Chapter Eight

All In The Family (Kind Of)

October 31st, 2017

[Land of the Living]

That gold white light was brilliant, to an almost painful extent. Coco could do nothing other than what the rest of her family did. She shut her eyes against it, too surprised to do anything else. As the light washed over her and obscured everything from view, Coco felt something stir deep within her old weathered bones. It was almost like an itch, or when a limb fell asleep because you were laying on it too long. Starting from the tips of her toes, it gradually began to stretch through the bones in her feet. She could feel that sensation etch itself into every bone, from her ankles and up her calves, to her knees and pelvis and spine. It wasn't painful or pleasant. It was just...a sensation. Then the chills had set in, as though the itch had been replaced with water.

It spread through her, until she felt as though she must have been turned into a puddle herself. A glittering puddle, like something made of tiny diamond droplets with the round, dark colored eyes of a human. She felt as though she had become something just as fluid as a puddle would be, if it could move on its own. She felt small, as small as she must have been when she was first born. She couldn't move though, it was as if she were floating in a vat of pudding or jello. A tiny drop of water in the ocean. Then the sensation, the first one, came back. It happened in reverse this time, going from the tip of her head down to her toes. Then, it almost felt as though her body began to reform itself. Like she was carefully molded back into shape from whatever state she had been transformed into.

The golden light shone over her, replacing the ice-like chill with a glorious sort of warmth. It spread through her body, and this time she could feel her limbs again. She was no longer that puddle of life, but Socorro "Coco" Rivera again. The light gradually faded from behind her closed eyelids, but she could still feel it, hidden within her and thrumming in the place of blood through her veins.

"What on earth was-" For a moment, Elena's voice rose in a state of panic before cutting off. There was a sharp inhale of breath from somewhere in front of Coco and then Elena spoke again. Cautiously, almost as though she were in shock. "...Mama?" Coco's eyelids, so heavy, fluttered as she tried to open them. Bit by bit, she managed to do so. And it took her breath away.

For the first time in many, many years, Coco could see around her with astonishing clarity.

Old age had come for her, as it always did for people, but it had come early for Socorro Rivera. Too early, most said. It had brought her aching bones, weakening eyesight, and a vicious all-consuming disease known as Dementia. It was cruel, because the dementia had set in well before everything else, stealing away precious places and names from her, even memories of the people behind the names. It had worsened, with the death of her father, of her son, her husband, her daughter. Then it had been her muscles, her old bones...and now her eyesight.

Her body did not ache now, her mind did not fog over. For the first time in decades, she could see clearly again. Sitting up in her wheelchair, she looked towards her daughter who continued to stare in silence at her. Then she looked down at her hands, resting on the arms of her wheelchair. Her hands...were no longer rough with age, or covered with frail, soft wrinkled skin. The skin was smooth and taut now, unmarred with exception to the hard calluses that came with handling all the labor involved in shoemaking.

Cautiously, she pushed herself up from the seat of her wheelchair. Her legs did not shake beneath her as she stood, though Elena made an aborted motion towards her, as though she were preparing to catch her Mama if she fell. Coco watched her daughter, and looked around the room. The silence hung heavy in the air, thick as the scent of marigolds. There was the sound of fabric shifting on the bed, which was soon accompanied by a small, little voice and a yawn. "What happened...?"

Benny sat up and stretched, rubbing at his eyes. Manny, still asleep, just cuddled deeper into the blankets, his fist clutching the pillow tightly as he made himself more comfortable. Waking with bleary eyes, he turned his head and moved to get up. Clambering down from the side of the bed, he waddled a little unsteadily over to the empty wheelchair and the young girl standing beside it. At first, he thought it was Michaela. Twin braids and dark hair. But she looked a little older than Michaela, and she was wearing a dress that belonged to Mama Coco. Thinking of Mama Coco...

Squinting at her, he spoke. "Who are you?" Then he turned his head and saw his abuelita, and toddled over to her. Grabbing her skirt, he looked up at Elena. "Abuelita, who's that? Where is Michaela? Did she come back yet? Where'd Mama Coco go?" Benny took a moment to stare at the girl again, suspiciously. Something about her seemed familiar, but the child just couldn't think of why...

Elena and Socorro met each other's eyes. How on earth were they going to explain this? To the children- and to the others? Regardless of how they needed to do it, or how to figure out how it had even happened, they had no time to think of it. A few seconds later, Berto came rushing through the door to check on the twins, on Mama Coco, and to speak to Elena. Another moment of stunned, slack-jawed astonishment occurred. He stared, bewildered at the sight before him. "Abuelita...? What on earth is happening?" He shook his head as though trying to clear his thoughts.

It was a thought, in the back of Coco's mind, that it was probably only due to the twins' presence that Berto didn't start completely panicking. "Everyone met up in the courtyard before that- that weird light showed up. We wanted to discuss any information we found on Michaela's whereabouts. But how did-?" He motioned towards Coco.

No moment like the present to find out, Coco supposed. No time like the present moment. No matter how confused she was. They didn't really have a choice.

[Land Of The Dead]

[Rivera Household]

Victor pursed his lips, setting down the third cup of coffee he had brewed for himself. He ignored the trembling of his fingers as he did so, the way the sound of the mug hitting the table had been so jarring in the eerie silence of the dining room, and stood from his chair. Abuelito had told everyone to go home, to get some rest- so why was he the only one still searching? Victor wanted to be out there too.

Victor needed to do something, to help somehow. Every time he blinked, his mind flashed back to that alleyway. A small amount of blood smeared across the ground, the way Pepita had roared... If something had happened to Michaela, if that had happened, he'd never forgive himself. At least, when Victor had died, he had bled out rather quickly. The bullet had gone through his spine. It was sickeningly simple, the way his life had been stolen from him. Detached. There was very little pain, very little awareness as to what had happened other than the fact he had been injured. He hadn't even been the original target.

