So that last chapter was pretty intense. This one shouldn't be quite as stressful. Which is good because Imelda has a lot on her mind already. And not just the past.
This one will be a little shorter than some of my most recent chapters (that ended up way longer than I intended). But I'm sure you won't mind too much.
Felipe and Oscar stood back, letting their sister take control of the situation. They knew she could fix things. Imelda would know what to do. So they stayed back as she pulled Héctor into her arms, whispering gentle and soothing words as he whimpered in pain. They waited silently, barely breathing as they watched.
And when Héctor's clenched jaw relaxed enough for his mouth to open slightly and she carefully poured a trickle of medicine into him, they instantly knew that their faith had been rewarded.
"There you go," Imelda said gently, setting the empty glass back on the bedside table. "Shhh… You're all right. You did good. Now we wait until it works. I know it hurts. I know. But it'll stop soon. It's all right, Héctor. You're safe. You're home. Shhh… It'll stop hurting soon. I promise, cariño."
Oscar and Felipe exchanged quick glances. She seemed to be talking without thinking about the actual words. They doubted that Imelda realized what she'd just said. They doubted she realized what she called Héctor.
She'd always used those types of terms of endearment more sparingly than her husband. Mostly for her daughter, grandchildren, and so on and only to an extent. They remembered how Héctor could almost go overboard with how he expressed his love and devotion to her, the words "mi amor" or "mi vida" or "mi alma" falling from his lips as naturally as breathing. Or like a familiar and beloved song, the gentle refrain crafted from the various ways he referred to his wife. Imelda preferred to be a little less poetic. The closest that she came to matching him was insults tinged with affection that took away the bite. When she did call him anything sweet and adoring, it always seemed to mean more.
So hearing it now, hearing her call Héctor "cariño" after so long, wasn't something they could ignore or forget.
It took longer than any of them wished for any sign of change. Imelda kept whispering comforting words, holding him close as the medicine started taking effect. Gradually, the small sounds of pain began to quiet. Tension slowly melted out of Héctor's strained bones, his frame visibly relaxing even as Felipe saw the same thing happening with Imelda. His fingers loosened from the quilt, growing limp once more. And eventually his uneven gasps smoothed out until his breathing settled into something calm and slow, causing Imelda's expression to soften and her voice to finally grow quiet.
Héctor was sleeping. Not unconscious like before. He was actually resting peacefully.
For a moment, the twins were satisfied to simply watch. Héctor didn't look like a lifeless corpse anymore. And Imelda's relief was palpable. She stared down at the skeleton in her arms, her eyes soft and her expression gently. They weren't even certain she remembered that there was anyone else in the room. Neither of the twins were eager to disturb this moment.
Felipe eventually gave Oscar a quick glance, twitching his head at the door. Their sister deserved a little privacy and they should take care of a few things.
Keeping his voice quiet, Felipe said, "Imelda?" She looked up slowly, her expression shifting. "We're going to get Dr. García. He told us—"
"—to let him know if anything changes," Oscar continued, his voice equally soft. "And this certainly—"
"—counts as a change."
They could also stop by the workshop and inform Julio and Rosita. And convince them not to charge up to see what happened. Imelda and Héctor deserved some time alone and undisturbed, even if he wasn't awake for it. After three days of uncertainty, he was finally showing signs of improvement. If they knew their sister, then she needed some time alone to deal with the fallout of everything. Not to mention whatever happened with the police earlier…
Well, whatever it was, she could handle it. Imelda could handle almost anything. And things were going better. That should help.
Granted, they did know that their sister. They knew her very well and had glimpsed enough to know that she wasn't always honest about how much something affected her. But maybe her more protective nature would win out over anything else that might be going on in her skull. Hopefully she would focus on the relief that Héctor was improving. Her expression was getting a little difficult to decipher though…
She didn't say a word to them, but Imelda gave her brothers a slow nod before dropping her gaze back down to her long-estranged husband. The twins exchanged looks once more, trying to decide if they should be concerned about her after all. But they did need to contact Dr. García. So they slipped back out of the room.
In…
And out…
In…
And out…
Imelda kept her hand resting lightly on his ribs, focusing on the feeling of Héctor's breathing. His ribs, far too much like weak twigs that could snap under pressure, shifted slightly as his chest rose and fell. Even with the fragility, the sensation stirred memories that she thought were long since banished from her mind. It reminded her of when they were both alive and young, lying in bed together; her husband asleep while she remained content to curl against him. The last time she held Héctor close, there had been warm skin over those ribs and a steady heartbeat. She kept her fingers on his sternum, the feeling of Héctor breathing beneath her phalanges both familiar and new.
