Customs

Héctor continued to sob. He sobbed for his life, it had been cut so short. He was just beginning to really enjoy it now that he had a family to take care of. A family who loved him as much as he loved them.

He sobbed for his wife, who loved him just the way he was. She worried about him when he would tour with Ernesto. But she always understood that music was important to him. Not only did it provide for them, it was his passion. He loved to play because it would make people smile and dance. It would bring happiness to everyone who heard him. Unless Ernesto told her, she would never know he was trying to get home to her. He hoped Ernesto would at least tell her why she would never see him again.

But most of all, Héctor sobbed for his daughter. She would have to live out the rest of her life without a father; without him. He would never get to take her on her first day of school. Never get to put the fear of God into her first admirer. Never get to walk her down the aisle. There were so many milestones he would miss. His wife would have to raise their daughter alone. Unless of course, someone else came into the picture. And really, who could blame her? Ernesto was the only one who knew of his death. For all he knew, Ernesto could continue the tour without him and forget all about his amigo. Imelda would think he ran off, probably to become famous, or worse, to be with another woman. And his sweet Coco would never know that he wanted to come home to be the father that she deserved. She was coming up on her fourth birthday, another milestone he wouldn't be there for. He had failed as a husband and a father. Héctor could only hope that Imelda would find a way to support herself and their daughter. Even if that meant finding someone else. He took a deep, shaky breath and rose to his feet.

"Which way is customs?" He asked, startling the two business skeletons who had been talking amongst themselves; most likely about him.

"Oh, um, I can take you there." said Maria. "Follow m..." Héctor cut her off.

"I'd rather go alone, señora." he said, turning around.

"Down the hall, last door on the right." said Rico, pointing. Héctor walked towards to door, his bony feet click-clacking on the tile. He stopped briefly before turning the knob.

"Let me know when my family finds out I'm d-d-dead." he stuttered. The two nodded. "Adiós."

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"Welcome to Customs, señor. How may I help you today?" said an overly cheery skeleton. Héctor gave him a nervous look.

"You seem...happy?" he stated.

"Of course I am! Who wouldn't appreciate such a beautiful day in the Land of the Dead? Now is there anything I can do for you?" It then dawned on Héctor why he was there in the first place. He face-palmed himself for getting distracted.

"I'm, uh, new here?" He still wasn't comfortable with his situation, particularly the 'dead' part.

"Ah. The newly departed esqueleto." Héctor flinched at being called an 'esqueleto'. The man began searching through a stack of paperwork. "Here we are; Héctor Rivera. Do you have a form of identification?" The man held out his skeletal hand automatically, for he did this on a daily basis.

"What do mean? You don't think I am who I say I am?"

"It's just standard protocol, señor." The man said, briefly showing annoyance. "We'll take just about any kind. A birth certificate, a student ID, a passport, proof of residence, proof of country of origin, a social security number, a marriage license, etc.

"Oh!" Héctor went to pull out his wallet. He searched the pocket inside his jacket, which was where he put it when he was performing. He frowned and began to search his other pockets, growing more frantic by the second. Finally, he realized his wallet wasn't on him. "I must have been pick-pocketed! I always have my wallet!"

"Strange. Stealing from the dead usually doesn't come without consequences. Oh well, I guess we'll have to use the new system."

"Que?"

"Smile for the camera." Before Héctor could ask what a camera had to do with anything, there was a quick flash and a *Click*. "Well according to the machine here, you're Héctor Rivera alright." said the man. Héctor rolled his eyes.

"How much longer is this going to take?" He asked.

"In a hurry are you? Well, we still haven't finished and probably won't for another hour. But once we're done here I can send you to Hospitality, okay? Now, do you have any items that came with you from the Land of the Living?"

"I checked all my pockets. I don't seem to have anything on me but my clothes." The man laughed. "What is so funny?" Héctor asked.

"Nothing, it's just, well, I mean, never-mind. We are almost done. All we have to do now is take your picture.

"But you already did that. Why another picture?"

"For your new ID of course. Now look at the camera and try to smile this time, okay?" Héctor did and the photo and ID began to print.

"Why is there a photo as well?" Héctor asked looking closer at the printer. The photo was of him, but as a human! Suddenly filled with excitement, he looked at his hands to see if he was truly human again. Nope, still a skeleton. Disappointment and sadness filled his phantom heart and his features showed this. "I really am dead then, aren't I?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The printer let out a *Ding*, signaling that it had finished. The man handed Héctor his ID but it was a photo of his skeleton form. "Why is it different? And why are there colored markings on my face?"

"Those are calavera markings. Everyone gets them shortly after they die, but each are unique. Seems that yours are a mix between your father's and your mother's. Well, we're all done. I'm sending you to Hospitality."

"Wait!" The man raised an eyebrow in response. Héctor paused before speaking. "Can I keep that photo?" he asked, gesturing to the one of his human form.

"I suppose I could make a copy. Why do you want it?"

"Personal reasons I'd rather not say." Héctor replied quickly.

"Very well." the man made a copy of the photo and handed it to Héctor. "We have to keep the original in our files for legal reasons. But you can keep this one." Héctor took it carefully and tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. It was the only proof of what he used to look like. The only proof that he was once human.