Chapter Text
Prologue: The Farmer
“I feel left out, I don't see how
My whole life can change in one week
I gave all I could give, but
It seems like it never really was enough”
Day 0: a week after the ceremony
Mirabel hates the color purple. More specifically, the more magenta hued tones of it. She doesn’t mind the cool toned purples she used to see her hermana Isa wear, no, those only bring memories of comfort. Strangely, the warm tones make her feel so inexplicably cold.
Cold, like the grass outside the Encanto. Cold, like her Abuela’s bony hands. Cold, like her entire body when she realized the door had disappeared.
Cold, like when the whole night came crashing down, and the door disappeared, and Mirabel looked over to her Abuela for comfort— and sees the warm-toned purple of her Abuela’s skirt, only to then look up into eyes full of fear, disappointment and anger.
Her short five year old body used to run down the halls and crash into a pair of legs covered by that purple skirt, and then receive a chuckle and an amused scold. She used to sit on a lap covered by that purple skirt, and lean against a chest with a matching purple camisa. The color brought comfort and warmth.
Now, the lady dressed in purple, not her Abuela, Abuela wouldn’t, it was the lady in purple, only looked at Mirabel with resentment and fear. The lady dressed in warm-toned purple corrals little bitty Mirabel into a wagon a week after the disaster ceremony, in the middle of a chilly night.
It was a long ride. A bumpy ride. And then, Mirabel is staring in awe at the outside of the Encanto, land stretching as far as the eye can see.
And then the Lady who looks like her Abuela but can’t be because Abuela said she was special, the lady sets Mirabel on the ground with her bag. A bag she was helped to pack by this new lady, packed with clothing, food, water, money, a journal, and some sewing stuff, is placed in her hands. The lady climbs into the wagon, gives her a regretful look, and then all Mirabel can do is watch— frozen in helpless confusion as the wagon disappears into the night.
How long until they pick her up? Why are they leaving her here? Surely, it shouldn’t be too long. They would have packed her more if so. Perhaps this is a test. Or they just need to get something. They’ll come back for her soon.
So Mirabel sits there all night. And morning comes, and despite what is said, Mirabel is not one for denial. She takes the truth and tries to make the most of it, but she doesn’t deny it.
So morning comes. She is still sitting on the cold grass outside the Encanto. Nobody has come for her. She didn’t sleep a wink.
And Mirabel realizes three things; that wagon isn’t coming back, she is very cold, and she hates the color purple.
🎠🎪<><><>🎪🎠
“Mamá, where is Mirabel? I haven’t seen her all day, and with it still just being a week after her ceremony, I’m worried, and—“
Alma hushes her daughter Julieta. The matriarch of the Madrigal family puts on a calm mask. “Do not worry, Mirabel is fine. I know where she is. Everything will be fine soon, and Mirabel will not need your worry any longer,” says the elder. She is aware of her deception, if her many omissions, of how she phrased herself just so to give off a different implication than the truth.
They will be unhappy with her. But Alma must protect her family from any threat, including the ones that infiltrate into the family themself.
They will forgive and forget. Alma is doing what her family needs to have done. The day of the ceremony, her son left. Bruno is gone. That was one problem that took care of itself, though she truly wishes she could have known what his vision was. Who knows, perhaps he will come back. Maybe the worrying event of Mirabel’s missing gift just made Bruno want to get away from the stress for a bit. It’s possible he will return after he has calmed.
Once it’s too late to stop Mirabel from realizing she has been outcast for the family’s safety, and eventually wandering far enough in search of safety they will not be able to retrieve her.
Julieta breathes in a heavy breath and seems to hold it. “My Mirabel… she is alright?” Perhaps hiding in the matriarch's room? Snuggled in the cover of her Abuela’s bed, recovering from her great shock? Mirabel seemed to have been recovering, joking around with her “twin” Camilo and goofing off with the girls to lighten her load of emotions. But perhaps it’s just finally hit, and she needs some alone time.
Abuela gives her daughter a firm look. “Mirabel is a survivor. These obstacles will not keep her down. She will find her place in life soon.”
Guilt eats her away. But she is doing this for the family . So leaving out all the important details… it is a necessary evil. They cannot lose their miracle. She cannot lose what she has left of her husband.
