I did not like the idea that the Rivera's in the Land of the Dead had to smash the guitar to break the curse. That doesn't make much sense to me. In a story of redemption and forgiveness, breaking a part of someone that you're going to be forgiving them for is wonky. In this story, it will be similar to the Coco story, except Miguel will need to be forgiven for taking the guitar. I will also be treating the guitar as Hector's since Ernesto stole the guitar and thus is not the actual owner of the guitar. The beginning and some parts, later on, will be the same as the movie, but a lot more will change once Miguel is cursed. This story won't be updated that often since it takes a while to go through and put accents on everything. I don't speak Spanish well, so I have to double-check what I write to make sure it's correct.
Disclaimer: I do not own Coco, but I do own a copy of the DVD and the soundtrack. Updated 3/2/20
Miguel sat on his knees, shining the shoes of the mariachi in front of him. He knew he wasn't supposed to be in the plaza, but it was the best place in town to listen to music. He hummed along to the band currently playing in the gazebo. In reality, he liked the freedom he got by being allowed to stay out by himself. Besides, lots of people hung out in the plaza! If there was one thing he liked about his family's business, it was the excuse to go into town.
The Rivera Family was well-known in Santa Cecilia as the best shoe-makers in the area. But they were also well-known for another reason. They were the only people in town who hated music. The young boy sighed as he pulled out some black shoe paint. He was different from the rest of his family. Miguel Rivera loved music, and dreamed, with every fiber of his being, of becoming a musician. A dream that he somehow managed to keep a secret from his family for years.
My family is always the worst on Días de Los Muertos. I can't even go 5 minutes without being reminded of family this and family that. I just want to play music, but all I hear is how much they expect me to be like the rest of them!
"Can I tell you something, señor?" He didn't wait to see if the man acknowledged him. "Sometimes, I think I'm cursed. 'Cause of something that happened before I was even born. See, a long time ago, there was this family. The papa, he was a musician. He and his family would sing and dance and count their blessings. But he also had a dream. To play for the world. And one day, he left with his guitar and never returned." Miguel paused in his work. He smirked as he remembered what Abel had called their great-great-grandfather.
"And the mamá? She didn't have time to cry over that walk-boy musician. After banishing all music from her life, she found a way to provide for her daughter. She rolled up her sleeves, and she learned to make shoes!" Miguel rolled his eyes and continued smearing paint on the shoes. The man tried to stop him, but the young boy had already continued talking.
"She could've made candy, o-o-or fireworks, or sparkly underwear for wrestlers?! But, no. She chose shoes. Then she taught her daughter to make shoes. And later, she taught her son-in-law. Then her grandkids got roped in. As her family grew, so did the business! Music had torn her family apart, but shoes held them all together!" He switched to the other shoe, coating new polish on the brush as he did so.
"You see, that woman? Was my great-great-grandmother, Mamá Imelda. She died way before I was born. But my family still tells her story, every year on Días de Los Muertos. The Day of the Dead!" He really did admire Mamá Imelda. She was strict, sure, but to be determined enough to learn to make shoes? That must've been hard. Shoes were so tedious to make.
"And her little girl? She's my great-grandmother, Mamá Coco! She calls me Julio, but actually, my name is Miguel. Mamá Coco has trouble remembering things. But it's good to talk to her anyway, so I pretty much tell her everything." And, yes, he really meant everything. She was the only one who knew that he loved music. He wished he could sneak he could play for her just once, but his abuelita constantly checked on her. He'd be caught before he played the first note.
"My abuelita? She's Mamá Coco's daughter. Abuelita runs our house just like Mamá Imelda did. I think we're the only family in Mexico who hates music! And my family's fine with that. But me? I'm not like the rest of my family! I know I'm not supposed to love music… But it's not my fault!" Miguel wistfully stared at the gazebo as the band finished their song. They had ended with the best song ever, Remember Me. He turned his attention back to the man in front of him.
"It's Ernesto De La Cruz's, the greatest musician of all time! He started out a total nobody from Santa Cecilia, like me! But when he played music, he made people fall in love with him. He starred in movies, he had the coolest guitar, he could fly! And he wrote the best songs! But my all-time favorite is Remember Me." He could picture himself in a mariachi outfit, just like de la Cruz. Standing on stage in front of hundreds of people.
"He lived the kind of life you'd dream about! Until 1942, when he was crushed by a giant bell. I wanna be just like him. Sometimes, I look at De La Cruz and get this feeling, like we're connected somehow! Like if he could play music, maybe someday, ah-ah-I could too! If it wasn't for my family." Miguel's shoulders slumped, and he stared at the man's shoes in sadness. I don't know how much longer I can take this.
"Aye-aye-aye muchacho! I asked for a shoeshine! Not your life's story." The mariachi sighed exasperatedly. "O-o-oh yeah. Sorry!" Miguel quickly grabbed two brushes and started brushing the man's shoe again. The man strummed his guitar. "It's just that I can't really talk about any of this at home, so…"
The mariachi stared at him. "Look." Miguel lifted his head to look at him. "If I were you? I'd march right up to my family and say, 'Hey! I'm a musician! Deal with it!'" He motioned with his hands while he talked.
Miguel chuckles, "I could never say that." He went back to brushing. If you knew how scary my Abuelita can be, you'd understand why I never say anything. That didn't deter his customer as he stared at him again.
"You are a musician, no?" Miguel frowned, "I don't know, I mean… I only really play for myself." He had taught himself how to play guitar by watching videos of de la Cruz and listening to records. It took him forever to make a guitar too! But now he could at least practice playing songs.