They didn't know where Michaela was, or if she had been attacked again, who had attacked her, why she had been attacked (and too many sickos had no reasons other than they could-)or if she were even still...alive. That wasn't even mentioning the trafficking rings...and she was a living child. It was on the news, how vicious and cruel some of the sickos of the world got. Some cults believed that you could somehow harvest the youthful energy of people who had died young by harvesting their bones, and others just viewed them as-toys. Entertainment for those willing to pay an exorbitant price. What would those types of people do to get their hands on a living girl?

It terrified him. The very idea was sickening to him, making his stomach twist uncomfortably. If he were alive, the notion could have brought him to his knees before a toilet bowl. Now, he only suffered the vaguest sense of nausea. At the very least though, the family knew she had survived that encounter. They had seen her after all, running down the steps of the station and away from the building. Away from them. After taking a deep breath, Victor began striding towards the door of the hacienda. He planned to go to the Marigold Station again. Perhaps she had gone back, He may even run into her somewhere in the area. The officials there might even have news for them.

They might call the hacienda if they have information while he's absent, but the others could pick up the phone if that were the case. Tia Rosita had gone into the kitchen and hadn't left since then. She was cooking up a storm, the clanging and clattering of pots and pans filling the rest of the house. Victoria had gone to the workshop to get the newest shoe orders filed away, everything set in order for tomorrow, and Papa had gone upstairs to prepare a guest room for Michaela. The house and the workshop both had phones, and both were listed under Imelio's contact information. Someone would hear if the phone rang.

Really, Victor just needed to get out and start doing something. He scrawled a note and left it on a small table by the door, beside the base of a lamp.

Headed down to check Marigold Station.

Might go to check on the Familia.

- Victor

Going to the station had been useless. They hadn't seen any sign of hide nor hair of Michaela or that xolo dog that had been following her around. Apparently, the security had been swamped by reports of a rogue alebrije's vicious attack on a trolley heading towards the Lower Sect. Victor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. What a waste of time. Still, there was something else he could do. Shaking his head, he began walking towards the Marigold Bridge. He said he'd go check on the living Riveras, and that was exactly what he planned to do.

They must be losing their minds with worry, he mused to himself. It was a familiar, comforting sensation- to be held up by the marigold bridge. It felt warm to him, as warm as the memories of the living that were surely building its shape. It took several minutes to cross the bridge, due to the immense amount of space it crossed.

The streets of Santa Cecilia were thriving, as usual. For such a small town, there was an inordinate amount of people. Residents of the town, extended family coming to visit, and even tourists were rather common sightings. Even despite the crowds though, Victor could navigate the streets just as easily as he had when he was still alive. He could find his way blindfolded, tested by Elena and Victoria once in their teens (or Elena's baby years, being so much younger than Victor and Victoria).

As he walked through the streets, the plaza, Victor did notice an unusual crowd encircling the Police Station. Some seemed to be on the verge of breaking down the door, and it had even drawn the attention of the other deceased. He made a move, about to inquire about what was happening, before deciding better of it. Clearly, something must have just happened and that meant rumors would be flying faster than a furious Pepita or one of Papa Imelio's boots. He'd wait later, until the hubbub died down. Then there'd be more accurate details and facts released.

Dia de los Muertos lasted three days after all. Though the span of the holiday limited it, they still had time. As it stood, he had the far more pressing matter of checking on his family. So Victor continued down the winding streets until he reached the gate of the Rivera hacienda. Even through the gate, his ears picked up the muffled noise of a rather spirited conversation.

As he reached out to push the gates open, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps caused him to look up and away from the door. "Tio Oscar, Tio Felipe." He greeted, nodding to them.

"Hola, Victor-"

"We saw-"

"Your note on the table-"

"So Victoria-"

"Who was helping your Tia Rosita clean up the kitchen-"

"Sent us to go join you in checking on the familia."

Victor took a moment to decipher what his great-uncles had said, and who had said it. Even among the family, it was sometimes very difficult to decipher what Oscar and Felipe said due to their excitable nature. They spoke very fast, at the same time, and they were identical twins. It got worse when they specifically tried to trick people, by changing their clothes or trying to mimic the other's voice. They never switched their glasses though, which gave them away. They had different prescriptions after all.

"What about Papa, and Papa Imelio?" he asked. Oscar and Felipe shared a grim look. It was Tio Felipe who spoke up. "Julio seems to be alright, or as alright as we can be in this sort of situation. and is finishing up the guestroom for Michaela right now. He said he'd join us once he was done." He scratched at the back of his neck as he continued. "Imelio hasn't returned yet. We're...not sure where he is, except that he's with Pepita." Victor's hand balled into a fist as his side and he took a deep breath.

So Michaela hadn't been found yet.

"I see."

Oscar put a hand on Victor's shoulder, bony fingers comforting with their familiar weight. "Well, standing out here won't do anything to help the situation. Let's just briefly check on the familia, and head back as quickly as possible. I sure Papa Imelio will find her soon enough and bring her home." It went unspoken between the three of them that he was saying that for himself just as much as for his brother and grand-nephew. With that, Victor pushed open the gates of the hacienda and strode inside, followed by Oscar and Felipe. It went unnoticed that the hacienda had fallen silent, coinciding with their entrance.

In the aftermath of their conversation, Elisa was rubbing at her forehead as though a migraine were building, sitting in a chair while her other hand rubbed her swollen belly through the fabric of her blouse. Lucas was busy massaging the back of her shoulders, though he had stopped when Coco and Elena came outside with Berto and the twins. Coco herself felt as though she might develop a migraine. The others milled around in grim silence.

