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The day Bruno and his sisters turned 5 years old, each of them received what his Mamá called a ‘gift’ and with it, their own room. Bruno was so excited! Of course, he loved his sisters, but no one could say they weren’t tight in the little nursery. So, yeah, it was cool.
Their gifts were kinda great too. Julieta was always learning new recipes and even though she shared them with everyone in the Encanto, Mamá, Pepa and Bruno were always the first to try them. Oh, and sometimes all three of them would go to Bruno’s room, because it was the biggest and had the most free space and Pepa would make it rain and they would make sand castles. And he got the prettiest pictures from his visions, green and translucent and they sparkled in the light and sometimes he got to see everyone in his family having an amazing time and it was just great. A lot of the time, though his visions were so long in the future or about grown up stuff and he couldn’t really understand what was happening, but that was okay, because his Mamá seemed to know everything he didn’t.
So overall, it was pretty great. And then it wasn’t. Suddenly, afternoons playing in the sand with his sisters turned into Pepa having to go to the sembrados, to help water them with her rain and Julieta would spend all day cooking to have enough food to help the people who needed it, and Bruno ended up spending most of his time playing with the rats that came out of the walls. Sometimes he would follow them and Casita would make him a space behind the walls, so he could explore and actually do something with his time. The more time he spent in his room or walking alone through the Encanto, the more he noticed that the one set of stairs in his room was growing.
At first, it was barely a couple of steps. Petty fights with his sisters over him ruining surprise parties, his Mamá’s disappointed looks when one of the other kids’ parents came to complain that Bruno had made their kid cry when he told her that her pet fish was gonna die. One day, when he was a teenager, he remembered going to his room after a fight with Pepa over him “ruining” her chances with a guy she liked with one of his visions and noticed that the one ten steps set of stairs his room had started with had become three whole sets of 20 steps each, and getting to his vision cave had become a bore. Not that it really mattered, anyway. The older he got the more he understood people often asked questions they were not ready for the answers to, and that it was way easier to deal with those things when you shoot the messenger.
His room got more and more uncomfortable to use through the years, so he spent less and less time in it. His gift wasn’t really useful to the family, not even his mamá asked him for visions that often anymore, and most people in the Encanto directly avoided him for fear he would spread his bad luck onto them. After Pepa’s wedding, Mamá hadn’t talked to him for a week, Pepa hadn’t even looked at him in a month and his room had a brand new set of stairs. He was pretty sure, anyway. He didn’t really keep track anymore.
When he turned 29 years old, Mamá became Abuela and he became Tío Bruno, and for a few years, Bruno actually started to believe that his family could forgive all of his mistakes and stop being afraid of his bad luck. When Isabela and Dolores got their gifts Bruno even believed that maybe they could make up for all of the things he lacked, that now that there was a new generation to take care of things around the town he could finally be a good son and brother and uncle and nothing else. And then Isabela had asked him about his gift and everything had gone down in flames.
Of course, it wasn’t Isabela’s fault, she couldn’t’ve known. She wasn’t even directly involved in everything that happened, really, but her question had been the beginning of the end, wasn’t it?.
“If you can see the future, could you see mine, tio?” She had asked at dinner, her eyes shining and a few stray orange and yellow roses blooming on her hair. He had frozen with his fork midway to his mouth, petrified. He looked at Abuela who was tense but hadn’t looked up from her meal. Bruno could see that she was torn up. On one hand, Isabela never asked for anything (none of the kids did, really) and everyone knew Abuela had a weak spot for her. On the other hand, no one could know what would Bruno see and if it would be a good thing to know.
Finally, Bruno put down his fork and forced a smile. “I guess you should ask your parents if they think that’s a good idea, mija” he said looking at Julieta and Agustín. Both of them had soft smiles on their faces and Julieta looked him in the eyes when she spoke.
“I really don’t see why not, mi cielo” she said before smiling at her daughter and Bruno guessed there really wasn’t anything he could do against that. So, he had a vision. He was terrified and did his best to focus on the good outcomes, even when he knew that wasn't how it worked. Fortunately, Isabela’s vision was beautiful and colorful and cheerful and he could hear his own relieved sight mirroring Abuela’s. And for a second everything was okay.
And then Dolores had stepped up and asked him in her tiny murmured voice the same and even though Pepa seemed very much reluctant, with Félix holding her hand she had finally agreed. So Bruno had another vision. And everything was actually going pretty great. The Dolores of the vision had fallen in love with a handsome guy and he seemed goodhearted and sensitive and he was holding a ring and it seemed that things were gonna end up just fine. And then Bruno saw the handsome guy kneeling in front of Isabela, showing her the ring and panicked. His vision had become blurry in a storm of sand and green light and he fell on the floor, petrified. How was he supposed to tell his niece now?
He walked out of his room, thinking he maybe should tell Pepa and Félix, maybe Abuela, Julieta, whoever, see what they thought he should do. And then Dolores had jumped in front of him obviously having waited for the moment he stepped out the door to ambush him.
