Thank you to friskthefandom, alex, Cara Beatrice Green, AngstDraggy, coco-nut, 9aza, Taranodongirl1, MysteryGirl7Freak, loracarol and FireChildSlytherin5 for your reviews last chapter! It's greatly appreciated and I love to know what everyone thinks! :)
Special shoutout to superlc529 for helping me out with this chapter. It took a bit longer because I was trying to come up with a name for Héctor that he can use in the Land of the Living, and we settled with 'borrowing' his voice actor's name x) Thanks once again for your help!
Regarding updates, my plan is to try and post at least once every weekend. A week gives me time to outline new chapters, write them out and proofread. But sometimes I miss details and mistakes, so please feel free to correct me if you spot anything I didn't.
Atarah Derek: I actually may already have something like that planned ;)
xxxx
"Oh, I could never hate you," Ernesto says, a dark smile forming across his features. Why hadn't he seen it before? Why hadn't he suspected what Ernesto was planning? He'd been so angry at him for wanting to leave, angry enough to...
He drinks the liquid, thinking nothing of it and not suspecting that it may soon end his life. Moments later as they walk towards the station, Héctor suddenly feels that he can't move, bending and clutching his stomach in agony.
His mind is starting to become too blurry to make sense of anything...everything goes dark.
"I woke up dead," he remembers telling Miguel after seeing the movie scene Ernesto had created.
But now I'm alive...
Dead...I'm supposed to be dead!
Héctor jolts awake again with not much warning other than the nightmare, the sharp pain in his stomach intensifying. He grips his stomach and groans, his nose wrinkling as an odd sort of smell approaches.
Wait...his nose? Lifting a hand towards his face, he has to stop himself from screaming when he sees that it's still covered with skin.
Smell...he doesn't dare lift his hand any further to feel his newly returned nose, yet it astounds him that one is actually there since skeletons in the Land of the Dead just...don't have them. They may have what's left of a nose, but their ability to smell was compromised. On the other hand, it seemed that some skeletons unfortunately retained their allergies, which Héctor had always found fascinating for some reason.
It wasn't so fascinating to be stuck in the Land of the Living in his human body that no longer belonged in such a place.
Glancing left and right, he finds that he's still in the same room he'd fallen asleep in—he's still in the living world as a human being in his old body.
This had to be a nightmare, too!
But it isn't.
He's still in the living world, and as far as he knows, there's nothing he can do about it. There's no way he'll ever be able to go back home and see Imelda and Coco.
No...I can't think like that, he tells himself firmly. He and Miguel haven't even tried anything that would possibly be able to send him back. He can't lose hope like this so easily...his new nose wrinkles again, and he realizes that the smell must be coming from another room.
The door to the guest room opens gently, and Héctor expects Miguel to enter at first. But instead it's...his mother?
Luisa comes in slowly, holding a plate filled with a yellow kind of food that he guesses the smell must have originated from. He has to stop his nose from wrinkling again as she brings the plate closer, lest she wanted her to think him rude on his first impression.
His eyes widen as he realizes that she's holding his straw hat in one hand along with the plate.
"I see our guest is awake," she says calmly, a gentle smile crossing her features. She sets the plate down onto the stand, and Héctor eyes the yellow food warily. It looks and smells like...eggs? He can't help it when a shiver runs down his skin-covered spine. He used to eat chorizo and eggs for breakfast with Ernesto on the road. There's no chorizo included as far as his scent can tell, but he finds it an uncanny coincidence that eggs would just so happen to be the first thing he'll eat in the living world.
She hands the straw hat to him as well and he's glad to have it back, but rests it politely to the side for now.
"Gracias," is all he can say to start off, and Luisa smiles again, gesturing back towards the door as if she's telling someone it's okay to come in.
A second person arrives, and Héctor recognizes the man as Enrique—Miguel's father. He carries a pair of shoes, and Héctor can tell just by looking at them that they're his. He'd been so used to going around barefoot in the Land of the Dead that he had still felt as if he was barefoot as he crossed the bridge, glancing down to make sure the shoes were real and not just a cruel figment of his imagination. The shoes had become a part of who he was, a sign that his family—especially Imelda—had accepted his return.
"Must have been some lullaby my son played," Enrique says, a hint of pride caressing his voice as he sets the shoes down near the door for Héctor to put on once he's well enough to leave.
