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I rolled over, kicking my sheet off my bed to stop it tangling in my legs. I couldn’t sleep, but that was hardly irregular. The moonlight was coming in through the nursery window, which I had left open to try to get the wind to flow through. It was a foolish hope, the valley was deadly still.
I stood up, pulling my skirt and top on. My hair was already tied away from my neck, in a bun on the top of my head. I put my shoes on and walked over to the window.
There were no candles in the windows of the houses in the encanto. It was probably four or so in the morning, judging by the sky, which the stars were splashed across like sequins
I moved the chair over to under the window and climbed out onto the roof. I padded gently across the tiles, making my way downward.
I used to hold my breath as I passed the others’ windows, particularly Dolores, but I’d long stopped doing that. Dolores would hear me, but none of the others cared enough to go look, they probably thought it was one of Antonio’s animals.
I made it to the ground, jumping the last few metres onto the lush grass beside the house. I scanned my path quickly, making sure that no one had seen me.
The dead of night was the only time the town wasn’t judging me, the only time I could walk through the streets without a false smile and fake confidence, pretending that everything was fine. Not that it made any difference, not really. Abuela was just as unaccepting of me as she would be if I didn’t try at all. I might as well have spent the last ten years locked up in my nursery, going insane, as the rest of my family continued with their lives.
I reached the town square, the buildings around it almost colourless in the night light, drained to black and white. Even my bright blue skirt had faded into greys, the motifs I had sewn onto it now all in black.
I passed down through the town, walking the deserted streets across to the stone bridge, listening to the soft sound of the languidly flowing river. Luisa had moved the bridge yesterday, and I was still getting used to its new position. At least with the town to myself, I didn’t have to worry about other people ridiculing me for not knowing my way around.
I sat down on the edge of the bridge, dangling my legs over the edge and looking up toward the casita, silhouetted against the dim dawn light just starting to appear over the mountain. It wouldn’t be truly up, ready to mark the morning, for many hours yet, so I could relax for a little while. By six, I’d want to be back in my room.
“Mira, I heard you coming down this way. You alright?”
Dolores.
I turned around to look at her. She was dressed in her normal clothes, but her hair, like mine, was a mess, as if she’d thrown everything on to follow me. Standing a few metres back from me, she looked a little nervous, as if I was going to lose it at her for following me.
“Come over.”
She did, climbing up onto the bridge next to me.
“I like the night, everyone is finally almost quiet. I can hear myself think.” She fiddled with her skirt, tracing the little sound waves.
“I like it too, no one is here to tell me off, tell me that I’m not good enough because whatever power gave us the encanto decided I wasn’t worthy.”
“Oh Mira, you are enough, I hope you know that. Whatever Abuela says. As much as she pretends to care, pretends she values each of use for who we are, none of us are ever good enough. I suspect if you asked everyone, you’d find that they aren’t entirely impressed with Abuela. She’s just stuck obsessing about the encanto. We’re just tools to that end, to keeping her last memory of Abuelo alive.”
“Are you sure?”
“I hear everything in this town that anyone says. There is very little I don’t know, even if I don’t choose to share it.”
“Mirabel, Dolores?”
Isa. Were we having a family meeting down here? Her face was just as irritating as always, stuck in her stupid perfect expression, looking at us as if we were dirt on her nice new boots. She was going to tell us to go back to bed, like we should in her stupid, perfect world.
Dolores looks at me, my choice. Her last statements echo in my head.
“There is little I don’t know.”
“They aren’t entirely impressed with Abuela.”
Perhaps Isa’s here for a reason, even if I can’t see it.
“Mira?”
Isa’s voice almost shakes on the last syllable, shattering her illusion of always being perfect.
I tap the spot next to me and she walks over, swinging her legs over the cobblestone wall. Even the way she sits puts me on edge. Her back is perfectly straight and her legs are crossed, as if she is at an important dinner, not on a wall at night with her useless sister.
“I didn’t expect to find you here,” she says, her voice barely audible over the river below, “I was walking around the base of the mountains.”
“Trying to find a way out?”
“Even if there was one, I don’t think we could leave. We have nowhere else to go. But it’ll be alright, it won’t be like this forever. We just have to keep going.” Her expression didn’t change, and she didn’t move from staring over at the casita.
“I’m not sure how long I can keep going for, Isa. Every day it’s the same, everything I do is wrong. Every night I lie awake, in the nursery that I’ll never get to leave. It was all right while Antonio was there, at least I could help and talk to him. Now it’s just me.”
“Come room with me, I can make a bed for you,” Isa says.
“Abuela will flip if she finds out. You’ll be in trouble. I don’t want to do that for you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You can come stay with me some nights too, if you want,” Dolores adds, turning toward me.
I smiled genuinely for the first time in what felt like forever, probably ten years. I would make it through, come what may.