23. Twelve Plates At The Dinner Table

“Mirabel! Oh, thank goodness you’re here to help.”

Julieta’s relieved smile crinkled the corners of her eyes, meeting Mirabel’s own widened ones as she froze, caught red handed. She had snuck into the kitchen while her mom finished up preparing dinner, her hand hovering over a susceptible, unguarded plate of arepas with the intent of grabbing a quick bite. She had been working all morning and into the early afternoon finishing up the embroidered ruana she had made for Bruno and had just given it to him right before dinner, much to his teary-eyed delight and hugs of gratitude. However, her focused labor came at a price, and after skipping out on lunch, she was quite hungry! She had figured that having one, just one!—arepa before dinner wouldn’t hurt anybody, so here she was. Except her dastardly plan had just been thwarted.

“Yep!” she quickly said, snatching her hand away and holding it behind her back as she awkwardly laughed. “That’s exactly why I came back here, to help! What do you need me to do?”

“Can you take these plates to the table please? I would ask your father, but, well, you know why I can’t do that.”

Mirabel let out a light laugh. Every time Augustín attempted to help Julieta by delivering her cooking to the dinner table, he nearly always ended up dropping something. Arepas, empanadas, bowls of soup… nothing was safe from his accident-prone touch. 

“Of course, mom,” she said, lifting the plate of arepas she had intended to steal from and balancing it carefully on her forearm before reaching down to grab something else. “I’ll be right back to grab more things.”

So much had happened in a month. Aside from Casita being rebuilt and the Madrigal family regaining their powerful gifts, Isabela had broken off her budding engagement with Mariano, Dolores had stepped in to begin courting him in a surprising-but-not-really-all-that-surprising twist, and the son of the donkey farmer, Alejandro (yeah, remember him?) had finally gotten the guts to strike up a real conversation with Luisa rather than continuously release the donkeys to capture her attention. It was crazy what a little bit of changed perspective—mainly in the form of being homeless and miracle-less—could do for a family.

And perhaps the most important change in Mirabel’s opinion, perhaps short of Bruno’s reestablished presence in the family, was her relationship with Abuela.

It had been slow. What was she even saying. It still was slow.

But hey, progress was progress, and Mirabel wasn’t one to complain about things getting better. It was small things, a kind word here, a deeper conversation there, and an overall lighter mood that had not simply settled over her and her Abuela, but over the family as a whole.

“Thank you, Mirabel,” Abuela said as Mirabel deposited the plates of food on the table in front of her. “I see Bruno is wearing his new ruana you made for him. He looks quite happy in it, you’ve really gotten quite good at your embroidery.”

Mirabel looked down at the table to see that Bruno was indeed wearing the gift she had given him earlier that day. She was rather proud of it, the neon threads detailing rats lining the hem, each in various poses, being some of her finest work. Catching her eye from down the table, Bruno lifted up the fringe of the fabric to show it off to her, a large smile plastered across his face as he shot her a thumbs-up.

Mirabel returned the gesture before turning back to her grandmother with a bashful grin. “Thanks, Abuela,” she replied, feeling a surge of joy rise in her chest.

A few trips back and forth later, all the food had been delivered to the table, and Mirabel was finally able to sit down. Inclining her head in a nod of thanks towards Mirabel, Abuela turned to address the table with a formal clink of her glass. It was a typical dinner announcement, consisting of her congratulating the family on the completion of another successful day of hard work. Thanking them all for their continued efforts, and then thanking the candle for the miracle it had bestowed upon them. It was a standard affair, something that Mirabel had grown up experiencing at every single Madrigal dinner, however now, with the whole family here, it felt different somehow. Warmer. More genuine.

Mirabel caught Bruno’s eye while Abuela talked, and they exchanged small smiles. Mirabel had a feeling she knew why things had changed for the better.

And then, upon the conclusion of Abuela’s brief speech, the traditional formality completed, everyone began to eat.

Twelve plates at the dinner table, with Abuela at the head. The sight was a strange, but increasingly familiar one.

A month since Casita had been rebuilt. A month since the Madrigal family had regained their home and powers. A month since Bruno had officially rejoined the family and community.

