Chapter 14: The Curse Lifted
Despite everyone's curiosity about Coco, no one dared get close enough to pepper her with questions, as Pepita had already perched on the edge of the arena to pick her up. The alebrije carried Coco to the backstage area, setting down in the same spot where Coco and Héctor had recorded de la Cruz's confession. Coco slid off of Pepita's back and ran to embrace her father.
"How's the old ticker doing now, Papá?" Coco teased.
Héctor smirked and gave her a playful shove. Getting thrown over the edge of the tower hadn't been an initial part of Coco's plan, though having Pepita nearby for extra muscle certainly was. Héctor had been in a state of genuine panic when he saw Coco go over, and was relieved beyond words when Pepita swooped in and caught her. When Coco set foot on the balcony again, Héctor had swept her into a hug.
"What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" he had chided.
Coco had simply stated the obvious in response, a smirk on her face. "You don't have a heart."
Héctor had feigned hurt at that, but the two quickly turned their attention to disconnecting the film reels, which Coco and Pepita then carried to the projector on the other end of the arena. Héctor had stayed back to pull down the projection screen. All in all, it had worked beautifully, with only a minor hiccup—if one could call Coco plummeting to her near-doom a minor hiccup.
As Héctor held Coco a moment longer in the aftermath, he noticed the horizon beginning to turn pink. He pulled back and said, "It's almost sunrise, mija." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a marigold petal. "Fourth time's the charm, eh?" he joked.
Coco smiled, but her smile faded as soon as it came. "Papá...I have some things...some favors to ask of you."
"Better make it quick, mija," Héctor said, noting how quickly the sky was growing light. "I'm starting to see your skull."
"Well, first of all...the people of Shantytown deserve way better than they're getting. Now that we've exposed de la Cruz, he'll surely have to be punished, and the profit he's made on your work should revert to you. I'd like you to use whatever you gain from all of this to help your friends—your family—in Shantytown. No one deserves to face their end alone and in squalor like that."
Héctor beamed at her. "Done," he said enthusiastically.
"Second...you. I want you to talk to a professional. About everything that happened to you. It'll hopefully be a long while before anyone in our family joins you, and you'll need someone who will listen to you until then. You've still got scars, and you still need someone to help heal them."
Héctor sobered at that, glancing down at his fractured tibia. He gave a shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I-I don't know, mija..."
"Papá," Coco said sternly. "I don't want to go back only to spend the rest of my life worrying about you."
He gave her a small smile. "Alright, for you, my darling."
"And third," Coco continued, "return that sweater to its proper owner. Washed and pressed."
Héctor chuckled. "Do I look like I own an ironing board?" he teased.
"Oh, I'm sure Ceci will let you borrow hers, since it's for a worthy cause this time. Also, you owe her."
"I'm well aware," Héctor admitted. "Anymore conditions?"
"No, I think that's it."
"In that case..." he held up the marigold petal. "Coco, I give you my blessing. Go home, live your life, love your family. And remember me."
The petal glowed brightly, infused with the love of a father. Coco teared up, embracing her papá one final time.
"Te amo, Papá," she whispered.
Héctor returned the embrace and kissed her on the head. "Te amo, Coco," he replied.
The moment was far, far briefer than Coco would have liked. The edge of the sun's disc was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Coco reached for the petal. Upon touching it, a bright light emanated from it, enveloping her, and just like that she was gone.
Marigold petals fluttered to the ground as sunlight streamed in through the windows of de la Cruz's mausoleum. Some settled on a figure laying on the floor. Coco stirred and pushed herself up to her knees, blinking in the sunlight and examining her hands. She was fully flesh and blood again.
Was it all just a dream? she wondered. She stood, then noticed her feet. They were bare. She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her remaining boot, examining it. So it was real. But I wouldn't have been able to take anything out of the Land of the Dead anyway.
Coco felt a lump rise in her throat and tears sting her eyes as she recalled the events of the previous night. She really had met her papá. All of that had really happened. She turned to gaze at her papá's guitar, hanging on its pegs above the crypt. "I'll be back for you," she promised the gleaming white instrument. With that, she dashed out of the tomb, headed for home.
As Coco tore through the streets of Santa Cecilia, Júlio and their girls foremost on her mind, she didn't even notice as she raced past her twin tios, who were curled on a bench, sleeping off an exhausting all-night search. Oscar stirred as Coco passed them, barely recognizing her until she retreated into the distance.
"There she is!" he cried, jumping up and shoving his twin off of him. Felipe landed with a thud on the ground, glaring up at Oscar in irritation.
Coco rounded a corner and burst into the compound of the hacienda, where she immediately found her husband and mamá conversing. They looked up when they heard the gate slam open.
