Just watched Coco after a year of putting it off and I absolutely love it. And since then, I've been planning a roleswap in my head. Rosa is a character a lot of people like to explore and Imelda is a wonderful character, so I thought, why not? Don't worry, Rosa is still Rosa and Imelda is still Imelda, just tweaked a bit.
Now, please enjoy the fic! Oh, and I had to make Oscar and Felipe Héctor's brothers instead of Imelda's for this to work. Also, I had to make a whole new villain instead of Ernesto. Please don't kill me. Just work with me, guys.
OoOoOo
"Miguel, we're gonna get in so much trouble!"
Twelve-year-old Miguel Rivera grinned widely at his cousin. "Ay, you worry too much, prima," he assured her. "We'll be back before anyone notices we're gone." He gave her a sly look, his brown eyes glinting with their usual mischief. "Of course, you can go back home if you want, pollita." Though the jab had a light tone, he knew that it would do its job.
Thirteen-year-old Rosa Rivera huffed, crossing her arms. Just because she didn't take as many risks as her cousin didn't mean she wasn't as brave. He was just foolish. "I'm not a chicken, I just don't want to get whacked with Abuelita's chancla," she told him. "You know she doesn't like us in the plaza." The plaza was where the most music was, after all.
"Come on, Rosa," urged Miguel, draping an arm around her shoulders. Part of him did this to prevent her from running home. "This is where all the customers are." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Besides, who says we can't listen to a bit of music while we're here. It's not like we can help it, there's mariachi everywhere."
Rosa sighed, her shoulders sagging a bit as she glared daggers at her cousin. "I'm blaming this all on you if we get caught," she told him firmly.
He smiled at her. "Sure thing." His eyes scoured the many people as the two entered the plaza before he spotted a mariachi with particularly dirty shoes. "I'm gonna go see if that guy over there needs a shoe shine." He gestured around them. "Why don't you see if you can listen around, eh? I shouldn't be too long."
She gave him a reluctant look before nodding. "Okay, Miguel. Just, stay out of trouble, sí?"
Miguel gave her his usual lopsided grin. "You worry too much, prima," he told her. "What's going to happen here?"
"We could be caught," Rosa answered dryly. She knew that, unlike herself, Miguel didn't have her instinct for self-preservation. She feared her family's- primarily her father's- disappointment and disapproval more than anything.
He rolled his eyes at her before gently pushing her away. "Seguir," he urged. "It'll only take a few minutes."
Rosa sighed, but did as he said and made her way towards a group of mariachi, all playing different instruments. She sat on the ledge of the center fountain, closing her eyes as she listened to them. As expected, their music was lively and upbeat and if she thought she could get away with it, she would be twirling around to the rhythm.
She knew it was wrong, she knew she should stay as far away from these musicians as possible, but she couldn't help herself. She loved music. She loved dancing and singing and playing the violin. She loved listening to Miguel strum away on his guitar and she loved playing along with him. She loved it all and wanted to be a violinist when she was older. However, her family would never allow it.
She hadn't even realized the song had ended when she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Muchacha? Are you alright?"
Rosa opened her eyes and realized that the woman who had spoken was a female mariachi, a violinist to be exact. "S-Sí, Señora," she answered. "I was just listening to you guys while my cousin finished up some business here. You play beautifully, by the way."
The woman beamed at her. "Gracias, niña. But if you liked the song, why do you look so forlorn?"
She sighed. "That," she said. "would take a long time to explain."
The mariachi smiled at her encouragingly. "I have time, chica," she assured her. "Lay it on me."
She flushed slightly at the attention she was getting. Growing up in a big family, it was often that she was overlooked. She was the middle child of her parents and her abuelita tended to focus most of her attention on her grandsons (most likely because they caused the most trouble). The only one who really paid attention to her was her Tía Gloria and that was probably due to the fact that she was unmarried and without a child of her own.
Rosa took a deep breath before launching into the story she had heard so many times throughout her childhood. "My family had a ban on music," she explained. "and it's because of something that happened a long time ago. You see, this story starts with my great-great grandpa Héctor. He was married to a beautiful woman and they had a child together named Coco (she's my great grandma, by the way).
"The mother would play her violin and they would both sing to their daughter. The three of them lived as a happy family for a few years. That is, until the mother left to play music for the world and they never saw her again. And Papá Héctor? He didn't have time to cry over that woman. Rolling up his sleeves, he learned to make shoes and started a family business.
"Papá Héctor then taught his daughter how to make shoes. Then, he taught her husband (my Papá Julio) to make shoes. Eventually, his kids got roped into it. This started the long tradition of the Rivera shoe line."
Rosa sighed. "Papá Héctor banned music from our family and Abuelita runs our house the same way. I can't even hum to myself or I'll get hit with the chancla."
The mariachi laughed. "Chanclas are the worst," she sympathized. "Do you play an instrument, chica?"
She flushed again. "Well, I've been practicing violin for about a year now," she admitted. Her eyes then lit up, her dark brown irises sparkling. "I love Earlina De Paula, she's my idol!"