In…
And out…
In…
And out…
Slow, shallow, and tired, each breath seemed to take too much strength from the quiet figure. As if the very act of breathing exhausted him. But Héctor was breathing now. He felt more present and steady than before. Even with the remaining brittleness she could feel in his bones, he seemed more solid as his ribs moved in and out. And he wasn't in pain anymore. Exhausted and weak, but not in pain like before.
He wasn't going to disappear. That thought came through the strongest. Héctor was no longer on the brink of the Final Death. He wasn't lifeless and empty. Coco and Miguel managed to pull off the impossible, ensuring that he wouldn't be forgotten. Not yet. And now he was showing signs of improvement. He was actually recovering.
In…
And out…
Héctor would survive. And probably wake up in the near future.
She closed her eyes and took a shaking breath of her own. Imelda had been focusing solely on the present and the past. Which had still been a lot to think about. Any consideration for the future had been short-term and immediate. But now, faced with the first reassuring hint of his recovery, she would have to ask herself an important question.
What now?
It was one thing to call him the love her life or to throw herself into his arms during the heat of the moment. It was quite another to consider what should happen once Día de Muertos passed.
In…
And out…
She loved Héctor. Always had and always would. But even with every revealed truth drawing the vicious spite from the ancient wound, not all the pain of Héctor leaving had faded. She couldn't completely forgive that. Not yet. Ernesto kept him from coming home, but Héctor chose to walk out that door. He didn't mean for his family to suffer, for her to struggle and fight and claw out a life for their daughter when everything seemed determined to work against her. He didn't mean for it to happen and Ernesto ensured that it happened, but he still left. She tried to direct most of her anger against that murderer, but ninety-six years was a long time.
She couldn't pretend those years never happened. Even the truth couldn't turn back time. They couldn't recapture those happy and song-filled days. Those days were gone.
Four years. Their wedding was January 22, 1917 while their daughter was born December 8, 1917. Imelda could never forget either of those dates, no matter how much she'd tried with the former. She and Héctor were only married for four years before he walked out the door and a poisoned glass of tequila later left her an unaware widow.
There were joyful days before; a sweet boy with a guitar trying his best to coax out a smile from her and the time period after her parents disowned her before the wedding, where he did everything in his power to reassure her that everything would be all right. But as husband and wife, they were only allowed a few short years together. Beautiful and wonderful years filled with love, music, dancing, laughter, tears, whispers on pillows, gentle hugs, passionate kisses, late nights, early mornings, arguments giving way to apologies, compromises and balance, parenting challenges and joys, and everything in between. Those four years were full of so many precious moments, but they were only a tiny part of her life.
In…
And out…
In…
And out…
She was alive for fifty years after Héctor disappeared. And those years were just as full and impactful. Raising Coco, creating and building a business that spanned generations, realizing that she didn't need someone's help to make a meaningful life, and keeping her growing family together and protected all affected her. They affected her just as much as a lifetime without Héctor and avoiding music. It changed her. She couldn't pretend that it didn't. She wasn't the same young woman that Héctor fell in love with so long ago.
And with every new discovery or explanation that she learned, it became more and more clear that she was not alone in that. The ninety-six years of being dead and separated weren't kind to him either. Her hand drifted gently across his ribcage until her fingers brushed across the medical tape binding the broken bone together. Héctor's time in death would have left marks on him just as her time in life did. He might have died young, but she couldn't expect him to be the same young man who walked out of their house so long ago.
In…
And out…
They couldn't go back to the way things used to be. Neither of them could go back to those days. They weren't the same anymore. It hurt to admit it, but Imelda knew better than to deny the truth.
Not that he would want to return to those days. Not after everything that had happened. Not when she didn't trust Héctor, believing so easily that he would abandon his family because of musical ambition when Imelda knew him better than anyone else. Not when she kept him from being remembered by their family, tearing his face from the family foto, denying the use of his name, and banishing his presence from the ofrenda. And not when Imelda drove him away in death, refusing to listen or even look at him.
It would have hurt him too much. And there would have been anger under all that pain, no matter how much guilt and quiet affection that she saw that night. Héctor was always open when it came to love, happiness, excitement, and similar feelings, but she remembered how he would try to hide the more painful emotions. Fear, sadness, and anger would be shrugged off most of the time, concealed before they could affect those around him. And he had more immediate concerns that night. Just because she didn't see the anger and hate didn't mean it wasn't there. It had to be there.
Love and hate weren't mutually exclusive. She knew that better than most.
He didn't tell her. Héctor didn't even try to tell her how close he was to the Final Death. He didn't try to seek her out on what could have been his final night. Perhaps he truly believed that she wouldn't care that he was about to disappear, that she could be that completely indifferent? Or even worse, that she would be happy to know that he was about to be forgotten? Or perhaps he was too angry to face the one responsible for ensuring that their family wouldn't remember him.
