The poem/song used here is called "Hijos del sol y del viento" by Mohammed Ebnu. I tweaked it slightly so that it seemed a little more like a song.
Imelda hummed to herself as she walked. She tried to keep her mind off the uncomfortable supper the night before and instead focused on the song in her heart. However, try as she might, the music that escaped her lips betrayed her. She tried making it upbeat and cheerful, but after a minute or two, it turned sour and angry. What was wrong with her? Why was she letting this upset her so much? She had always had a temper, but lately it had been flaring up more than usual and getting out of control.
After Ernesto and his friend had left, she had not realized just how much tension had actually been in the room until they were gone and she felt the suffocating pressure lift from her shoulders. She couldn't figure it out. Was she really that attracted to Ernesto that the presence of his strange friend should have bothered her so much? And why did he bother her so much? He had never done anything particularly wrong. He was just... different from every other man she had ever met. And it was insufferable! She hated that she couldn't figure him out right away. She had spent the entire meal staring at him, trying to get a read on him without much luck.
Not like Ernesto. He was easy to read. He was handsome and charming. He said what he thought. He was perhaps a little big-headed, that much was clear, but he was very passionate and seemed to genuinely like Imelda. He wasn't a ridiculous nincompoop who cracked lame jokes like Héctor. No, Héctor was... he was...
He was just being himself.
Imelda started at this revelation. That was it! Ernesto was making an effort to be impressive, Héctor was not. Imelda sighed and mentally slapped herself across the head. What was wrong with her? That was exactly what she was always complaining about. She hated men who put on a face for her and tried to impress her with falsities and insincere compliments. But then, here was Ernesto doing just that and she fell for it! Héctor wasn't doing anything of the sort and she got angry with him for it.
She sighed again, stopping her humming. She probably should apologize to him. Ugh, just the thought of doing so made her toes curl, but she knew she had to.
She was just passing the plaza when she heard music emerging from within. It was more upbeat and playful that the usual hum-drumming she usually heard. She wondered what was going on. She decided to head in that direction to look in. Perhaps one of the musicians for the upcoming music competition was practicing or something.
To her surprise, she found several children jovially dancing around in the square, twirling and clapping to the beat of the music. Up on the stage stood none other than Héctor himself, happily playing his pearl white guitar and tapping his foot to the beat. He sang a quirky little tune to go along with the melody he played:
"Aún vivimos en las esquinas
de la nada
entre el norte y el sur de las estaciones.
Seguimos durmiendo
abrazando almohadas de piedra
como nuestros padres.
Padres.
Perseguimos las mismas nubes
y reposamos bajo la sombra de las acacias desnudas.
Nos bebemos el té a sorbos de fuego
caminamos descalzos para no espantar el silencio.
Y a lo lejos
Y a lo lejos
en las laderas del espejismo
todavía miramos, como cada tarde
las puestas de sol en el mar.
Y la misma mujer que se detiene
sobre las atalayas del crepúsculo
en el centro del mapa nos saluda.
Nos saluda y se pierde
Nos saluda y se pierde
en los ojos de un niño que sonríe
desde el regazo de la eternidad.
Eternidad
Aún esperamos la aurora siguiente
para volver a comenzar.
Hijos del sol y del viento!"
Héctor finished the song with a final dramatic run on the strings. The children all applauded and crowded around him, calling for another. They bounced up and down in excitement, laughing. Imelda had never seen such joy in these children before.
"Oh, please señor! Just one more?" one of the children pleaded.
Héctor gave a laugh. "Aren't you all tired yet? You've been dancing for almost two hours."
"No!" they all cried in unison gleefully.
"I guess I'm just getting old then," Héctor stated. He hunched over and scrunched up his face. "Oh, my little niños," he said in a raspy voice, "Your poor Héctor is getting too old and tired to play his guitar for you anymore." He looked around with squinted eyes. "Has anyone seen my glasses? I'm afraid I'll be joining our ancestors soon in the Land of the Dead, I'm so old!"
The children laughed.
"Please, Señor Héctor," a boy said, stepping forward, "Just one more?"
Héctor smiled warmly at him and ruffled the boy's hair. "Alright, muchacho. But this is the last one."
The children cheered and ran back to their positions for more dancing. Imelda couldn't help smiling herself at the sight. Héctor began to play again, this time something a little slower and with an even tempo. He also did not sing and allowed the children to sway to the music as they pleased.
Imelda took this opportunity to approach him. "You don't look like you'll be joining the Land of the Dead that soon," she remarked.
Her sudden presence startled him and he missed a note in his song. However, he quickly recovered and continued to play. He stared ahead at the dancing children. "To a ten-year-old, seventeen is all grown up. It's practically halfway to death," he stated.
"I guess it is," Imelda replied.
They were silent again as Héctor continued to play. Imelda listened to his song, unsure what to do. She finally said, "You know, I just realized I've never actually heard you play until now."
He did not respond. She added, "You're very good."
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her, a smile playing on his lips. "Was that a compliment?"
Imelda felt her cheeks flushing. "Well, I... your voice is not as deep and rich as a lot that I've heard, but it's not the worst ever."
Héctor chuckled. "You know, you were so close there for a minute to being nice."