Oh sure, he had technically rejoined them back when the house had initially crumbled, playing a very active role in the construction process as the beloved Hernando, but until Mirabel had placed her hand on the doorknob to the main entry of the house, opening it and fully restoring the magic, he hadn’t really been officially back. No, it wasn’t until his lit-up figure, stylized and sitting amongst his family members appeared on the door had he truly returned.

However, being on a door didn’t necessarily mean that things had changed, though it had certainly been a good step forward. Even after all this time, because one could argue that a month wasn’t really all that long, it was easy for Mirabel to tell that family dinners still overwhelmed her Tío.

Not that she could blame him, of course. After a decade of eating separated by a wall, with only the rats and his own self to keep him company, Mirabel knew that the transition back was a difficult one.

He was more comfortable, at least, that’s what Mirabel thought as she watched him engage in an easy conversation with Pepa and Félix while she served herself a helping of soup. For someone who had been awfully adamant about having everyone refrain from talking about Bruno while he had been absent, Pepa had been among the happiest to have him back. Upon retrospect, Mirabel realized that a lot of her passion on the topic had stemmed from her being one of the closest to him, and therefore missing him the most.

During a lull in their conversation, Bruno idly chewing at an empanada, Antonio leaned forward across the table, catching his Tío’s eye with the determined action.

“What’s going to happen in tonight’s episode, Tío?”

Bruno paused, swallowing his bite before responding. His table manners had slowly been improving, but not by much. Not that Mirabel personally minded, if anything she thought the way he ate kind of like a rat was a little bit funny and endearing. “I can’t tell you that, Tonito, because that would ruin the big surprise! What’s the point of watching if you already know what’s going to happen?”

Mirabel leaned over to whisper into Antonio’s ear. “He says that because he doesn’t actually know what’s going to happen next. He never does,”

Apparently, her whisper hadn’t been all that quiet, because Bruno extended her a scandalized look from across the table. “Mirabel!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest in a zealous, overdramatic manner. Likely warming up for his performance that night, she deduced. “You wound me with your evil, harsh words!”

He didn’t exactly deny it though, Mirabel thought to herself, but refrained from saying it out loud. She was above picking on their poor Tío, or at least, that’s what she liked to tell herself.  

“You didn’t exactly deny it,” Isabela pointed out, because she was evidently not above that.  She settled her chin into her hands with a sly smirk, smugness meeting Bruno’s sheepish reaction.

“I—er—” he sputtered, caught off guard by the blatant yet completely accurate accusation. “Just didn’t think it was necessary to do so.”

A rat popped up at Antonio’s arm, and then a few more emerged to join him. They squeaked something up at Antonio, who frowned as he turned back to Bruno to announce what he had learned. “The rats just told me that you haven’t done any planning.”

“That’s because it’s all up in my head, Antonio.” Bruno didn’t miss a beat.

There was a pause as Antonio glanced the gaggle of rats at his elbow, silently conferring with a tilt of his head. They responded with a high-pitched message unintelligible to anyone except him. “The rats said that they literally heard you say ‘I have no idea what to do for the next episode.’”

Bruno blinked. “The rats are lying,“ he said, but the heavy pause before he said that implied that he was actually the one lying, and not his little minions.

Dolores confirmed Mirabel’s suspicions with a mischievous glint in her eyes as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “They’re not lying. I heard him say it out loud myself,” she supplied.

Bruno shot her a look of pure betrayal, before turning back to Antonio, adamant on proving his age-old, insistent point. “Also they’re not even rats! I thought I’ve told you countless times that they’re not rats, they’re actually—”

“Mice, yeah, we know Tío,” Camilo interrupted. “Can you pass the corn? I’m starving over here.”

He said this, of course, with a full plate of food as he was going for not only his second helping, but his third. Despite this, Bruno didn’t address this minor detail, passing the platter as he continued to speak. “Besides, there is something exciting about to happen, something none of you are prepared for!”

“Oh?” Mirabel asked, pausing mid-spoonful of her soup to turn her full attention to him.

“I have a huge announcement to make tonight.”

Six pairs of eyes—Dolores, Camilo, Antonio, Isabela, Luisa, and Mirabel—landed on him, all side conversation amongst the grandkids ceasing with this new information.

“Well?” Mirabel asked after a moment when it was apparent no elaboration was forthcoming. “What is it?”

“I said I was going to make the announcement tonight,” Bruno clarified. “So until then, my lips are sealed.” With that, he took a particularly hearty chomp out of his empanada, effectively stuffing his mouth and cutting off the line of conversation.

