Chapter Text
TW: descriptions of forced displacement
Mariano wasn’t sure what to make of the expression on Isabela’s face.
A pang of guilt hit him as it was another sign that he didn’t really know the woman that he had been about to be engaged to. Well, at least he hadn’t been engaged to a random woman that he had just met. His mamá and hermano would definitely smack him if he did that but even he wasn’t that much of a romantic to believe in love at first sight.
Isabela held her body upright, shoulders back and her usual polite but kind face held a tight and nervous expression. She looked like she was bracing herself to be yelled at or an angry scolding. His heart sank at the fear in her eyes. They should have had this talk earlier. Maybe his earlier note hadn’t been enough.
He ran his hand over his hair and internally sighed. Despite the rumors and his reputation across town, he was not a vain person. He didn’t care if his hair or clothes got messy or if he made a fool of himself when wooing Isabela. He just wanted to make his mamá proud and to have the familia that he always dreamed of. It wasn’t the most manly thing and when he was younger before his growth spurt and muscular figure, he was teased relentlessly for being sensitive and girly. The fact that he was more interested in poetry books, song writing and literature than fighting and sports was often met by bewildered if not baleful looks and cruel grins. But he didn’t let that stop him from changing his dream. He knew he wanted it all. Wife, kids and maybe a perro or two. He didn’t mind spending his time taking care of the niños or doing the cooking or cleaning. Besides, as a writer and poet, he could often work from home so it was a win-win situation.
He knew that some of the guys around town expected him to be machismo. They jeered and cajoled him for details about what it was like to be with the gorgeous, perfect jewel of the Madrigal familia but he often brushed off their inquires. Gave them a crooked smile and told them that a gentleman never kiss and tells but at the same time made sure that there were no rumors of him spending the night. Not everyone in Encanto were strictly Catholic but the older generations tutted and lectured about marianismo and sexual purity that made him internally roll his eyes. The whole saints or whore debate made his mamá’s eyes narrow and she had wagged her finger at him and Pablo about letting women determine her own worth. Regardless if she had a man or partner. Besides, the truth was often way less exciting than what the rumors spun as he and Isabela had only exchanged chaste kisses. Isabela never wanted further intimacy and he didn’t want to pressure her.
He knew that the townspeople expected him to be aggressive, arrogant, and womanizing but that wasn’t the way his mamá raised him nor what his papí had told him. In fact when his papí was still alive, the man had sat him down and told him that women were meant to be treated like equals. It was a lesson that had taken most of his papí most of his teens to learn and he remembered the wry and fond look in his papí’s eyes as he glanced at the love of his life that had taught him that lesson. Women were meant to be treated like mamá. With respect and love. His papí had warned him that not only would he whoop Mariano’s ass if he saw Mariano disrespecting any woman but that he better run as far as he could as his mamá would rain hell on him. He and his papí had shuddered in unison at the thought of an angry mamá. He would have to not only leave Encanto to escape her wrath but a few towns over. Hell, he might as well take a boat to Haiti or Cuba in order to avoid her. His papí had ruffled his hair and told him that it would be hard to find a woman like his mamá but it was worth the search.
He must have taken too long to speak as Isabela uncharacteristically blurted out, “Why are you breaking off the engagement? Did I do something wrong?”. Her beautiful hickory colored eyes searched his face as if she could find whatever flaw or mistake that she had made in his expression.
“No!” he exclaimed with his both arms in a placating gesture to reassure her as he jolted forward but stopped at her taken aback expression. Taking a deep breath he just spoke from his heart.
“No, you’re amazing but . . . I think we both deserve someone who loves us for who we are and not for the idea of them.” At that, Isabela’s expression turned guilty as her shoulders hunched but quickly straightened as if she had heard a silent reprimand.
“For that I apologize. I-I put you on a pedestal. You were like a principesa from all the stories I read and I wanted to be your heroic knight, poet and lover.” At the word principesa, Isabela’s face scrunched in disgust and something loosened in his gut. Realization struck him as he realized that he had barely brushed the surface of the real Isabela Madrigal. Awkward, little moments and uncomfortable micro expressions clicked together as he understood that Isabela was more than just some pretty princess that she portrayed for everyone. He said out loud,“But from what I know of you, you don’t need nor want anyone to save you. You’re your own hero.”
Shock splayed over Isabela’s face as Mariano spoke a truth that Isabela had tucked in the deep recesses of her heart. The true part of herself that she had caged. Who had banged her fists against the idea of having to be a submissive, passive, self-silencing, sexual pure and sacrificial woman and mother. Who hated having to be the picture perfect and pretty wife of the effortlessly handsome Mariano.
