Chapter Text
And all the anchors that they hid inside your chest
We will unravel all of the chains
And toss the remnants all down the drain
~ Small Hands, Radical Face
After the conversation with Dolores, Bruno sticks much closer to her side than he did before. She doesn’t mind; it’s nice to turn, call out, and have him respond. Her papá has taken to hovering, as has Dolores. Soon Julieta is in on it, too.
Mirabel tries not to roll her eyes; she doubts some man is going to jump out of the bushes at any second.
With each passing day, week, then two weeks, the worry fades slightly.
Casita is well on its way to being rebuilt. Walls are being laid out and a few started going up. Remembering his precision with sand, Mirabel convinces Bruno to trace out the shape of some of the rooms for the builders.
Ever since his rant in town, the townsfolk treat him with the same deference the rest of the Madrigals receive. There aren’t any more rumors about Mirabel, but she’s sure they still exist.
The Madrigals are slowly working their way through needed conversations, stumbling and unsure. Mirabel has another talk with Alma about the family. This time her abuela listens quietly and considers Mirabel’s words. At the end, she thanks Mirabel and gives her a rare hug.
Mirabel can’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening. Their relationship has a long way to go, but she loves Alma. She loves Alma listening to her even more.
“Tío,” she sings as she skips through the budding shape of Casita.
“Over here!”
She turns to the sound and finds him outlining another room with sand. “Hey, are you taking a break soon?”
Alma dropped the break schedule some weeks ago, urging the family to stop when they wanted and to find a buddy. Alma herself would periodically drag someone away if she thought they worked for too long.
“Ah, yeah, after I’m done with this room?”
Mirabel nods and moves to the side so she wouldn’t be in the way. Bruno pours sand at a steady pace, forming a neat outline. The builders gathered to consult their plans from time to time, but the shape must have needed no correction.
Finished with his task, Bruno puts his bucket down and joins Mirabel’s side. He pulls Maximo out from under his ruana and offers the rat to her.
“Where do you keep him?” Maximo licks her fingers and she can’t help but giggle.
“Ah…secret? Maybe my special gift is producing rats from nowhere?”
She gives him a flat stare. “You said your gift was acting.”
“That, too.” He grins back and Mirabel can’t help but squint at him. “Okay, okay, I have big pockets sewn in the back of the ruana for them. Or my pants sometimes.” He’s slightly pink at the admission, but she just laughs.
“If you need any more, I can help resew things.”
“Gracias, sobrina.”
The two stand and watch the builders gather supplies for the room. “Hey, tío…do you have a minute to talk?”
“Of course. Want to move somewhere else?”
She nods and they move away from the former ruins. Bruno leads them down to the edge of the river. The rush of water fills the air, giving them privacy without too much distance.
Mirabel settles onto a flat rock and puts Maximo down to explore the bank. He won’t move far from either of them. Bruno dithers until she pulls on his ruana to get him to sit next to her.
Elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin, he watches Maximo sniff the ground. “What’s up?”
Even though she’s the one who asked him to talk, it’s hard to start the conversation. She’s not good at this. “It’s…Luisa,” she finally forces out.
Bruno waits, but she doesn’t continue. “What about Luisa?”
“She…” Mirabel lets out a gusty sigh. “She won’t let me help. Not like, help with building,” she gestures, “but help her. Emotionally. She’s struggling without her gift and I know it, Mamá knows it, Abuela knows it—everyone knows, but she won’t talk about it! I keep asking her and she keeps brushing me off.”
Mirabel digs the toe of her shoe into the damp earth, fisting her hands in her skirt. It makes her angry when she’s rebuffed. “I’ve been trying for weeks and nothing! Not a peep!”
“Mira…”
“I don’t know what else to do! If I could just pin her down and make her tell me maybe we could get somewhere!”
“Mirabel.”
“It’s Isabela all over again! Luisa never wants to open up; do you have any idea how hard it was for me to get her to admit she’s under pressure? And now she just seems annoyed whenever I ask her and it’s just, I need to help her and—"
“Mirabel!”
She whips her head to Bruno, taking in his resigned expression. “Sorry, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”
He nods.
“Ay…it just makes me angry.”
“Why?”
“Why?” Mirabel is nonplussed. “Didn’t you listen to what I just said?”
“Why does it make you angry she won’t talk to you?”
“Because I need to help! I need to fix it! Fix her!” Mirabel throws her hands in the air, narrowly missing his face.
He leans out of range. “Do you?”
“What do you mean?” Deep breath in and out; no need to get mad when he’s only trying to help. Mirabel smooths the wrinkles from her skirt.
“Do you need to fix Luisa? Can’t she work through it at her own pace?”
“But she’s unhappy!”
Bruno nods in acquittance. “True. But maybe a better approach would be to just offer to listen if she wants someone to talk to?”
“She’s never going to!” Mirabel picks up one of the rocks and chucks it into the river with a splash.
“Have you asked her?”
She glances at him and he explains.
“Have you offered to listen when she wants to talk, or did you try to get her to do it on your time so you could fix it faster?”
“Oh…um.” She curls into herself a little. “When you put it that way…”
“Mirabel,” Bruno sighs and reaches for Maximo, who’s sniffing his toes. He strokes the rat as he considers his words.
“You care a lot about this family. No one doubts it. You try so hard and you’re always asking us if we are okay. And it’s good—great, actually! You make an effort to reach out. But…I’ve seen you.” He flashes her a half-smile.
“You are all in on everything. Sometimes…it comes across pretty strong. Some of our family might just need a little more space and time. Not all problems can be tackled head-on, or solved right away.”
She nods slowly, tracing the bump of the embroidery on her skirt.
