Miguel grabbed his guitar and snuck out through the secret entrance. He had to be really careful not to be seen by the rest of his family. They were all outside right now trying to prepare the hacienda for their dead relatives' visit. He crept across the roof with Dante at his heels.
He braced himself as he slid down the shingles of the siding and landed with a soft grunt. Dánte ungracefully slid off with a thump. Miguel smiled at his companion as he turned to leave the compound.
"Mamá! Where should we put this table?!"
Miguel gasped in fright. His father was turning the corner, luckily with his back facing him, carrying a large table in his direction. He scrambled backward only to see Abuelita sweeping the ground away from him.
"In the courtyard, mijos!" She replied, not looking up.
Miguel's heart pounded as he backed into the compound in order to avoid Abuelita and his father, who was now entering through the same entrance. He started hyperventilating but managed to sneak into the ofrenda room without getting caught.
There!
Miguel runs to the offering table and shoves the guitar under the tablecloth.
"Get under! Get under!" He shoves Dánte under as well.
"Miguel?"
His Abuelita, mother, and father stood outside the room. Miguel stiffened at his name.
"Uhh, nothing!" He squeaked, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and donned a wide, nervous grin.
Abuelito scowled in suspicion and propped her broom against the doorway as she walked past.
"Mamá, Papá. I- "Miguel ran up to meet them.
"Miguel, your abuelita had the most wonderful idea."
Oh, no. This can't be good.
His father begins, "We've all decided."
Abuelita pulls an apron from the side of the room and hands it to Papá. He unravels it and holds it up.
"It's time you joined us in the workshop!"
Miguel looks at himself after Papá slings it on him.
This CAN'T be happening! I don't want to be a shoemaker!
"What?!" Miguel can't hold the disbelief from his voice or expression.
None of his family catch it. They're too caught up in pride and delight about the idea to notice Miguel's reaction.
"No more shining shoes. You'll be making them every day after school."
Papá gestures in excitement. Abuelita jumps in joy and hugs him tight.
"Oh! Our Migueli-ti-ti-ti-to carrying on the family tradition."
She grabs his cheeks and rubs them.
Ay-yi-yi that actually hurts a little.
Miguel's face shifts between a slight wince when she pinches his cheeks and surprise. He heaves a couple breathes when she let's go and once again, no one pays attention to Miguel's reaction to the situation.
"And on Días de Los Muertos! Your ancestors will be so proud!"
Not again…
"You'll craft huaraches just like your Tía Victoria."
We're back with the expectations.
"And wingtips like your Papá Julio," Papá adds.
"But what if I'm no good at making shoes?"
I don't want to make them in general!
He frowns when Mamá chuckles at his worries and the others give him a smile.
"Ah, Miguel. You have your family here to guide you. You are a Rivera. And a Rivera is…"
Papá waits for Miguel to respond. Miguel looks down at the floor. His face pinches in despair.
"A shoemaker. Through and through." His reply is flat and monotone.
Because you'll never let me be anything else.
Papá hugs him and laughs in delight.
"That's my boy! Berto!" After squeezing his son tight, he lets him go, rubs his head, and heads out of the room. Mamá and Abuelita ecstatically smile at him as they walk past.
"Break out the good stuff. I want to make a toast!" Papá calls out from the family plaza.
Miguel musters a fake smile for Mamá and Abuelita. Abuelita kisses him several times on his cheeks and hurries out with her broom. He sighs once they are all gone.
I wish they cared more about my feelings than the family business.
A thump from the ofrenda drew his attention from the doorway.
"Dante!" Dante was on top of the ofrenda eating one of the offerings.
Oh no! I'm gonna get in so much trouble if they see him or he breaks something!
"No Dante! Stop!"
Miguel rushes forward and grabs Dante around the stomach. As he tries to pull his dog from the Ofrenda, Dante digs his claws into the tablecloth. The ofrenda starts to shake and the photo of his Mamá Imelda falls from the very top as Miguel falls backward with Dante.
Miguel watched in horror as the photo fell. He jumped to his feet and tried to catch it, but he ended up juggling it before it broke against the floor.
"Ah!" Miguel covered his mouth.
"No, no, no, no, no! No." He starts hyperventilating again.
But when he picked up the photo, he realized something odd about it.
Why's it folded?
Miguel unravels it.
Is that…
"De la Cruz's guitar?"
"Papá? Papá?" Mamá Coco starts asking behind him.
Miguel turns to her in wonder. She's pointing at the photo.
"Mamá Coco. Is your papá Ernesto de la Cruz?"
There's no way. Right?
"Papá! Papá!"
Miguel stares at the photo in his hands.
No way!
He runs out of the room and to his hideout. He grabs his record album cover off of the ofrenda and compares it to the photo. His smile gets even wider when he realizes they are the same.
It really is! It's the same guitar! That's why I always felt some kind of connection with him. It's because…!
"Papá! Papá! It's him!" Miguel comes tearing across the rough. His judgment smothered by his overwhelming joy. He clutches his guitar at his side as he stops at the edge of the roof overlooking his family.
"I know who my great-great-grandfather was!" He holds up the photo.
"Miguel! Get down from there!" Mamá holds an arm out in fear.
Miguel pays her no attention.
"Mamá Coco's father was Ernesto de la Cruz! "
The family is even more confused.
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm gonna be a musician!" Miguel crows.
His family looks at each other before crying out in outrage.
"No member of this family is going to be a musician!" Abuelita growls.
Miguel starts in confusion before his brain catches up to his actions.
Why did I do that? They hate my great-great-grandfather!
Miguel looks in dread at the angry faces of his parents and Abuelita. The rest of his family take notice of the commotion and walk over.