All six of them began bombarding him with questions, however Bruno ignored their insistent questioning, turning to talk to Pepa about the weather and how he believed the hailstorm she had incited in a bout of joy that had rained down at the ripe hour of eight o’clock had been a wonderful start to his morning.

Mirabel personally still had a sore lump on her head from the incident, but trooper that she was, opted not to bring it up.

The rest of the kids were forced into much more boring lines of conversations for the rest of dinner as Bruno continued to ignore them, engaging in idle chit-chat as they finished their meals. All the while, their minds lingered on Bruno’s declaration of an announcement, and as a result, they asked to be excused the minute they had finished the food on their plates.

With a good-natured smile, Abuela obliged their request, on the simple stipulation that they help clear the table before they departed for the next big event of the night.

They helped Julieta clean up in record time. Usually they were faster at cleaning on nights that there was a new telenovela episode after dinner, and tonight was no different. Once done, they bade a hasty farewell to the grown-ups, to which they were met with a collective ‘have fun!’ as Bruno rose to join them. Not that they waited, no, they were already gone and practically running down the hallway in excitement as their Tío lagged behind them.

While Bruno’s room—er, tower had been restored to its full, functional capacity, notably with significantly less steps, they still returned to his residence behind the walls to watch the performances of the telenovelas. Partly because it was already set up to accommodate the viewings, but also because it was like their own little secret. A little secret that literally everyone in the family knew about, given how freely they all talked about it, but still. It was theirs, their own special thing they shared with their favorite future-seeing Tío.

They all settled into their self-assigned spots with excitement, a motley assortment of seating that had slowly been accumulated over the past few weeks. Luisa on the hammock, Dolores sitting with impeccable posture in the dining chair Bruno used to eat in, Antonio on a crate with a small cushion place on it for him and a smaller one next to him for Señor Froggy, Isabela on an old wooden bench that she had dragged in, padded with flowers for comfort, Camilo lounging on a ratty blanket on the floor, and Mirabel, of course, in the large red chair.

By the time Bruno entered, softly closing the door behind him, the room was abuzz with excitement.

“So, Tío,” Luisa asked immediately upon seeing that he had arrived, not giving him a second to greet them. “What’s going to happen next?”

Antonio raised his hand and then started talking without waiting for anyone to actually call on him. “Do you really not know what to do for the next episode? Are you going to make it up on the spot?”

Isabela fixed Bruno with an intense gaze. “Do you need help writing the next episodes? Because I have a few ideas and notes that I think can drastically improve the story.”

“Ew, no,” Camilo scoffed. “Don’t let Isabela anywhere near the telenovela. She’s just going to try to get Rosita and Diego together.”

Isabela crossed her arms and let out a snooty huff, but didn’t argue, mainly because Camilo was completely right.   

“Listen, I appreciate the offers, but it won’t be necessary,” Bruno cut in, and everyone perked up because this was the moment. Here it was, the great big announcement.  “Because ‘Love Across the Stars’….”

He paused, for dramatic effect.

Everyone leaned forward.

“Is going on hiatus.”

They all stared at him, dumbfounded. Mirabel, moreso than the rest, because this was certainly news to her. She couldn’t help but feel a small prickle of hurt; it was a well-known fact that they were the closest of all his nieces and nephews. They shared everything with each other, and this? Had definitely not been shared with her.

Antonio was the first to speak up. “Hiatus? What’s that?” he asked, his nose crinkling in puzzlement. Camilo’s nose did the same, indicating that he also did not know the meaning of the word, however, he didn’t verbalize his confusion as it was considerably more embarrassing for a fifteen-year-old to not know the definition in comparison to a five-year-old.

“A hiatus,” Bruno began, lifting a finger as he explained. “Is when a piece of media goes on an extended, undefined break, usually insinuating that it is actually canceled, but done so ambiguously as to not upset the fans over the implicit canceling of a beloved work of art.”

The Madrigal grandkids all fell silent. Most out of shock, and some out of befuddlement at Bruno’s surprisingly eloquent, flowery manner of delivering the devastating news.

“So… you’re saying that ‘Love Across the Stars’ is never continuing? That it’s done forever?” Camilo asked, his voice slow and deliberate.  

