Chapter Text
Your whole life revolved around trivial and uninteresting things.
Uninteresting to you, because many women disagreed that such subjects are boring. Subjects like embroidery, wedding and cooking. Look, you don't want this to sound like you're belittling anyone who wants a life devoted to family or home. It's just that, for you in particular, it is uninteresting.
You wanted so much more than babies to take care of, or a good husband. There are so many things to do and discover, why limit yourself so much? It's not like getting married is the only way in the world to be happy. Anyone who admitted this out loud would be seen as ignorant, outdated, conservative. But, unfortunately, the situation made people regress. And by saying that, I mean that people have become conservative, outdated and ignorant again. Since Encanto was founded, people has become demure and zealous with their own reputation.
However, growing up in such a limiting environment never stopped you from nurturing your own internalized dreams and desires. You wanted adventure, wanted emotion – like go to Egypt, learn to speak French or even wear pants. No sewing or housewife duties.
The kind of thing that really interested you was spinning the globe, exploring; even without having the slightest idea where to start. Part of this was a consequence of your lack of academic study. You've never been to a university. You never studied deeply about Mayan architecture, aerodynamics or theories of electricity and how to adapt that to create your own energy. All these things were never within your reach, only tiny bits and pieces.
Still, it's not like you can go to a university anyway.
Here in Encanto there are no faculties, just a school that doesn't specialize in single subjects. The only reference to how things were in the outside of Encanto is through books. Yet, you couldn't even go much further than that. The mountains are very high and you'd probably be lost in the middle of a jungle, without any notion of where to go — It is important to note that there is no map of the surroundings.
When the miracle of the Madrigal family created this place, no one imagined they would be hidden so well. Even if that was the point, being hidden from everything. Mostly from people. And also of traveling abroad, or of spying a little beyond the river of the forest (where was the entrance to the village).
Your parents were grateful for the protection that Alma provided and they loved the idea of being isolated from the world without risking being persecuted again. The hope she brought gave comfort and peace to the citizens, although it hasn't healed all the wounds of recent losses. Therefore, your parents accepted all the restrictions that she made with solemnity. Nobody contradicted her. They were keen to follow Alma with great admiration, trusting blindly in her choices and what she thought was best for the people.
But — as there were always buts — you never liked it. You have hated these restrictions for as long as you can remember.
And to add to your displeasure, your little-girl dreams of meeting new people and exploring new places were interrupted as soon as your parents noticed your penchants. They planned all your life before you can live it. They have also created very rigid rules of how you should behave or what you should like — including favorite colors, music, food, people and anything else possible.
You didn't know if it was a way to control you or protect you. Maybe it was both. Not that it mattered much, because you didn't respect any of the demands they made.
First of all, you should be polite.
You've never been polite. Not the way they wanted it. You don't exude subtlety, which makes you inconvenient. In fact, you were always considered unkind to most people. It's not easy to entertain you with gallant or banal conversations. You are extremely difficult to please.
But who would be interested in conversations like that? The sole purpose of this type of interaction was to create an appropriate climate. Usually conversations of this type ranged from: "Your dress is beautiful", or "the empanadas are delicious". You can also consider a strategy for not having an uncomfortable silence.
Which was pretty useless, because you always made sure you kept silent, unconcerned about carrying on any conversation that didn't attract the least bit of your attention.
The second thing was that you should keep your delicate hands for piano lessons. But you never learned to play the piano; besides, you're horrible by touching any musical instrument. You tried them all, incluiding vallenata box, accordion, guacharaca, tambora, harmonica, and failed them all.
You would rather let your hands delicate work with inventions.
Now that the subject has come up, it's good to pass it on. You are a woman full of ambitions. You wanted to create things to help the community — surprising as this statement is, if we take into account your disregard for the rest of the population of Encanto.
You had once you have built a type of automatic aterrament for farmers; but it was discarded after almost exploding and burning a whole plantation. You still created things – many of them useless – for personal use, like sugar stirrers or windows-rolling devices (these you used a lot).