Julieta feels uneasy at the look in her mother’s eyes, but nods with determination. Her daughter is a survivor. Mirabel, just as accident prone as her father, but always getting right back up as if nothing had happened. Mirabel has the determination of a mule, and Julieta truly believes she can survive through any hardship. She will make it past this. She will carve a place out for herself to help in the town, gift or no gift.
She will see Mirabel soon, when her daughter is ready to talk to her madre.
A few hours later, a couple minutes into dinner...
“Mi familia, I have news that might, perhaps, be difficult to hear, but with time you shall understand the difficult decision I had to make.”
.
.
.
“You did what?!”
Bruno intended to stay away and hide, to protect his niece. But things change. And now, he has a different reason to hide in these walls; the fear that he will be cast out next, and the freedom to leave the Encanto every week, but soon fading into every month, and then every other month, to search for his sobrina preciosa. Who, at only the tender age of five, was abandoned for far smaller an offense than he had hidden from his mother. If Alma had sent off the child for not having a gift, Bruno shudders to think of what she may have done with his visions implication that Mirabel could be a threat to Casita and the gifts as a whole.
Bruno shakes to think of what Alma would have done to be sure the threat is gone.
Bruno cowers to think what Alma might do to him, if she ever discovers his existence.
Because Bruno is far worse a curse than his sobrina Mirabel, who deserved the world. Who is now missing from his world.
Bruno wonders if, were he to reveal himself and be next to get kicked out, would he be left where Mirabel was? Would he find her there?
He wonders if it would be worth it for that small chance.
But Bruno is bad luck and always has been. His good luck isn’t going to start now, and grant him that chance. If he stays, he can at least come and go as he pleases to search for his favorite niece.
So he hides like a rat in the wall.
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Day 1: On My Own, 5 years old
Mirabel collapses behind a barn. Her feet are blistered and her legs burn.
When the anger had hit, she ran. She ran it all off. For miles and miles, she ran. Wherever Abuela— the lady in purple, had left her was unrecognizable. Mountains everywhere, and no sign of which set of mountains hid their Encanto. Nothing for miles.
So Mirabel screamed and sobbed into the empty land. She kicked, and cried, and hyperventilated on the ground. Tired herself out. And then screamed in rage, picked up all her stuff, and started running in whichever direction she turned first.
She ran, and ran, and ran. Ran until, despite the morning chill, the sun was out and warm and Mirabel was sweating and sniffling. Ran until she saw rows of trees, until she was running through somebody's orchard. Ran until she saw a barn, kept running for it until she hit the side of it with her whole body because in her head it felt like it would relieve some of her anger. It didn’t, so she slammed her body into the barn side a couple more times. It didn’t make her less angry, and devastated, and afraid but it made her tired.
So she slumps against the barn wall. With blistered feet, burning leg muscles, and a bruised shoulder and hip. She thinks her jaw is bruised too. Her side rubbed raw from her bag rubbing and thumping against it as she ran. She doesn’t want to think, she hates thinking, but now she has stopped running and must do just that.
Of course they didn’t want her. Mirabel should have known. She was a threat, a danger. She could see it in the way her Abuela stepped away from her in fear, the way she pulled the candle close and watched with rapt attention and anxiety as the light dimmed. Because the miracle must be protected at all costs, and Mirabel caused the miracle candle to dim. She doesn’t blame her Abuela for backing away, for protecting their family.
But Mirabel, while not blaming, is still upset. She is still heartbroken. She can’t help all the racing thoughts, the what ifs, the why nots. What if they found a way to keep her and also keep the candle safe. Why didn’t they at least try. Why not just love her more than they loved their gifts. They did love her, didn’t they?
Of course they loved her, she’s family… they did, she knows they did! And maybe they still do…?
Maybe this is just them realizing she’s old enough to take care of herself. Mirabel is five. That’s when the kids usually start helping the adults in the village, doing the same work they do with their own gift. It’s been a whole week since she turned five. So Mirabel is a big girl now! She has to start acting like one. The least she can do after ruining everything is grow up and take some responsibility for herself. She can’t rely on her Mamá and Papá forever.
But then, the thought of her parents just makes her break down again. But with a trembling lip, weepy eyes and fogging glasses, Mirabel stands up. She picks her bag up. On weak, wobbly legs she walks around the barn until she finds the door. She stretches to reach the plank across the door, and moves it up and off the hooks it rested on. It thunks against the ground, and one of the barn doors swings open.