Lullaby? What are you up to, Miguel? Héctor can only wonder for the time being. He guesses that he should play along until the boy explains, so he nods slowly, trying his best to put the puzzle pieces together.
"It was a long night, and I was already tired. He helped a lot and I guess it worked a little too well." He pauses to chuckle awkwardly, and Miguel's parents simply wait for him to continue. "I apologize if I scared him or caused any trouble. I was surprised to see him again after we met last year."
The understatement of the century, Héctor can't help but think. It had been a pleasant kind of surprise being able to talk to Miguel through Dante and Pepita, but he wishes it could have stayed that way instead of turning into what he is now.
"If you don't mind, Señor, could you tell us your name? Miguel—our son who found you—wasn't entirely clear on that," Enrique says.
He immediately wants to say Héctor—Héctor Rivera, but understands he probably shouldn't. According to Miguel, they don't know who he is yet, that he is their son's great-great grandfather. If he says his real name, it would probably jog their memory of the photo and shock them—maybe even scare them. Or they would just think he was crazy—out of his mind, and send him to one of those loco places.
He was a master at coming up with things on the spot, just as he had done while playing Chicharrón's favorite song and coming up with a new lyric when Miguel had been listening. He had come up with hundreds of different names while trying to cross the bridge over the years, so he falters and wracks his newly-formed brain trying to pick one.
"Uh...G-Gael! Gael García." He answers a little too quickly for his liking. He'd used it once in an attempt to cross the bridge, stealing another skeleton's identity. It hadn't worked, of course, but it would have to do here. It hadn't just been another skeleton's name either, but that the name 'Gael' was a part of him, somehow. Then again, he'd always felt that way after stealing someone's identity, like they had melded into him; or he had just wished too strongly to be someone else because he couldn't cross that bridge no matter how hard he tried.
"Is there anyone we can call to let them know you're alright? Friends? Family?" Enrique questions again, and Héctor can suddenly relate to how Miguel must have felt when Rosa had bombarded him with questions before revealing to her who he really was.
Right in front of me, he thinks nonchalantly, though he can't shake off the awkward feeling of being in the presence of his great-grandson. This wasn't right...it wasn't natural!
"...I left home a long time ago," he answers carefully. It was true, but he didn't have to add in too many details. "My parents didn't agree with certain choices I made, so..."
Imelda banished me from seeing her and Coco again.
It was better than trying to explain what had gone on in the cemetery. No one living would have been able to witness Ernesto and the other skeletons dragging him through the Land of the Living after their ambush, and it would only raise their worry and cause them to really call a doctor, something he was surprised they hadn't done yet. Maybe Miguel was part of the reason...he makes a mental note to ask the boy later.
Enrique and Luisa exchange glances, and Héctor can see the worry shine through about what kind of 'choices' he had made to get kicked out of his home. But he's grateful when they decide not to push, and Enrique nods in acceptance at his answer.
"We just want to thank you for helping our son come home last year," Luisa says gratefully. Héctor has to stop his eyes widening should they become suspicious of his surprised reaction. Just what had Miguel told them about last year, exactly? The most obvious answer is that no, he wouldn't tell them anything about the Land of the Dead...would he?
"I just gave him some advice when he ran into me," Héctor says in another careful explanation. "Nothing is more important than family. I made the wrong choices, so I wanted to make sure he didn't go down the same path I did."
He had to admit, that did fall in line with his lie about getting kicked out by his parents. Well, half-lie. He'd gotten kicked out by his wife in the Land of the Dead, but he still keeps that part to himself.
"Gracias, Señor. Miguel took your advice to heart," Enrique says with a smile as wide as Luisa's. Héctor nods, a feeling of pride for the boy sweeping through him, and Luisa gestures towards the plate of eggs.
The smell makes him want to vomit, but all he manages is a slight groan when Miguel's parents leave.
xxxx
Héctor relaxes for the first time since the day began when Miguel returns. He tries his best to hide the discomfort in his stomach, to ignore the painful growling sensation, but he lifts a hand towards it anyway and visibly winces enough for Miguel to notice.
"You need to eat something. You're just hungry," he says, pointing to his own stomach, and then towards the plate of scrambled eggs.
Right.
Héctor can now recall hunger pains from when he had been living, but he doesn't remember them being this bad; it might just be because he hasn't eaten anything since Día de los Muertos.