And in case questions are arising in my dear reader, you learned how to put pieces together and make them work from books. Many were scarce, but the village library still held precious bibliography of inventors and manuals. Knowing how it worked inside, you could offer to fix things; although of the incident with the last invention people were afraid to ask you to do anything else.
Well, there is nothing you can't learn from books. Your limits just begin when a book ends, because it was no longer possible to delve into the subjects or study the paragraphs. And this entailed repeated readings of the only works available in the village library. But the fact that knowledge is so little disseminated due to lack of material did not prevent you from becoming a girl with an excellent mind.
However, let's go to the third and final requirement that your parents made that you, unsurprisingly, did not fulfill:
Find a husband.
You were a cunning woman and hard to persuade. A woman who doesn't fall for any man with pretty words – you do everything to avoid this type, by the way —, but it's complicated to avoid men and suggestions of gentlemen available when every corner you were going, there is a lady trying to introduce you to her son.
And it's not just the ladies who try to push you into their son. Your parents too, obviously. Every dinner they would tell you a new name, or even invited guys to come to your home to eat. The result of all this? Fury attacks and rebellion. You made silent protests, such as not talking to them for a week or ruining every good impression you've done to some suitable man.
It could be your childishness, but with these acts they would stop bothering you about it for a while; although everything went back to the way it was before after the following month.
Now the question is: how did you still have suitors when you made a point of showing that you didn't even come close to being a suitable wife? This is very simple to respond.
Your parents were rich.
They do not export anything beyond the mountains, but they have been able to succeed with the great sale of apples by the village. Over time, the family name were enriched until they became the leading apples merchants from the whole village. That's why you're so courted despite your horrible personality. But at one point, your personality didn't matter. There were weddings that people did not even like each other, and they only got married for titles and money – what many want with you.
Eventually it became routine to complain about the injustice of having to get married; of all the implications of your parents, this is the worst and the most devious. With that we come to the present moment.
You're inside your room, muttering to yourself about a dinner with a suitor that had been planned without your consent – again. With your foot on the chair, you adjusted the laces of your boots. You could be putting on the new sandals, after all they were perfect for the occasion; but no. You couldn't run away in the middle of the night with your new sandals, but you could run off in the middle of the night with your old boots.
"If I were a man, everything would be different," you grumble with disgust. "No marriage, no men, I would only focus on leaving here as fast as I could", more murmurs, and then a short pause. "I mean – my parents would not let me leave here not even if I were a man, but I would plan to run away anyway..."
Another pause, you were still lacing your shoelaces. It was a tall boot, so it would take time. And where were you going? To the house of your best friend, Perla Fagundes.
You met Perla when you were still babies. Her mother and yours were good friends and made sure to encourage a friendship between you; that you say is the only good thing your mother has ever done for you in your life.
Perla was the only person in all of Encanto you could talk to without getting dismayed looks. Every now and then she would yawn, but at least the girl was making an effort to listen to you. Perla also knew pretty much everything about you, and you knew everything about her. It was a mutual exchange of secrets, ambitions and desires. And although she is not that interested in inventions, Perla writes very well and makes beautiful poems. A truly admirable writer.
You spent most of your time together, but unlike you, Perla liked to go to parties and be in the village's social environment. You're sure she only went to these places because her mother was as sociopathic as yours was. But, no matter how different you're, you're always helping each other. That's why Perla was waiting for you in a secret place for secret meetings, far from the village and hidden from crazy mothers.
It was customary to meet behind her father's barn when this sort of thing happened. You would sit on the makeshift swings you created when you were twelve to play with, talking about the day or venting about life's misfortunes.
"And if I can't get away, I'll bankrupt the businesses! Record my words –" you rage at the ghosts in your room (another curiosity about you is that you talk to yourself a lot). "I'm going to bankrupt the business."
You lift your foot off the chair and stomp the floor, letting out an exasperated sigh. All that talk made you nervous – more nervous than before, because the more you lost yourself in your indignations, more reasons were found to be angry.