“Not explicitly,” Bruno clarified. “But it’s heavily implied.”

The entire ensemble erupted into shouts and cries of protests. Bruno, clearly not expecting this drastic level of outcry (although what kind of reaction was he expecting by essentially canceling their favorite form of entertainment?) made a pitiful motion with his hands to try to get them to calm down.

It didn’t really work.

“How could you do this to us?!” Isabela’s sharp wail cut through the clamor of voices. “You left us on a cliffhanger!”

“It may come back, sometime down the line!”

“When?” This demand came from Luisa, whose fingers were currently buried into the thick waves of her hair, portraying a picture of pure distress.

Bruno shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not fair!” Antonio protested.

“Blame the corporate executives. I don’t make the big decisions around here!”

“But you are the ‘corporate executive,’ Tío,” Dolores informed him rather calmly. Except the truth was, she wasn’t very calm at all, for if you were to look closer, it was easy to see the indignant outrage bubbling just beneath her cool, collected surface.  

Bruno shook his head, completely ignoring Dolores’ very valid point. “Listen, I understand that this news may come as a shock. Truly, I feel really bad.”

“So what, we came here for nothing? Just for you to tell us that we will never find out what ends up happening between Ricardo and Esmerelda?” Camilo demanded.

“I was personally more invested in the Rosita and Diego storyline,” Isabela grumbled, crossing her arms and shooting Bruno a dangerous, scathing glare.

"Yeah, we know Isa."

All of it was enough to make Bruno laugh nervously and pull awkwardly at the neck of his ruana as he glanced away. “Listen, listen, I know that this is devastating news, and you are all rightfully upset, but that’s not the only announcement I have to make tonight. In fact, that was only half of it!”

Silence.

Taking that as permission to continue, because honestly, what else was he supposed to do with their dumbfounded expressions, Bruno coughed into the back of his hand before he proceeded. “The big news is that while ‘Love Across the Stars’ has been put on hiatus, there will be a new show to replace it.”

They all stared blankly at him. For the second time that night.

This time, Camilo was the one to break the silence, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Boo!” he called at Bruno which earned him a swift elbow in the ribs courtesy of Dolores.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m with Camilo on this one,” Isabela said, and around her, the other Madrigal children nodded in reluctant agreement. "‘Love Across the Stars’ was just getting good!”

Mirabel, however, refrained from agreeing and instead narrowed her eyes skeptically. “What’s it about?”

Bruno latched onto her question with an expression of pure relief. “Why, I’m glad you asked!” he exclaimed. “This story is an exciting epic, full of secrets, lies, and hidden identities, twists and turns, and the most important trope to grace storytelling throughout all of history.” At the unreactive stares of his nieces and nephews, he made an emphatic motion with his hand. “Go on, guess what it is!”

The six exchanged dubious looks, before all collectively shrugging and deciding to play along with their wacky Tío’s antics. Sometimes it was simply easier to do than fight it.

“Enemies to lovers,” Isabela stated.

“Unrequited love,” Dolores asserted.

“Talking animal sidekicks!” Antonio guessed.

“Tooth-rotting fluff?” Luisa ventured.

“Crippling, soul-crushing angst,” Camilo deadpanned.

Bruno merely chuckled. “Close,” he said, even though none of them were close at all. He was just trying to be extra nice in lieu of his devastating announcement he had made not too long ago. “But no.”

Mirabel remained silent, already knowing the answer, but simply resorting to lifting one amused eyebrow as Bruno’s eyes landed on her. He met her slight grin with a twinkling smirk of his own, before turning back to face the general ensemble.

“The most important trope is family.”

The Madrigal kids all remained silent, exchanging dubious glances amongst one another. Where exactly was their Tío going with this?

Bruno turned to grab the new sets that sat hidden behind the stage, planting them on the counter with triumph. Understanding dawned on Mirabel. The rats, in new outfits that had been recycled and repurposed from previous telenovelas, appeared on the table, whiskers twitching as they awaited their roles in Bruno’s new tale.

Dusting his hands off as he finished the preparations, Bruno grabbed his actors and presented them to his audience. “Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

Mirabel’s grin stretched into a full-blown smile as she leaned back in her chair. There was a dramatic pause as Bruno took a deep breath, closing his eyes before he plunged into the story.

“It all started with a spool of thread.”