He lifts the fork from the plate shakily with a hand, struggling for a moment to get a piece of egg on top. He definitely can't recall eating being so difficult as the egg refuses to stay in place, falling back onto the plate, but then he remembers it's been years since he's actually touched real food.
Miguel reaches his own hand forward to position his in the right place so the fork is easier to hold, and his shakes lessen enough to allow him to lift the egg to his mouth.
I can't do this, he screams in his mind. I'm not supposed to be eating!
But his unpleasant hunger pains win. He pushes the fork into his mouth, taking it out just as quick.
"Swallow," Miguel instructs when he sees him hesitate.
Héctor gives in, not wanting to face the wrath of his great-great grandson.
The scrambled egg slides down his throat easily, but all Héctor can think of is the chorizo he had eaten just before his death, and then assuming he'd choked. Closing his eyes, he forces himself to forget about the chorizo for a moment and just concentrate on how good the egg tastes. He can feel it move all the way down his throat, landing directly in the middle of his stomach.
He'd done it. He'd eaten for the first time since coming back to life!
But he can't get used to it. He and Miguel will find a way for him to get back home, he knows they will; it's too early to lose hope.
"So...what's this about a lullaby that made me fall asleep?" Héctor asks to distract himself as he eats, making sure to swallow first before he talks.
"Not Remember Me," Miguel says before he can bring up his own lullaby that he had created for Coco. It may have been a lullaby, but it wasn't meant to actually make her fall asleep though she could have if she wanted; it was so they could play together whenever they were apart.
"I didn't want them to get a doctor," Miguel explains, shuddering at the idea, "because they might have found out that you're not supposed to...be alive."
Oh. That makes sense, Héctor thinks, blinking in surprise. In all honesty, he hadn't thought of why Miguel's parents didn't bring a doctor when they'd found him, or why they hadn't gotten one when he first woke up. He supposes it's for the better; what if they actually did find out? The living world is unaware of what happens after death. They may have a strong belief that their ancestors and loved ones are still there waiting for them, but they don't know that for sure, just as Miguel hadn't been before entering the Land of the Dead himself. If doctors found out where he was really from, who knew what they would do to him?
"So I told them I made you fall asleep by accident with the guitar because you were already tired from the holiday," Miguel continues, nodding towards the instrument still resting by the stand. "They didn't believe me at first since I didn't have it with me at the time, but Rosa was in on it and said she put it away when she went to get them."
He huffs slightly. "I have to come up with an entirely new song now. One that will make people fall asleep because it's so calming." He pouts a little, realizing the trouble he's gotten himself into. "How am I going to do that?!"
"I'm sure it won't be that hard. You do get it from me!" Héctor reminds him of what he'd said when they were trapped in the sinkhole together.
"But now I know...it comes from you!" Héctor can't help but smile warmly at the memory, and he realizes that it's the first time he's smiled since arriving in the Land of the Living.
It fades just as soon as it had arrived.
"Maybe you can help," Miguel says brightly. Héctor nods, but pauses just before he lifts another bite of egg to his mouth. He takes notice that it's morning, but Miguel is still here with him, which he's grateful for.
But...
"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" He asks, growing suspicious that the answer was yes.
"Yeah..." Miguel confirms. He hesitates a moment as if he'll be in trouble, but it's not like Héctor would be able to punish him for skipping school even if they were related. "I convinced Mamá and Papá to tell them we have a family emergency, even though they don't think you really are a part of the family, yet. They'll be too busy with the baby and the workshop to take care of you, so they agreed that I can do it for now!" Miguel snickers, but Héctor shakes his head.
He doesn't like the idea. "You shouldn't be missing school because of me."
"You are a family emergency," Miguel points out, "they just don't know that yet." He chuckles again like it's one of the funniest things he's heard recently, and Héctor can't blame him if it is.
He also can't exactly disagree. It was indeed an emergency being sent back to the Land of the Living in his human body, but only he and Miguel know that, of course.
The plate is empty now and he sets it down onto the stand, Miguel seeming satisfied that he'd eaten his first full meal.
His stomach is also satisfied—the hunger pains are gone and no longer tormenting him.
But since the hunger left, a new type of pain makes itself known and he does his best to ignore it, to fight the impossible, but it only makes the pain worse the more he concentrates on it.
He can't take the building pressure between his legs any longer, glancing back towards Miguel.