As Berto had said, the familia (and two other faces, unfamiliar at the time though she had since learned their names) had gathered in the courtyard.

At the sight of her, all conversation had ceased. There hadn't been any doubt in regards to Coco's identity, surprisingly. At least, not many. Her grandchildren, Rosa, and Abel had recognized her from old photo albums. Benny and Manny had needed a bit of convincing. After all, their Mama Coco was old and fragile. Not a young, robust teenage girl the same age as their cousin. Eventually, she gave them both a piece of ginger candy that, as far as she was aware, only she ate in the household. Besides that, her identity hadn't been an issue.

What had been an issue was that light. Where had it come from, what had caused it, how had it changed Mama Coco (after she described feeling the way it washed over her), and even more concerning, why no one outside the hacienda was able to see them. Mariana, the girl she didn't recognize, had seen a woman with a leg entirely bone. No flesh, no muscle! People just phased through them, as though her familia weren't even there. Giving it up as a lost cause, they returned to the hacienda, trying to keep a grip on their heads while avoiding the part-skeleton-part-human entities. So, to get their minds on some sort of focused track, Coco had brought up the one situation she was still left in the dark about.

"What happened to our Michaela?"

A boy, closer to a young man and dressed in a charro suit, stepped forwards. "Senora Rivera? We haven't met, but I'm Antonio, one of Michaela's friends." He fidgeted with his fingers, running them through his hair before looking towards the ground and continuing. "I can't account for anything she did earlier in the day, but we both met up in the plaza at around eight or nine, and spent time there until noon. She had been...complaining about your family music ban. I encouraged her to sign up for tonight's talent show, because maybe if the rest of your family saw the way she performs, they'd drop the ban entirely. She seemed to be really, really stressed by the idea though...

Elena had snapped her head up like a bloodhound. Marching over to Antonio, she poked a stiff domineering finger into his chest while scrutinizing him. "You!" she hissed. "You're the one who put ideas of performing into our Michaela's head?!" Antonio narrowed his eyes at her, cheekbones dusted with red. Not out of embarrassment, but anger. "Gave her the idea? Yes. But I didn't pressure her into it, like you pressured her away from it to the point of driving her off!" In response, Elena reared back as if struck in the face. "How dare you!" Coco watching this go down, attempted to intervene. "Elena!" she called sharply, though the woman seemed so angered the words fell on deaf ears. Elena had done something? She almost couldn't imagine it.

The key word was 'almost'. Elena took after Papa Imelio, his protectiveness and his temper. Unfortunately, she didn't have the same self-restraint her father had grown into, though she had improved since childhood. In deep anger, it was very possible that Elena had done something thoughtless even if she thought it had been for the best. Papa and his music ban were a perfect example after all.

Before Coco could attempt to intercept and diffuse the situation again, maybe by asking Antonio to continue the narration, Elisa gave her mother a dark stare and absolutely mirthless smirk. "He's not wrong, though. Is he, Mama?" Her words were as ruthless as a steel blade lodged in someone's ribcage. Or your throat. Gloria turned to Elisa with a sharp, cutting expression. "Hermana!" Her expression softened slightly, seeing the way Elisa's hands were tightly holding each other, nails digging into the skin doubtlessly strong enough to leave crescent markings behind.

An almost awkward-but-not-quite silence fell. The air grew laden with a heavily charged atmosphere, as though the entire hacienda could go up in flames at any moment. Elena swallowed whatever it was she had been about to say, lowering her eyes. Coco, turning to Antonio, encouraged him to continue. "What happened at noon, then?" In the background, Rosa and Abel winced in sympathy. Elena stared at the ground. Antonio tilted his head to the side and said, in a far too casual manner, "Senora Elena came to the plaza looking for Michaela, and chased me off with her shoe which is nothing new. Last I saw, they were heading away from the plaza. I didn't see her until, about maybe an hour ago? At the plaza. Even then, it was just a glimpse before she ran off again."

"Did you see which way she went?" or "Where did she go?!" Many voices clamored at once, craning their heads towards him. Lucas watched him with weary eyes. A boy...and a friend of Michaela's...he resisted the urge to sigh. Right now wasn't the time for his lurking overprotective Papa Bear senses. Just most of them. "Do you know why she ran off again?" He questioned. Antonio's expression changed to a grimace, but when he opened his mouth to speak, it was a quiet voice they heard and not one belonging to him.

"She ran off because of me." They turned to the source of the voice. It was devoid of any real emotion, coming from a girl dressed in fine clothing with loose, long dark hair. All slender arms and legs. "I told her she couldn't sign up for the talent show without an instrument, said some rather nasty things, and later, kissed Antonio while she was watching to drive her away from the plaza." Before anyone could even begin to comprehend that statement (Kiss?!), Antonio turned to her with a biting frown. "Which you have yet to properly explain in anything but your incoherent ranting from earlier. That's not even mentioning what-" He hesitated before making his voice gentler, "what Marcial said."

Abel spoke up, figure tense with a darkening expression. "You know, I'd like an explanation about that encounter too." Rosa leaned against her brother with a similar expression, and nodded her head. "Me too." The three watched the girl with rather concerning expressions, which, judging from the looks their parents exchanged, no one knew what to make of them or the sudden turn of the conversation. The girl's expression tightened and a mix of emotion splashed across her face, before running away like water to leave a blank canvas. "I'll explain what I meant when we explain what else happened." Her tone carried a sneering sort of cool energy, but Coco could hear an underlying tremor hidden beneath it. She pushed it away for now. If she pressed like everyone else was doing, they wouldn't get anywhere.

But Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Mariana, by Marcial- he doesn't mean Marcial Vilchez, the son of Matteo Vilchez" He paused, looking at Antonio, "Do you?" His stomach sank when the boy nodded. He turned back to Mariana, dismay and concern written across his face. "That family is a nasty crowd despite their association with your family and all their 'charitable' acts and connections, I've heard as much from Jose, so why would you-?" Oh, Mariana was her name. Mariana...wasn't that the name of Lucas' goddaughter? The little one Michaela had playdates with as a toddler? This must be her. Mariana gave her godfather a slightly warmer than frigid look, barely more than a passing glance. "I'll...explain later, Padrino." She wouldn't meet his eyes and now Elisa was fixated on her as well. The two shared a look, and Elisa was muttering under her breath about something. "It's her mother, I swear. That wicked she-devil..."

Almost unnoticed, imperceptible to those who weren't specifically focused on her, Mariana flinched at Elisa's mention of her...womb-of-birth.

Unsure what to make of the situation, Coco turned to Elena and took a breath, counting down from ten to one."Mija, you shouldn't have chased him off like that. Musician or not, he is Michaela's friend and someone else's child." Elena looked at her mother and twisted her hands with a scowl. "But he's a musician, Mama! Papa Imelio always said-"

Coco raised an eyebrow. "He is a musician, just as my Mama was. But they are not the same people, and Papa is no longer here, Elena. And Papa could overreact to things. He was only human despite how high up on a pedestal you place him. He had flaws, and he had been hurt, regardless of whether that was Mama's intent, though we can debate on that later." She had seen the way Elena had made to argue with her about her mother. "I remember my Mama, mija. We can debate later."

Coco remembered her mother better now. The way she smiled, swinging Coco up in her arms. The way she and Papa would lay together on the couch at night, or on the edge of her bed reading a bedtime story aloud for her. The way they would sway together in the dark of the living, dancing to music only they heard. Papa, regardless of what he said, had loved her long after she left. Loved her with his body, mind and soul. Mama had been the same, and it only renewed the vigor in which Coco believed something must have stopped her mother from coming home.

"Besides, Lucas was once a musician too, was he not?" She smiled softly, gently as Elena flinched at that statement. The elder members of the family winced as they glanced sheepishly at the man in question, who did the stunning impression of a stone column from behind his wife. The younger generation looked at Lucas as though he had two heads. It went unspoken that decrying the character of musicians was no different than insulting Lucas, even if he was retired. "Moving on from that for now, and don't doubt for a minute that you and I won't be having words later, what happened after you left the plaza?" Elena, mulishly, didn't answer even as her cheeks flushed.

Rosa cleared her throat. "We were with Abuelita, Mama Coco. Me and Papa. We headed straight back to the workshop after leaving the plaza with Michaela. Papa and Abuelita scolded her for going to the plaza on the way. Abuelita also had to chase away that street dog that's always following Michaela around. Dante, I think she called him. When we got back to the workshop, Michaela mentioned signing up for the talent show. Then Abuelita and her went to the ofrenda."

All roads (so far) lead back to Elena. That, and- "I think I remember that. At some point, Michaela had brought up mi Mama, hadn't she?" Coco paused, ruminating on the memory.

Elena turned to Michaela and began to speak, her voice raspy with age and holding a note of exasperation, but no less warm than usual. "What's with that expression on your face, mija? Don't give that look! Dia de los muertos is among the most important holidays we celebrate. It's the one night of the year that are ancestors can come and visit us, from the land of the dead to the land of the living!" She paused, one hand grasping Michaela's as her eyes roamed over the ofrenda. "We put up their photos every year so that their spirits can cross over. That's the most important part of the ofrenda after all! Without their pictures, without us putting them up, they can't cross over!"

"All this food, these items, these are the things they loved in life, so we offer these to them in death, and this is, all this work and effort, it's all meant to bring our family together." She began to arrange the flowers again, unaware Michaela had quietly stolen her hand from her abuelita's grasp and was ever so silently sneaking back to the courtyard. "I don't want you sneaking off to who-knows-where." Elena looked up to meet her granddaughter's eyes, only to be met with empty air. Pivoting on the heel of her sandal, she found the teenager in question mid-step towards the door. "Michaela! Where are you going?"

Michaela laughed nervously, "I- I thought we were done?"

Grabbing her granddaughter by the arm, she led (read:towed) the girl back over to the ofrenda. "Ay dios mios", she murmured under her breath, exasperated with Michaela's antics, "Being part of this family means being here for this family, Michaela. I don't want you to disappear and end up like that...that wrench!" At the end of her sentence, she motioned upwards, presumably towards Papa Imelio's photograph. Her gaze hovered over the profile of the nameless, faceless woman. "Like Mama Coco's Mama?"

Elena went rigid before the palms of her hand landed flat on the surface of the ofrenda. Michaela heard the glass cups on the altar and the photographs quiver. "Never mention that woman! She'd be better off forgotten for what she has done to this family!" Michaela took a step back. "You're the one who-" Elena cut her off and there was a brief moment of back and forth in which Michaela made an effort to speak and Elena stopped her in her tracks. The minor sound of movement drew both of their attention to the back corner.

Reclining in a wicker wheelchair, an elderly woman had lifted her head up and disoriented brown eyes began almost frantically scanning the room, portraying excitement beyond what her frail body could exhibit physically. Hair, gone silver and gray and white with age, tied back into matching twin trenzas with pink ribbons, glinted dully in the fading light of the afternoon and flickering candle flames. Mama Coco looked towards the door, a fragile expression of hope adorning her face, the faintest glimpse of a beatific smile. "Mama?"