"I am nice!" Imelda insisted.
"Oh really?" Héctor said, smirking.
"Yes!"
"Then go on, compliment me without taking it back or twisting it," Héctor challenged her with a sly grin.
Imelda frowned at him. "There's nothing to compliment."
"See? You're being mean again."
Imelda groaned in annoyance. Annoyance with him for pointing out a flaw, annoyance with herself for having that flaw, and annoyance with him again for being right.
"Go on," he said, "Just something small. It'll be good practice for you."
Imelda scrunched up her face, looking for something to compliment. She already acknowledged his musical ability, which she was surprised at how good he actually was. When she first met him, she just assumed he was a hack. However, he was actually very smooth and seemed to really know what he was doing with his guitar. Plus, he did have a very pleasant voice. Like she had said, it wasn't as strong and rich as some other voices she had heard, but it was still sweet and pleasing. It was the kind of voice you'd want to hear sing a lullaby or a gentle love song; not that the upbeat song he had been singing before was not very impressive because it was.
No, she would not go for the music again. She was far too critical and analytical on that angle. She'd probably end up twisting it again. So what else?
She observed him grinning at her as he continued to play his guitar. She noticed that his smile was slightly crooked. She had never noticed that before. She had always been too busy yelling at him to really observe the smaller details about him. Come to think of it, the smile suited him; quirky, unusual.
She decided to use that: "You have a nice smile," she said finally.
"Ah, mi muy guapo, eh?" he said, winking at her.
Imelda's face heated up. "I didn't say that!"
"Go on, Imelda. Just admit that I am easily the most handsome man you have ever met," he said, grinning.
"I will admit nothing of the kind!"
"So you say there is something to admit, you're just keeping it to yourself?"
Imelda scowled at him. "You are intolerable!"
"Gracias," he replied with another cheeky grin.
Imelda was ready to walk away in a huff, but then remembered why she had approached him in the first place. "Look," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "I did actually come here to talk to you."
"Me?" Héctor said with exaggerated astonishment, "What for?"
Imelda sighed. Why did he have to make this difficult? "I realized that I may have... overreacted last night. And maybe all the other times we met."
Héctor looked at her, this time genuinely surprised. "Really?"
Imelda sighed again. "I realized that− at least most of the time− you weren't trying to be annoying. You were just being yourself. And I'm always telling my mother that I wished men would just be themselves around me. You're the first man who has done that in a long time... and I threw a shoe at you for it."
"You also hit me with one," Héctor reminded her.
Imelda smiled at that. "Sí," she replied, "This is what I mean. I have been very harsh on you and I... I'm... I'm sss..."
Héctor looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. Imelda took a deep breath. "I just wanted to tell you that I am..." she scrunched up her face and finally said, "...sorry."
Héctor gave a half smile. "Accepted."
He finished the song. They both heard the children give a very audible "aaww!" of disappointment. Héctor laughed. "Go on! Go home," he said, waving an arm at them, "Your mamás will be missing you. Don't worry, I'll still be around tomorrow."
The children begrudgingly consented and began to disappear from the plaza. Imelda tilted her head, smiling as she watched them. "You are kind to play for them."
Héctor shrugged. "Eh, I love kids," he said simply, "There's something about them, you know? There's no pretenses or falsities. They say what they mean and what they want straight up. They're just so innocent and happy. You want to keep them that way... but you can't. In the end, we all grow up and face the world."
Imelda stared at him, puzzled. "I know what you mean," she said softly. She sat next to him and rested her chin in her hands. "Life was simpler before we had all these responsibilities and expectations."
"Not that we can't handle it," Héctor said.
"Of course not," Imelda agreed.
"It's just that−"
"Sometimes..."
"I wish that..."
"It would be nice if..."
"We didn't always have to handle it," they both said at the same time.
They looked at each other, surprised. Never in her life, would Imelda have imagined to have made a connection with Héctor Rivera. And yet, here she was. He seemed equally amazed. Both their eyes softened as they stared at each other, as if they were both thinking, "maybe this person is not who I thought they were."
Imelda felt her face heating up again under his gaze. She quickly stood up. "I have to be heading home," she said, "My mother will be wondering where I am. And Don Julián is supposed to be stopping by."
"Don Julián?" Héctor asked.
"Another suitor," Imelda explained, "A rich man who lives outside town. He's already been by a couple times."
Héctor smirked. "I can tell by your tone that he is a real winner."
Imelda scoffed. "He's not so bad, he's just a little..." She trailed off, gesturing hopelessly with her hand. She couldn't think of the right word to describe him without giving away her true feelings.
Héctor nodded, seeming to understand. Then he gave a mischievous smile. "Has he sung for you yet?"
Imelda raised an eyebrow at his teasing, but actually saw the amusement in his joke this time. It was kind of ridiculous how many men came to sing for her; funny even. "No, not yet, but I think that might be what he is planning to do tonight."
Héctor leaned back and put his guitar aside. "You'll have to tell me all about it. I have to know what kind of competition Ernesto has going for him."
Imelda gave him a smile. An actual genuine smile; not forced, no laughing, no anger; no sarcasm. "Sure," she said.