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Un Vecino Como Tú
The sun spilled like warm honey through the windows of Casita that morning, but the air still carried tension — little threads of doubt and misunderstanding tugging at each Madrigal heart.
Mirabel noticed them all, even without a Gift.
She always noticed.
She pushed her glasses up and sighed, brushing dust off her skirt as she helped Casita sweep tiles.
“I don’t know how to help them,” she murmured. “Sometimes…being the glue or heart or Miracle or whatever just makes me feel stuck.”
Casita tapped gently against her shoe in sympathy.
You aren’t glue, mi Velita. You’re a Miracle. My Miracle.
“Gracias, Casita. I appreciate that. I just said that, though. That’s IT!? What else can I do? I should just be the damn Candle again. It’s not like ‘Mirabel’ is helping, is she?” The girl shook her head in irritation, sighing.
She didn’t think that, not really. She knew her family loved and wanted her, that they wouldn’t be here with her. At least, they wouldn’t have their Gifts. They may have survived if Pedro hadn’t sacrificed himself for a Miracle.
It could have happened. Mirabel understood, though. Pedro hadn’t dared risk his familia. It was too low a chance of survival for Alma and her newborns if he didn’t try something. That something had called...well, her. And woke up the valley. Casita.
And Mira wouldn’t give up knowing Casita for anything. Well, maybe Antonio, if she HAD to choose. Even Casita knew that, in her soul. Antonio meant more to Mirabel than anyone or anything, and she was determined to make sure he was happy.
“There’s just so much to do now. I’m not talking about chores. We all do our chores, even Isabela now. I’m talking about…” Mirabel hesitated, knowing Dolores could hear her.
Go on, Velita. Whatever you need to talk about, I’m here. Just this once, I’ll close Dolores’s soundproof door on my own. Even though she can hear you, since she’s not in there.
Tiles gently slid under her shoes, gliding and carrying her to the sofa. Mirabel sighed. Casita...her silly, beloved home. Closing Dolores’s door, thinking it would help. Silly.
Her...Mami. Always acting like she was a child. Mirabel took a breath and continued, sitting comfortably on the sofa now.
“Sita, we all need help. We don’t know how to do this! Live like...villagers. Normal people. Even me! I’m used to being ignored and pushed away, not being the most important and beloved Madrigal in el pueblo. I didn’t even do anything worthwhile.”
“Didn’t do anything worthwhile? Really, kid? I dunno about you, but I prefer a bed and a room to those cold walls.” Bruno entered, ruana flapping behind him, rats clinging to his back.
Mirabel hmmph’d at him.
“You wouldn’t have even had to go in the walls if I were normal. If I had a Gift. I still don’t have a Gift, and I think Abuela is just pretending to love me because you said I’m the incarnation of Pedro’s Miracle.”
“You are, Miraboo. You saw my tablet. They don’t lie. Sadly.” Bruno sighed, thinking of all the times he was chased with flaming torches and had rocks thrown at him for a bad prophecy.
“Sure, Tio. Whatever. Do you...sometimes feel smothered, lately? Everyone is always checking in on me. I’ve barely got to even enjoy my new room. It’s so pretty, and I can’t even explore very far into it because Isabela thinks there could be animals out there.” Mirabel clenched her fists in irritation.
“Antonio is in my room 75% of the time we’re home anyway. It’s not like an animal would hurt him. He’s their, like, god or something.”
Mirabel rubbed her head. She adored Antonio. He was her hijo in nearly every way. Now, because of Isabela and Mama, she barely got to be alone with her favorite primo.
Isabela...a whole new can of worms. Not dead, dry worms this time, at least. Warm, fresh worms, ready to fertilize a whole new garden.
The flower girl was simply too protective of her new ‘garden’. All of her garden. Someone had insulted Luisa and ended up with a cactus in a place it should never go. Isa’s protection was...overwhelming.
She knew Isabela was only looking out for her, but where was that Isa when Mirabel needed her? Mirabel couldn’t trust Isabela yet, and she couldn’t get rid of her.
Isabela had almost glued herself to Mirabel.
Thankfully, at the moment, she was on a double date with Mariano and Dolores and finally gave Mirabel some peace. Maybe. Depending on what Tio Bruno was doing here.
“Mariposa, my sisters AND Abuela are doing the same thing to me. My rats are doing it! Especially now that I can talk to them. Ramona won’t shut up until I eat all my dinner or bathe or brush my teeth or whatever. I can’t even get away from them!” Bruno looked desperate.
“I-I can take that away, if it’s bothering you too much. The-the rat talking thing. But she is right. You do need to take care of yourself.” Mirabel told him nervously, still unused to being able to use a form of magic.
Especially something as strong as taking away a Gift. Abuela told her it was her destiny; it made sense to Abuela, because as the Miracle, she was also the new Candle. She held all future Gifts inside her. Bruno’s tablet showed that.
Then — a knock at the front door. Thank goodness. She should have been using this time to get to know her new room, but she was more comfortable knitting on the sofa.