He has no choice but to ask the one question he had been trying to avoid since waking up yesterday, ignoring the pressure and holding it in until it reached its peak now and he wasn't able to do so any longer.
"The Land of the Living still has restrooms, right?"
Miguel's eyes widen at the unexpected question and Héctor can tell he's trying to hold back a laugh, but instead he smiles and nods politely, much to his relief and appreciation.
"I can show you where the bathroom is," he says hesitantly, "but you're going to have to stand..."
xxxx
Miguel helps him out of the bed steadily as he can, and Héctor grabs his shoulders gently as a support. His bare feet touch the floor and he closes his eyes to prepare himself for contact.
The second his feet touch the floor and he attempts to put his weight on them, his knees buckle. Miguel reaches both hands forward to stop him from falling on his face like he had after the bridge incident. Héctor manages to rebalance, gently sitting back down onto the bed.
His legs shake, and he has trouble finding it in him to try standing again; being covered with human skin was definitely much different than walking on pure bones, its heaviness not helping him to put one foot forward after the other at all.
"Let's try again," Miguel says, determined not to have him give up so easily.
Again.
And again...
And again.
He glances up at Miguel to let him know that he's okay after the third try, and that it wasn't anything serious except for maybe a bruise or two that would form later.
"It's been so long...I forgot what it feels like to be alive," he admits, weariness already beginning to take over though the day had just begun. He places a hand on his knees to stop himself from falling over a fourth time as he raises himself up, unaware that he's actually staying in one place until Miguel points out his victory.
"There you go!" He praises, smiling brightly. "Now take one step forward..."
His great-great grandson's encouraging words push him to keep trying until he gets the hang of it at last, his past muscle memory finally returning. He finds that it helps greatly if he brings forth an actual memory of walking from when he had still been alive before, but Miguel allows him to keep a hand gently placed on his shoulder as he leads him towards the bathroom just in case he loses his balance again.
"We should go to the cemetery after you're done to see if we can find anything there that can help," Miguel suggests.
Héctor nods in agreement as he enters the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
xxxx
That feels much better, Héctor thinks when the deed is done. His bladder is empty now, and he couldn't be happier. He moves towards the sink to wash his hands, unprepared when he accidentally looks up into the mirror without bracing himself first.
Brown eyes that are almost an identical match to his great-great grandson's stare back at him, widening at the sight.
He's still wearing his purple vest and brown pants, including the red tie.
He lifts his hands up to his hair and pulls lightly, cringing when it doesn't come off like it used to; his hair is attached to his head, now.
He can see that his gold tooth is missing, replaced by a new set of teeth that Héctor realizes he will have to take care of from now on, or at least until next year if he was lucky enough to be able to just...fade back into the Land of the Dead, if that's how it would work.
A gentle knock sounds at the door and at first, Héctor is afraid to answer. He waits, but decides to open the door when the silence continues.
He glances around the room but sees no one, his gaze landing back on the bed where he had been resting. New clothes have been placed on the bed for him to change into, and Héctor can only wonder who they previously belonged to.
Blue jeans and a lightly colored purple shirt similar to his vest, as if they knew he would like something at least a little similar to his old clothes. Whoever had lent him this new outfit, he would have to find out so he could thank them later; he has an odd feeling it hadn't been Miguel.
He's not sure if his current clothing fits in with this century, but it hadn't been enough for Miguel's parents to ask questions about it. Maybe he should come up with an explanation just in case...
As he struggles to get his cherished shoes back on and put the new clothes to use, his stomach drops anyway as he realizes just how many years have passed since his murder.
Ernesto had killed him in 1921. He was never one to keep track of the years in the Land of the Dead since then, only becoming worried about such a thing when he had felt himself beginning to fade.
He's almost afraid to ask Miguel what year it is now, but based on how old his daughter had been when she'd passed, the exact number of years couldn't be anything good.
xxxx
They make it back to the cemetery in one piece, and both are surprised that Héctor doesn't fall once on the journey. His determination to get back home leads his grandson to the spot he remembers the most—where he had first fallen after his transformation was complete.
All the while, Miguel had made sure that they weren't seen by any passerby, taking shortcuts in order to get to their destination unseen; Héctor still finds it hard to believe that he can be seen by the living now at all, though he's grateful that Miguel is one of them.