The day is still young and cool, and the air is still blue with fog. But within the hour, the sun will rise high in the sky and it will become unbearably hot in the lands of Colombia. So Mirabel sneaks into the barn, closes the door best she can from the inside, and looks around. All around the barn, there is a loop of fence, and behind it are sleeping cows. The smell isn’t amazing, but she’s helped on the farms in the Encanto, so it’s familiar. It’s colder in the barn than it is in the rapidly warming air outside. The sweat on her skin cools rapidly, and Mirabel shivers.
It’s dark, and a little scary, but it’s safe. It will keep her safe from wild animals, from the afternoon sun, from unsavory people. Oh how Mirabel had heard all sorts of stories about the people outside the Encanto. Nobody outside the Encanto is safe from banditos, or soldiers, or conquistadors.
So Mirabel finds a corner in that barn, cold but too dark to see any purple even if all the cows were painted brilliant violet, Mirabel curls up in a dirty pile of hay with her meager belongings, and sleeps with the field mice.
The field mice welcome a fellow rodent in their hay stack.
Somewhere, her uncle sleeps in the walls with rats.
🎠🎪<><><>🎪🎠
Alejandro makes his daily trek to the barn to let the milk cattle out to graze. The morning is foggy, and the sounds of nature surround the mellow man with their familiarity.
Alejandro’s boots collect the dew off the grass as he walks through his fields. Out of habit, he adjusts his wide-brimmed hat. The sun will be high soon. Hopefully the kids are getting started early on those fields. He doesn’t want any of them getting heat stroke.
Alejandro comes to the barn door, and freezes. One hand reaches for the pistol in his side holster.
The farmer’s deeply tanned hands, calloused with work, reach down and pick up the board that is normally planked across the barn doors to keep them closed. The door is cracked open. Something is inside.
Did Andres forget to put the plank back last night? Did it somehow fall out? Or is there a person, a thief in his barn?
Alejandro pushed the barn door open. It swings open quietly. They take care of the hinges regularly. The soft murmurs of the cattle recognizing its time to go out greet him. The man feels tense, prepared to draw his pistol at any moment.
Each of his steps cautious— there! Something moved in the hay! Alejandro approaches, hand on his gun—
And breathes a sigh of relief, chuckling to himself. Worried for nothin’. It’s just some kid. Probably wandered too far from the farm town and got lost.
She’s a bit too young to be wandering around on her own, but perhaps she had an older sibling with her and they got separated. Got scared and hid in the barn.
She’s got tan skin, like his but lighter. Her hair is wild, curls all over the place. She has crooked green glasses on her face, not removed before sleep. A bruised jaw. Clumsy kid, as most are. Alejandro chuckles when he sees a mouse nested in her hair.
But then seals his lips with confusion when he sees the rather large bag next to her.
Well, he can just wake her and ask. Besides, he needs to anyway; her family is probably worrying themselves silver at where she got lost. He’ll take her to town with him later, when he goes to deliver crops to the stalls. Until then, she can stay in the house with Maria and the little ones.
Alejandro kneels down in the hay, and jostles the young girl's shoulder. “Aye, niña. Buenos días, kid, time to get up,” he says gently.
She whines at him, and he chuckles. Kids. “Casita…?” She murmurs. Then she opens those wide, burnt umber eyes. She looks at him with confusion.
And then remembers.
The kid's lip begins to wobble, and tears fill her eyes. Alejandro feels his heart squeeze. Aye, his daughter Carmen is the same. First time she got lost, she cried her eyes out. “Oh, niñita, it’s okay. Got lost, huh?” The girl scrubs at her eyes under her glasses, trying to get the tears to go away. “You’re just outside of town, not too far, huh? I’ll take you back when I do deliveries later, how about that?”
Mirabel scrunches her brows. Is she lost? Kind of. But not really. And after that split second of hope, to hear someone say she’ll be home soon, she realizes he surely doesn’t mean the Encanto. This man just thinks she’s from wherever he lives closest to.
She is outside the Encanto. And nobody outside knows about the inside.
She sniffles, breathing in deep to settle herself. She stands up on wobbly legs, and picks up her bag. The man stands up as well. She forces herself to look him in the eyes, “M-my apologies, señor. I’ll be on my way, sorry about sleeping in your barn…” she says shyly.
Alejandro looks at the girl with surprise. She sure collected herself fast. And on her way?
