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Casita was a mess. Tía Pepa’s raincloud had flooded the entire first floor, Isabela’s proposal was ruined (though Luisa suspected her sister didn’t mind all too much), the walls were cracking, and perhaps worst of all, Luisa could hardly lift one of her mama’s arepas with how weak her powers had become.
Luisa’s eye twitched. She reached to grab one of the aforementioned arepas, weakly lifting it up to her mouth. Even as she bit into it, silently praying for her miracle to come back, she knew it wouldn’t help. Her muscles weren’t sick, no, Casita was sick. She sighed as she chewed, feeling just as weak as before. Her youngest sister Mirabel was right, she was sure of it now. The magic was dying.
“How will anyone like me if I can’t help them?” Luisa thought. “That’s what these muscles are for, aren’t they?” She groaned and shoved her face into her hands. She wouldn’t cry, she told herself, even as she felt her eyes water up. No, she wouldn’t cry. She was the strong one, after all. She took a shaky breath. Even if she was going to cry–which she wasn’t, really, she wasn’t–it couldn't be in the dining room, where all the chaos was. She didn’t have super hearing like her prima, but couldn’t miss the unmistakable sound of Tia Pepa’s storm, her mama, papa, tío, and primo all trying in vain to calm her down. No, she couldn’t possibly bring more stress to her family, not when they were already dealing with so much.
Luisa turned her gaze to the second floor. The doors–minus Tío Bruno’s, of course–were all glowing, though every so often, one would flicker on and off. Hers was the worst of all, more often off than on. She tilted her head. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone's door stopped glowing… except when Tío Bruno disappeared. Was that what was happening? Did Casita want all of the Madrigals to disappear? Did Casita want her to disappear?
“No! Casita, don’t you see? I want to help! Please let me keep my powers, I promise I’ll spend every minute helping others! Forget what I said about a break, I was joking!” No response. “...Please? Please, Casita?” The slight echo of her voice against the walls was the only acknowledgement she had even said anything.
Luisa slouched in defeat. Well. Even if she couldn’t get her power back, at least she had the safe haven of her room to cry in. Her gym-like, sterile, uncomfortable room…
“I love the gym, this will be so comforting! DO YOU HEAR THAT, CASITA? I love training!” she lied to herself as she muddled her way up the stairs, every step more painful than the last. She didn’t know if Casita could hear people’s thoughts, but it didn’t hurt to try.
As she reached her flickering door, she hesitated. Her eyes strayed past all the slowly dimming doors of her family and toward the black sheep of the house, the only door spatially separated from the rest without even a mild glow to call its own. Tío Bruno’s door. Almost as if her legs had a mind of their own, Luisa soon found herself directly in front of her Tío’s portrait. His wide, beady eyes stared into her soul. She winced. From what she could remember, her tío was nothing like the creepy man everyone seemed to think he was.
Luisa was only nine when her uncle left the family, and while she was too young to understand why, she was old enough to remember how fun he was. He had his idiosyncrasies to be sure, anyone could see that, but it was clear he adored his family, particularly his nieces and nephew. Whenever Luisa was feeling stressed, the entire weight of Encanto on her not-so-tiny-anymore shoulders, it was Tío Bruno who would make her feel better. It was like he had a sixth sense for how she was feeling; all she had to do was look at him and he would know. If one of his hilariously convoluted rat telenovelas didn’t cheer her up, his pep talks certainly did the trick.
“It’s okay to have a rest day, Luisa, you know that, right?” he used to tell her. “Nobody would mind it if you did. We could spend the day talking about unicorns or playing with my rats. Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“But abuela says we have to earn our gifts, and that means I have to help everyone, I just have to!” Luisa cried.
Bruno frowned. “Forget Abuela for a second. What do you want to do, mi sobrina? That’s all that matters, not Abuela, not your mama, not even me. You’re in charge of your own fate, no matter what anyone says.”
Luisa had nodded then, wholeheartedly wishing she could have one day, one day, to herself. But then Mirabel didn’t get a gift, and Tío Bruno disappeared, and even more weight was put on her than ever before. How could Luisa say no to people’s demands then? It wouldn’t be right, after everything. So she didn’t.