"Ahhh. Did de la Cruz become the best musician by hiding his sweet, sweet skills? No! He walked out onto that plaza, and he played out loud! Oh, mira, mira." He snapped his fingers as he gestured to the gazebo. The band that was there had cleared out, and people were swarming the stage with decorations. "They're setting up for tonight! The music competition for Día de Muertos. You wanna be like your hero? You should sign up!"
Miguel gazed at the poster that was being hung up on the plaza stage, then went back to shining the man's shoes. He'd seen the poster before. They did it every year, after all, but he had never been able to attend, and he had never thought about playing in it.
"Uh-uh. My family would freak!" Abuelita would sic la chancla on me for sure. Then my parents would yell at me, and the rest of the family would probably hate me.
"Look, if you're too scared, then well, have fun making shoes." Miguel cringed as the man baited him. "Come on, what did De La Cruz always say?" The kid thought about it. "S-seize your moment?" He offered sheepishly. The man narrowed his eyes at his guitar in contemplation, before handing it over to Miguel.
"Show me what you got, muchacho." Miguel stared at it in a mix of awe and surprise. No way! Does he really want to hear me play? "I'll be your first audience." Miguel took it from him, holding it with reverence. This was his dream. A real audience to play for. He looked at the man again, as though making sure it was alright. The man urged him with a smile. But just as he was about to strum the guitar…
"MIGUEL!"
Miguel gasped in horror, shoved the guitar into the man's hands, and turned around. His abuelita was storming towards him, with his cousin Rosá and Tío Berto, carrying baskets of cempasúchil petals, following closely behind.
"Abuelita!" Miguel gave her a sheepish wave at being caught. Oh no... What are they doing here? Abuelita never comes by the plaza! I'm so dead! "What are you doing here?!" Abuelita cried out. "Umm, uh-uh-ahhh." Miguel hurriedly packed up his shoe-shining gear.
Abuelita noticed the mariachi and glared at him, taking her sandal off as she continued walking towards them. "You leave my grandson alone!" She smacked him with the shoe, knocking his sombrero over his face in the process. Oh no. Please don't make a scene! The man fixed his sombrero.
"Doña, please! I was just getting a shine!" Abuelita ignored him and jabbed the sandal against his nose. Miguel watched in horror as he noticed people staring. She's making a scene…
"I know your tricks, mariachi! What did he say to you?" Her face softened as she looked at Miguel. Miguel panicked. "He was just showing me his guitar!" Shoot! I shouldn't have said that. His family gasped in shock.
"Shame on you!" Tío Berto glared at the man from where he was standing. Abuelita advanced on the poor mariachi, chancla still in his face. The man backed up on the bench he was sitting on. He stood with his hands up in surrender. Miguel couldn't do anything to stop her tirade against the musician; instead, he regretted coming to the plaza in the first place.
"My grandson is a sweet little angelito, perrito, cielito." She gazed tenderly at Miguel, who nervously smiled at her. It turned into shock when abuelita shoved la chancla further at the man, and he fell off the bench. "He wants no part of your music, mariachi. You keep away from him!" Now you know why I never said anything.
The man scrambled to back up, grabbing his guitar and sombrero with a yelp before running off. Abuelita slipped her sandal back on and smother Miguel in a hug. "Aye, pobrecito! Oh, estás bien mijo."
After kissing his head a couple times, she grabs his shoulders and pulls him back enough to see his face. Miguel is gasping from lack of oxygen. "You know better than to be here in this place!" Her face pinched in sternness, "You will come home, now!"
Miguel watched her walk off in despair. Tío Berto gave him a stern glare before following Abuelita. Rosá spun on one leg, sent him a mocking smirk, and spun again to follow the others. Stupid Rosá. Of course, she doesn't get caught being rude.
Miguel sighed. He slung the shoe shining kit's strap over his head, but as he was leaving, he noticed some flyers for the talent show. He had never given it much thought before, but that mariachi's suggestion echoed in his mind.
Maybe I can sneak out to play. Or maybe I can convince Mamá or Papá to let me go watch? When he saw no one from his family was watching him, he ripped one off the wall and stuffed it in the kit.
"How many times have we told you, the plaza is crawling with Mariachis!" "Yes, Tío Berto." Miguel monotonously replied. Maybe if you just let me be happy, you wouldn't find me to be such a bother. As they continued the trek back home, they passed by an old blue truck filled with cempasúchiles. Dante, a stray dog that Miguel took care of, perked up as the family passed by.
"Arf!" He smiled and chased after Miguel. Dánte happily circled him, probably hoping for some food. Miguel tried to shoo Dante away before his abuelita could. Can today get any worse? "No, no, no, no!" He tells him quietly.
"Hah! Go away! You go!" Abuelita removed her sandal again, swinging it at the dog. Dánte managed to dodge every swing, before running off into the nearest ally way. "It's just Dánte!" Miguel tried to assure her. It didn't stop Abuelita from throwing her shoe after Dánte. "Yelp!" The shoe hit its mark.
Miguel winced at the sound. I hope he's okay. "Never name a street dog! They'll follow you forever." She paused for a second before adding, "Now, go get my shoe." Miguel huffed and walked into the alley. Now that Abuelita was gone, Dante came scurrying out from the street back into the alley. "Woof!" Dante jumped and knocked Miguel over. Miguel laughed as Dante stood on his stomach, licking his face.
"I'm glad you're okay, Dante. Have you seen Abuelita's sandal?" Dante barked and retrieved the sandal from around the corner. He brought the slobbered shoe to Miguel. "Good boy, Dante! I owe you a treat later kay? See ya, Dante!" Miguel grabbed the shoe and ran back to his family.