“Woah now, little lady,” he stops her, “Don’t you worry about all that. But, it would be nice to have a name for you, niñita. My name is Alejandro,” he offers, holding out his hands.
Her little chubby five-year-old hand grips his in a weak handshake. “I’m Mirabel. It’s nice to meet you, señor Alejandro.” She sniffles again, biting her cheek and trying not to tear up. The reality of things is still hitting her like a sack of bricks.
She’s all alone. No family, no gift, no clue what to do.
Alejandro puts a gentle, wrinkled hand on Mirabel’s shoulder, and leads her out of the barn. “Nice to meet you, too. And really, it isn’t an issue, you don’t have to run off right away. Might get lost again. You can stay with my wife and kids until I do deliveries, and then I can take you to town and we can find your parents, okay? Everything is gonna be alright,” he reassures her.
Mirabel knows it isn’t. But doesn’t say anything to challenge him.
She stands off to the side as Alejandro lets the cattle out, and then walks with him down a gravel path. He offers to carry her bag, but she shakes her head no and holds on tight to it. He laughs, a hearty sound, and comments on her being a big strong kid. Mirabel nods to herself. She is a big kid now, and plenty strong enough to take care of herself. She doesn’t get what was funny though.
Eventually, through fields that seem to stretch on forever, and past chicken coups, they reach a home. Alejandro’s home. On the front porch are three kids, all looking to be around the age of her hermanas and her prima Dolores. Two boys and a girl.
The kids look at the two approaching curiously. One of the boys and the girl run up to them. “Papá! Quién es éste?”
Alejandro pats Mirabel on the shoulder, her social-butterfly nature receding in light of recent events. She tries to hide behind him ever so subtly. “Niños, this is Mirabel. She got a little lost, so I’ll be giving her a ride back to the village later, okay? I’ll be leaving her with Mamá until then, so when you come back for lunch, be nice. And tell your other siblings while you’re out there. Got it?”
The kids nod, and wave at her. Mirabel gives a weak smile, and shyly waves back. The three of them pick up bags of tools, and run off into the crop fields. One of the boys even says “Bye Mirabel!” as he runs off. It makes her feel a little better.
Mirabel is led into the house, and Alejandro leaves her side to approach a woman with the longest braid she’s ever seen going down her back. He gives the woman a kiss on the cheek, and Mirabel notes that it must be his wife.
“Maria,” he addresses her, “This is Mirabel. She got lost. I’m taking her back to town with me later, but until then, I was thinking it would probably be safer for her to stay here with the littler ones?”
Alejandro’s wife, Maria, smiles lovingly at him. “Of course,” she answers, before addressing Mirabel. “It’s great to meet you Mirabel. Welcome to our home. I hope you don’t mind kids younger than you, we have a toddler and a baby that are gonna be with us until you leave.”
Mirabel manages to grin, despite her exhaustion. Maybe she can muster up a bit of her chatty nature. “I love kids! I take-” took– “care of the younger kids all the time at home! I’m the youngest in Casita, but everyone else has jobs-” with their gifts, which she didn’t get– “so if someone in town needed a babysitter to take a break, I was usually the only one free.”
Mirabel loved to help the Encanto. So if there wasn’t anything left for her to do, she’d gladly jump at any chance to take care of peoples’ kids in the village. Give their parents a break for a bit.
Maria hums and nods, gladly letting Mirabel run her mouth. Guess it comes with having kids. Kids like to talk, and when you’re around them enough, you learn how to listen and be productive at the same time. How to engage them, whilst still concentrating on tasks.
Alejandro leaves to work the fields with the older kids, and Mirabel sits in a nursery with Maria, a two year old toddler, and a 10 month old baby.
Mirabel sits on the floor with the toddler, Adora. Playing to pass the time as Maria rocks the baby, Jacinto, in her rocking chair. Mirabel holds the toddler's hands in hers to help her stand, and bounces up and down with the kid. Adora giggles and babbles, bending wobbly knees to dance in place with Mirabel. It has Mirabel missing her Encanto even more, has her missing how she’d do this with the village kids.
Adora plops back down, and occupies herself with little wooden horses. Mirabel faces Maria, and attempts to cheer herself up so she stops crying. Talking has always been a good distraction for her. “Five kids is a lot, it must be crazy for you guys! My parents say just me and my two sisters are a handful, and there’s only three of us,” she starts, hoping to provoke conversation.