Now that your boots were perfectly laced you're ready to grab a bag off your desk – with things you need to get away – and walk towards the bedroom window. You wouldn't stay out all night, but you had a snack and packed a broken watch to fix while talking to Perla.
Downstairs your parents have no idea what you were planning to do. Conversation continued, the clatter of cutlery and music implementing an ordinary dining atmosphere. So sleazy they've completely forgotten you left to go cool over fifteen minutes ago. You wanted to know what was so cool about that guest that they were entertained by him, but that would be a topic for another time. You needed to focus on your escape before you were missed.
When you were facing the window, you took out the device you used to get down from under some rubble, positioning it on the windowsill. Making sure it was tight enough, you pushed the window frame a little farther to make room. Looking down, you mentally calculated the moves you needed to make and how much you should loosen the device's noose to land right on top of the bushes in the garden.
After taking a deep breath and building up a little courage, you swing your leg over the rail, gripping the rope tightly. Even doing this so many times it was hard not to feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins, sending you messages that what you were doing was strictly dangerous.
But the risk of breaking a few bones didn't even scare you all that much.
Because, well, there was someone who would easily heal you if that happened.
You snuck in through the streets silently, hiding behind walls and wagons whenever someone passed by. Perla's house was not that far from yours, yet, the route was full of detours and was located precisely in busy spots. It wasn't even nine o'clock, so there were still people walking the streets.
After hard work trying to avoid being seen, you arrive on your best friend's street. It was emptier than the others, however, still had to be cautious. The girl's house was at the end, a little distant from the other residences because of the farm. The barn was practically on the forest side; which added up to more work to be discreet. At least no one would notice a girl walking past private property in the dead of night.
You walked past the house and down the field, always looking around to make sure no one saw you. As the footsteps on the grass came closer to the old barn with the thin paint, you heard some noises from inside. At first you was on alert, but then your body relaxed when saw Perla's petite silhouette. Moving a little closer, you jump over another fence and go to the back of the barn; where there was a false bottom to enter more quietly. But before pulling the boards apart, you knuckle down to a specific pattern. Or rather, a code. Beats weak, beats normal, beats normal, beats weak.
Then the sound of feet crunching hay approaches. You look back – just in case – and the false door is pushed aside by Perla.
"Come in," she whispers and makes room. You slip through the opening and finally enter the barn, being greeted with the wonderful smell of dung and cow.
"Ew –", your face contorts in disgust. Perla giggles, rolling her eyes. "Don't you guys clean this place?"
"I thought you were used to the smell", the girl walks over to one of the swings – the ones you made – and sits down. The place wasn't much different from last week; although Perla had promised you she'd tidy it up to make it more comfortable and pleasant. Still, one day you would come to improve this secret meeting corner.
"No one gets used to the smell of shit."
You look at her, going to sit on the other swing. There was a lantern on top of some empty boxes in the corner. It didn't get much light, yet, it was enough not to trip over hay or step on dung.
"So, how was dinner?" Perla asks, bringing up the subject that motivated you to come. The dinner. It was no different than every other dinner you've had with suitors, and she knew it. However, even though she knew it was a dinner like all the others, she never stopped asking. Maybe with the hope of having something new – which happened every now and then.
There were times when you caused a stir at the table, hitting guests with pieces of corn or purposefully spilling wine on their clothes. But this particular dinner had none of that. You shrug, opening your bag and grabbing a tamales to nibble on – doing your best to keep it from falling apart in your lap. The memory of that conversation you had with yourself raised your indignations once again.
"It was horrible! Good thing I didn't have to stay long. But I had to put up with horrible jokes about apples and orchards. Seriously, the guy could have been more creative. Jokes with apples? – What fun is that? – Not to mention the fact that he chews with his mouth open. It was super weird. Argh, it even gave me goosebumps –", you shudder.
"At least he knew how to joke with apples," the girl says, reaching out to grab a piece of the tamales. You shake your head. "What? You make apple jokes too."
"But it's funnier because I'm surrounded by apples, not him. He wants to be surrounded, but he's not. It's all illusion of his head. False hope that he'll be part of the family. But he won't –" you stuff a piece of tamales into your mouth. "And his jokes are horrible. He was horrible. "
Perla sighs a laugh.