Earlina De Paula was praised in her time as the most famous female artist of her time. She had written and performed some of Rosa's favorite songs, including her most famous one, Remember Me. Ever since listening to one of her albums when she was ten, de la Paula had become Rosa's hero.
The violinist nodded in agreement. "She was pretty spectacular." She shook her head. "Too bad about the 1942 incident, eh?"
Too bad, indeed. At the peak of her career, Earlina De Paula had met an unfortunate death. Something had gone wrong with the stagehand while she had been dancing and the lights went out. The lack of light had caused her to trip and fall of the stage and she had broken her neck, dying almost instantly.
The mariachi handed her violin to the girl. "Why don't you play something for me, chica?" she asked.
The tips of Rosa's ears turned red. "Oh no, Señora, I couldn't. My family would kill me."
"Come on, niña," the musician insisted. "They aren't here right now, are they?"
The girl looked around. "Well, no..."
"And what did De Paula always say?"
"Let nothing stand in your way?" asked Rosa, remembering her idol's most favorite phrase.
The woman grinned at her. "Exactly. So...?"
Rosa reached out for the violin, only to be interrupted by the familiar shout of her abuelita. "MIGUEL!" She turned to see her grandmother threatening another mariachi with her chancla, her cousin looking on behind her.
"I take it that's your grandmother?" the violinist asked warily.
Rosa sighed. "Sí. You should go, Señora. I'd hate for her to pull the chancla on you too."
The mariachi rose with her violin. "That's probably best," she agreed. She gave Rosa a pat on the shoulder. "You'll work it out, niña. Try talking to your family about it. They might surprise you."
She seriously doubted it, but nodded and thanked the woman as she left before she heard her abuealita's voice once more. "Rosa!" Before she knew it, she was pulled into her grandmother's suffocating embrace. "Oh, mi pobre nieto! Did that mariachi hurt you?"
Rosa gently pulled away. "Of course not, Abuelita," she promised, moving to stand next to her cousin. "I'm fine."
Abuelita put her hands on her hips and glared at her grandchildren. "You two no better than to go out into the plaza," she scolded them. "This place is crawling with musicians!"
"But this is where all the shoe traffic is!" protested Miguel.
Tía Gloria (had she been there the whole time?) raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and I suppose it had nothing to do with the fact that this is the most popular place for the mariachi to perform?" she questioned knowingly.
Rosa flushed. "Abuelita, Tía Gloria, please don't tell Papá!" she begged. Her father somehow detested music more than her grandmother and had strictly forbade her having any association with it. If he found out she had been in the plaza...
Abuelita sighed. "Sorry, mija, but the two of you can't keep doing this. This is the third time this month I've found you around these musicians!" She spat the word 'musician' out like it was some sort of poison, causing both her grandchildren to wince. She gestured for them to follow her. "Vamonos." Rosa and Miguel reluctantly trekked behind her.
"We'll be back before anyone notices we're gone, huh, Miguel?" hissed Rosa to her cousin.
Miguel shrugged. "I lost track of time," he confessed. "Besides, you know they won't be too mad at us. We'll just get a 'stern talking to.'"
Rosa rolled her eyes. "Maybe you will," she muttered bitterly. Miguel's parents never yelled at him, never punished him farther than grounding him for a week. Sometimes, she really wished he would get punished as harshly as her.
"Prima, nothing's going to happen," Miguel tried to assure her.
Though Rosa hoped he was right, she couldn't help but feel something bad was going to happen when they got home.
OoOoOo
"I found your children in the plaza today," declared Abuelita as soon as they stepped into the house. Both Miguel and Rosa sighed on either side of her; their grandmother had never been one for tact.
Tío Enrique sighed. "Miguel." He didn't sound angry or even frustrated. He just sounded tired. Rosa couldn't blame him; with an insistent, music-loving son like Miguel and a pressing, nagging mother like Elena, who wouldn't be?
Her father, Berto, on the other hand, glared daggers at her. "Rosa Marigold Rivera, you know you are forbidden to set foot in that place!" he very nearly shouted.
Rosa winced at his tone. Her father was a stern man, always setting high expectations for her. "Papá-"
"It was my fault Tío Berto," Miguel cut in. "Rosa didn't want to go, but I made her." He looked down at the floor, trying to avoid the judgmental stares of his family. "I thought we could make a little extra money."
Luisa- Miguel's heavily pregnant mother- sighed in a similar manner to her husband. "Miguel, you know how your abuelita feels about that place," she reminded him. "And you can't keep dragging your poor cousin there."
Rosa felt an ounce of guilt. Her cousin hadn't necessarily dragged her to the plaza; she had wanted to go. She liked listening to the mariachis play. But everyone always thought it was only Miguel who loved music (he made it all too apparent), not her. Of course, no one knew of the cousins' shared burning passion to become musicians, but his insistence on listening to as much as he could was painfully obvious.
"It... It wasn't all his fault, Tía Luisa,"she admitted, causing every head to turn from Miguel to her. She took a deep breath, trying to summon the kind of courage that seemed to come so easily to her cousin. "I like it there."
