A/N:
Italic fonted chapters= dreams
Normal fonted chapters= present time
Should've explained this sooner. Sorry about that.
The next day feels different.
Imelda doesn't know what it is, but there is something in the air this morning. Something that makes her move slower than usual in her morning routine.
It's not tiredness exactly, even though Imelda can feel exhaustion settling over her. She can see it, too: there are circles under her eyes and her hair is scraggly and knotted, which makes it hard to do her normal braided hairstyle with her fingers constantly tugging the strands apart and barely supressing a cringe as she stands in front of her bedroom mirrior to see what she's doing.
Even though leftover fatigue may be the majority of the reason behind the strange feeling in the air around her, Imelda knows it's more complicated than that.
She can still see the dream from last night in her mind, and it troubles her. It gives her a chill she has no name for. She can still see Héctor's face, in crisp detail. She can hear his low voice in her ears. She can still picture the suit he was wearing, and the way it caught the sun when he'd stormed away from her.
It is not something she wants to think about right now.
With one hand still holding her braids in place while she searches for something to join them together with, Imelda pauses and cranes her neck toward her window. From what she can hear, more and more people are awake now. Imelda can hear the groups of mariachis starting to play their music once more. The sound of guitar music and smooth men's voices fills the room so much Imelda reaches toward the window and bangs it shut, squinting against the harsh sunlight when she does.
She does not need another thing reminding her of Héctor when her head is still focused on him.
Gritting her teeth, Imelda draws in a sharp breath, reaching over to her nightstand to find one of her purple ribbons, tying it around her braids faster than usual. Her hairstyle looks embarassingly lopsided when she's finished, which increases her annoyance as she fixes it. Even though she tries not to, Imelda imagines Héctor watching her, giving her one of his warm smiles.
You'll still look nice with crazy hair, Imelda.
Imelda goes still, the chilling sensation returning to her body. Héctor's laugh echoes in her mind, and Imelda glances behind her, half expecting to see him leaning against the foot of their bed with his eyes dancing with adoration and amusement.
But he isn't there.
Imelda heaves a sigh she didn't know she was holding in. A weight that seems strange and familiar at the same time settles on her shoulders.
He isn't here.
She doesn't know why it saddens her so much, but it does.
Her brothers are whispering at the kitchen table when she walks in. Sitting closer togeter than usual, eyes bouncing from each other to her, hands cupped over their mouths, breakfast untouched in front of them. Coco is in the other room, oblivious to all three of them, hunched over a picture she's drawing on the floor.
Imelda puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow at the two people in front of her. Her eyes drift to the object she notices clutched in Oscar's free hand as she waits for them to quiet down. When they do, Imelda lets her skeptical expression soften to concern.
"What's going on, you two?" She narrows her eyes. "You know I don't like secrets."
Neither person answers, but Imelda catches the fleeting looks tossed between them. Oscar's eyes drift to the note in his hand, gaze lingering on it much too long.
Imelda sits down across from them and holds out her hand. "Give it to me."
Oscar hesitates, then, hands shaking and head dipping down to his chest, he hands the paper over.
Imelda feels her heart skip a beat when she sees that it's another note-- much like the ones Héctor isn't sending anymore.
Could this one be from him? Could he finally be coming home?
Imelda goes to where Coco is, facing away from her as she unfols the paper.
The letter isn't from Héctor.
It's from Ernesto.
He writes that Héctor has quit their tour, gone somewhere else on his own. He writes that he'd tried to stop Héctor, but he wouldn't listen. Ernesto says Héctor's tired of being part of a familia. Having fame is better than family.
Soon Imelda is leaning on the wall to steady herself, shaking with so many feelings that she can't make out either one of them. She hears Coco ask if Héctor's coming home, but this time Imelda doesn't have to dodge the question.
She says no. Tells Coco that her papá will never come back. She barely hears Coco's tantrum over her own rage as she bent down to her daughter's level and stopped her cries of rage.
After telling Coco she was going to lie down for a little while, Imelda disappears behind her bedroom door, grabs her favorite picture of her and Héctor, rips it, and drops to the ground while letting loose her own cries.