Nodding to herself, Coco spoke aloud "Yes, she did. I don't remember seeing her after that until far later...she must have slipped out the room." Elena spoke up now, quietly. "Si, Mama." Her voice was very soft, almost tremulous. "After that, did anyone see her? Berto, Carmen? Gloria?" Coco inquired. One by one, they shook their heads.

"I was helping Mama in the kitchen preparing the food for tonight, watching it while she went to help with other preparations." Gloria mentioned, motioning absently to the cold and untouched spread of food settled over several tables. "I think Berto went to unload the order of leather which arrived?" He nodded. "After that, Lucas and I went into storage and began to pull out the tables and chairs." Lucas crossed his arms, tapping his fingers on the fabric of his sleeves. "When planning where to put the tables, with exception to the extra ones we needed to get after for the rest of the food, we would have seen her if she tried to leave, so she must have been still in the hacienda."

Carmen nodded her head at the twins. "I was watching the twins while preparing the baskets of cempasuchil petals, while Elisa was knitting socks for the baby upstairs. After that, I went to help Gloria in the kitchens. Elisa went out to help the twins create the petal walkways." Keeping the ball rolling, Franco told Coco what he had been doing. "We, Rosa and Abel and myself, were closing up the workshop and filing everything away, putting finished orders where we could find them so that we can send them out tomorrow."

Which meant no one had any clear idea of what Michaela had been doing or where she was at that time, though it was to be assumed she hadn't left the hacienda. Carmen brought up a thought of hers, a theory. "Maybe she was in her room. When she showed up talking about being a musician, we had found those old records in her room, right?" There was a general murmur of agreement. "What do you mean?"

It was Mariana who posed the question, tilting her head to one side. Her face was as blank as it had been before, but there was a startling manner in which her skin caught the light that made her seem...frightened. Her voice was closer to a sneer, but Coco could see very plainly: Mariana was clearly terrified of something. Yet, she herself had mentioned being wickedly cruel to Michaela, which had led to her running off again? "What do you mean, Michaela had said she was going to be a musician?" Mariana repeated in a clearer voice. Elisa looked at her, not just a passing glance, but a real good look at the girl.

Long gone was the cheery little girl who played with Michaela in the park, who twisted beads and seashells into bracelets and necklaces for her dolls. In her stead was a nearly grown teenager, robust of health while still appearing so sickly. Earlier, Mariana had failed to meet their eyes. They hadn't met in years and she supposed nothing was too surprising about that, and yet the behavior was so unnerving for a girl of her age... Elisa had seen Mariana in interviews. She never struggled to meet someone's eyes. it wasn't just that she didn't want to look in their eyes. She looked like she was hiding something, like she was guilty of something...and Lucas had mentioned something interesting.

Mariana had flinched when Elisa had begun murmuring about her mother. What Carlota had to do with this situation though...wicked as that woman was, Elisa couldn't picture. She knew Carlota was the one behind Mariana distancing herself from the Rivera's, after all, Carlota hated her so that was nothing new. But there was something else regarding that woman, or Mariana wouldn't have flinched the way she did...the questions spun in her head among a thousand other worries for her daughter, and her unborn child kicked at the foot of her rib-cage. Almost as though they were expressing their own unease. Elisa spoke up, continuing the narrative while upholding her scrutiny of Mariana. glancing cautiously at her husband's goddaughter.

"Next time we saw Michaela, she was in the ofrenda room. Thinking back, she seemed as though she was hiding something, though I didn't notice at the time. Mama had approached Lucas and I with the idea of bringing Michaela into the workshop full-time, instead of going out to shine shoes and help organize the storage areas and paper orders. She had tried to tell us then, or at least implied, she did not want to work in the family business. I reassured her...on the wrong thing. After all, a Rivera is a Shoemaker. Through and Through." Her hands balled into tighter fists.

It was Coco herself now, who filled in the blanks. "I heard something fall from the ofrenda, and it must have been shortly after that conversation. When I woke up from dozing, only Michaela was in the room." Coco blinked, trying to pull more of that memory to her. "The dog you mentioned earlier was there too, he must have knocked down Papa's photograph. Michaela had been looking at it, I remember that. And something else too. Then she spoke about Mama...came over to ask me a question. After that, she ran off. After that, I dozed off again." Elisa sat up straighter in her chair with a penetrating. hawk-like stare. "What did she ask you?"

"She asked about my Mama, as well as my Tio Ernesto." Lucas's head snapped to look at Coco so fast, she could have sworn his neck creaked. "Your...Tio Ernesto?" Coco nodded. "As in...Ernesto de la Cruz?" Coco nodded again. Then Mariana and Antonio's heads snapped to stare at her. Carmen's eyes widened, and Franco's brows rose high on his forehead. Seeing their consternation, Coco realized something. As they had been born outside the Rivera Family, they knew about how famous her Tio had gotten after Mama disappeared, so she offered further information. "Tio Ernesto wasn't related by blood to mi Mama, so I don't think you'll find any documentation on their relationship unless he left any behind to his descendants. He certainly never mentioned her by name to the public, and I watched many of his interviews for any sign of her. She was his honorary little sister, and she had named him my Padrino. They grew up together in the same orphanage."

"That's why the ofrenda picture had that guitar in it? Did de la Cruz lend it to your Mama?" Lucas asked. Mariana raised an eyebrow. From what it sounded like, they were talking about the family heirloom left in its master's crypt. "What Photo?" She glanced at Michaela's cousins. They had mentioned something like that earlier, hadn't they? In the background, out the corners of her eyes, Mariana could make out many nonplussed expressions. Elisa faced Mariana and Antonio to explain. "The photograph Lucas is referencing is the oldest one on our ofrenda. It was taken in 1921, consisting of the family patriarch Imelio Rivera, his twin brothers Oscar and Felipe, Mama Coco around the age of three, and Mama Coco's Mama. Her face had been cut out of the picture though."

