5. New rules

There were three rules in the Madrigal household;

1: Use your gifts to help the community and family.2: Don't talk about Tio Bruno.And 3: Don't talk about Mirabel.

The first one was easy to understand. As part of the only magically blessed family in town, the Madrigals had a special duty to serve the community. They needed to help everyone, no matter how big or small their problem was.

The other two rules on the other hand...

Dolores had been eleven when her Tio had mysteriously disappeared. She had grown up with him in the house, always wringing his hands, knocking on the walls, and just overall making noise. But he was sweet and gentle, no matter what the townsfolk or her mother would say. As long as you didn't talk about his gift then he was perhaps the nicest person she had ever known.

And then her cousin's gift ceremony was a huge flop, and he had kidnapped Mirabel.

That was when everything went downhill. Life got a lot harder in the Madrigal household. They did their best to keep Mirabel's disappearance a secret from the town, and hoped that eventually the townsfolk would just accept Agustin and Julieta's lack of a third daughter. 

There came a day, shortly before Mirabel's sixth birthday, when Dolores mentioned her cousin, that the third rule was implemented for the first time.

It happened in the dining room. The family had just started finishing up eating, Dolores felt a pang of regret and sadness run through her. She glanced up at her cousin Isabela, and whispered softly, “I know why your parents have been quiet this week.”

Isabela lifted her eyes, glanced at her mom, then back at Dolores. “Why?” she asked, delicately placing a new bite of food into her mouth. Dolores did her best to keep her voice down, but she was unfortunately heard by her little brother sitting right next to her.

“It's Mirabel's birthday in a few days?” Camilo said, loud enough that everyone else at the table heard him. Instantly any chatter that had been going on ceased as the rest of the Madrigals stared at the youngest member of the family.

Dolores froze as she heard her Abuela breathe in sharply. She felt like a wilting flower as she heard her grandmother say in a stern voice, “Yes it is. We do not talk about Mirabel.”

Dolores knew that her grandmother knew who had mentioned that random forbidden tidbit. She knew that she was going to get a lecture soon, but she didn't know what else to do. She glanced up from where her eyes had been locked on her lap and shifted her attention to her Tia.

Julieta looked like she was nearly on the verge of tears, and to her relief Dolores heard her Tio take her hand up in his.

Camilo looked about ready to cry. He was six years old, and just a handful of months older than Mirabel, so he had always been close to her. Losing not only a roommate but also a sort of second sister had been hard on the young boy.

She heard a sniff from the other side of her brother, and caught Luisa holding back tears. Her strong cousin had always had delicate emotions. She should never have brought up Mirabel. Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut? She had succeeded in making her Abuela mad, her brother upset, and her cousin reduced to tears with just a handful of words.

Julieta seemed to pick up on the children's moods, and claimed that she would clean up after the family. She smiled sadly at Dolores for a moment before whisking her and her daughters' plates away.

Abuela dismissed the children, and Dolores made sure to stick with Luisa so that she wouldn't get pulled to the side any time soon.

That was the day that they all learned a valuable lesson: Don't talk about Mirabel.

Mirabel first called him Papá when she was six years old.

It had been a year since they had come to their new house. Or, as they liked to call it, La Casa. Mirabel thought it incredibly funny that the larger of the two houses was called Casita, and the smaller just Casa.

They had celebrated her birthday a few weeks back, Bruno only knowing it was the right day by Casa reminding him.

Casa. Bruno was eternally grateful for this extension of his old home. Casa could keep Mirabel entertained and safe while he did chores and worked during the day. Casa seemed to know the tiny family's predicament when it had come, and had brought with it a bag full of seeds. Bruno had been able to start a garden in the backyard that made enough food for him and Mirabel.

They lived a quiet life, and Bruno felt the happiest he had... ever.

He missed the rest of his family tremendously. Pepa and Felix along with their two children were always able to bring a smile to his face, no matter how lousy he felt. Julieta and Agustin were so caring when it came to their children and family. He wished that the future hadn't been so bleak for Mirabel, so she could have stayed with her parents. But here they were, and it was way too late to back out now.