"Miguel Rivera! You get down here right now!" Papá yelled at him.
Miguel backed up in fear. Abuelita stomped forward.
"I don't know where you got that guitar but I know it wasn't in your room. You've been using the attic haven't you!"
His parents follow Abuelita and Miguel turns and hurries back into his sanctuary.
Not my hideout! It's the only thing keeping me sane! They'll destroy it!
Miguel makes it inside as his Abuelita reaches the top of the ladder. She grabs him by the arm and moves him out of the way to see his secret ofrenda. Miguel hyperventilates as her face twists in rage and disgust. She grabs as much as she can in her arms and turns around. His mamá leads him out of the attic while his papá does the same as Abuelita. He can only watch in despair as they pull every music related item out of his hideout and throw it to the ground.
"What is all this? You keep secrets from your own family?"
Miguel looks up from his things. His whole family is staring at him.
I just want to play music…
"It's all that time he spends in the plaza." Tío Berto grunts.
Tía Gloria pitches in, "Fills his head with crazy fantasies!"
"It's not a fantasy!" Miguel pleads.
"That man was Ernesto de la Cruz! The greatest musician of all time!"
Miguel holds out the photo in his hand of his great-great-grandparents. Papá takes it from him. He looks at the man as best as he can but can see much with the face on the photo ripped off. He doesn't understand why Miguel is so obsessed with the notion of his great-great-grandfather.
"We've never known anything about this man! But whoever he was, he still abandoned his family. This is no future for my son."
Miguel ducks his head a little at his lecture.
"But, Papá, you said my family would guide me. Well, de la Cruz is my family. I'm supposed to play music!"
Just listen to me, please!
"Never! That man's music was a curse! I will not allow it!" Abuelita shouts.
Miguel turns back to Papá. Desperation laces his words.
"If you would just let-"
"Miguel…" Mamá gives him a stern look.
That makes him flinch in hurt.
I thought I could trust you to at least try to understand me…
"You will listen to your family. No more music!" Papá is angry now too.
Miguel lets out a breathless sob. His eyes dart between Abuelita and Papá before it falls on his guitar. He grabs it.
Maybe I can prove it to them!
"Just listen to me play!"
"End of argument." His father gives him a reproachful glare.
Everyone in his family, except Mamá, are looking at him reproachfully. At his father's reprimand, she looks at Miguel with slight realization. This is not just a phase. She doesn't say anything though as Miguel tries to prevent himself from crying. He manages a couple strums before his Abuelita snatches it out of his hands.
"You want to end up like that man? Forgotten? Left of the family ofrenda?" Abuelita questions in fear.
So even playing music will get me kicked out of the family?!
Miguel felt a surge of anger rise within him. If something as small as liking music was enough to get him thrown out of the family then there was no way they cared about him as much as he thought.
"I don't care if I'm some stupid ofrenda!"
His words were met with gasps of shock and horror.
It's not like the dead really do visit today. It's just a story adults tell kids.
Abuelita glanced down before turning her gaze to the guitar in her hand. When her expression soured, Miguel realized she had twisted the situation, once again, to blame music. He was worried but the second she lifted her hand all he felt was terror.
"No!"
Miguel reached his hands out to try to stop her.
"Mamá!" He vaguely heard his father call out.
But it was too late. She smashed the guitar against the ground multiple times until all that was left was the handle and a couple chunks of splintered wood hanging by the guitar strings. Debris was scattered all over the ground from the force driven by her hatred of music. Everyone was quiet. The family had never seen her like this before.
"There. No guitar, no music." Abuelita made the sign of the cross.
It made Miguel feel sick. He stared at the broken remains of the guitar he had painstakingly made by hand. It meant everything to him, and she had destroyed it all in seconds. He was trying hard not to cry, but he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes.
My guitar…
"Oh, come. You'll feel better after you eat with your family." Abuelita stepped forward and put a hand on his cheek."
…How could you?
Miguel couldn't look her in the eye. How dare she break his most treasured possession and then try to be kind and motherly? It infuriated him.
I can't live like this anymore!
"I don't want to be in this family!"
Miguel snatched the photo from his papá. He tore through his family, running as fast as he could out of the hacienda. He heard his papá call out his name, but as he ran through the streets, he noted that no one in his family had given chase. No one cared enough to stop him from leaving. It was ironic, the grandfather abandoned them because of music, and they abandoned him because of music.
Fine then! I'll show them. I'm meant to be a musician!
He wiped tears from his cheek and continued running until he reached the plaza. He saw a woman with a checkboard and approached her.
"I wanna play in the plaza, like de la Cruz. C-Can I still sign up?"
"You got an instrument?"
"No. But if I can borrow a guitar…"
I have to be a musician. It's all I've got left.
"Musicians got to bring their own instruments. You find a guitar, kid, I'll put you on the list."
Miguel watched her walk up the stairs of gazebo stage. He frantically approached every guitar player in the plaza but no one would let him borrow their guitar. It hurt. A lot.
What do I do now? I just want to prove that they were wrong about music. That music is amazing. That music isn't just in me, it is me.
Miguel scrunched his face in an attempt to prevent himself from crying again. As he walked away from the plaza, he looked up when he realized he was now standing in front of the memorial statue of Ernesto de la Cruz.
"Great-great-grandfather? What am I supposed to do?"
He looked down in sadness, eyes catching on de la Cruz's memorial quote, "Seize your moment!"
He looked from the message to the photo he pulled from his pocket to the stone guitar in the statue's hand.
That's it! I've gotta seize my moment!
Miguel raced to the memorial mausoleum of Ernesto de la Cruz in the Santa Cecilia Cemetery.