"Júlio!" Coco shouted with glee, throwing herself into the short man's arms with enough force to cause him to spin in order to maintain his balance.
"Where have you been?!" Imelda asked, worry still plain on her face.
Coco planted a kiss on a still-shocked Júlio's lips before releasing him so she could turn and hug her mother. "Oh, Mamá, I'm so sorry!" she cried. "I should've listened to you. I was impulsive and angry and...I should've trusted you from the beginning. You had a plan, and I should've heard it out."
Imelda held her daughter, stunned at the confession. Part of her still wanted to be angry, but at the moment, she could only feel relieved. She leaned into the hug, tightening her embrace. "We're all together now," she said. "That's what matters."
"Almost all together," Coco clarified.
"Where were you, mi quierda?" Júlio asked. "You had us all so worried."
Coco pulled away from her mother, tear stains on her cheeks. She sniffed and chuckled. "You would never believe me," she said. "But...I have an idea about where we can begin searching for Papá's remains."
Before Imelda could ask her how she had come by that information, the three of them heard two excited young voices and the patter of little feet coming from the hacienda. Two nightgown-clad little girls came running, the elder dragging her sister along by the hand. They were followed by Rosita, who had heard the commotion from the kitchen.
"Mamá!" Victória cried. "You're home!"
"Mamá! Mamá!" Elena chirped.
Coco scooped her girls up and peppered them with kisses. "Oh, mis niñas!" she wept. "I thought I...oh, mijas, I'm so glad to be home!"
Júlio and Rosita joined the embrace, Rosita fussing over her sister-in-law about the scare she'd given them. At the same moment, Oscar and Felipe scrambled into the courtyard, out of breath and trying to talk over one another.
"Imelda, we saw her!"
"Running down the street!"
"She disappeared around a corner!"
"We can still find her if..."
The twins paused when they noticed Imelda's raised eyebrow and smirk. She nodded toward the scene in the middle of the compound.
"Oh," the twins said in unison.
Coco chuckled at her tios as Imelda came over to join the group hug. The twins shrugged and jumped in as well. They all stood like that for several minutes, basking in one another's presence and love.
Finally Imelda stood back. "Come, familia, we have breakfast to make and a shop to open. And Coco..."
Coco turned to her mother, fully expecting a well-deserved scolding for scaring everyone the night before. To her surprise, Imelda had a soft expression on her face.
"I have something I'd like to show you, mija," Imelda said. "After breakfast."
"Si, Mamá," Coco said.
The family made their way toward the kitchen, where they would work together to get the morning meal on the table. As they walked, Imelda noticed Coco's bare feet for the first time.
"Good heavens, Coco, what on earth happened to your boots?"
Breakfast was hardly a silent affair, with every member of the family begging Coco to tell them what had happened the previous night. Coco gave evasive answers, a smile playing at her lips most of the time as she teased them with only vague bits of information.
"Let's just say it was something that you might expect to only happen in a dream," she said. "But I saw Papá. He sends his love."
"You dreamed about your papá?" Rosita asked.
"I don't...think it was a dream," Coco said hesitantly. "Like I said, you wouldn't believe me, or the adventure I had. I'm not completely certain I believe it myself." She turned to Victória. "The important thing now is that we get that drawing up on the ofrenda. Your abuelo wants very much to see it next year, mija."
Victória blushed. "Do you think it's really ready?" she asked.
"I'm certain it is," Coco assured her. Though...there is one thing you should add. You should give him a sombrero. A goofy straw one."
Victória giggled. "Why, Mamá? He'd look silly in it!"
"Because he is silly, mija. And he loves being silly. He always did. He always knew how to make me laugh."
Victória quietly contemplated this new information. "Okay, I'll add a sombrero," she said.
The family finished breakfast and began to clean up. As Coco began to assist Rosita with the dishes, Imelda pulled her aside.
"We need to talk, mija," Imelda said, gesturing for Coco to follow her.
She led Coco to her bedroom, stooping to pull an old trunk out from underneath the bed. She invited Coco to sit on the edge of the bed with her and opened the trunk. Coco's eyes widened at the contents. Inside the trunk were mementos from Imelda's life when Héctor was alive, including her wedding dress, a fancy tablecloth, and a box which Imelda pulled out and opened. Inside were 13 gold coins. Nestled in next to them was a wedding band. Imelda gingerly picked it up, her eyes misting over as she studied it.
"Your papá had the most awkwardly shaped hands," she said with a smile. "We tried getting a wedding band custom made to go over his knuckles, but it always ended up being too big for his finger. It would slide around, and he still had a hard time getting it on and off. So after the ceremony, we just decided to keep it with the coins." She set the band back in the box and carefully closed it again.