"Besides, look what I saw!" exclaimed Miguel, pulling a poster from his pocket. "They're having a talent show! Tonight!" Rosa stared at the poster, her eyes alight with excitement.
A talent show? That was perfect for the both of them! Maybe if they did well and their family heard, they'd realize that music wasn't a curse. Maybe they would see how beautiful music could be.
Rosa's brother, Abel, scoffed. "What are you gonna do?" he mocked. "Shine shoes?"
Abuelita, however, put her hand on her hips. "Tonight?" she repeated incredulously. "Miguel, have you forgotten how important tonight is?"
Her cousin faltered. "Día de los Muertos?"
Rosa mentally berated herself. How could she have forgotten? Día de los Muertos was the most important holiday of the year for their family. Her abuelita prepared for it every year with a passion. She liked to cram the family legacy down their throats on a regular basis; Día de los Muertos just gave her an excuse to do it excessively.
Abuelita nodded. "That's right, mijo. It's the one night a year that our ancestors can come visit us. No one if going anywhere." She sharply turned to her only granddaughter. "Rosa."
She jumped. "Y-Yes, Abuelita?"
Her grandmother gestured for the girl to follow her. "Come with me," she beckoned.
Rosa groaned inwardly. Of course she was the one who had to hear it. She was the older of the two. She was the wittier and the one with the better grades. She was the one who had to set an example.
Outwardly, she sighed. "Sí, Abuelita."
OoOoOo
Rosa trailed after her grandmother, who led her to the Rivera family's ofrenda. There sat the photos of their deceased family members; starting at Papá Héctor (along with Mamá Coco as a little girl), leading down to Tío Oscar and Tío Felipe, then came Papá Julio and Tía Rosita, and finally stopping on Tía Victoria. Papá Héctor's photo, especially, stood out. Along with being the one at the top, there was also a woman next to him and holding Mamá Coco on her lap.
The woman's face had been ripped out, leaving no identity to the woman who had abandoned her family for music.
Mamá Coco currently sat quietly in her wheelchair in the corner of the room. Rosa immediately went over to her. "Hola, Mamá Coco," she greeted, kissing her great grandmother gently on the cheek.
The aged woman turned her head slightly to acknowledge her. "How are you, Rosita?"
Rosa sighed sadly. Her full name was not Rosita- though she had been named in honor of the woman. Her great grandmother was more than likely referring to her as her deceased sister-in-law. With her old age came a severe loss of memory; she couldn't even recognize her own daughter.
Abuelita beckoned Rosa to come stand with her near the altar and she did. "Mija, tonight is about family."
"Sí, Abuelita."
"And you know that music is forbidden."
Rosa refused to meet her eyes. "Sí, Abuelita."
"And you know that you must set an example for Miguel. You are the older one."
"Sí, Abuelita."
Abuelita sighed. "Don't look like that, mija," she pleaded, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm hard on you because I care, Rosa. I don't want you to end up like her." She spat out the name, as if the very mention of the woman was a curse.
Rosa tilted her head. "You mean Mamá Coco's mamá?" she asked carefully.
"Don't mention her name!" snapped Abuelita. "She ran off to become a musician, leaving your poor Papá Héctor to raise a child by himself." She shook her head. "She is better off forgotten."
Rosa looked to the floor. "Lo siento, Abuelita."
"Mamá?" called a faint voice. Both turned to see that it was Mamá Coco. "Mamá is home? Mamá is coming home?"
Abuelita rushed to her side, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. "Mamá, cálmese, cálmese," she soothed. "I'm here."
Mamá Coco turned to acknowledge her. "Who are you?"
Abuelita sighed, looking her granddaughter in the eyes. "Mija, I know you. You are a responsible niña. I have faith that you'll steer your cousin onto the right path."
Rosa sighed. "Sí, Abuelita." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the altar.
It just wasn't fair! Why did she always have to hear it? Miguel never had to hear it. He was the precious grandson, the one that people adored for his charming personality. She was just Rosa. The middle child. The smart cousin. The boring, goody-two-shoes, the mojigata. Never broke the rules, always did what her family told her without question.
She was sick of it! Miguel was only a few months younger than her, why couldn't he take care of himself? He knew that music was forbidden, just as she did. She just wasn't lo suficientemente estúpida to make it so obvious. So why did she always have to suffer because of it?
Rosa took a deep breath, trying to clear her head. It wasn't Miguel's fault that he loved music so much. It just always seemed to flow out of him so easily, just like it did herself. She just did a better job of containing it. Maybe they got it from their great-great grandmother.
She both envied and resented that woman. She had gotten to live the life Rosa only dreamed about. To be free of restrictions with just her and her music. She would give anything to have that life. But it was also because of that woman that she never would live that dream.
She was the one who had caused the ban in the first place.
Rosa looked around at her bustling family members who were getting ready for Día de los Muertos. She sighed as she retreated to her room and sat herself down on her bed.
She just wanted to do what she loved. Was that so wrong?
OoOoOo
Since I am in no way Hispanic, I had to use a translator for most of the Spanish here. Any Spanish-speakers out there, feel free to correct me. Anyway, I hope you liked it and please review!