned that too,” Mirabel admitted a little embarrassedly, staring down at her knees, “Hearing that story really bothered me a lot, actually. It made me really mad at Abuela for putting you through all of that terrible stuff.”
“Ah, don’t be mad at your Abuela, Mirabel,” Bruno said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “She’s had a hard life.”
“Yeah, ok, maybe. But so have you, Tio Bruno, and you’ve never been cruel like that,” Mirabel asserted indignantly, “How could she hurt you like that? You’re her son! She was supposed to protect you. But she didn’t listen to you at all! She just hurt you and she just kept hurting you. Agh! It just makes me so mad! How could she do something like that to her own son?”
“That was 30 years ago, Mirabel. It’s all water under the bridge now,” Bruno said with a passive shrug.
“I know…it’s just. I love you so much, Tio Bruno. I don’t like to think of you hurt like that,” Mirabel said.
Bruno sighed wistfully, and replied: “You remind me so much of your mother, Mirabel. She had a big heart like you…and she always tried to keep the family together, the way that you do…without you, Mirabel, I’m afraid we’d all be a terrible mess. Well…I know, at least, I would be.”
“Tio Bruno…”
“Hey, you don’t need to worry about me, Mirabel. I survived,” Bruno said, with a sentimental smile, “And thanks to you helping me come out my shell, I’m probably more well-adjusted than I’ve ever been before—probably, in my whole, entire life. I mean, I never thought I’d be have human friends, who would want to perform in my plays. And I never thought I could feel so comfortable in a crowded room or a party—I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still not strictly comfortable in a crowded room, per say. But I’m definitely slightly less scared now, knowing that you’ve got my back. And that’s pretty good progress, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Mirabel agreed. She smiled and chuckled a bit, recalling the way that her damaged, highly agoraphobic, uncle always stuck close to her side during big, crowded parties. He would usually only talk to her, and other members of the family, during these parities, then, get quiet or make an excuse to leave, when confronted by the challenge of engaging with a stranger. However, Mirabel had made it her mission to gradually get her uncle desensitized to crowds, and used to having conversations with new people. She always encouraged him to try and mingle with the widows and spinsters, who were about his age (and might have been seeking a love connection). And, though Bruno still struggled a lot with that kind of social challenge, it was heartening to see that, with a little encouragement, he was at least making an effort to put himself out there.
“We Madrigals certainly aren’t perfect, but at least we’re trying,” Bruno said, as Dolores trotted out onto the stage, dressed as the villainous tax collector, and said her lines. “Our family’s really lucky to have someone kind and patient, like you, looking out for us, Mirabel.”
Bruno stood up to applaud for his nieces and nephews as they completed the final scene of the play, and bowed, in a line, before the imaginary audience. Before the curtain closed, Bruno put a hand on top of Mirabel’s head and mussed her curls affectionately. Then said:
“Hey, I’m proud of you, kiddo.”
(Fin.)