Looking straight into Isabela’s eyes, Mariano poured out his heart and soul. “I think I got lost in the idea of you and did not treat you as if you were a real person. Before I was officially introduced to you, I actually had a great time talking with your prima, Dolores. But I put that aside because my mamá thought you and I would be a good fit and I went along with it because it was easier than chasing after something that could have made me happy. I was scared. . . But I want the love that my mamá and papí had. They met in competition actually. Apparently, my papí made some boneheaded remark about women being fútbol players when he was a teenager and my mamá kicked his ass. They had a rivalry for years and despised one another. But it wasn’t until they gave each other a chance to get to know one another apart from their reputations and their rivalry did they fall in love. It wasn’t an easy love and they were so afraid of ruining it but they made it work. She still loves him to this day.
I think I rushed into courting you because I wanted to make my mamá happy and because I was too idealistic and afraid to chase after what I wanted. I thought it would make a great story to tell our kids one day but we don’t really work as romantic partners and I don’t think you were really interested in me.”
Isabela opens her mouth but she can’t force any words to come out. Can’t lie or pretend for one second more. She’s utterly speechless. Some part of her that sounds like her abuela, speaks about familia and duty but a bigger part of her puts her foot down. She wants to be more than something pretty. She wants something genuine and true and that’s not Mariano. A goofy grin and light brown hair flashes in her mind eyes at that thought. Looking into Mariano eyes, all she can bear to say is her truth. “No, I was not interested in you. Nor do I love you. I would have married you for mi familia. Not for myself. But you deserve better than a loveless marriage.” At that Isabela head drops and she glances at the floor in shame and guilt.
“So do you.” Mariano interjects firmly with a kind expression. At his words, Isabela startled as her head snapped up to look at his earnest eyes. With a sincere grin he proposes,“I would like us to be friends and I would like to be a better listener. I want to get to know the real you, Isabela. Not the Isabela who acts all pretty and perfect.”
Involuntarily, a genuine smile spreads across Isabela’s face. It’s not the one she practices in the mirror but a wide and toothy one that she thought she was too old for. “Did Mirabel tell you about Señorita Perfecta?”
“Not recently but she did say you were a prima donna,” Mariano responded an amused look in his eye.
“Ugggh. Younger siblings,” Isabela bumped Mariano’s shoulder with a playful grin.
“Yeah, tell me about it. Pablo has been mocking my proposal speech all week.” Mariano gently bumped her back.
“Yes. I would like that. . . I would like to be friends.” Isabela stated.
At that, a boyish grin widened across Mariano’s face. It complimented his square jaw and she could almost see what Dolores liked in him. Not just his handsome looks but the kindness and consideration he wielded through his words and actions. Someone who wore their heart on their sleeve and was as loyal as a dog. With a relieved sigh, Mariano pointed his finger at her and gave a small chuckle. “Why don’t we start over? I’ll start first.”
With a small wave, he reintroduced himself. “Hola, Isabela. My name is Mariano Guzmán and I love literature, am an unabashed romantic and write my own poetry.”
Isabela’s smile widened as she reached out her hand for a handshake. “Hola Mariano. I love botany and I’m so sick of just being pretty and I hide a lot behind my perfect smiles. I’m starting to learn to be true to myself. I also love science and want to learn what plants are helpful and harmful.”
With a firm grip, the two shook hands as a huge weight lifted from both their shoulders. Offering his arm, the two walked back into the dining room and the smiles wiped off their face to the utter chaos.
“. . .”
¿QUÉ PUTAS ES ESTO?!?!?!?
There was a hole in the wall, a thundering Tía Pepa and was that . . . TÍO BRUNO?!?!?!! She and Mariano were only gone for like 10 minutes?!?!?!
Her eyes darted to Mirabel who’s face was the only thing familiar in the situation. Her expression was complete deadpan and the look in her eyes was fed up. Completely done with the utter bullshit that was their familia drama and Isabela felt a smidgen of relief that her hermanita was still the same in some ways. It wasn’t a look she thought she would miss until it was gone but it did feel odd to not have it directed at her. At least she could always rely on Mirabel to be consistent with her facial expressions. She wondered if her mamá would get mad if she swiped the bottle of wine from the dining room table. Ehh. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
***
Catalina Guzmán wondered . . . where did all the time go? It was liked she blinked and moments flickered by in the blink of her eye and she was now an old woman. A widow with two hijos.