"My parents might not recognize you, but someone else could. I had to show your photo to a lot of Santa Cecilia to prove you wrote the songs and that it was your guitar, so they might have a better memory," Miguel explains as they continue their journey. The boy glances left and right as if he's looking for something—or someone—and Héctor has a sinking feeling that it may be Dante. Even though the spirit guide would normally be stuck in the Land of the Dead the rest of the year with them, Miguel may be thinking that he had somehow gotten stuck on the other side of the bridge with him, as well.
No matter how hard he tries, Héctor just can't bring himself to tell Miguel about the possibility that Dante might be gone, and he would never come back.
They stand now in the cemetery itself. Héctor reaches a hand forward, as if to try and touch the invisible that he knows is still there even if he can't see it.
Coco...Imelda...Dante...I'm so sorry. If he could apologize right now a thousand times over, he would...but it would never be enough. Not after what he had put them through after leaving the first time to go with Ernesto.
I never meant for this to happen. I should have gone back with you when I still had the chance...
He could have waited another long year to try to tell Miguel that he had made it, but he didn't. If he had, none of this would be happening right now. Miguel had said with such certainty that it was Ernesto's fault, but Héctor wishes he could be as sure as his great-great grandson.
His fists clench unconsciously in frustration. This is all my fault...
"The Land of the Dead is on the other side of the wall, right?" Miguel asks just to be sure.
"Sí," is all Héctor can answer, staring longingly at the fog enveloping said wall. What else would be on the other side, hidden by mysterious fog that never seemed to leave? He could try climbing over but even if he made it, he knows he wouldn't be able to see anything.
Or anyone. It would just be a blank space, and his new heart wouldn't be able to take it in that home isn't home anymore. The marigold bridge is probably right in front of him, and he has to resist the urge to just make a break for it lest he want to run right into the wall and hurt himself.
So close...yet so far.
At least for now. He turns and his eyes widen as Miguel pulls out a petal from his own jeans pocket, and Héctor has an odd sense of déjà vu as if they're reliving the moment Miguel had pulled the photo of Coco out of his pocket.
Why hadn't he thought of it before?
The boy takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment.
"I thought that maybe all you need is a blessing."
Héctor nods. "It's worth a try. Go for it, chamaco."
Miguel pauses again, readying himself and lifting the petal towards Héctor.
"Papa Héctor...I give you my blessing."
The former skeleton stares intently at the petal.
Nothing. The petal doesn't glow, but Hector holds out hope that eventually, maybe...it will.
Miguel tries again, determined not to give up so soon.
"I give you my blessing to go back to the Land of the Dead and be with Mamá Imelda and Mamá Coco," Miguel says. Each of the two names makes Héctor's heart pound just a bit faster, and an intense longing to go back where he belongs nearly smothers him.
"And never try to stay late to see me again," Miguel adds the condition as if to give the petal another chance to glow, but Héctor shakes his head in exasperation.
"Miguel, it wasn't your fault," Héctor reminds his great-great grandson. "It was Ernesto and his fans. They kept me from getting back across."
"I know," Miguel says in response. He grins. "But just to be sure."
Héctor rolls his eyes, and they both continue to stare with such intent that Héctor can feel his eyes start to burn from keeping them open for so long.
Still nothing. The petal remains blank and unglowing just like a normal petal.
"It's not working," Héctor finally says, anxiety beginning to creep up on him again.
Miguel sighs in disappointment. "I guess not..."
His grandson's words don't help him to calm down. "It's not glowing! It's not working! I was forced to stay late in the Land of the Living, so I'm cursed. Right?! I have to be cursed, so the petal has to glow! I have to go back..."
Miguel simply allows Héctor's panic to sink in without bothering to try and comfort him as a lightbulb goes off in his mind.
The only way to enter the Land of the Dead was either by being cursed or passing on...
"Getting cursed! That's it! You know how I stole your guitar and got cursed, right?"
"Right..." Héctor isn't sure if he likes where Miguel is going, but he manages to calm himself down enough to keep listening.
"All we have to do is wait until next year. Then you can steal something but instead of getting a blessing like I had to, you don't need one!"
Héctor blinks at Miguel's plan and how ready he already is for his grandfather to go through with it.
It might have been easy for his grandson to take his guitar under the impression that he would have wanted him to have it—and he does—but Héctor doesn't even have an impression from someone he could possibly steal from.
He couldn't do that!
"I can't steal," he disagrees, shaking his head. He can't picture himself stealing. It would be disrespectful for one thing, especially on Día de los Muertos.