Cut out?

Coco's expression grew sad, and she spoke up before Mariana could ask. "Papa did that, after Mama- After my mother failed to come home. He couldn't stand it, seeing her face after it became clear that she didn't want to or couldn't come home to us. Without even a warning or a goodbye. It was a scandalous affair, back then. Actually, it was even worse, because the last letter we got from her was saying she was preparing to head home from her tour with Tio Ernesto." Mariana's brows raised up again from where they had settled down. "They went on tour together." It was said as a statement, but in the tone of disbelief that would accompany a question. "Si, March to November. At least, that was the date of the last letter we received. We never heard from her, or Tio Ernesto, after that." Glancing around the room, it was pretty evident this was Big News to the Rivera's, those aware of Ernesto's fame, which clued the other Rivera's in that something was off about the situation too.

Senora Coco did not seem like she was lying to Mariana, and she could not imagine why the elderly lady turned teenager would have a reason to do so. Her great-great grandfather, Ernesto, had been the honorary elder brother of Matriarch Rivera (who no one in town, including her own family, knew the name of). They had gone on tour together as well, after which Matriarch Rivera completely disappeared and her ancestor began his ascent to fame the following year. Disappeared, a young woman, in the 1920's...

No one could see them, they could see the dead, and a ninety-nine year old lady was now somewhere between the age of sixteen and eighteen physically, so she might as well throw logic and skepticism out a window. Besides, with the hired guns of her mother lining the plaza and the long history with the Vilchez family, it didn't surprise her that deceit and betrayal ran in her blood. It was her inheritance, so why couldn't it also be his legacy? There was something wrong with this entire situation, and not just their own, but the fact that her tatarabuelo was close enough to the Rivera's to be called 'Tio' Ernesto.

Her mother was willing to traffic girls around Santa Cecilia and beyond for money, for Mariana's spotlight. To lie, to cheat in more ways than one...and her family had always been this way. So what exactly had her Great-Great Grandfather done to seize his spotlight? Theft, fraud? Another possibility laid thick in her stomach, like all the acid inside it had crystallized into limestone.

Lucas picked up where Elisa had dropped her narrative. "I'm guessing after Michaela had questioned Mama Coco about her 'Tio Ernesto', that is when she ran out to tell us she would be a musician. Probably thinking something along the lines of music running in her blood as thick as shoemaking. Somehow, she had ended up on the roof of the hacienda. When we tried to tell her she couldn't be a musician, she showed us the photo." He fixed Mariana with a stare. "Folded away behind the rest of the image, was your tatarabuelo's guitar." Coco blinked and looked at Mariana. Tatarabuelo, huh? A descendant of Tio Ernesto.

Mariana balked as something clicked in the back of her head. She had heard earlier, from Rosa and Abel about the photo, and something about it had seemed off but... "His guitar? He never let anyone ever touch that thing, unless it was a stagehand, and even then they were told to bring it directly to his dressing room, while being escorted by several members of his security team. It's documented too, even in the earliest stages of his career when he was little more than a face in a crowd, that no one was allowed near his guitar! Even if she were his honorary sister, why would he lend his prized guitar for something like a photo?"

If Mariana was Ernesto's great-great granddaughter, this would be a shock. If she even believed Coco. Biting her lip, she almost hesitated. "...wasn't his." She murmured. She didn't meet anyone's eyes at that moment. Her voice carried well enough in the sudden silence following Mariana's outburst that everyone turned to look at her. "Mama?" Elena asked.

"It wasn't his. That guitar never belonged to Tio Ernesto. From time to time, I saw Mama let him borrow it, and even then, it was done reluctantly because of how important it was. But it never belonged to him, and there's no way Mama would have given it away either! It was a gift from Papa himself, just before they got married. That's why it was in the photo. Because it has always belonged to Mama, not Tio Ernesto." Words bottled up for years poured from her mouth, quick as a river rapid. Then-

"May I see the photo?" Mariana asked. Coco was surprised she didn't just deny her allegations. Everyone paused, and then Elisa shook her head no. "We can't show it to you. Michaela ran off with it, so for now, if you want proof, all you have is our word." Mariana pursed her lips, as though she were about to say something. Her eyes Then, she simply said. "I see."

With that, another looming silence fell. No one breached the topic of Mama Coco's mother or the 'Tio Ernesto'. That was more information anyone in the family had heard of her in their lives: It was far more than just the usual knowledge, that she abandoned Papa Imelio and Mama Coco when Mama Coco was just barely a little girl.

"We've gotten off track. Michaela and Antonio spent time together until noon, after which she brought and got scolded by Elena. Then she was somewhere in the hacienda, doing something. After which, she was found in the ofrenda room, where her xolo might have knocked down Papa's photo, revealed the guitar, and then led to her running off after asking me about it. She then declared she wanted to be a musician, showing everyone the picture and trying to get you to agree." Coco lifted her head to see wary, regretful expressions written over everyone in her family's face. Especially Elena's. "What happened after that?"

Ah. So it seemed she had finally reached the crux of the problem. No one spoke, no one moved, except to shift their weight from one foot to another. Elisa's lips were tightly pursed together. It was Elena who spoke up. "Michaela had been holding a guitar. She had tried to play it for us. I didn't want her to, and snatched it away from her. We fought." She turned and picked up a bundle of fabric, tied at the top and fashioned like a bag, from a nearby chair. As she did so, Elisa briefly met Coco's eyes. "We tried talking to her, but we...just made things worse." She looked away again.

