Somehow Héctor gets through the next day without anyone noticing anything wrong with him. Occasionally, though, Imelda will give him a careful glance, as if she can see right through him, but she says nothing.
How can he tell her, or anyone, about his nightly experiences? They'll worry about him, like he's a child or someone weak.
And it's not the first time he'd had nightmares like that. He's learned to just deal with it. Besides, he can take a lot. Sometimes. He's not that vulnerable.
So Héctor hides his fatigue from them, avoiding too much conversation or avoiding them altogether by spending time upstairs and playing his guitar. Music always seemed to help calm him down when he was in a state like this, and even now it helps him.
The bedroom door is closed, and Héctor hopes it keeps everyone away. Every time he feels himself start to go to sleep, he gets up from his sitting position and walks around, snapping himself out of it. Imelda's harsh words from the dream keep replaying in his mind.
She told me to stay away.
She was so mad at me.
Suddenly Héctor goes completely still.
What if she still is?
It was his choice to leave her and Coco alone. She never wanted him to go with Ernesto in the first place. And he defied her, which made her even angrier.
Héctor still remembers the sterness in her eyes when they argued about it, how she looked like she wanted hit him in the face.
And when he saw her in the Land of the Dead years later, there was pain in her expression, mixed with pure rage.
She wants me to leave.
There seemed to be tension in between them every now and then, even though Imelda sort of forgave him and allowed him to reconnect with her.
But she hasn't fully forgiven me. She said so herself.
Someone knocks on the door, causing Héctor to yelp.
But it's only Coco, her face worn with worry. "Papá?"
A feeling of dread builds up inside Héctor. This is what he didn't want: someone finding out about his troubles.
Coco steps closer to him slowly. "Papá, are you sure you're alright?"
No.
Héctor forces himself to show happiness. "Sí. Of course."
Coco frowns at him and sighs. "You just seemed... different today."
Different.
Apperently he hadn't fooled everyone.
"I'm okay, Coco," he tells her, fighting to keep the exaustion out of his voice.
Coco stares him up and down in a way that unnerves him. "You know, you can tell me," she says. "I can help you, if you need it."
Héctor sighs. "You don't have to worry. I'm okay."
Coco studies him again, taking in his messy hair and his half closed eyes. Then she says, "I worry about you, Papá."
That tugs at him. His own daughter. Worried. For him.
Héctor tries not to show tiredness. "You don't have to."
"But--"
Héctor cuts her off. "I know. I get it. You worry. But you can see I'm okay, can't you?"
Coco crosses her arms. "I don't want you overworking yourself."
"Who says I'm overworked?" Héctor raises his voice barely above a yell.
Coco stares at him, but then she sighs. "Alright. If you're sure you're fine, I won't push."
Héctor relaxes a little.
Coco walks toward the door. "Want to come downstairs?"
It makes him shiver for some reason, but Héctor supresses it. He puts forth his usual optimistic attitude, talking and joking with the others. Eventually he forgets his fear of Imelda still hating him.
But he notices that every time he looks over, Coco and Imelda are staring at him.