"It won't hurt if that's what you're worried about," Miguel reassures. Now that he thinks about it, he hadn't felt any pain when he had been turning into a skeleton, thankfully. It probably should have, but he can't recall any kind of pain as he had changed from human to bones.
Héctor is grateful that Miguel hadn't experienced any pain during his slow transformation like he had. His change may have been quick, but it had been excruciating nonetheless.
He shakes his head again. "I can't," he repeats. Stealing a person's identity while trying to cross the bridge was one thing, but it was another thing entirely when he shouldn't have to steal.
But if he even went through with such a thing...
"I would be just like Ernesto. I can't do that..." He would be just like the man who had stolen everything from him. It might not be as extreme by taking the life of another human being of course, but it was just as bad.
"It might be the only way," Miguel says a little more softly, trying to contain his excitement that he had thought of a possible way home for his great-great grandfather.
"What am I going to do for a year?" Héctor asks, more to himself than Miguel. He needed to think this through...
"Maybe you can shine shoes like I did, or join Mamá and Papá in the workshop!" Miguel suggests, inwardly smacking himself for sounding almost his father. But his smile continues to brighten at the new idea forming. "That way you can still stay with us!"
Héctor shakes his head. While it would be nice staying with his living family, he couldn't intrude like that. It would be wrong for him to be there when he's not even supposed to be there...
"Your parents have already done enough for me," he says a bit more firmly.
"Please, Papa Héctor?" Miguel begs, clasping his hands together and staring at him with big, brown puppy dog eyes that almost remind him of Dante. Wherever the hairless dog is now, Héctor can only hope that he's okay.
"They do need a little more help in the workshop," Miguel lets it be known, and it's this statement that causes Héctor to start giving in. "You have to stay. We're your family, even if they don't know it yet."
Miguel was right, after all. His parents had done so much for him already, and he could repay them by helping to make shoes if they allowed. He would even work for free since he would only be staying for a year!
He sighs, running the plan over in his mind. If he stole something, he would become cursed and get sent back to the Land of the Dead as a human. But he would then turn back into his skeleton form, and there wasn't much to complain about that.
He wants his skeleton form back. He wants—needs—to be with his wife and daughter again.
He had made her a promise that he intends to keep.
Héctor sighs again. He abhors the thought of stealing, especially on Día de los Muertos, but the thought of returning to where he really belongs and being with his family overrides his uneasiness about the first part of the plan.
"I'll do it..." he whispers in defeat, but he can't stop the hope that flutters in his chest and makes his heart skip a beat in anticipation.
Even if he has to wait a year.
xxxx
"Remember me...though I have to say goodbye..."
Coco sings softly to her mother as they sit together on her bed at home in the Land of the Dead. She can recall the times she would stand outside her daughter's room listening to Coco sing by herself, unaware that her mother was actually listening. Many times Imelda had considered storming in on her to make her stop singing, to yell at her that no, Papá was never coming back! He abandoned us and chose music over his family!
But she'd never had the heart.
"I wanted Coco to forget you too, but..."
But her daughter deserved to hang onto what hope she had that one day, she would see her Papá again. The letters might have stopped, but somehow, someway, just maybe he would change his mind and return. Coco chose hope over the anguish that Papá would never come back, over the sadness that he had left them.
His return never happened, but Coco had never lost that hope.
Not like she had...Imelda doesn't know how her daughter pulled through until the day of her arrival in this land. If Miguel hadn't played the lullaby to her when he had, she might have forgotten everything, taking that hope along with her.
But Coco doesn't have to worry about her mother walking in on her after she had banned music any longer, forcing her to sing quietly as possible so she wouldn't be caught. Imelda faintly wonders if banning music again would help heal her rapidly breaking heart, but shakes the thought away—she can't do that to her family. Not again, no matter how much Héctor's absence hurt. It wasn't his fault he was now stuck in the Land of the Living...he had to be hurting just as much as them, if not more now that he was human and his heart had returned.
In a way, Ernesto de la Cruz had gotten what he wanted, and it makes her nonexistent blood want to boil.
"Remember me...don't let it make you cry..."
Imelda wants to sing along, but finds she can't bring herself to even mouth the words. She wants to cry herself to sleep, but the dead can't cry and even if they could, she wouldn't lose her strength in front of their daughter. Picturing Héctor in Coco's place on the bed is too much for her to bear, and she almost has to look away but forces herself to continue listening until the song fades and Coco stops singing.
