The Stranger

Porcelain

The cobblestone was warm beneath Camilo's feet as he traveled down the main road, humming pleasantly to himself. His brother's gift ceremony was weeks away, a fact that had the village abuzz with excitement. The energy drifted through the air, electricity charging in his bones. He shifted from face to face as he greeted his public, each one grander and more dramatic than the last. The sound of laughter filled the air as he passed through, dancing down the block; the yellow of his ruana glowed under the sunlight as the town watched him go. A performer, and entertainer doing what he did best; he wore this mask well.

You watched from the sidelines, a simple spectator in a crowd of faces. He did not see you just yet, but you certainly saw him; my, what a dazzling sight. Closed off from the world, you had never seen something so wondrous, never met someone so full of life. He sauntered through the town like he owned the place, your fellow townspeople watching in awe. Around you, there was an invisible wall that kept the people away; you smiled, but no one dared approach you. What a life he must live, you thought, being able to get the people's love without even trying. How you wished you could have a taste of that feeling; have a momentary glimpse of a world where you could be the one in the center of attention, praised and adored.

Time slowed as the two of you momentarily made eye contact; his hazel eyes widened as they stared into your own, his breath lost as you smiled in that friendly manner your mother had taught you. The practiced form never lasted, and despite the strict regiment beat down into you from years of repetition, your awkward, but nevertheless bright and warm, smile stretched across your cheeks. For a moment, Camilo swore his heart stopped, a crack forming in his carefully crafted mask at the sight of you. He felt his feet beneath him stumble over the uneven ground, making you giggle as he nervously laughed, keeping eye contact with you despite the stares he was receiving from doing so. The ever charming, ever confident young boy sauntered over to you with all the pride and prowess he possessed, excitement shining in his eyes as he finally stood in front of you. His mouth opened to speak, to greet you, to pull your name from your lips, before a voice shouted to you in warning and fear, making both of you look over to the source of the voice.

Camilo watched, his heart squeezing slightly in his chest as you wilted under this stranger's gaze, though this woman shared your eyes, making him believe there was some relation between the two of you. Your smile returned to the practiced, perfect shining grin, and the polite excuse you made to meet with this stranger was lost to his ears. Something strange shifted within him, discomfort settling in his chest and stomach as he watched you walk away. Even as you went, that smile went away, never able to stay on your lips for very long. You expertly weaved through the crowd, used to having to dance around others, and he could only stare as he watched your mask fall to the ground, shattering upon impact.

Unconsciously, as if the mask were a tangible thing, he reached up to his own face and pressed his hand against his cheek, feeling the soft skin under his sweaty palm. He felt shaken to the core as he watched the woman scold you, the words drifting through the air yet not quite reaching his ears. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what angered words the woman whispered to you, knowing the feeling all too well as you winced and tried to keep from crying.

The woman led you away, and suddenly his world snapped back into focus, his audience awaiting his return. Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he shook his head as if to shake his thoughts away and smiled, returning to his awaiting crowd, silently praying that they would not speak of his slip-up to his Abuela. He had a reputation to uphold, a name to live up to, and he could not afford to be distracted by one stranger in a world of strangers. No matter how curious he got, no matter how his heart longed to know someone new, he needed to put his family, and his duty, first.

There was no room for any slackers or screw-ups in his family; his Abuela's treatment of his prima, Mirabel, was evidence enough of this. No matter the words of affirmation his Abuela spoke, no matter the smiles she shared, no matter the hope that rose within him every time he did something right, he knew what he did was never enough. He just had to hope that what he was doing, what he had already done, would be enough for now.

Fate, however, was not as kind to save him from his Abuela's wrath.

He entered his home, tired but relieved, only to tense as his Abuela greeted him. The older woman, despite being the leader of the home and of the town, was brutal and unkind towards any mistakes the family ever dared to make. He felt his eyes burn before a single word left her mouth, his hands shaking from their spot shoved in his pant pockets. The older woman only cooly instructed him to do better, sniffing as she walked away as he kicked the ground in frustration, sniffling. His heart raced in his chest for all the wrong reasons, his cheeks warm from the burning shame and anger bubbling in his chest.

Shaking his head once again, he made his way upstairs, ignoring the various people calling his name, brushing them off with a friendly smile until he reached his door, practically slamming it closed as he fell to his knees. The darkness of his hall of mirrors greeted him as he tried to steady his breathing, his back pressing against the door as his reflection stared back at him from every angle, a constant and bitter reminder of how small and worthless he was. The mask, at last, hit the floor, undamaged and glaring up at him as he ran a hand through his hair, his bottom lip trembling.

Across town, in a small house with an even smaller girl sitting inside, you mirrored his actions, bitter words forming on your tongue, forever remaining unsaid.

This is what I deserve, the both of you thought as reality settled in around the two of you. Camilo knew that he shouldn't have stopped in the middle of doing his daily chores to talk to some random girl in the street, no matter how sweet her smile was; you knew that you shouldn't have risked your family's reputation by talking to a Madrigal, your mess of a mind tainting your precious family's name without you even needing to do anything.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Camilo cursed, shooting up from his spot and throwing his hands angrily into the air, practically screaming out the last word in a desperate attempt at easing the hurt in his chest.

"You should know better than this," you scolded yourself, wiping your eyes as they stung with tears, already long past sobbing. How sensitive you were, your mother used to coo, as she watched you play around in the tall green grass growing in your backyard. How helpful it will be, she thought, to have a daughter so sweet and delicate; what a lovely wife you could become, what a precious figure for your family to show off like cattle. How perfect you could be, your mother used to say, as she held you in her arms.

How unfortunate, she would tut as she watched you breakdown in the street, to be cursed with such a mess of a child.

How lucky, Camilo's mother would always say, she was to have a son who worked so hard, who went the extra mile to make even the youngest in the community smile, unaware of the expectations stabbed into his back the moment he stepped outside his home. How grateful she was to know that her son was so kind, so strong, and so bright; to have a son who glowed like the sun.

He had never gone a day without the support of his parents; you had never gone a day with the love of your own. Tragic, it was, for your parents to be so blinded by what you could be that they could never notice what you had become, until it was too little too late to change it. Even more tragic that a love could turn into something more vile, how care and warmth could be overshadowed by the pressure to perform, or be cast aside like you were nothing.

Camilo heard his mother call his name. He froze, a deer caught in headlights, as he picked up his mask from the ground, tightening the ties around the back of his head as he quickly studied his reflection.

He saw a face. Not his, not really, but it was enough, for now. He put on his best smile, straightened his clothes, and left the room. Behind him, just out of sight, a mirror shattered; silent in it's fall, the mirror glinted with the hope for the future. Painfully, he was unaware that this shattered mirror would mean the world to him. How broken glass could be his savior, pulling him out of his own personal hell, he would slowly learn, because on that very day, he had met you, and you were everything he needed, though neither of you knew that yet.

In a far away field, a butterfly with broken wings has finally come out of her cocoon. In front of her, the whole world, if she was brave enough to explore it, to leave the safety of everything she had known despite her crippling faults; she did not move, not yet, still awaiting the one who would explore the expanse in front of her by her side.

A short distance away, a golden butterfly was slowly starting to break out of his cocoon.