She couldn’t.
Tears welled up in Luisa’s eyes as she recalled her tío’s words. She was losing her powers now, and while it was a silly thought, some part deep inside of her hoped he could make it all better like he used to. She reached out to touch his portrait.
“Tío Bruno. I- I don’t know where you are, or why your door’s gone dark. I j- just hope you’re okay, and that you know we love you. Please come b- ba-” she broke off into a sob, crumbling to the floor.
She sat crying for a minute before balling her hand into a fist. “Get a hold of yourself, woman! You’re stronger than this. Well, were stronger than this,” she berated. Dejectedly, she picked herself off the floor, eyes facing the ground where she once sat.
All of a sudden, she saw a bright light. Luisa slowly glanced up, gasping at what she saw. Tío Bruno’s door was glowing! And not just glowing, but beaming. Luisa shielded her eyes as it burned brighter and brighter, engulfing the entire passageway in its luminous glow. She had never seen any door so vivid. She grinned widely, what little hope she had left multiplying tenfold as the feeling filled her mind and heart. She rushed toward the stairs, raising her voice as loud as she could. “Mama! Mama! Tío Bruno’s door is glowing! He’s using the magic, he’s here. MAMA!”
Julieta came bounding up the stairs, lips upturned in a hesitant smile, with her sister Pepa not far behind her. Luisa noticed Pepa’s cloud was gone, replaced by a small but unwavering rainbow.
“What do you mean it’s glowing?” the healer asked. “Is he really here? Bruno?”
“Yes, mami! Just loo-” Luisa’s mouth snapped shut as she turned back toward the door. The glow was gone. Tío Bruno was gone.
“Bu- but I saw it! I did! His door was glowing so bright, brighter than anything, mama, you have to believe me!” Luisa begged.
Julieta and Pepa shared a look. “Luisa, it’s been a… hard day for us all, and-” the former began, only to be cut off by her daughter.
“No, mama. I saw what I saw.”
Julieta sighed, schooling her expression back into neutrality. “Well, Casita’s magic is all over the place. Look at the other doors, they’re flickering on and off. Perhaps Casita glitched and made Bruno’s door glow for a second.” She patted her daughter on the bicep. “Why don’t you go to your room? I know Abuela’s been hard on you lately. You should rest. We’ll have this all figured out in the morning.”
Luisa hesitated, staring at the two women. Her mother was trying to be strong, she could tell, but the silent resignation was obvious on her face. Meanwhile, for all Tía Pepa’s talk about not wanting to mention Bruno, she sure looked happy–happier than she had been for a while, at least–at the mere suggestion her brother was around again. Luisa’s gaze drifted upward, where a dark cloud was back over her tía’s head, somehow more menacing than it was earlier. The strongwoman’s stomach dropped. Yet again she had disappointed her family.
Luisa nodded. “Sorry, mami. I just thought… well. I don’t know what I thought.”
Julieta gave her daughter a sad smile. “It’s okay. Times like these, it’s hard not to miss him. But we’ll get through it, we always have.”
Luisa pursed her lips. “Yeah. We’re the Madrigals. It’ll all be… okay,” she declared, her voice growing less and less confident with every word. She mustered a small smile. “Te amo mami, tía.”
“We love you too,” the women responded, though Luisa couldn’t miss the hopelessness creeping into their tone. She nodded at the two and started back toward her room. Her door was still flickering precariously as she gripped the knob and swung it open. She slipped inside as quickly as she could, gingerly avoiding the still-running treadmill and heavy weights. Groaning, she slumped against the wall.
“I know what I saw,” she said out loud, not caring if Dolores or anyone heard. “I’m going to find you, Tío Bruno, and bring you home, where you belong.”
Just outside her door, a short, ruana-wearing man peeked his head out from behind a planter.
He nodded slowly. “I belong,” he parroted, his voice a whisper. He knocked his fist against the wooden walls of his home before slipping inside the walls yet again…