“Should we bother? Casita will let them in if it’s important, right?”
Bruno muttered, still thinking of the angry townsfolk who hated him for no reason and the smothering family love he hadn’t experienced since he was 10.
“We can’t ignore anyone, Tio. You can stay here. If there’s trouble, Casita will help me. She always has.” Mirabel gave her Tio a small kiss on the cheek and stood up.
Another knock at the gate, gentle and patient. Not Camilo who frantically pounded the gate demanding to be let in when he was locked out.
Not the inpatient but polite and consistent tapping of the villagers. Someone else. Someone new.
Perhaps from the crack. The travelers who had found the pass were setting up some kiosks for purchase of their goods.
Maybe this was how they advertised? Mirabel sighed and asked Casita to unlock the gate.
Mirabel waited as Casita slowly opened the door.
Gracias, Velita. You won’t regret it.
Blinking, Mirabel sent a question to Casita. Regret what? She wondered.
Mira finally turned toward the person outside the gate. She found a man in a simple red sweater, eyes kind as quiet mornings, shoes polished but comfortably worn.
His smile felt like the moment you finally breathe after crying.
“Hello, Mirabel,” he said gently, as if he’d always known her. “It’s a beautiful day in your neighborhood.”
Her breath caught. “I— it is. Um. Who are you?”
“All my friends call me Fred. You may call me Fred,” he answered. “May I come in?”
There was no magic spark, no glowing door — and yet Casita swung its doors open with delight, tiles clacking like applause. Mirabel blinked.
No one got that kind of welcome except family. Specifically, no one got that kind of welcome except her, after Casita’s rebirth. Who was this odd man?
Why did a genius loci powered by love respond so powerfully?
Tea with the new neighbor
Soon they were seated at the kitchen table with warm tea. He wrapped both hands around his cup, savoring it like it was something sacred — and maybe it was.
Mirabel had told him all about her family, the magic, the Miracle, the Fall, everything. Bruno sat next to Mirabel, petting a brown rat very fast and hard, as if he were scared.
“You look like you carry a lot on your shoulders,” he said.
Mirabel stared at the swirling tea. “…I guess I do.”
“Sometimes,” he said softly, “when we love our family very much, we think being strong means holding everything together alone.”
Her throat tightened. “If I don’t, who will?”
He didn’t correct her. He didn’t rush. He just looked at her like she wasn’t broken — just tired.
“Being the one who sees everyone is a special gift,” he said. “But kindness includes being kind to yourself, too.”
Mirabel’s eyes stung.
Before she could speak, voices drifted from the doorway. Alma. Julieta. Camilo.
Even Isabela, hands clasped behind her back, looking hesitant. But defiant. As if this stranger dared touch Mirabel, she would go apeshit on him.
Mira guessed the date went badly. Or Dolores and Mariano left early to do...gross things.
“Who is this?” Alma asked, voice tinged with that unnatural kindness.
Fred stood, smoothing his sweater.
“My name is Fred. I’m your new neighbor. Well, a neighbor. I came upon the travelers during a lovely vacation. I’m not a therapist, but perhaps I can be of some help to your beautiful town.”
Alma frowned politely. “There is already a skilled therapist here. We do not need—”
He smiled at her so warmly the room softened. “Everyone needs someone to see them. Even leaders. Even grandmothers. When you look in the mirror, don’t look for someone you should be. Look for the person you want to be.”
Alma froze — not hurt, not offended… startled. Seen. Had she ever really, truly thought of what she, herself, Alma Madrigal, wanted? No, she hadn’t.
It was all ‘for the family’. Never for her. Alma was never seen or spoken to as just Alma. She was Dona Madrigal or Abuela or Mama. All those titles came with heavy guilt, now.
And still...Fred saw her for who she wanted to be. A good grandmother. Someone Pedro would be proud of. Something she wasn’t...yet. She had the potential to be, she knew. She had to have.
He turned to Isabela. The flower girl stood up a little straighter and made sure to make eye contact. No weirdo neighbor was coming in their house and using her family again.
“Growing is hard work,” he said kindly. “Messy sometimes. But beautiful. This kind girl tells me you grow things of great beauty. Remember, not only is growth hard, beauty is hard. It’s all in the eye of the one you love, anyway. Love is love, Senorita Isabela. Grow, embrace your love.”
Isabela’s breath hitched. A vine of soft, imperfect wildflowers curled around her wrist, the cactus blossom in her sheared-off hair grew an entire cactus in a pop, leaving Isabela with a cactus on her head.
“The double date didn’t go well. She thought I wasn’t really interested in her. I learned sign as best I could, and she reads lips, but she still thought I wanted Mariano. I don’t. I only want her to see me, not the flower princess.”
Isabela put her head in her hands, tears sliding from beneath.
“Sometimes, when people go through large changes, it can take others a long time to see. To truly embrace that change, and what comes with it. Beautiful, wild Isabela Madrigal. Be yourself, because yourself is the most beautiful self there is, flower or cactus.”
Fred ran a thumb over the cactus flower on her head.
