The sound of sledgehammers broke the suffocating silence of the loft, dust swirling in intricate patterns as the planks of the assaulted wall fell to the ground with a clatter. Muffled voices could be heard through the rubble, and two figures stepped into the light of the newly created opening. One of whom, a long and lanky man wearing what appeared to be an oversized t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans, grabbed some swinging wires to allow the woman opposite him to pass him safely. He took off his mask, looking around at the vast space around him, only to be smacked upside the head by his wife.

"Wait until the dust settles, idiota."

Hector Rivera smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, pulling the mask back up over his mouth and nose. His wife moved into the light of one of the many windows lining the walls of their newly-purchased loft, the dust framing her like an angel. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, the dust settling onto it looking like light snowfall. She wore one of Hector's shirts underneath a pair of overalls, and although they were dirty and the overalls were ripped at the knee, Hector still found his breath catching in his chest, and not from the dust. He began to hum, a mindless tune, letting the emptiness of the rooms around him carry the tune over to Imelda, who had excreted a tape measure from her pocket and began to measure the space between the windows.

He strode over to her, letting his eyes wander and allowing his mind to fill the space. He'd keep his guitar in that corner, over there would be the kitchen, and that would be Imelda's workshop, and Coco's playroom would be nestled in that little area. Imelda had moved to the opposite corner of the loft, her boots clicking with each step and her fingers moving, measuring, calculating with an expert precision. Hector chuckled as he watched her, his eyes sparking with unabashed admiration. She had planned this for years, and she would sooner die than let anything go wrong. He reached her as she began to move away, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her into him, his lips parting slightly as he smiled down at her. Her instinctively cross expression softened slightly, and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"It's perfect, mi amor. This is going to be absolutely amazing."

Imelda's eyes flicked to the opposite wall, skeptical.

"It better be, or else I'm telling that cabr-"

Hector cut her off with a kiss, swift yet gentle. Imelda rolled her eyes, but he caught a hint of a contented hum leave her lips as they parted. She sighed, and looked around once more.

"Well, at least it's livable."

Hector chuckled.

A month and a half had passed, and the apartment showed clear evidence of both Imelda's and Hector's influences. The walls were painted in practical colors, save for Coco's room, where marigolds bloomed up the walls and childish drawings adorned every surface. Music was everywhere; in Hector's prized guitar next to his desk, in the radio softly crooning in the kitchen, in the rhythm of the people in the house as they moved about their day. Light streamed through the newly cleaned windows,and landed on the few still unpacked boxes in the loft, betraying the orderly appearance of the rest of the loft. A babble of words came from the imagination of the little figure laying on the living room rug, playing with a very disinterested cat. Little Coco held a little dress out to the feline, who turned up her nose and began licking her paw. This did not deter the child, who crooned,

"Please, Pretty Pepita?"

The cat looked at the child, but continued to ignore the child's continuous begging. Coco began to move towards the animal, who got ready to pounce away. Before either party could be subjected to unnecessary struggling, Coco squealed as a pair of sturdy hands picked her up, and she was showered in kisses. Pepita took the opportunity to dart away upstairs, to regain what was left of her dignity before the next assault. Coco gripped the back of her father's shirt tightly, giggling as her father's goatee tickled her forehead. Her father ceased his attack and rested his forehead on his daughter's, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo.

"Thank goodness I got there when I did, mi'ija. One second longer and Pepita may have ripped your doll's pretty dress."

Coco giggled and reached for her father's face. He leaned into her touch and looked over his daughter, his eyes full of the most unconditional love he had ever felt. he was interrupted, however, by Imelda, who came up from behind him and took Coco gently out of his arms, kissing her husband on the cheek before bringing Coco to the kitchen for lunch.

"Si, mi'ija. Pepita always struck me as more of a knight with shining claws than a princess, anyway."

Hector chuckled as he put Coco's plate in front of her, kissing Imelda before grabbing an apple for himself and jumping up onto the counter. Imelda glared at him, causing him to shrink under her famous glare and slid off the counter, suddenly sheepish. Coco giggled and munched on a baby carrot, happy to see her parents acting normally. The domestic scene was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom, causing all three Riveras to jump. Hector jogged over to the door and pressed the button.