Elena swallowed the lump in her throat, and handed her mother the fairly large bundle. The look on her mother's face, it would be burned into her mind for all her days when she spoke next. "I smashed that guitar right in front of her. " Her throat closed itself off then, choked with remorse and shame. She had overreacted, and she could admit that now. Now, when the damage might as well be irreparable. Physically, it was. The woman's cheeks colored themselves red as her mother continued to stare at her in open dismay. No words were needed to convey the meaning of that look.

Coco shifted the bundle in her arms, carefully kneeling to place it on the ground and began to unravel the fabric. As it unfolded, she drew in a breath when she saw how bad the damage was, and what sort of guitar Michaela had been hiding. It was splintered into irregularly sized shards, some almost as thin and small as the nail on her smallest finger, and others as thick as two or three fingers held together. The only thing that remained even relatively intact was the neck and head of the guitar, and they seemed to be on the verge of crumbling apart in her hands. They were covered in deep and sprawling cracks, bloodless wounds from a one-sided war.

Even still, she could recognize the design. Even made from scraping together wood planks and other odds and ends, her mother's guitar was too unique, too special for it to ever go unrecognized. A skull-shaped head motif, white painted body...a near perfect replica, or at least- it must have been. "Ay, dios mios..." she murmured, running her fingers over the 'face'. Her eyes were wide as she ran her hands over the wreckage.

Mariana slowly looked towards Elena with dark, shadowed eyes. Her face had been twisted from its previously wooden expression to something indescribably hateful. Her footsteps were slow and measured as she stalked towards Elena, but they carried loudly through the air. They were distinctly painted with anger. "I heard from your granddaughter, Rosa, the basics of what happened when we joined up with them in their search for Michaela, and yet I clearly didn't grasp the extent of how vicious you were. What is wrong with you?" She spat. Elena stiffened. "Your granddaughter wanted to show you something, and clearly it was something precious to her and yet you smashed it to pieces in front of her? What about that screams that you want to protect her? That you love her? If anything, it's the harshest denial you could have given her!"

Someone made a grab for her arm to pull her back, but Mariana shook them off. She continued prowling forwards, ferocious in her pursuit. Her blood burned. "Do you have any idea how traumatic something like that is? Scraping away for months and months on end, building something up from your own hands and displaying it before those you care for, maybe hoping for praise or some sign of pride or acceptance for something you love so much, only to have them tear it apart like it means nothing?!"

Mariana did. She knew that pain, knew it so well that it hurt. That and more.

Carlota knelt beside where her daughter was sprawled on her stomach, eagerly scribbling away at a piece of paper with a red crayon clutched in her hand. Mariana didn't notice her approach. Instead, she was wholly focused on her latest masterpiece: A Get-Well-Soon card for her god-sister. Michaela had gotten a cold, and seemed so miserable when Papa had brought Mariana over to visit her. She had made a big and bright yellow sun in the corner, with its light fanning out all over the rest of the page in golden lines and a bright blue sky. There was a big grass field and pretty purple and blue and pink flowers.

Then she drew Michaela and herself, holding hands with a biiiiiiig heart between them because they were going to be the bestest of friends forever and ever like Papa and Tio Lucas. Michaela was in orange and Mariana in green, and she was coloring in the heart right now. It wasn't completely in the lines, but she was sure Michaela wouldn't mind. She never colored in the lines, though maybe it was because she was littler than Mariana and couldn't hold the crayons and markers as well. Michaela was bright like the sun, and wild like scribbles of color outside the lines and splashes of paint. That's the way she was.

Unlike Mama. Mama was cold and mean and strict, though she was never anything but sunshine and smiles when Papa was here. Mariana wondered whether or not to add her parents and godparents into the card too, before a voice dripping with disdain spoke right into her ear. She jumped up, pushing herself up on her elbows as she sought to find the source of that voice. Then she saw Mama, watching her with an expression of disgust. She got to her feet when Mama stood up from her kneeling position.

Mama was beautiful. She never had a hair out of place, usually braided back and pinned up like a 'proper lady'. She was always dressed in "expensive but tasteful" clothing and always went on and on about how they must dress according to their station and appear their very best, as though they were receiving guests even when they were home alone with exception to the maid and Mariana's Nanny. Mariana would much rather wear shorts and a t-shirt then a blouse and skirt, so she could play without getting too dirty, but Mama didn't think she had much time for playing away.

There was always some sort of lesson to keep her busy, ballet and tap dance, piano, voice, guitar - not to mention math. She didn't mind reading too much. Michaela liked to sit next to her and look at the pictures, and Tio Lucas and Tia Elisa praised her when she did well. Mama never praised her, there was always more to work on.

"What are you doing sprawled on the floor like this, Mariana? it's improper and filthy." Mariana looked at the carpet, preparing herself for a lecture on 'proper bearing'. The carpet didn't seem dirty. The maid had been in here vacuuming an hour ago, while Mariana was practicing scales on the piano. Her mother wouldn't be pleased if she brought that up. Last time she talked back, even if she had just been trying to be honest or funny, her hand had gotten smacked with a ruler. Mama made an aggravated sigh and shook her head. "How many times do I have to tell you? If you want to work on something, sit at your desk and do whatever little project you have going on over there. You are not an uncouth little brat, you are the great-great granddaughter of Ernesto de la Cruz and must uphold that name, even if we do not directly carry it. By all means necessary."

"Yes, Mama." Mariana replied dutifully, hoping the woman would leave soon. Mama never came to see Mariana, not to read bedtime stories or sing lullabies or play a game. It was always a lecture, a lesson, or...a punishment. She had accidentally spilled a cup of water the other day, and Mama had smacked her across the face. If Mariana complained that she was hungry, or wouldn't sit still, it would be a pinch on the arm or leg from Mama, and sometimes a spanking or a smack later. And it was never for any really bad behavior. It was always some perceived slight against the family name.