Maria laughs, the lines on her face showing more prominently. Happy lines. “Yeah, it gets pretty crazy around here. Dinner is especially wild. And guess what?” Mirabel leans forward where she’s sat on the ground, interested in what the mother is going to tell her. “We actually have ten kids,” Maria chuckles.
Mirabel’s jaw drops. “Ten?! That’s so many! I don’t think I’d be able to remember everyone’s names!” They have so many! Adora will have more siblings than they’ll know how to deal with!
Mirabel tries not to imagine the chaos of ten more gift ceremonies, ten new, wild gifts to learn how to control and use to help the people in the encanto. Nine siblings sounded like fun, but Mirabel isn’t sure she’d be able to handle the mayhem.
Maria smiles, “Yeah, but when you’re a mother, you just can.”
Mirabel realizes something, and says with wonder, “You've changed so many diapers…”
Maria laughs, loudly and thoroughly amused. With one last snort, she answers. “Yep, so many diapers. My oldest is 18, his name is Diego. The youngest is Jacinto here. We have 6 handsome boys, and 4 beautiful girls.”
Mirabel hums. “I live-” lived– “with my Mamá, my Papá, two big sisters, my Tío Bruno he’s my favorite but don’t tell my Tía Pepa that, Tía Pepa, her husband Tío Felíx, their daughter Dolores, and her brother Camilo. He’s only a year older than me, we always tell people we’re twins. I’m the youngest of everybody. Oh! And my Abuela lives with us too. All one house,” explains Mirabel.
Maria continues to rock in her chair with the baby, taking in what Mirabel has told her. “Ah, how sweet. You must all be pretty close, all living in the same home.”
Mirabel looks down at her hands solemnly.
“Yeah…” she says.
We were…
The habit of not saying anything aloud you didn’t want heard since Dolores keeps that last thought in her head, not even whispered.
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That night, the Madrigal House
Dolores hesitates, hand raised to knock, but unsure of herself. Another sob sounds out loudly through the door. She flinches at the sound. That solidifies her determination. Dolores doesn’t bother knocking, just walks in.
Julieta looks up at her niece. Dolores takes long strides towards the grieving woman, and sits on the bed beside her. The sobs do not cease.
“Tía… there’s something really important I have to tell you…” Julieta gives her full attention to her niece, even through her tears. “I plan on telling Mamá as well but I thought you should know first…”
She takes a deep breath.
“Abuela lied about where Mirabel is.”
Abuela had said she sent Mirabel away outside the encanto. With Tío Bruno. That she sent them away to protect them.
It was not taken well by the family.
There’s been a new fear instilled in the family Madrigal; if they do not use their gifts well enough, if they do not do as they are told, if they cause too much trouble– would they be cast out too? Sent away? Into the danger outside the Encanto?
The children in the Madrigal house cry to themselves for their missing sister, their missing uncle, silently swearing to themselves to never mess up, to always be perfect and relentlessly helpful with their gifts, because their family cannot handle losing another member.
“W-what?” Julieta sniffles, “What do you m-mean she lied, Dolores?”
Dolores holds her breath, before releasing it. Tears well in her eyes. “Tío left to hide so Abuela doesn’t send him outside the Encanto permanently too… Mirabel is not with Tío Bruno… he d-doesn’t know where she is either…” Her voice is less than a whisper, hardly audible.
Julieta hears every word as if it were screamed in her ears.
Her daughter does not have her uncle. Her five year old daughter is outside the encanto. Alone.
Mirabel is all alone out there.
When they tell Pepa, a hurricane mixed with a hail storm begins to brew outside.
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Soon enough, lunch comes around. Mirabel pushes her bag into a corner of the nursery and insists on helping Maria cook. She tells the mother that her own mom is a chef (it’s kind of true) and after some puppy dog eyes, Maria relents.
Mirabel sighs with relief. She’d lose herself if she couldn’t help with something.
She’s Miracless Mirabel, as the village kids said. Not helpless Mirabel. Just because she doesn’t have a gift, doesn’t mean she can’t repay this kind family for their hospitality.
Maria is surprised to find that, despite being a kid, Mirabel does not get in the way in the kitchen and actually is a help. Usually, when a little kid says they’ll ‘help’ it’s more an amusing obstacle than anything.