The week after her birthday was when it happened. They had gone to bed hours before, during a light drizzle. Bruno would remember that night as one of the most important ones in his life.

Thunder boomed over their jungle home. He, the perpetual insomniac, was trying his hardest to fall asleep, but the rhythm of the thunderclaps was all off. That was when a streak of lightning illuminated his room, and he saw, with blurry and tired eyes, his little niece standing in his doorway.

At the sound of the thunder a moment later she squeaked in fright and called out, “Papá!”. Bruno watched with wide eyes as she dashed across his little room and buried her face in his sheets.

Her little body was shaking violently, and Bruno was too overcome with worry for his niece to notice what she had said at first. Then her word registered to his ears, and he went completely still.

Boom!

He stared in silence as his niece gripped his sheets tightly, then he awkwardly pulled her up onto his bed, and she automatically got her little body as close to him as humanly possible.

Bruno was too stunned to comfort her. Instead he rested a hand on her back and said in a disbelieving voice, “You... just called me... Papá.”

Mirabel didn't answer, she was too busy keeping her face pressed into his side. “I had a nightmare...” she said quietly. Bruno didn't really hear her, he was too busy thinking about what she had said.

She never called him Papá. She always called him Tio. She knew who her Papá was! She hadn't forgotten Julieta and Agustin! She couldn't have! It had only been a year! She was... it was just... no... She wasn't thinking of him like her Papá. She couldn't be.

He held her against him, feeling terrible about what had just happened. Mirabel seemed to relax in his arms, and, against his tumultuous feelings, she started to doze off.

She had called him Papá.

HE wasn't her Papá though. Agustin was her Papá! She was supposed to be with him! He was supposed to be comforting her now! He was supposed to protect Mariposa from the dangers of this world, not Bruno! Bruno was just an uncle who wanted to keep her safe!

Bruno was just the only parental figure she had left.

He had stripped her away from her family and was making her grow up in practical solitude! She'd even started taking on his characteristics. Crossing her fingers, knocking on the walls. She was turning into... a second version of him.

He'd messed up, hadn't he?

The next day she went back to calling him Tio. But as time wore on a Papá slid in there every now and then. Before he knew it Bruno started responding to her when she called him that.

He had never been a Papá before. He hadn't even known his own father! He didn't know how to be a Papá, all he could hope for was being a good Tio, and hopefully make it up to his sister and brother-in-law with how he raised their daughter.

What broke him though was a month into her using his new title, Mirabel, on a whim it seemed, came out to visit him while he was watering their garden, threw her little arms around his middle, and said into his stomach, “I love you Papá.”

That was the day he cemented that idea in his mind. He was his niece's Papá now. And he was going to be so for a long, long time now.

Oh Agustin and Julieta... He was sorry.

“Papá?”

Bruno and Mirabel were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall in their little living room, one of the new books Casa had given them lying propped open on his lap. He looked over at Mirabel, who continued, “Do you... miss our family?”

The aching void that filled him when he thought about his family opened up instantly when she said that. He missed his family like... well, he didn't have a good analogy at the moment, but if he did... it would be a pretty good one. 

He nodded sadly, and answered, “Yes I do. I miss them all.”

“Tell me about them again.” she said, leaning her head against his side. He found his tongue twisted for a moment, then he began. “Well, there's my Mamá, and then my sisters, Pepa and Julieta,”

“My Tias?” Mirabel asked, taking his right hand in hers and starting to fidget with his fingers. Bruno felt his breath catch in his throat.

He was used to being called Papá at this point. But he had never referred to Julieta as Mirabel's Tia before. He didn't know if he could truly say the words out loud, so he just hummed a bit in agreement.

“So Abuela, Tia Pepa, and Tia Julieta.” Mirabel said, looking up at Bruno. Bruno felt his free hand rise up to cover his mouth. He might nod when she said misinformation. He may silently agree with her new family notion, but hearing those words come from Mirabel's mouth... He couldn't... What was he going to do? 