“What did you see, tío?” she asked, almost raising her voice in her excitement. He looked at her, panicked. She was barely nine, maybe she wouldn’t even remember what he told her, maybe she would think the idea of marrying a boy was gross and nothing would come out of it. But how scary was it to risk it?
“Oh! Um, well, you turn up to be a very nice young lady” he answered nervously.
“Yeah? Abuela’ll be proud of me?” Bruno almost sigh in relieved.
“Oh, yes, very much, mi niña, so will be your Mamá and Papá”
“And will I fall in love?” she asked and Bruno made an astronomical effort to keep the smile on his face.
“Well, um, you do meet a nice boy in the future, but you know there are more important things than romance in life, you know? Like family and following your dreams and… um, pets!” He said taking one of his friend rats from his poncho and showing it to the kid that just smiled at it, slightly petting it.
“I know that, tío, but I wanna know how he’s gonna be? Is he gonna be cute? Will he like poetry? Will we be as in love as Mamá and Papá are? Tell me, tio, please!”
“Well, I mean…” Bruno cleared his throat, wanting to be anywhere but here “Ay, cariño, perdóname, he’s going to be a very nice guy, but he'll be betrothed to someone else, I’m so sorry, mija” he said in a rush, closing his eyes. A couple of seconds passed and no reply came so he opened his eyes and the sight in front of him broke his heart. Dolores was silently crying, her shoulders shaking. He hesitated before kneeling down to be at her height and slowly reached out, hugging her. “Ay, mi niña, I’m so sorry” he said, rubbing her back.
They stayed like that for a minute, before Dolores tensed up and before he could ask her what was wrong a blur of yellow took her away from him. He looked up to see Pepa in front of him, a thundering cloud over her head as she gently held a crying Dolores in her arms, raising her from the floor.
“I knew this would happen! I knew I couldn’t trust you, you always do this!” she hissed in a low voice although it was very clear she wanted to yell.
“Pepa, I swear I didn’t mean to…”
“¡No me importa!” She said and Dolores whimpered. She softened just enough looking at her daughter and the thunder came down as a gentle rain. “Leave us alone, Bruno, I don’t wanna talk to you right now” she whispered and turned around, Dolores still crying in her arms, and entered the child’s room, softly closing the door behind her.
Bruno could feel the tears forming in his own eyes and he rushed to the space behind the walls. At this point he even had his own cozy little sitting room, just next to the kitchen. He stole a couple of arepas con queso and wrapped himself in a blanket, terrified of going to his room and seeing what would probably be a new set of stairs.
After that, even though apparently Dolores hadn’t told anyone what Bruno had told her, none of the other kids asked him for a vision again. Bruno also made the effort to stay away from Pepa as much as he could away with. He missed her, of course, and he wanted to apologize so much, but he knew that his apologies, no matter how sincere, would fall on deaf ears. And anyway, with Camilo’s ceremony coming up the last thing she needed was for him to stress her even more. So he kept to himself, mostly. Sometimes he would help Agustín and Félix with the chores around the house or go with Luisa, Isabela, Dolores or Camilo around town, just to check that they were okay while doing their own chores. Other times, he would silently sit in the kitchen while Julieta cooked and hummed. Sometimes, Mirabel, the youngest of the kids and the only one that didn’t have a gift yet, would sit with him and they would both end up joining Julieta’s humming and sometimes Mirabel would start to dance to the rhythm pulling him into her dance as well and Bruno would show one of his rare real smiles and Mirabel would hug him before wishing him a good night.
And then, Mirabel’s ceremony came and went and nothing changed. And Bruno knew, that really, that would change everything. He didn’t need a vision to know that Mirabel would be cast aside pretty quickly. He could remember the first time he had realized his gift was useless to the family, he had been a disappointment and a failure all his life… but at least he had a gift. What would happen to Mirabel now? She was such a sweet, smart, cheerful little girl, and he had seen her terrified eyes when she had climbed down the stairs, no door, no room, no gift.
And then Abuela asked him, for the first time in a long, long time, to have a vision, to help her understand and even as terrified as he felt, he would do anything for his family. Even if that meant leaving. Because one thing was Mirabel not having a gift, and a very different one was Mirabel being the center of the collapse of the miracle. And he knew, better than anyone, that future wasn’t set in stone, and that specifically in this situation it was more probable that Mirabel was the solution than the problem. But he also knew that they wouldn’t listen to him. That there was nothing he could do to protect his niece. Nothing, except leaving.
And he didn’t want to leave his family. He didn’t want to leave Mirabel to her destiny, without a gift, fragil to Abuela’s judgment. But Mirabel was built stronger than him, she would be able to handle the disappointed looks better than him, and she had more people to count on than did. People that would also be better without him.
But he really, really didn’t want to go. This family was his everything. His reason to live, his home, his world, everything he had ever known and he loved them. So terribly much. So he left, but he didn’t leave. He disconnected from the family, but he was always with them. And well, at least for now, that would have to do.