Camilo laughed, imagining Isabela actually looking un-perfect for once, catching Fred’s attention.
“Being many things doesn’t mean you don’t know who you are. It means you are exploring. That’s brave. It doesn’t matter who other people think you are. In the end, you are you, and that’s a wonderful thing.”
Fred took Camilo’s hands and held them with his own.
Camilo swallowed and looked down, eyes shining.
“Am I boy or am I a girl? How do I even know? I was a boy until I was five. Then I was both, neither. What am I? Who am I?”
Camilo looked at his hands, soft and smooth like Dolores, but strong and callused like the donkey farmer’s.
“In the end, that doesn’t matter either. Women are strong, beautiful creatures, smart, clever, kind...but so are men. We are all human, and we’re all the same, in our souls. You can be both. Or you can choose one. You’re you. Camilo Madrigal, you are a wonderful person. A wonderful man. Wonderful woman.”
Fred gently kissed Camilo’s hand like one would a lady.
Camilo felt his ears heat up. He hadn’t been treated like a lady when he’d been in this ‘true form’ that never felt true.
Tears welled in his eyes. No. Her eyes. If an outsider could accept her decision, certainly her familia could. Camila Madrigal. That sounded perfect. Right. Better than Camilo. Changing one letter made all the difference in the world. She swiped at her tears, silently thanking Fred.
The odd neighbor turned to the one that looked most hurt. The man looked as if he’d been run over and thrown in a dumpster, which he chose to sleep in afterward.
To Fred, he was as amazing as the other Madrigals. And so very brave. Fred was told all about the magical, powerful family in the big house on the hill. Especially Bruno.
“You looked for truth even when it hurt. That takes courage. Bruno Madrigal, bravest of all the Madrigal family. For his niece. How could anyone NOT talk about Bruno when he was the bravest of them all?”
Fred gently patted Ramona’s head; she trilled softly, something normally only done when being held in Bruno’s arms.
Bruno looked like no one had ever said that to him before.
He turned back to Mirabel last — because sometimes the ones who love the strongest need to hear it more than once, slow and gentle.
“You don’t need a magical Gift to be special,” he said. “You are already someone worth loving — exactly as you are. And you always have been.”
The room was quiet. Not heavy — just full. Like hearts were stretching to make room for new understanding.
Mirabel exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Mister— Fred.”
He nodded. “Thank you for being a helper. Thank you for being you. I have a feeling you’ve always been a helper. If I’m right, I know I’ll see you often in town.”
He reached for his shoes, tying them with calm grace. “I must be going. There are always neighbors to visit, hearts to listen to. Especially here.”
Fred looked behind him, past the gate, seeing all his new neighbors. New friends.
“Will we see you again?” Mirabel whispered.
He smiled, eyes warm like cocoa on cold mornings.
“That’s your choice. The others simply started building, grabbing your poor, overworked grandchild for the hard things.” Fred smiled, a smile like warm sunlight.
He had clearly spoken to Luisa when he saw her doing the builders’ jobs for them.
Mirabel looked at Abuela. She had changed so much, but a neighbor who wanted to give them therapy? Talk to them like...normal people? Would Abuela accept her familia being treated normal?
When she caught Abuela’s eye, Abuela gave a small nod.
“Yes. Yes, of course, Senor Fred. You are more than welcome here. If you see Luisa working out there, tell her...I said she must take a break at once. I am...Alma Madrigal. Leader of this town.” Alma stepped forward, offering her hand.
Fred grasped it, watching her body language. She was still sad. But accepting. He, too, had lost the love of his life. He understood.
“Thank you, Senora. I recently lost my wife, the love of my life, and for a long time, I didn’t think I could live without her. Maybe here, in this town of Miracles, I can find kindness and love and a home.” Fred thanked Alma, gracing her with his radiant smile.
Alma swallowed, a lump in her throat. This man had lost his spouse, too. He had gotten longer with his wife than she had with Pedro, but love was love and it hurt no matter how long you were together.
“I lost the love of my life, too, Senor. It is the greatest hurt one could bear, but we...we can overcome it. It took me...it took me fifty years. So...welcome to the Encanto, sir. We’ll all build you a home. Even me, though I’m old and can’t do much.” Abuela laughed gently, “Where would you like your house?”
“Please, no need to call me sir. Fred is fine. Or, if you must be formal, Mister Rogers. Fred Rogers.”
“It’s...it’s so very nice to see you today, Mister Rogers.” Bruno lunged forward, hugging Fred, tears staining the man’s red sweater.
“And it’s so very nice to meet you, Bruno Madrigal. Madrigal Family. As for my house...well…” Fred looked out the window.
“There’s a very nice spot really close to us. No one ever wanted to be that close to the leader, so they never built there.” Luisa said, entering the sitting room, dusting off her dirty hands on a nearby towel, knowing more about home building than anyone else.
“Well, then, may I ask...won’t you be my neighbor?”
And when he stepped out into the sunlight, it felt like the world exhaled with him — softer, warmer, kinder.
Like a hug without arms.