The next day he takes up her thoughts way more than usual, which Imelda didn't think was possible. But apparently even when Héctor's not right next to her he finds another way to prove her wrong. Imelda tries to force him out of her mind all that day, but she can't.
When she wakes from the dream is when it first hits her. Her hand feels tingly for some reason, as if it was just last night she'd slapped Héctor instead of three months ago. For a second Imelda forgets the current time and bolts up, looking over at the empty side of her bed and expecting Héctor to be next to her with a red mark on his cheek as proof of her rage. She opens her mouth to apologize, feeling the sting of tears that already threatens to push to the front of her eyes, but she sees nothing but wrinkled purple blankets and an empty space.
Which pulls her back to reality and reminds her that she had apologized, that he forgave her already.
And that he is still gone.
Imelda feels that familiar pang in her heart again. The heaviness that gives her chills and burning rage at the same time. The earlier feeling of pressure behind her eyes has still not gone away. The first tears, without Imelda's immediate knowing, have already started to fall.
She lays back down, grabbing Héctor's pillow again and sliding closer to his side of the bed. For a brief few seconds, she thinks she can still smell the scent of tequilla that always seemed to be a part of him, along with the faint scent of Ernesto's hair gel, which Héctor had borrowed from time to time before concerts but never used half as much as Ernesto did.
She sighs as she rolls over, facing her bedroom door but also catching sight of the things on Héctor's nightstand.
All four of his toys, three of them standing upright.
Four balled up pieces of paper that Imelda knows Héctor was planning to turn into music.
Their wedding picture, her with her right arm slung around his shoulders.
A picture of Coco's second birthday, with Héctor holding her in his arms and his mouth open with hysterical laughter because Coco's mouth was stretched into a ridiculous grin and ringed with frosting from the cake and other pastries.
Knowing that she'll most likely never have another picture with Héctor, that these objects are all she has left of him, makes the ache in Imelda's heart stronger as her gaze lingers on Héctor's nightstand.
Just when she tears her eyes away and rolls closer to the window again, her door creaks open.
"Mamá?"
That voice. The voice of her daughter.
"Mamá?"
Imelda tenses as she pulls Héctor's pillow closer to her chest. She hears footsteps, then the sound of the bed creaking from added weight, then feels Coco's hands grab her arm, her small body pressed to Imelda's back.
"Mamá."
Imelda sighs. "Buenas días, Coco."
Coco is sniffling, her breathing uneven. Imelda can feel it against her body. She turns to face her daughter and pulls her close. "What's the matter, mija?"
Two sniffs, then Coco's watery voice. "What's wrong with us?"
Imelda strokes her daughter's hair. "What do you mean, Coco?"
"Why doesn't Papá want to come home? Why did he leave? Is he still with our Supero?"
Imelda inhales deeply, Coco's questions swirling inside of her. Questions she can't answer, because the truth is, she doesn't know anymore.
Giving a worn out exhale, Imelda shakes her head and works at a few snags in Coco's hair. "I don't know. I don't where your papá is. Ernesto said he didn't know either."
Coco gives her a frown. "Our Supero."
Imelda bites her lip. "Superhero," she corrects stiffly.
Dropping her gaze, Coco stares at Imelda's arm and makes circles on it with her finger. "You hate Ernesto."
Imelda sighs and nods. "I know. But he's the one that knows your papá the most, so I have to trust him."
"You hate Ernesto."
Pulling her arm away, Imelda gives Coco a slight nudge toward Héctor's side of the bed, pushing her off and away.
"I'll be out in a few minutes, Coco. Tell your tíos that I'm coming out soon."
Coco gives her a quizzical gaze, but Imelda only raises an eyebrow and Coco is the first one to look away.
The rest of that day, Imelda's rage is mixed with emptiness, her mind reeling and her heart longing for something-- someone-- that she feels like she doesn't know anymore.