Mirabel saw his uncomfort, and asked in a fearful voice, “Papá? Are you okay?!”

Bruno nodded, feeling tears building up in his eyes. He stared at Mirabel, swallowing deeply to get the choked feeling out of his throat.

“I'm fine.” he croaked out, not feeling fine at all. His lie was starting to grow. But he didn't know what else to do. What was he supposed to do?! It wasn't like there was a manual to the future!

He could always have another vision...

No! He couldn't do that! He didn't want to. He knew that he technically should, just to see whether he should stick with his new lie or admit the truth, but he didn't have the time to.

Just thinking about having a vision was starting to trigger one. He hadn't looked into the future for a year, and his gift seemed to think that right in the middle of an emotional breakdown was the perfect time for one.

He had to think of something to hone his vision onto. A safe prediction that would be okay if Mirabel saw it.

His mind went to their little garden, and he tried to fill his mind with thoughts of it. As the vegetables grew in his sight he felt a small hand grasp onto his right one tightly.

“Papá!?” his precious Mariposa, said, sounding absolutely terrified. “Papá are you okay?!”

Bruno's mind, and vision shifted, instead of showing him and Mirabel harvesting crops he saw casita crumbling before his eyes. His mother's candle flickering and finally going out, then walls crumbling down.

And then, in front of the ruined house, stood a solitary figure. Mirabel.

What was she doing in front of such chaos and destruction?

He felt something small and strong barrel into his chest, and finally, after what felt like an eternity and yet no time at all, his sight went to black. He felt himself fall backward and slump to the floor.

He felt his hands searching for the glass that he must have made. But they found nothing. There was no glass. Where was the vision? Why was his cave so dark? Why was he back in his cave? Why had he gone back? What was going on?!

Wait. He wasn't in his vision cave, he was in his Casa. He was safe in his own house and had a terrified little girl clinging to him. Had she seen what he had seen? He hadn't done any part of the normal ritual, and he wasn't in his vision cave, so she might not have. As he regained his sight he slowly sat up, pulling Mirabel into a tight impromtu hug.

Mirabel's eyes were touched with tears, and she said in a trembling voice, “Papá... What happened? That was scary.”

What happened? He had been, once again, forced into looking into the future. He thought he had left it behind when he ran away with Mirabel. But no, apparently his gift was like Pepa's. If you don't use it, it gets mad and kicks your free will out of you.

“I'm okay.” he said, brushing Mirabel's tears away. “I just... got overwhelmed a bit and had a vision. I'm okay. Are you okay?” Mirabel didn't seem convinced, she stared at his eyes, and he hoped that they weren't still glowing.

“You don't like doing visions.” She said quietly, and Bruno nodded. Ever since he was a kid he'd been told that since seeing into the future was his gift, he should do it for the town. At first it went great, most people were just asking questions about who they were going to marry. But then people in the village started to grow old, or angsty, and his foretellings were forced to grow more ominous.

So, long story short, he didn't like looking into the future. The future was full of death and decay.

“No, I don't.” he answered, and Mirabel hugged him tighter.

“Papá, you don't have to look if you don't want to.” She said, and Bruno felt his heart begin to melt once more over her sweetness. “But if you have to, don't just... make it bad. Let it out. Like crying!” She let him go and pointed at her eyes, getting a small chuckle out of him. “I don't like crying, but I feel badder if I don't.”

He did not deserve her. Nope. Not one bit.

“Thank you Mi amor.” he said quietly, scootching back to his original spot on the floor. “I'll do that.” He offered her a smile before putting on a brave face and saying shakily, “I believe we were talking about la familia Madrigal?”

Mirabel nodded vigorously, hugging his right arm tightly, like it might fall apart if she let go. Bruno didn't mind though.

Later he would realize that he wished she could give advice like that to the rest of their family.

Maybe one day.