The food is done quicker than usual, and then Maria sets the table so Mirabel isn’t handling the fragile dishes. An extra chair is added at the huge table for the five year old.
Not long after, the house is filled with laughter. Mirabel watches cautiously from the kitchen as kid after kid stumbles in through the front door of the house. So many outsiders… she wonders what it’s like for them, living here outside the Encanto. No Madrigals to make their lives easier, always at risk of bad people.
Alejandro comes in last, wiping his hands on his shirt. Every one of them is sweaty and dirty, clearly coming back from working in the fields. But they’re all smiling and laughing, teasing each other and shoving their siblings around playfully. Just yesterday, Mirabel also had that. Things change so terrifyingly fast.
One of the older girls, with two pigtail braids and a straw hat, spots her, and huffs an ‘aw.’ She puts a hand to her chest, “Bless your heart, you’re so small! Diego, Diego, remember when Margo was that small?”
A very tall boy with short-cut hair turns to look where his sister is pointing, and grins cheerfully at Mirabel. “Ah! Mirabel, correct?” She nods shyly. “Well, glad to have ya’! We’re just all gettin’ washed up, and then we can sit down and eat, bueno?”
He heads off and Mirabel retreats further into the kitchen. So many people. It’s overwhelming, and she’s still raw from the unfathomable event that has happened to her.
Lunch is energetic, to say the least. The large family acts as if she’s the kid of an old friend, involving her in their conversations, and not even projecting a hint of awkwardness. They’re… different, in a good way. Kids play keep away at the table with each other, fling food at their siblings, something Abuela would never allow in Casita, and are just loud. Mirabel squeals when one of the boys, Andres, picks her up and puts her on his shoulders so he can hand her his twin sister's hair bow, and the two of them act as a team to keep it high enough so that she can't reach it. Normally, she’s just as tall as Andres and her arms are longer so she has no trouble reaching what he attempts to keep up, but with Mirabel’s added height it’s a challenge for the sister.
When Andres almost falls over and Mirabel shrieks with fear and joy, Alejandro scolds his son and tells them to sit down and finish their food, and hand back Rosa’s hair tie you two!
“Margo, I can see you putting your vegetables on your brother’s plate, I’m not blind,”
“Andres, chew with your mouth closed–”
“Aye! Diego, your little sister is NOT a maraca, stop shakin’ her!”
“Máximo, chew with your mouth closed, we didn’t raise you in the barn. That goes for you, too, Nicolás.”
“Mamí! Carmen’s talking about her stupid boyfriend again!”
“Shut up, Lucas, he isn’t stupid!”
“Oh mwuah mwuah, I’m a big meat head who likes kissing girls who look like the vacas en el campo– ow! Hey!”
“Carmen, don’t hit your little brother, and Lucas, leave your sister alone.”
“Mi Vida, Adora is throwing her food on the ground,”
“Ay por Díos, Maxímo, can you get Mamá a towel from the kitchen? Thank you, sweet pea– OYE! Andres Donetello Rosito Aguilar, if you don’t leave your sister alone, I will make you sleep in the chicken coop! Aye aye, I could have sworn I had ten kids, not ten of the farm animals in mi familias clothes!”
Mirabel can’t help the raucous laughter that escapes her little body along with a couple of the other younger kids. Nicolás, one of the kids who she had seen earlier that morning, was sat next to her. On her other side was Lucas, the boy who was also with Nicolás and Margo, and had said goodbye to her when they ran off. Nicholás is 9, and a little quiet, but he’s sweet and insists he has to help her cut her food because that’s what his big siblings did for him when he was 5, so she probably also needs help with it. He also explains to her some things about his family.
Diego is 18, and the best big brother in the world, according to Nicholás. Carmen is 17, and has a boyfriend Lucas teases her relentlessly about because despite being a lot younger, he’s protective. Andres and Rosa are twins, and both 16. Lucas and Margo are also twins, both 10. Lucas is confident and mischievous, while Margo is quiet, and according to Nicholás, always knows what to do no matter what. She’s his favorite sister, but he says not to tell anybody that. Mirabel nods, agreeing to keep quiet. Máximo is his little brother, and he’s 7. Then there's Adora, who’s 2, and Jacinto, who is only 10 months old.
Nicholás makes a grossed out face, and tacks on, “And you can probably tell, but Mamá and Papá are super duper yucky in love.” That makes her giggle. Just like Tía Pepa and Tío Félix.