"It's not like your jokes are amazing –"
"Hey – you should be on my side, you know?"
"And who says I'm not? I'm just being honest. "
You face her with disappointment.
"You're cruel."
Perla slaps you lightly on the arm; but it was enough to almost topple the tamales.
"You are worse. I'm sure you told him about the bad jokes."
You sigh in disappointment, as if you've missed a great opportunity. And you had.
"Unfortunately I haven't had the pleasure of saying this, but if he ever comes to my house again – something I definitely won't tolerate – I'll make a point of contrasting that," Perla laugh.
"Sure."
You're in comfortable silence as you share the tamales. During this time, you can rest your mind from the brief but stressful minutes you spent in that dining room. Perla took a notebook out of her pocket, starting to scribble a few words. You assumed she was writing her poems. You could take the watch out of your bag to fix it, but you wanted to finish eating first. Some time passed like this, until the girl clears her throat; causing your attention to shift from the food to her.
"Are you going to the party next Monday?”, you raise your eyebrows, a little surprised that Perla would ask this of you. I mean, do you go to any parties? The answer was no. Of course, there were those rare times when you had no choice and were dragged along by your mother, but for the most part you always managed to get away. "It's going to be a party for the newlyweds", you raise an eyebrow. "You know, Julieta is getting married –"
It is not necessary to think twice to come to a conclusion from this.
No.
You're definitely not going to the party next Monday. A party for the newlyweds? Hah. As if. This could be a lot worse than the wedding parties themselves. Besides the fact that everyone in the village would go.
After all, the Madrigals are awesome. They created a miracle and protect the village from dangers. Honestly, you never really cared much about that family. See, were you grateful for the protection they provided and their services, you just didn't glorify them so much. Still you knew the basics, obviously: they had gifts, one controlled time, the other was a healer, and the last one saw the future. Well – you live in this village surrounded by people who have loved they since the beginning, it's not that surprising.
Your parents even have talked to Alma a few times and given her apples fresh from the plantation. But nothing too formal. They admired her, were devout, and went out of their way to show gratitude.
And thinking about it for a moment, it's kind of funny how your mother never introduced you to the triplet Bruno; the ill-fated seer. Maybe because he's bad-mouthed, unappreciated and unlucky? Maybe. They would never let their precious daughter be in the presence of someone like that, someone inappropriate. You never cared about it, anyway. You didn't even know what he looked like – just his sisters, but from a distance.
The point you want to make is that, it didn't matter if you knew who the Madrigals were or if they provide you with a comfortable life. At the first opportunity, you would leave Encanto without even looking back. So it was strange for Perla to ask.
"Why are you asking me this?"
You might not have noticed from the darkness, but Perla gets a blush on her olive skin.
"Uh! – Well", she settles on the swing, snapping her poem book shut. "I know you don't like to go, but – you know, I'd really like to see you there – it's been so long since we had fun together and you're always busy with your inventions. . .", the girl sighs, sadder than she wanted to.
You pause for a moment, looking up at the barn ceiling. It's true, it's been a while since you two had fun. You could meet almost every week in this place to talk, but it wasn't the best way to pass the time. At most you two stayed only fifteen minutes and then each went back to your own house. You don't even remember when it started happening. Maybe from the moment suitors started showing up on your doorstep?
"You know I can't stand that kind of thing", it was too much for her to 'suggest' that you go to this party. A Madrigal party. "And parties are practically slaughterhouses for singles."
You didn't want to think about anything that involved situations full of people or frivolities. A party had it all; mostly men and ladies crazy to marry someone. It was too much to have had to put up with tonight's dinner. You didn't have to throw yourself somewhere else suffocating again.
"Oh come on! You always turn it down because of suitors, but you don't have to. You'd be with me and I promise I won't let anyone near you," Perla whimpers, making a sad face.
