This time when Héctor disappears again, Elena waits up for him.
Long after everyone goes to bed, she stays downstairs. She paces back and forth in the kitchen restlessly, wringing her hands as she does so. All lights in the house are turned off except for the one n the hallway, which Elena keeps on just in case Héctor appears behind the front door.
Her mind will not stop racing.
While looking at Héctor's photos it occured to her that Héctor is not like the insensitive man she always thought him to be. In those pictures Elena saw love and loyalty in his expression-- nothing the cold, heartless image of him that Elena aimed all her rage at as a child. In fact, now she doesn't know what to think anymore. It's clear that Héctor actually cares about his familia.
That in itself causes Elena to feel conflicted.
And the feeling will not go away.
The sound of soft humming reaches Elena's ears and she whips around, her arm flying out and nearly hitting Héctor in the head.
He holds out his hands to shield himself. "Ay! Watch out!"
Elena retracts her hand and peers at him. He, too, regains composure and attempts one of his smiles, but Elena only narrows her eyes.
"Don't even think about it." Her voice is low.
Héctor sighs and stares at her. "What are you doing up?"
Looking at him-- and at the guitar strap around his shoulder-- Elena feels her irritability swell inside of her. This is why he stayed out late, she realizes. Making her wait for him, just because he was playing his music again.
Elena crosses her arms. "You were out late again." She hopes the accusation in her tone is clear.
Apparently it is. Héctor deflates, taking his guitar setting it aside. He stares at her. "You really like blaming me, don't you?" he asks.
I wouldn't have a reason to if you didn't keep doing this, Elena thinks bitterly.
She glares at him. "You were out serenading an audience again, weren't you? Making me wait for you to find out that that's why you were gone so long?"
"You didn't have to stay up," Héctor says as he crosses his arms.
Elena puts her hands on her hips and regards him coldly. "Well, I chose to."
Héctor widens his eyes and spreads his hands out, looking exasperated. "Why do you keep doing this? You blame me for nothing."
"Nothing?!" Elena points at him. "Everything is your fault. Leaving your family, staying out late, not having a reason for either one-- that's not nothing, Héctor Rivera."
Héctor huffs and rolls his eyes. "Everyone has moved past it. I made mistakes back then. But I've moved past them. So should you."
Elena curls her hands into fists. How can he expect her to move past his mistakes? How dare he ask her not to be mad at him? She almost lunges at him, but then she catches sight of his guitar, its white and blue paint glinting in the hallway lights, the strings looking brand new and oddly pronnounced.
An idea forms in her head. Music is why Héctor makes the choices he does. Why he left his family in the first place. The urge is overpwering, and it wins over her once and for all.
She grabs his guitar from its place, glares at him, and raises it up. She barely hears Héctor's terrified cry over her own anguish and the crash of his guitar as it strikes the hard floor. But she only gets one good smash before Héctor wrenches it out of her hands.
Elena crosses her arms. "Serves you right. You can always get another one."
Héctor looks at the broken instrument, which sits limply in his hands. The strings are snapped and tangled. The bottom half is beyond repair, the missing pieces scattered where Elena had smashed. The guitar neck itself is almost completely damaged. Héctor is shaking, and for the longest time, he just stares at her, hurt and disbelief in his eyes.
Seeing him look at her like that gives Elena a flash of memory: her smashing Miguel's handmade guitar years ago. Before music was allowed in the Rivera family. Héctor has that same look on his face: sadness with a touch of shock-- and maybe even anger.
Still, Elena refuses to apologize. "You should've expected that. It's because of you that we banned music in the first place." She scoffs at his eyes, which are brimming with tears. "Like I said, you can easily get a new one if your this torn up about it."
When Héctor finally speaks, his voice is hoarse and choked with emotion. "This was a gift from Imelda."
Elena widens her eyes and gapes at him. His voice is so soft that, for a second, she thinks she's misheard.
Héctor seems to bring the broken guitar closer to him as he nods and starts to speak again. "It was a wedding present, Elena. She had it custom made for me." His voice suddenly hardening, he adds, "It's not replaceable." Now he fully cradles the instrument in his arms, the way someone might hold a child.
A wave of regret washes over Elena. Suddenly she thinks of watching Héctor and Imelda dance together, wathcing Héctor focus his eyes completely in Imelda when he plays his music.
And then she thinks of the new song she heard him working on. One that must've been for Imelda, as were some of his previous other songs.
Héctor's shaky breath pulls Elena back to reality. She looks behind her and sees that Héctor has started to walk toward the stairs.
"Come on." The hoarseness returns to his voice. "It's late."
Elena slowly follows him upstairs, hearing his heavy sigh. He keeps a tight grip on the guitar the whole time the two of them retreat to their rooms. He gives her a heartbroken look before he closes his bedroom door, the sound of it clicking shut filling her with another regretful feeling.
I used to hate you, Elena thinks as she collapses onto her bed. But now, I only want to make things right with you.
She falls into sleep as soon her eyes slowly pull themselves closed.