My last post about how Bruno got something in common with every one of the Madrigal kids?
How about I take that a step further and make it angst?
What if the sisters notice?
What if Pepa sees her little Dolores listening and snickering at something and when she asks about it Dolores says "Tio Brunos stories". And Pepa will suck in a breath and scold her for pretending and Dolores sees her mother getting upset and the skies turning dark, the clouds growing heavy with tears rain and she will stop mentioning Tio Bruno as she grows older, like they will all stop talking about him soon.
But as the years go by Pepa will still see her daughter tilt her head to listen and smirk and do that little "eep" sound her brother always made when he was surprised by something and even though Dolores always says "It's nothing" when she asks Pepa will keep watching and wonder.
And she will applaud her Camilo when he shows her a play he has been writing where he plays all the characters himself and she will remember her little brother, pretending to be someone else and desperately insisting that his real gift is acting as the green still fades from his eyes and his brows are knitted over tearfilled eyes in a headache. And she'll see Camilo rubbing his forehead after overdoing it with the shape shifting and her heart aches in sympathy.
And then there is Antonio and his animals. Always so tender and careful even with little bugs, just like her Brunito was careful with the rats he always seemed to find and nurse back to health. She will remember her brother, whispering with the rodents long after he stopped talking to the rest of the family, feeding them crumbs under the table, trying to ignore Mama's disapproving stare. And when she sees her son playing with a rat or a mouse, her heart rate will pick up and she looks around, expecting to see... But she never does.
And Julieta looks at her daughter Isabela and how hard she tries to impress her abuela, how every little mistake and imperfection leads to a meltdown until there are no mistakes anymore and her little girl fashions herself into this woman, a blank canvas, walking around town, gifting her flowers to her admirers without pausing, without lingering with anyone or meeting anyone's eyes. An untouchable goddess, just like her brother was this untouchable pariah, sneaking through town not pausing, not lingering, not meeting anyone's eyes but always on the lookout for Mama and her approval.
And Julieta can't stand seeing the same look in her eldest eyes and concentrates on her food and the little injuries because that is something she can fix.
At least this, she can fix.
And Luisa, carrying too much, answering every call for help, no matter how inconvenient no matter how tired she is. No call goes unanswered because helping the town is her duty, this miracle demands a sacrifice for all the wonders it brings them. Just like her mother always forced Bruno to leave his room, urged him to answer every call for a prophecy no matter how much he begs not to. "They will blame me" he always said when he was still small enough to think what he wants should matter. "You are supposed to use your gift. That's why the miracle chose to give it to you" their mother would say and usher him out the door.
And with the years his protests fell silent and he started to shrink right before Julietas eyes until he was gone for good one morning.
And Julieta looks at Luisa and her beloved daughter looks so strong, and present and just "there" and sometimes she looks like she will disappear any moment and Julieta suddenly can't breath.
Mirabel is so much like Bruno, it sometimes hurts to look at her. Their personalities are so very different but their spirit, oh their hearts and souls, they shine with the same warm light.
Julieta often remembers that dreadful night, the tears and the disbelief and the shock and she remembers Bruno, kneeling down by a shell-shocked Mirabel and ruffling her hair and saying "It's okay, Miri"
And she will only later realize that he was the only one.
Everyone else had said things like "It will be okay" or "We will figure this out". Even she herself had held her crying child against her chest and whispered "I'm so sorry corazon. Please don't cry" and her little girl had cried even harder.
But when her brother said "it's okay" her youngest had stopped crying and stared at that tall, disheveled man like he was her whole world and only too late will Julieta realize why.
Her brother was the only one who said what Mirabel needed to hear.
It is okay. You are okay. Nothing needs to evolve into "okay", there is nothing that needs to be fixed. Nothing to be sorry about.
You are perfect, just the way you are.
Julieta doubts that Mirabel remembers. Too small and too traumatized by that night but sometimes she wonders if maybe her daughters heart still remembers after all. When she walks with confidence through the town, when she talks back to a prickly Isa, when she declares, loud and proud, how much she loves her Familia.
Julieta hopes so. She tries to right old wrongs, tries to overshadow her own careless words that night by repeating over and over again how perfect her Miri is, just the way she is.
Julieta fears it's not enough.
Julieta wishes her brother was here to ruffle her daughters hair.
Julietta wishes for a miracle.