"Uh – I know, but my mom would know... She's smarter than she looks. She would certainly notice that you'd stop someone from approaching, not to mention you're terrible at disguising –"
"Pretty please? Could we come up with an excuse. If you can sneak out of your own house in the middle of a dinner, why would that be any different at a party?"
You think deeply before you say something.
"You could also propose some deal with her, you know? Like, say you're going to this party and the wedding and for the next few months she couldn't bother you," Perla continues to insist.
You go on thinking deeply.
She was right. What were the benefits of refusing? You could have some free time from your mother – going to parties and putting up with men around you was a much more effective way to shut her up than making those silent protests. And Perla would be with you; which means you didn't necessarily have to join the party or chat with other people. Parties were the most repulsive thing for you, but for Perla, you had to make an effort.
After a long time, you finally speak:
"Well... If I went, maybe my mom would be quiet for a while", you look back at Perla, who was wide-eyed.
The girl nodded frantically, quickly getting up from the swing to go in front of you. Let's be honest. You owed her that too. The girl was always there for you when you needed her, always listening to you and supporting you in your crazy dreams; it would be grossly unfair and inconsiderate to do that to her.
"So are you going?" the gleam in your friend's eyes is so blinding it almost blinds you.
"Yes. I will," you roll your eyes, getting squashed into a bear hug. "But you have to promise that you'll stick with me and protect me from all the men thirsty for my heritage," you say squeezed by Perla.
"Okay, I won't let anyone get close to your inheritance", the girl confirms, undoing the hug.
You guys spent more time together in that barn than you ever imagined. But there were good conversations and guesses about what the party would be like on Monday – something not too complicated to do. And as you got deeper into this, you stopped to reflect on Juliet's marriage; which, for starters, was the reason for the party to happen.
An invitation to Julieta's wedding is, in fact, something very coveted by the village of Encanto; since every citizen will be in the presence of the priceless Madrigals.
You didn't know what was so amazing to people were excited to go. It's just a celebration in Casita with music, dancing and food. Of course, It was Julieta's wedding, but it would be like any other wedding party: ordinary, noisy and suffocating. A union between two people who theoretically love each other. Just because it's a Madrigal party doesn't mean it's the event of the year. Right?
No, it was the event of the year, so everyone was excited to go.
But that can't be the only reason people go. You can't think much beyond the free food, though. If you really had to list something that might interest you about the wedding is the fact that will happen in the Casita. It's contradictory to think like that, but who wouldn't be excited to go to a magic house?
You never went there – never had the opportunity until now –, just knew what it is like on the outside. But you heard from others what it's like inside. The house interacted with people, used tiles to move them around and have a conscience of its own. You were always so preoccupied with your own affairs that you forgot there were interesting things in the village.
Even if fantasy books and fairy tales are not your main reading, all knowledge is valid. And look at that; you would know the magic without having to imagine it. Books weren't your only contact with something you wanted to explore right anymore.
You may not be able to stand the Madrigal family and everyone praising them for nothing, but Casita is something else. It's like two subjects about the same thing. Like... Completely different pieces that complete each other in one invention. Yes, that's a good comparison. With this in mind, you would make an effort to have fun and not stress with guys trying to get close to you. Even though it seems torturous, it can be fun in the end, right?
You're also capable of having fun. And you would spend time with Perla!
The party would be like a book for you; many find it boring until they start reading (although some books are still boring when reading). You are not the person who talked about unusual things all the time. I mean, not that you care what others think of you – but having talked to so many people you notice the dismay of hearing about your creations. How ironic. You have to put up with embarrassing courtships but no one could hear you talk about the discovery that it is possible to make a potato create electricity.
You believe it's impossible to find someone who likes to talk about it anyway. The only person who listens to you without complaining is Perla. But apart from her, there is no one else in Encanto.
Either way, you'd go to the party and enjoy the moment. You didn't need to think so much, even though it have so many pros and cons. Sometimes it was good to put those things aside and let the moment guide you. You weren't a follower of impulses, you were a logical person – but... Even a logical person can follow the irrational from time to time.
Yes. You could do that. It was also a way to help face these situations better; it would take time before you could plan all the things necessary to get out of Encanto.