And for a good hour, Mirabel forgets about not knowing what to do next, and smiles.
Maybe the outside isn’t so scary after all.
🎠🎪<><><>🎪🎠
After lunch, everyone gives Mirabel a farewell before heading back to the fields. And then Mirabel waits.
Sometime in the evening, Alejandro returns home before his many children. Mirabel says goodbye to Maria and the youngest kids, before grabbing her bag and taking it outside with her. Alejandro hoists himself up onto the large mule, apparently named Maíz (that makes Mirabel giggle) and he instructs her to hop in the cart with all the product they’ve harvested to bring to town.
As Alejandro starts on down the road, Mirabel sighs to herself. This is where she needs to decide what to do next. Alejandro Aguilar is a kind man with a wonderful family, who will drop her off in town to go find her family. And then Mirabel will need to figure something out. She is young and afraid, but she will survive, she has to.
The ride to town is a bit long, but she occupies herself. Mirabel writes in a journal the whole way over; one she had gotten for her birthday, that day not so long ago, yet so far away, but hadn’t had the chance to use. So in her sloppy handwriting and small vocabulary, she writes.
She writes a page each for every family member. Everything she can think about about all of them. What they all look like. How they all act. Their gifts, and the ways they cared about her. She writes down her mothers recipes she can remember on another page, and the names of some of her dad's songs on another. She writes down what she can remember of the plots of Tío’s telenovellas. Ways Tía Pepa would calm herself down. Pranks she and Camilo would pull. Even the names of Isabela’s dolls.
It sure takes a while, and by time she’s done, they’ve reached the town. Mirabel gapes at it, so different yet so similar to the town in the Encanto.
The homes and buildings are familiar, but the decor and some of the wares are clearly new and foreign. There are lights all around, and if you look to the trees, they too are alight with fireflies.
The sounds of music she hasn’t ever heard. Instruments she couldn’t imagine making sounds she couldn’t imagine. Food she’d never seen letting off smells she’d never smelt. People with skin as dark as night, darker than her Tío Félix, or hair as pale as some of her yellow embroidery threads. One girl had bright orange pigtails, white eyelashes, searingly snow-pale skin, and orangey spots all over her face. When looks closer, she sees the spots are also all over her shoulders, arms, and hands. She sees a woman with ear lobes stretched super wide with what look like plates in them. She also has a ring through her nose, like a bull might.
It’s enchanting.
Forgetting she’s meant to be from here, Mirabel excitedly gets Alejandro’s attention. He hums inquisitively at her, and she asks, “Alejandro, señor, what is that?! It’s huge!” The excitement in her voice is palpable.
Alejandro looks over to the stall she’s pointing at and chuckles, “That’s a watermelon. They aren’t native here, but still, I’m a bit surprised you haven’t seen one before,” he answers.
Mirabel doesn't answer the implied question, just keeps looking around as the cart is pulled through the streets.
“Ah,” remarks Alejandro, “I’ve forgotten myself! We should probably get you home before I do my deliveries, your family is likely worried sick.”
Mirabel’s stomach churns with anxiety. “A-ah, yes! Just, uhm, we can just stop the cart, I know my way home from here…” She fiddles with her hands, bag suddenly far heavier in her lap.
Alejandro doesn’t even glance back at the girl. “Oh, don’t be ridículo! I’ll give you a ride home, and you’ll be far safer for it. Besides, it seems my rugrats really liked you; it’d be an honor to meet your family, perhaps you could visit the kids again. They definitely need more friends, especially Nicolás. He’s such a shy boy, but you two seemed to get along great.”
Mirabel would like that. She’d love it, in fact. Except for one problem.
She does not live here. In fact, she doesn’t live anywhere anymore.
“Señor… I– uhm, can we do the deliveries first? I wanna watch.”
Stall. Stalling is good.
Alejandro looks back at her with a confused frown, and takes note of Mirabel’s appearance. She’s nervous. So startlingly nervous. Something is wrong, he can tell. Something about this is off.
Alejandro guides the mule to veer off the main path, out and into a more quiet, deserted area. He gently nudges the mule to signal a stop. Mirabel watches with fear and anxiety as the tan man gets off the mule, and comes over to the side of the cart she’s on. He guides her to hop down on weak, shakey legs.