She glances at Héctor's spirit guitar now laying on the end of the bed for only a moment before turning her attention back to Coco.
"You're being so strong, mija. I'm proud of you," Imelda says quietly, inching closer to her daughter to wrap her arms around Coco in a hug. "And he would be, too," she makes sure to add, closing her eyes at the thought of Héctor now stuck in the Land of the Living.
They'd left him. She had left him, and she isn't sure if she'll ever be able to forgive herself for that—leaving Hector just after he had changed from a skeleton to a human. The Department of Family Reunions hadn't been able to do a single thing, and now they would likely be separated for many more years to come.
"Maybe this is a good thing, Mamá..."
Imelda opens her eyes, but doesn't say anything in return, simply allowing her daughter to explain. She can't exactly see how it was a good thing to be separated from her husband once more, but maybe what Coco has to say will shed light on her statement.
"Papá was killed at such a young age," Coco continues, shifting uneasily in her spot. Imelda takes her arms away so she can move easier, and Coco begins to lay down to try falling asleep for the night.
Her first night without Papá...
"Maybe we should let him live. So many people die every day, and not a single person has ever come back to life. We should allow him the chance to live. If he dies again so soon, he would be wasting a very special chance not everyone will get."
Coco's words stick with her the rest of the night, and she's unable to chase them away.
A very special chance...
It was true. Coming back to life was a very special chance, indeed. It wasn't a curse at all, just as the clerk had explained. It was difficult to believe that such a happy and unexpected thing could possibly happen, only for it to be so sad because once again, he was separated from his wife and daughter for who knew how long this time?
Others would kill for this opportunity if they were desperate enough, and if they weren't already dead. She was glad it hadn't been de la Cruz of all people. It might be selfish or wrong to think, but Héctor was one of the skeletons who deserved a chance the most out of everyone.
But she couldn't continue her afterlife without him...could she? Imelda tries to picture Héctor returning as an old man who had passed warm in his bed, surrounded by loved ones instead of having been left in a strange town alone with no one he knew aside from his killer. De la Cruz had left him by himself after the evil deed was complete, not even sending a letter to let them know that something had happened. He could have lied, he could have said that Héctor had passed from a sickness...but not even that. Instead, Imelda had been left to assume the worst: that Héctor had abandoned them, maybe even giving up his dream altogether to be with another woman.
How could she have ever thought such a thing, and how could she have turned him away without even giving him a chance to explain when she had first arrived in the Land of the Dead? Héctor loved his family too much to even think of abandoning them or running off with someone else, and Imelda scolds herself for giving into the lies and whispers Santa Cecilia began when he never returned.
The thought of a much older skeleton-Héctor somehow doesn't sit well with her. He would still be himself, but...not himself at the same time. Though he wouldn't be close to the Final Death, his bones would be slower and more sensitive—almost like Coco. Not that it was a bad thing to die at such an old age, but she would find herself missing the younger, full of energy and life Héctor that she had first fallen in love with. He would be older and wiser, gaining experience in the living world he never had before as the years wore on and on.
"Maybe this is a good thing, Mamá..."
Imelda grips the bed sheets tighter, the ceiling above not offering much in terms of comfort. If she concentrates hard enough, she can almost feel a lump sitting on the top of her legs, but not just any lump—Dante. He would always curl himself up at the end of the bed with her and Héctor before Coco had arrived, and when she had arrived at last, he would keep their daughter warm, as well.
Imelda thinks she can almost feel the alebrije move to snuggle in between her and Coco, but it's most likely just her imagination.
Dante is gone, and there isn't anything they can do.
Just like Héctor is gone, and there isn't anything they can do in separate lands. For the first time, Imelda feels trapped inside the place she had come to accept after her death. Now that Día de los Muertos was over, they wouldn't be able to go back across the bridge until the next holiday. There was no way they could see or check how Héctor was doing, and even when the next holiday finally came, he might not even be able to see or hear them...just like a living person.
Imelda isn't sure if she'll be able to return home for a night in the living world if Héctor wouldn't even be able to see her.
This wasn't right. It wasn't natural! Things like this just don't happen!
But it had.
Coco's words ring through her mind again as her eyes begin to close at last, unable to chase them away.
Maybe we should let him live.