Imelda usually loved it when Héctor talked about his dream to become a proffessional musician. When they were younger, he would talk to her about the places him and Ernesto would perform at and how large the audiences would be in the future. He would chatter about how Ernesto is the one who's the most enthusiastic about it and how it makes him more excited than anything else. Imelda never really had a problem with Héctor's wishful thinking. It's one of the things she admired him for the most, one of the things that made her heart lift whenever he's around.
The thing she didn't like, however, was when Héctor started talking about how famous and rich it would make him. Like he thought that it could solve all of him and Ernesto's problems, or like playing his music for the world was the only thing he cared about. It made her want to slap him, or chase him, or... something like that. It was one of the only two things-- the first one being Ernesto's personality and Héctor's devotion to him-- that her and Héctor fought about.
Imelda tried to be the voice of reason whenever Héctor's raving started. Because she knew better. She knew that Héctor's dreams weren't what he thought they were.
But that's one thing Imelda had learned from having him as a friend. Sometimes he listened to her. And sometimes he didn't.
Whenever Imelda tried to ground his hopes was when Héctor closed his ears to her the most.
Whenever they were alone, when Ernesto wasn't around to hear, was when Imelda and Héctor talked about it the most. Argued was more like it.
"Music can't solve all your problems, Héctor," Imelda told him with a roll of her eyes. "Besides, what about your parents? Your friends?" Trying to supress the pounding of her heart, she silently asked, what about me?
Héctor just stared at her. "You could come with us, you know," he offered. He shrugged and gave her his usual sheepish half smile. "You might see things differently."
"But, Héctor..." Imelda was desperately trying to hide the crack of anger in her voice that she knew was coming. She took a deep breath and slipped her hands in his, standing in front of him and seeing the glint of the sun in his eyes dim with her body outline. "Your life is here. Your familia is here. And--" She squeezed his hands. "And I am here."
Héctor's face had long since gone confused. "Even if I did leave I wouldn't do it forever. I would come back, and Ernesto would be happier, too."
"It's not just about Ernesto. We've talked about this."
Héctor's brows furrowed as he broke the connection of their hands. He stared at her until Imelda felt her heart start to speed up once more. She returned his hard look as she backed up and crossed her arms.
"Music and fame aren't the only things that matter, Héctor." Her voice was harder than she realized, a side affect of her growing annoyance. "You and Ernesto becoming proffessional musicians is just you using your imagination."
Héctor's eys widened, proof that she had struck him. He stared at her, not saying anything for a moment to long. His face became blank as he backed up and started to turn away.
"Fine. If that's how you feel."
The hurt in his voice was clear even though his tone was as dry as possible. He walked away soon after that, but even though Imelda saw his offense, even though she knew how much Héctor wanted his fantasy to come true, she never let herself give into his words. She still refused to be swayed.