One moment she had been roused from a deep sleep by her padres with the sounds of destruction and panic spreading through the town. She remembered vividly, the confusion and urgency in the air and it caused a lump in her throat as tears welled in her eyes. She and a bunch of the town kids were going to ask Señor Madrigal to play his guitarra so they could play “el puente está quebrado”. He had little time to play in the town square since Señora Madrigal became embarazada. Triplets he exclaimed gleefully as he tossed her amigos gently in the air. Señora Madrigal was tucked closely by his side as the couple weaved stories and songs for the towns children. But that pleasant hope and dream was snatched from Catalina as most of the townpeople left with all the things they could carry and the clothes on their bodies. Catalina remembered the bitter taste of fear on her tongue and the panic that clawed within her as the echoes, whispers and murmurs of “silencioso” and “cállate” filled the air. She had grabbed her fútbol in lieu of any stuffed animal and tried to swallow the whimpers and cries that threatened to tear from her throat. Her mamá had such a tight grip on her arm that night as if she was afraid that she would disappear in the night. Catalina would never forget the shouts of terror and horror as the soldados on horses raced toward them. Neither would she forget the guttural and grief stricken scream that erupted out of Señora Madrigal that spoke of unbearable loss. Never again would she see Señor Madrigal’s sunny smile or hear his kind and enchanting voice.
But with tragedy came an Encanto as a ring of golden magic blasted outwards and as long as she had live, she would never forget as the land shifted and mountains rose to create valleys that blocked the Caño Cristales. As a Casita was built before their very eyes. As the animal fear that had caused a panicked frenzy dissipated as the remaining townspeople realized that the threat was gone. They gathered around Señora Madrigal looking for guidance as she quickly became Doña Alma.
Memories flickered by as the town of Encanto quickly grew. As she grew up helping to look after the Madrigal triplets. As buildings grew and flourished and before long Encanto’s population had doubled. Still a tinge of fear and paranoia lingered especially in the adults but life marched on. Catalina went back to school and met the most infuriating niño in her life. One that was her biggest nuisance and rival to someone she couldn’t imagine her life without. They had two sons and then a personal tragedy took him away from them. These days, Catalina took of her hijos and after spending a few decades as one of the school teachers was the current headmaster at the local secondary school.
Glancing at Doña Alma, she wondered where that young woman who freely loved and smiled went. But time and pain made them all into different people. So did duty, responsibility and familia. She was no longer the same ten year old girl who had woken to her home being razed and neither was Doña Alma.
Alma Madrigal’s spine was as straight as a ruler and she could almost hear her mamá give an approving nod of her head. Catalina allowed Alma to guide them to a bench at the front of Casita.
The two sat down and Catalina could see the restrained anger, humiliation and confusion in her eyes. The why? And demands of an explanation straining at the edges of her expression. Taking a deep breath, her eyes met Alma who had long ago asked for the formalities between the two to be dropped.
Gathering her courage, she apologized, “Alma, lo siento for not warning you before hand of the change in Mariano’s decision as it was last minute. It was unfair of me to spring this on you all of a sudden.”
The hard planes of Alma’s face softened a tad at the apology and she nodded her head in acceptance and murmured, “Go on . . .”
“Life is short enough and you and I know better than anyone how easy it is to lose everything.” Catalina explained gently and winced at how Alma stiffened at the reminder of her dead husband and their violent displacement from their hometown. Despite Alma’s blatant discomfort, Catalina continued on. “All I can ask for of Mariano is that he is happy and that he works hard. Everything else is secondary to his happiness. I want him to have a partner that will love him for who he is and encourages him for his passions.”
Alma’s discomfort evaporated at the insinuation as her spine straightened and her posture became defensive while her eyes told Catalina to tread carefully. She stated coldly,“And you don’t think Isabela would do that?”
Despite their history and Doña Alma being her senior, Catalina refused to be cowed. For Mariano and her familia. She firmly stated, “Mariano and Isabela are perfect on paper but I think we may have pressured the two niños to try to get along more so than allow their relationship to flow naturally. He came to me this afternoon, while thinking over their relationship and decided that he wasn’t courting Isabela for the right reasons.” Before Alma could offer a rebuttal, she quickly continued.
“Besides, sometimes the best partners in the world are people who aren’t perfect on paper. Just look at you and Pedro. Pedro was a free spirit and I remember that he was going to move on towards the next town soon but after Días De Las Velitas, I remember a certain someone catching his eye. Mind you, I was only 10 at the time. A niña. But I remember him falling for the village’s princepesa. From what I remembered, you were Isabela’s age when you met Pedro.”