"Hello?"

A suave and familiar voice flooded the apartment.

"Hola, Hector! Can I come up?"

Hector smiled apologetically at his wife, who crossed her arms and gave a swift-although exasperated-nod.

"Si, come on up, Ernesto."

Hector threw the bolt back and walked away from the door, picking up his apple and exchanging a glance with his wife. It took less than a minute for a knock to reach their door, and both Imelda and Hector answered.

"Come in."

The door opened, the light streaming in from the hallway revealing Ernesto De La Cruz, in all his smug glory. Always one for a good impression, he wore a smart suit, decorated with ornate cufflinks. His heavily gelled hair glinted as he moved toward the kitchen table, his hands wrapped around a brown paper bag, which he placed onto the counter.

"Hola, amigos. Wow, the place looks great! How is everybody? Well, I hope?"

Imelda nodded, offering a small smile as she opened the package. Hector slapped Ernesto good-naturedly on the shoulder, to which Ernesto smiled. He turned his attention to Imelda, who pulled out a couple of ripe fruits.

"Japanese apple pears, Ernesto? Doesn't this seem a little...much for a simple entry fee?"

Ernesto waved her off and flashed Coco a toothy smile. Coco returned it before resuming her meal, not at all phased by the sudden visit. 'Uncle Ernesto' came at least once a week, but he only came bearing such extravagant offerings when he had a request.

Today was no different.

Smiling and turning to Imelda and Hector, the former of which had begun placing the fruits into a bowl in the middle of the counter, Ernesto began.

"So, guess what I found for us tonight, Hector?"

Hector raised his eyebrows through a mouthful of apple. Imelda rolled her eyes. Ernesto was unfazed

"The club down on 71st street needs a band to play tonight. It's dance night, so I was thinking some of our more upbeat pieces. How would you feel about getting "un poco loco" tonight?"

Hector thought for a moment, swallowing. He turned to Imelda. They had been planning to have a quiet night at home tonight, maybe unpack a few more boxes. Imelda had been counting on him to be at home, but even she knew that the opportunities Ernesto found were often to good to pass up. She gave him a look, one that he knew all too well. It said, as clear as day,

"Do what you need, but remember your familia. We need you, too."

Hector nodded, then turned to Ernesto and took another bite of apple.

"Yeah, I'll be there. What time?"

Ernesto beamed and clapped Hector on the back, almost causing him to spit out his apple.

"8:30, my place. Bring your guitar. Oh, look at the time. I've got to run. See you tonight Hector!"

With that, Ernesto turned on his heel and left, waving before he strode out of and shut the door. Imelda moved from her spot at the counter to place her head on Hector's shoulder, sighing as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I swear, amor, he has you running all over this city."

Turning him around to face her, she put a hand on his cheek and leaned in for a kiss.

"Promise you won't be out too late?"

Hector leaned down to kiss his wife, smiling.

"I promise."

Coco lay in bed, braids spread out on her pillow as she looked up at both of her parents. Imelda sat on her right, lovingly stroking her hair, while Hector stood on her left, white skull guitar in hand as he donned his "performance suit". Imelda bent to kiss her daughter's forehead, stroking her hair once more before standing and saying,

"Buenos Noches, Mi'ija. We'll see you in the morning."

Coco smiled and watched her mother stand, calling goodnight as Imelda kissed her husband and exited the room. She knew what came next, and she didn't want to interrupt the special father-daughter ritual. Hector moved over to the side of Coco's bed, smiling in his special, tender way. He bent to kiss his daughter, lingering for a moment as she reached up to hug his neck. He knew he would be there when she woke up in the morning, to make breakfast and sing to her, but every time he left he couldn't help but feel guilty. Coco didn't care, though. She knew her Papa had special music things to do, and as long as he came home, she would be happy. She giggled in anticipation as Hector slung his guitar across his chest, shifting a bit before smiling at his precious mi'ija and letting his fingers strum the guitar. The familiar tune began to fill the soft silence of the room, and he closed his eyes before he let himself be lost in the song.

"Remember me..."