"That's not what you wanted to show me," Coco guessed.
Imelda shook her head. "Lift up the wedding dress," she said.
Coco very carefully and reverently lifted the dress out of the chest. Underneath was an old, worn leather book. Imelda nodded to it, prompting Coco to pick it up and open the cover. She gasped as she saw sketches and poems written within. The poems were signed and dated, and all were addressed to Imelda. She recognized the lyrics to "Un Poco Loco" in one of them. She turned the pages carefully, smiling at the many doodles and scraps of song lyrics.
"That was your father's idea book at the time that we met," Imelda said. "He hadn't come into his own as a songwriter yet. His ideas were all pretty...cheesy, to say the least. And then he met me. Said I was his muse." She smiled at the memory. "He wanted to throw this book out after a few years, because it was full of 'old ideas,' but I held onto it. And..." She reached over and turned several more pages until she came to several loose leaf pages. Her hand rested on them, and she gave a shaky breath.
"These were his last letters," she choked out, a sob rising in her throat. "The only clue they ever gave about his whereabouts was in the return addresses. The messages were always about how much he loved us. They were desperate, and painful, and I just didn't know what to do with them. So I put them in here."
Tears streamed down both women's faces. Coco carefully unfolded and read one letter. Sure enough, it was all about how desperately Héctor missed his family, with no information about where he was or how de la Cruz was treating him. But Coco also recognized the lyrics to one of his other songs. As she skimmed through the letters, each read as from a man who knew each day might be his last, and who seemed desperate to make his last words to his family ones of unrelenting love. Coco came across one letter addressed specifically to her, with all the lyrics to "Remember Me" contained within. Each letter was dated to a time well before de la Cruz made it big.
"Why didn't you let me see these before, Mamá?" Coco asked.
"I was afraid the memories would be too painful for you," Imelda said. "They were for me. I couldn't...I can't bear them. But I can't escape them either. Whenever I hear music, it's bad enough, but to look at you...you remind me so much of him. Moreso than all the music in the world."
Coco leaned over and hugged her. "Mamá, I know there are a lot of painful memories. But they don't make the good memories any less important. We have to hold onto them all. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness and love. We can't deny that part of ourselves."
"I know," Imelda whispered. "I know." She pulled back, wiping her eyes and putting on her business face. "And I had a practical reason for keeping these. The dates, the handwriting, the lyrics...they will help us build our case against de la Cruz. But before we can do any of that, we need evidence of a crime. If you've learned where we can find your papá's remains, we can reclaim them; that won't be hard. We can have them examined for any evidence of murder. And then we can start to dismantle de la Cruz's empire of lies. I've been watching him, you know. Everything he's ever done that's been made public knowledge, I've investigated. I've searched his work over and over for clues, even enduring his butchering of your papá's songs—and you have no idea how much that hurt; how angry it always made me. I've kept newspaper clippings, which are locked up in my office. I've done everything I can to prepare a case against him."
Coco gaped at her. She never would've taken her mother for a stalker, however justified it might be. "How long have you been planning this?"
"From the beginning. De la Cruz had a lot of power when he was alive, and he still has some of it even now. Between the financial restraints and my fears that he would come after you, I decided to bide my time; to wait for the right opportunity. I feared it wouldn't come until after his death, but he died much sooner than anyone would've imagined. And now the time to strike back is approaching. But we have to be careful, mija."
Coco gave a determined nod. "We'll use the utmost caution. Okay, let's focus on bringing Papá home first. One step at a time. No impulsiveness; we'll plan everything."
Imelda chuckled as she wiped another tear from her cheek. "Whatever happened last night, mija, you certainly have become much wiser for it."
Coco smiled. "A wise but silly man taught me the importance of putting family first. That living family takes priority in one's life, and that's how one truly honors the dead."
"Then let us honor your papá," Imelda said, wrapping an arm around Coco.
The two of them sat there for hours, going over the doodles and letters, while Imelda told Coco story after story of meeting Héctor, falling in love and building a family together.
AN: Shout out to one of the most beautiful Doctor Who quotes from best companion. And also to Eleven for summarizing life's good and bad events and memories. Also, I didn't cry while writing Héctor's torture scenes or even his death. But I cried while writing Imelda's reveal of the letters. That's what tends to get to me; not so much watching a character endure pain, but watching their loved ones' reactions to their pain or their triumph. Whenever I watch this movie, it's always Elena's reaction to Coco gaining lucidity that causes me to tear up. It's more the human impact rather than the event itself that pulls at my heartstrings.
The story is basically over at this point. The final chapter will be the epilogue, which is mostly exposition. Thanks for taking this ride with me! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.