Alejandro kneels down on both knees to be at Mirabel’s height, and seems to search her face for something. Mirabel bites her cheek, feeling a rock in her stomach, and her hands incredibly sweaty. “Mirabel,” he starts gently, “Is there something I should know before I take you home? Something important?”
Mirabel tries to shake her head no, to lie, but she’s frozen.
Alejandro takes her little, chubby hands in his large, calloused ones. “You seem a little scared, niña. Now, I just want to make sure, is there a reason you don’t want me to bring you home? Were you lost when you hid in my barn? Or were you running from something?” His gaze is heavy, flickering from her lightly bruised jaw to her heavier bruised arm. Mirabel swallows.
Running. Always running. She ran for miles, and didn’t stop until she slammed her body into that barn wall. And then did it a couple more times.
Under all the crushing stress, Mirabel’s eyes start to water. She sniffles, and then can’t stop herself from crying. Alejandro becomes a blurry, wobbly mess through her teary vision. Even the glasses don’t fix that.
“Mirabel, what I’m seeing is a little concerning so I hope you understand that I need to know… if I bring you home right now, are you gonna be safe there?”
Yes, is her first thought. Nowhere would be safer than home. With her Tías and Tíos. With her prima and primo. Her hermanas. Her Mamá, her Papá. Her Abuela–
No. She wouldn't be. She’d be kicked out again. Discarded once more, by the lady in purple, by her Abuela, because she’s a stupid kid and the lady in purple isn’t real, it’s just her Abuela. Her Abuela who doesn't want her. Heck, the rest of her family probably wants her gone too.
Mirabel clenches her little hands where they are wrapped in much bigger, much warmer ones. “No…” she whispers. And then she tells the truth. “They don’t even live in this town. She just left me here. A-and I–” she hiccups a sob, “I didn’t m-mean to, señor, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry I ruined e- everything I put them in danger by being stupid, miracless Mirabel who can’t do anything and- and has no gift–” she gasps in breaths, hyperventilating, “I can’t go home, I can’t go home, I can’t I can’t–” Mirabel can’t fend off the hysterics, because it’s all crashing down and hitting her now that she has no home. She was abandoned by them. She showed herself to be defective and broken, giftless and cursed. A danger.
And Alejandro can’t make sense of everything she’s said, but he could make sense of most of it, and makes his assumptions. No child should talk about themselves like that. No child should be so afraid to go home they dissolve into hysterics. No child of any age, much less five, should be, from what he heard, left in a village they’d never been to, and just abandoned there with a heavy bag full of some stuff of theirs. He feels sick when he realizes what the bag meant. Mirabel was meant to survive on her own out here. No five year old thinks far enough ahead to pack as much stuff as she has. Mirabel didn’t pack that bag.
Alejandro gently, slowly, wraps Mirabel in a hug. She clings tightly to him, her entire body shaking. He picks her up, and sets her down back in the cart. The man backs up, and in his country accent, what Mirabel thinks kindness might sound like, he says, “How about we do those deliveries, huh?”
And neither of them know what is going to happen next. What they are going to do. But Mirabel isn’t going home tonight, and that’s the best they’re gonna get.
In silence, Alejandro gives her a minute. He gives the mule, Maíz, a snack and rubs at her neck. Mirabel breathes deeply, and though it takes a couple tries before she stops just bursting into tears, she calms down while muttering to herself “clear skies, clear skies, clear skies,” until it works.
Mirabel looks at the friendly farmer, and gives him a nod to signal she’s ready. Alejandro mounts the mule, until–
“Ah, look what we have here! Señor Aguilar, how’s it been?” A man with dark skin and a hearty voice approaches them, hair in long braids. He glances at the cart and spots Mirabel, giving her a smile. “Ah yes, always with the kids, Alejandro, which are you on now? 9? Ah, I hardly hear from ya’ anymore! Which one ya got here?”
Alejandro looks at the man, clearly someone he knows, with a friendly expression. “Just doing deliveries, Joseph. And we’re on number 10, actually.” Alejandro looks at Mirabel, and suddenly has an idea…
He gives Joseph a smile that is a mask now, a precursor to a lie.
“And the kid in the cart isn’t one of mine, actually. Not exactly, anyway. This is Mirabel. She’s my niece, and she’ll be staying with us for a while.”
Day 1 Complete. Tomorrow's Forecast: Farm Life