“Like, well, Isabela. When my vision said to give her a hug, what did you do?”
“I, ah…tried to apologize. It didn’t go well…and then she said she never wanted to marry Mariano and made a cactus.”
“And then?” he presses gently.
Mirabel grimaces, mouth puckering. “I…maybe said it was a serious confession…and to come hug me.”
“Ah.” Bruno doesn’t seem surprised by the admission. “I know you wanted—needed—to save the miracle, and you two still seemed to connect, but can you see how maybe, it wasn’t the right…response?”
She doesn’t like to admit it, but Bruno’s right. She should have been there for her hermana emotionally, instead of pursuing her own goal of a hug. The actual physical act of the hug wasn’t what healed the candle. It was the connection and understanding. Rebuilding the relationship. And she’d been so pushy.
She’s doing the same to Luisa now, poking and bothering. Mirabel folds in on her legs, tucking her face in her arms. It’s uncomfortable. What if she’s only making it worse?
“Hey, it’s okay, Mirabel.” Bruno’s hand comes to rest on her shoulder.
“I got it all wrong, didn’t I?” she mumbles to her knees.
“Well…you still got through it with Isabela. You will with Luisa, too. Just…sometimes it’s okay to let things go, you know? Don’t let your own ideas of the right way to heal take over what the other person wants.”
“Tío…you’re good at giving advice.”
He gives an awkward little laugh. The hand on her shoulder starts rubbing, pinpointing a knotted muscle. “I don’t know. I had a lot of time to think, I guess? I don’t know…it’s what I’d want. I imagine others do too.”
“Oh no.” Her chest sinks like the bottom dropped out beneath her. “Have I been doing it to you? Bothering you too much?”
Bruno scoots closer so he can wrap his arm around her side. He transfers Maximo into her skirt. “You never bother me, chiquita. Just think about what I said when you help and you’ll do just fine.”
Mirabel pets Maximo to give her hands something to do. She leans into Bruno, the sun’s warmth spreading across her shoulders. “I should probably apologize to Luisa.”
“Maybe.”
The river rushes by, hypnotizing as the sun catches the motion.
“Ah, Mirabel…”
“Yeah?”
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Nothing bad, I hope,” she jokes, trying to lighten the moment. Bruno doesn’t seem amused and she can’t help but tense in response.
He squeezes her a little closer to his side in response.
“Not—bad. Just something I’ve noticed. You’re always helping everyone. Luisa, your abuela, Camilo…everyone. You’re always reaching out. But, ah…Mira…” He trails off, gaze fixed on the river. His jaw works, struggling with the words.
Mirabel grabs the hand lying loose in his lap, squeezing it with her own.
He glances at her and continues. “Mirabel, who’s been helping you?”
She’s thrown at the question. “Huh? Who helps me? Well, everyone, I mean…wait, well, um, what do you mean by help, I guess?” The sentence is inelegant as she stumbles for mental footing.
“Who’s been talking to you about everything going on? Losing Casita? The fight with your abuela?”
Mirabel opens her mouth and finds she has nothing to say. “…you?”
Bruno is already shaking his head. “I’ve barely done anything. Who have you talked to about all this? Julieta? Agustín? Camilo?”
Her heart drops. She doesn’t like the picture his words are painting. “Ah, well, I’m doing pretty good, you know, I don’t need help with all this!” She laughs, but it’s high and nervous.
Bruno catches her eye, gaze firm. “Mirabel. Please answer me. Who is helping you?”
She hates the admission. Her family hasn’t reached back out in the same way she has. “No…one. But! I don’t need—”
“No.” Bruno’s voice is sharp as he cuts off her clarification. “No buts. This isn’t a negotiable point, Mirabel. You need to talk to someone, anyone, about everything going on.”
Mirabel is lost. He makes it sound simple, but it’s—not. “But…how?”
He gives a little laugh like it’s a silly question. “Just talk to them when they ask, chiquita.”
She says nothing.
The humor fades and terrible realization creeps across his face. She put it there, even unintentionally, exposing the brokenness she hasn’t addressed.
“Mirabel,” he swallows hard and turns to her more fully, grabbing her other hand with his. “Has anyone…asked?”
Slowly, miserable, she shakes her head.
“Oh, Mira, lo siento mucho.” Bruno pulls her towards him abruptly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and crushing her to his chest.
She has to pull away almost immediately; her glasses dig into her face at the angle. Bruno lets her go as she adjusts them.
Maximo, displeased at being squished between two people, scurries off the rock.
“Hey, hey now. Mi mariposa…” He cups her face with his hands and the gentleness is nearly overwhelming, worn and stretched thin as she is.
“You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. I’m sorry no one asked you until now—I should have, but I just thought, with the family, and they’d go to you first and—”
He’s rambling, but Mirabel doesn’t care. She brings her own hand up to rest over his. “You’re here now, tío Bruno.”
He cuts off at her voice and pauses. “I can help you, if you want.”
It’s almost a whisper, but Mirabel smiles anyway; a little wobbly, but appreciative nonetheless.
“I’d really like that. Gracias. I’m not, ah…I’m not the best at asking for help myself. Maybe even when I need it.”
“Then I’ll ask for you.”
Mirabel doesn’t move away from the hands cupping her face. It’s…nice, to have someone else take care of her for once. Like when Julieta reaches out, but without the unconscious edge of pity Mirabel dreads. It’s nice to let someone help.
She wonders who’s there for Bruno, besides her. If at some point the familia will become too much and he’ll leave again. But…today isn’t about solving everyone’s problems all at once.
Closing her eyes, she leans into his hands and accepts the support.