The days wear on, but they're much different. Imelda watches as Héctor's depression rages on and seems to consume him. Each day, his behavior seems to grow more and more irregular, even as he tries to put forth a good attitude.

On Sunday there's no sign of him; their bedroom door stays closed the whole day. Imelda casts long looks at the door whenever she passes it that day.

On Monday, he's downstairs again, halfheartedly making conversation with her and other family members. His voice is so tired that it barely sounds like his own.

Tuesday, he's in their room again, staring at his nightstand where he'd put the other presents for Ernesto. Imelda watches as he takes each one, looks inside, then closes it and sets it back down. His eyes meet hers for a brief second, and she sees that blankness again. That emotionlessness that is so unlike him it scares her more than she likes to admit. They stare at each other for a while before she turns away.

Wednsday and Thursday, he divides his time: a little upstairs, a little downstairs, seemingly oblivious to the cautious glances everyone sends his way, the frowns Imelda and her brothers give him, the way Coco and Elena shake their heads with pity whenever their paths cross. When he goes upstairs again, Imelda follows him. This time he doesn't do anything except for lay down on their bed wearily, curling into himself and not making any movement.

On Friday, he's gone from the house completely. He doesn't return until evening, and he doesn't explain where he was or what he was doing. Hours after, Imelda passes their bedroom door again and notices that all of Ernesto's presents are missing. The trash bin in their room overflows with candy wrappers and wraipping paper, along with demented pieces of cardboard. It makes her heart clench just looking at them, and she reaches for a torn wrapper for a second before retracting her hand when she hears movement outside the door.

By Saturday, Imelda decides to take matters into her own hands.


Weekends were Ernesto's favorite days. Imelda remembers Héctor saying that once. On weekends, that's when Héctor and Ernesto spent the most time together, whether performing for others or just relaxing. Saturdays were Ernesto's favorite because that's when the audiences for their concerts were the largest. And that's when Héctor devoted all of his time purely to Ernesto, without interacting with anyone else.

This is probably why Héctor chooses to stay upstairs again.

When Imelda opens the bedroom door, she finds Héctor, staring out the window with his hands on the windowsill, grasping it with too tight of a hold. His mouth is a flat line. She can hear his shaky breaths from where she's standing, in the doorway. His soft voice touches her ears and makes her jump.

"Oh, Superhero." Just like he used to, he rolls the second r. His head tilts up and Imelda sees his eyes are closed.

"Don't do this to yourself, Superhero. Please." He lifts his hands and curls them to fists. "I need you, Ernesto."

Imelda steps up to him and taps him on the shoulder.

Héctor slowly turns to her. "Is that you, Ernesto?" Then he sees her and he deflates, staring at her with a heavy sadness in his eyes.

Imelda says no words to him, once again noticing how upset he is, losing himself in the past way too much. Without warning she wraps her arms around him, feeling him stiffen in her arms. He starts to speak.

"What are you doing?"

Imelda looks at him again. "I'm worried about you."

Héctor sighs and Imelda stares at him as he closes his eyes.

"This shouldn't have happened." His voice is barely above a whisper.

Imelda runs a hand through his hair. "You need to move past it. I hate watching you do this to yourself."

Héctor backs away from her. "I just wish that--"

She cuts him off, pressing a hand to his mouth. "I know what you want, but it can't happen."

Héctor pushes her hand away and collapses onto their bed, sighing. "Please get out," he says.

Imelda shakes her head, laying down next to him and embracing him again. "I'm not leaving." She stares into his eyes and says, "Stop doing this. You're acting just like Ernesto when he was depressed."

Héctor closes his eyes and turns away, not giving her a reply. Soon she falls asleep with her arms wrapped around him fiercely.