Carlota picked up Mariana's card. "What's this?" She drawled, running her eyes over the vibrant crayon depictions of two little girls and the bubble-lettering in glitter pen which read "¡Que te mejores pronto!". Her eyes landed on her daughter's paling countenance and her expression darkened. "I asked you a question, Mariana." She drew out her name, a warning sign of hidden anger. "What is this?" She elongated her vowels and narrowed her eyes as Mariana began to fidget with her hands. Carlota snatched one of her daughter's wrists and dug her nails into the smooth skin. "Don't fidget. Answer my question." She crooned this so sweetly, most observers wouldn't realize as Mariana did something very important.

Her mother wasn't just angry. She was furious, her eyes darting between Mariana and the on-paper Michaela. Mariana did not know why, but she knew her mother did not like Elisa Rivera. She called Tia Elisa a lot of mean things that Mariana had to use a dictionary to look up. A whore, slut, thief, bitch...to name the basic few. Which was odd, because Mama seemed to like Tio Lucas just fine and treated Michaela with the same kindness when she came over to play instead of it being the other way around. Sometimes, she'd do something weird though. When no one was looking, she'd glare at Michaela as though she were angry about something, or maybe jealous? Mariana's mother was weird like that, far beyond the realm of the child's comprehension.

She had that same look on her face right now.

"It's a get-well-soon card for Michaela. Because Tio Lucas said she got a cold." Mariana willed her voice not to tremble when some sort of emotion flashed through her mother's eyes. Then her mother smiled coldly, cruelly. Bitterly. Her white teeth shone like the razor edge of a blade which caught light. Then-

"That child is not worth your time."

She took the folded paper in both her hands, and ripped it apart right down the center. She laid the two pieces atop one another and tore it again. Again and again and again until all that was left were shredded squares of blue and yellows and greens and heads of girls with dark hair severed from the shoulder from their bodies on one side and plain white on the other. She cupped the remains in her hands almost tenderly, still that strange expression on her face, and then she dropped them. They fell like bits of confetti but there was nothing nice about this. Confetti was parties and happiness and this was...this was the exact opposite. This was horrible.

Mariana couldn't make a peep. Her mouth was gaping, her eyes wide and watering with tears that didn't fall. Carlota looked at her daughter and brought a hand up slowly before bringing it harshly across her daughter's cheek. "Stop gaping at me like that!" Her voice cut through the air and lodged itself in a tiny corner of Mariana's heart. Then Mariana began to cry, wailing painfully.

Again and again the mother lashed out with a hand to her daughter's cheek. "Stop crying!" She snarled. "That girl is not worth your time, she will never be worth your time for as long as she carries her mother's surname, the Rivera name! You are not to treat her as your equal! There will be no get-well cards, she does not deserve your sympathy! You will see or speak to her, or if you do it better be to do nothing more than spit at her feet! She's not worthy! Not when she carries the wrong surname, like her father does, like we do, when she should share one!" She spat.

It was only later, grounded in her room on account of 'getting into a fight' with some local kids, with some ice from her father and a lecture on a fight which never happened, that Mariana thought about what her mother had said. Her mother had said...Michaela was supposed to carry their name. And something in her head clicked. Mariana was a bright girl. A woman, when she married a man, usually took their names. Mama married Papa, so her surname was now Chavez, even though when her great-grandfather was legitimized they took the de la Cruz name. Oddly enough, Tio Lucas had taken the Rivera name instead of keeping and giving his surname. And Mama-

If Michaela and Tio Lucas had the wrong surname, Rivera, was Mama saying something was wrong with the family. They were a little weird, sure, but Tia Luisa, who was born into the family, had always been nice to her. Maybe that was the problem. Mama didn't like Tia Elisa. Actually, she hated her. Now, Mariana though she knew why. Tio Lucas carried the Rivera name, had married Tia Elisa...and given that same surname to Michaela...instead of marrying Mama, and giving his surname to her.

Mama...she looked at Tio Lucas the same way Tia Elisa did. Like she loved him. Romantically. Never, in her short life, had Mariana ever seen her mother look at her father like that. With such (and she looked this word up in both a dictionary and a thesaurus) ardor.

Mama hated Tia Elisa...because she married Tio Lucas. Mama had loved Tio Lucas too, but he chose Tia Elisa instead of her. Because Mama hated Tia Elisa and her marriage to Tio Lucas, she hated the child born from that union as well: Michaela. Because she wanted to marry Tio Lucas, she must still think she deserved to marry him. Michaela should have been her, Carlota's second daughter, not the firstborn daughter of Elisa and Lucas Rivera. She hated Michaela as much as she wanted her. If Mama loved Tio Lucas instead of Papa...

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, something whispered that maybe she wanted Michaela more than she had ever loved Mariana. The other half of her thought that maybe Mama just hated both her and Michaela, because if she had married Tio Lucas instead of Papa, neither of them would exist. Neither of them should've existed...?

Chapter End.

So, that was a clusterfuck of information.

Again, kind of like an info dump. Mariana needs therapy, and her mother needs to get behind bars.

This chapter is kind of ugly, and again, when I complete the story I'll probably rewrite the plot, but as of right now I decided to complete this chapter and post it otherwise I'd never get it done. Originally, it was supposed to be WAYYYYYYYYYYY longer, but at that point Mariana had begun spiraling into slightly insane state of near total incoherence. So uhh, review and comment?

Also, the title is a reference to the entire living family getting cursed. If it seems half-assed how they realized that something was Not Right, that's because it is. I'll rewrite that later, but I currently lack the brainpower to do so.