Grief. Dark and unbearably heavy clouded Alma’s eyes as her stern face turned extremely sorrowful at the mentioned of her late husband. The tiniest of smiles graced her face in remembrance of him. Alma’s shoulders slumped down and Catalina’s heart went out to the woman who was not just the town’s leader but a wife . . . a mother and a woman who had shouldered an almost impossible burden of leading a town out of darkness and helping it flourish so that they would never have to lose everything again. Her heart still ached with grief for her late husband but it was softened by the years she had with him and her familia. Pity fluttered within her as she had heard that Alma had a scant few years with her novio turned esposo. Señor Pedro Madrigal had only a handful of time with his hijos when they were born. Grabbing Alma’s hands in hers, she offered comfort and a nonjudgemental presence as the woman took a moment to wrestle with her emotions.
Alma took a deep breath and tried to hold onto her mask as Encanto’s matriarch. She was the cornerstone of the community but as of late, she found it harder and harder to hold onto her familiar burden of perfection and duty. But it was a familiar cross she had bore and would continue to do so. It was all she knew and she didn’t want to open that door that would lead to having deal with the pain, fear and horror that came from that distant night long ago.
Sorrow and sympathy crested in Catalina at seeing Alma in a vulnerable state. She was thankful that Pablo had managed to corral the townspeople back in town as the sky darkened and there was a rumble of thunder. The sound seemed to snap Alma out of whatever dark thoughts she was having and concern welled up in Catalina as she saw Alma don her usual mask with a murmur of “Pepita”.
Determined eyes met hers and Alma gave a polite and distant smile. “I hear you. There’s no point in forcing the niños together but . . .” it seemed a thought occurred to Alma as she asked, “why the sudden change of heart? Last I heard from you and Mariano that he was set on having Isabela to be his prometida.”
At this, Catalina tried to keep her face as blank as possible. She wasn’t blind to how things were with the Madrigals in regards to their family dynamic. Feelings of discomfort and guilt rose up in her as she saw the Madrigal familia as a reflection of how those who remembered losing their home, influenced the younger generations for better or worse. She still remembered the dark and rainy week that Encanto experienced when the triplets learned why they didn’t have a padre.
Catalina was in an awkward position as a child who remembered losing her home while also still being able to adapt to the changing circumstances of a new home in the town of Encanto. That was not to say that she was perfect but she had made a conscious effort to talk with the other kids her age and some of the adults who were willing to talk about it. The older generation and adults like Alma still sometimes looked at the town as if it could one day disappear. Most of them refused to talk about that night or were overbearing or overprotective of their familia. There was a clear disconnect between those that had been displaced and those who were born in Encanto. There was this underlying and unspoken pressure that shaped the way the older generation influenced and interacted with the new generation that was born in Encanto. Even Catalina wasn’t immune to the ever present fear that their paradise couldn’t last and it was always much easier to see the mistakes that other people made than yourself. And boy did the townspeople notice the cracks in the Madrigal familia.
The triplets when they received their gift was so crucial in creating the foundation for the town of Encanto. It wasn’t until years later did some of the townspeople have doubts about burdening such young children with the responsibility of ensuring that the town flourished. The grandkids worked so hard as well. From perfect Isabela to mousy Dolores. Helpful Luisa and versatile Camilo. And Mirabel. Ay pobrecita, a part of her sighed in sadness. Anyone with eyes could see that she was looking to be acknowledged and appreciated. She was such a helpful niña but she heard from Mariano and Pablo that they often saw her left alone to her own devices or left either in the company of Casita or her papí and tío. Without a gift of her own, it unfortunately, left her in an awkward place without a solid familial role or a role in which to help the community. Even worse was the murmurs of bullying and how Mirabel was often scolded and reprimanded for distracting or bothering her familia from their responsibilities. Since Mirabel’s gift ceremony it was no secret that Doña Alma barely acknowledged Mirabel which in turn caused some townspeople to follow Alma’s lead. Some but not the majority. Most of the townspeople loved all the Madrigal children including Mirabel as they were gifts from Dios. In a small town like theirs , everyone was familia.
“My sweet Mariano had been mulling over their relationship for some time now. This morning, it seemed that something opened his eyes to the truth.” Catalina delivered truthfully.
Alma narrowed her eyes in suspicion as she questioned, “Something or someone . . ?”.
Before Catalina could reply, Arturo with his graying hair and yellow ruana cleared his throat. Both women’s gazes landed on him as he nervously gripped his sombrero vueltiao in his left hand. “Señora, perdon. The town leaders would like to speak with you.”
A flash of emotions darted over Alma’s face too quick for Catalina to decipher. She was only able to catch the exhaustion and fear in Alma’s eyes before Alma’s expression became closed off.
“Lo siento, Catalina. Duty calls. We’ll talk more later on. Gracias para tu tiempo.” And with that curt farewell, Alma strode down the path toward town. A familiar weight along her shoulders that left Catalina wishing for a long forgotten guitar playing and the laughter of a carefree couple.