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“C’mon. Do something. Give me…Mirabel.”
Camilo stared in the square mirror hung above his desk in his new bedroom. It was just as plain as the rest of the house, without the love and character of their old Casita. Someone had donated a mirror to his room, and Camilo wasn’t sure if he should hate the reminder that his gift was gone.
It’s their third night in the new casa and it still didn’t feel like home. Every night, Antonio has woken everyone with his wandering in the halls, crying out for Mirabel. It killed Camilo to hear his hermanito cry like that. If only the miracle would be kind enough to give him one night. Just one night to comfort his brother.
He stared at his unmoving reflection. His brown eyes showed gold in the low light. Was Mirabel’s like his? Were they like Tía Julieta’s? When he had his power, he didn’t have to think this hard. The little details, they just filled themselves in.
“Casita, please ,” Camilo begged. “Give me Mirabel. Just for one night. Then you can take it away again.” He stared into his own unchanging eyes as they became watery pools. “ Please . Do it for Antonio. Ayúdame.”
His own grimace stared back. He watched his reddened eyes narrow and his frown twist downwards. Frustrated, he reeled a fist back and slammed it on the mirror. A dull thud shook the settling foundation as a small crack ran through the glass.
Somewhere in the house, Antonio began crying.
Camilo sighed.
He cracked open his door to peek out into the hall. He could see the small shadow of his little brother at Mirabel’s door, that tiger plush still clenched in his tiny fist.
A door opened on the other end of the hall, and Pepa peered out, rubbing her eyes.
“I got it, Mamá,” Camilo said. She gave him a grateful smile and retreated back to bed.
Camilo trekked down the hall to where Antonio stood in the open doorway of Mirabel’s room. It felt odd to call it that. She had never lived in this room. It was modeled after their old nursery, and that wasn’t even Mirabel’s room.
She never had a place in their home. Camilo understood that now.
Antonio looked up at him with big, watery eyes. “Where’s Mirabel?”
Camilo picked Antonio up under his arms and carried him into the unfinished bedroom. Someone had moved around the boxes in here. Stray items littered the desk. The bed was made with a quilted bed set, likely put together by Tía Julieta. His tía had not been the same since that night, but they were all still grieving in their own way.
He sat on the bed with Antonio in his lap. Without his powers, being himself is the best he can do right now. He had to hope that it was enough.
“You know,” He said with a slow grin. “Mirabel and I were roomies before you two were.”
Antonio lifted his head. “What?”
“Yeah, she was born only a couple months after me. We shared the nursery until my gift giving ceremony,” Camilo said. “We were a menace to the family.”
Antonio giggled. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, Toñito, I can’t go filling your head with ideas ,” Camilo teased, rustling his hair.
“Tell me!” Antonio insisted.
“If you insist.” Camilo shrugged. “I used to steal her dresses all the time. Mamá always thought it was cute, but Abuela hated it.” He chuckled. “Oh, we’d take turns sneaking out at night to steal Tía Julieta’s leftovers.”
Antonio giggled. “Mirabel snuck me food all the time .”
“Whaaat?” Camilo said, hand to his chest as if betrayed. “That was our thing!”
Antonio’s laughter rang and it made Camilo feel warm. “What else, what else!”
“Well,” Camilo thought. “We used to hide in the walls.”
Antonio tilted his head, confused.
“There used to be holes behind some of the paintings that led to spaces between the walls,” Camilo explained. “Mirabel and I would hide in the walls and surprise people, mainly Tío Agustín. He’s so easily startled.” He laughed at the memory. Once, they surprised Mirabel’s father by bursting out of the painting at the right moment, and that led to Agustín dropping an entire tray of arepas. Julieta and Abuela chewed them out for it, but he’ll never forget it. “Not sure what happened to those hide-y holes. Casita must have got rid of them.”
Antonio looked at the walls of their new home, without any spaces in the walls. Camilo was certain, he was there when it was built.
“I saw a man in the walls once,” Antonio said. “Oh, and rats. Lots of rats.”
Huh?
“Uh, hermanito, mind elaborating on that?” Camilo asked uneasily.
“Oh, well,” Antonio said with a shrug. “They told me something about a forbidden love--”
“What? No.” Camilo shook his head. “I mean about the man in the walls.”
“Oh,” Antonio said. “They said that Mirabel followed them behind a painting to the man in the walls. So, I followed them too.”
“Mirabel…?” Camilo said, bewildered. “What--What happened next?”
“I let them use my room so the guy could make a vision,” Antonio said. “Camilo, how do you make a vision?”
He watched Camilo stare at him blankly, gaping with his jaw open.
“Camilo?”
Slowly, the door to their room drifted open. The two of them looked up to see Dolores, eyes wide and shaken.
“Still doing what you do best, huh, sis?” Camilo said, mildly annoyed, but relieved to have someone else here to listen to this.
“I couldn’t help it,” She said. She stepped into the room and took a seat beside her brothers. “Everything seems so quiet now. I can’t sleep.”
Even as she settled onto the bed, her leg tapped a beat on the wooden floor. Camilo has never seen his sister express such discomfort ever since they were younger. Back then, it was the opposite problem. Everything had been too loud. Camilo adapted to a low voice and softening doors before they slammed, prevented dishes from knocking together, and just kept quiet while Dolores was nearby.
Now, he’ll have to adapt to a new set of rules. They all have to.
“About that man in the walls, though,” Dolores said. “I used to hear it, too.”
Camilo raised an eyebrow. “So, there’s just been a man living in our walls, and you just never thought to bring that up?”
Dolores shot him a look. “I’ve tried, Camilo. You think Mamá believed me?”
“What about Tía? Or Abuela? Did you try ?”
Dolores scoffed. “Don’t, Camilo.”
“Oh, come on. We could’ve found out that Tío Bruno had been living in our walls years ago if you had said something!”
“I did, Camilo!” Dolores shouted. It was rare that she raised her voice, and she seemed surprised by it, herself. And then the realization crossed her that her voice didn’t shake her skull like it used to. “I did . All the time. I told Mamá everything - from the gifts Pá hid from her, to gossip happening in the village, to the neighbors---” She stopped herself as she looked down at Antonio, listening with wide eyes. She took a deep breath. “After a couple years, Mamá told me to keep it to myself. I tried to tell her when I kept hearing Tío Bruno after he disappeared, but she didn’t want to hear it. I think talking about him hurt her.” She sighed. “So I kept it to myself.”
“Oh,” Camilo mumbled. “Sorry, I…I’m just worried about Mirabel. Maybe he was with her.”
“No, I’m sorry for yelling,” Dolores said, softly, with a smile. She brushed one of Antonio’s curls out of his face. “But, if Tío Bruno had been here the whole time, he must have escaped when the house fell.”
“I could ask the rats, but…” Antonio began, and frowned. He looked up at his older siblings. “I miss my friends.”
Camilo pulled him in tighter, and Dolores hugged them both.
“We miss it all too, hermanito,” Dolores said. “I miss Casita.”
“I miss my room,” Camilo said.
Antonio sniffled. “I miss Mirabel.”
The two older siblings exchanged a look. They each remember their mother’s clear advice only days ago - I need you to tell him that Mirabel left us, like Bruno did - and years of communicating silently had them come to an agreement without opening their mouths.
Camilo squeezed his younger brother tight.
“We’ll find her, Antonio. I promise.”