In…
And out…
In…
And out…
Imelda opened her eyes slowly, studying his face in silence. With the unnatural light dimmed, she could make out the brilliant colors of his facial markings. And with his skull resting against her collarbone, it was quite easy to take in the sight. Even faded, she could see how well the bright and various shades reflected his energetic and lively personality. She could only imagine how eye-catching they must have been before decades of being forgotten took their toll.
In…
And out…
Héctor wouldn't stay. She knew that. Even if she wouldn't lose him to the Final Death, Imelda knew that she wouldn't be able to keep him. They couldn't restart their relationship where they left out, pretending nothing had changed. No matter how much she wanted such a thing. There were too many changes in both of them and too much past hurt. If she couldn't even forgive him for leaving decades ago when Ernesto was the one to prevent his return, how could she expect Héctor to forgive her for the harm her actions had caused?
They couldn't go back. And trying would only hurt them both. She hurt him enough. Héctor would realize it soon enough. And when he did, Héctor would leave.
Perhaps not completely. He would want to see Coco someday, assuming that she managed to pass on the stories to Miguel. And perhaps he would want to know the rest of the family. Imelda couldn't keep him from the others. Not anymore and never again. He deserved to know them, if that was what everyone wanted. But after everything that happened and everything that she'd put him through, he wouldn't want her. He would leave her.
And that was fine. Imelda took a deep breath, ignoring her slight shaking. He wasn't actually abandoning her. Not like her parents did, casting her out and turning their backs on her because she refused to give up someone she loved. And not like how she thought Héctor did almost a century ago. He wouldn't be abandoning her whenever he left. She had no hold on him by now. She couldn't resent Héctor when the inevitable happened.
In…
And out…
It was fine. She would be fine. She didn't actually need him. She was strong enough to endure whatever happened next. Imelda would simply have to prepare herself for what was coming.
She would love him, help him, and do whatever she could to make up for all the wrongs she did to him. But she wouldn't be able to keep him. She wouldn't let Héctor think that they could go back to the way things were. She couldn't raise his hopes and let reality shatter them so cruelly.
Sliding off the bed, Imelda carefully resettled him back on the pillow and tucked the quilt around him again. She was more reluctant to let go, her hand lingering on his sternum a moment longer. She'd grown to used to holding onto him again, in one form or another. The past few days ensured that. She would have to break the habit again before it became too difficult.
In…
And out…
She felt his ribcage rise and fall a few more times. The slight movement of his breathing reassured her that he was safe and healing, something that she apparently still needed. But she finally pulled away, putting some distance between the two of them as she sat in the chair.
It was fine. This would be best for everyone, Héctor included. It would hurt less if she prepared herself. If she could handle the challenges of life without him, then she could let him go.
A moment passed, the only sound his slow and tired breathing. Then her hand slipped back into his.
Perhaps just a little longer. She didn't have to let go yet. She could at least wait until he regained consciousness. Then she could try and prepare herself for when he left.
"Well, he's certainly full of surprises," said Dr. García, setting his bag on the bedside table. "Remember how I told you that he might recover his strength, but that I could make no guarantees? That it was just as likely that he would never improve? It would seem that our patient has decided to beat the odds."
"He could always be rather stubborn," Imelda said, ignoring the fact that her family was eavesdropping from the hallway again. "Apparently our living family is the same way. One or two of them refuse to let him be forgotten after all."
He nodded, reaching for one of Héctor's left arm. Dr. García studied the bones carefully, flexing the joints and testing the range of motion with gentle caution. He pulled slightly until the hand popped free, demonstrating a little more resistance than last time while still being far too loose for Imelda's comfort. The médico nodded with satisfaction before reattaching Héctor's hand.
"Someone is certainly remembering him," said Dr. García. "There is hardly any glowing left. It will likely be gone by morning. The connections between his bones are stronger. I can't tell if the discoloration has improved, but I'll keep an eye on it in the future. And of course, he is breathing again."
"Yes, he's breathing," Imelda said. If nothing else, that was a comfort. "And in pain. We managed to give Héctor the medicine that you left, but he seemed to be hurting even if he wasn't awake."
Still looking over his unconscious patient, Dr. García said, "Not surprising. Especially considering his condition a few days ago. He nearly succumbed to the Final Death, coming within seconds of disappearing and only stopping at the very end by a nearly lost memory. Normally, once someone reaches that point, they are too weak and exhausted to feel much pain. They usually feel numb instead, which is a far kinder outcome." He reached over, double-checking that the fractures he'd set before were still stable. "Without that exhausted numbness, they would feel their bones trying to turn to dust. That's part of the reason that he feels so brittle right now. And unfortunately, since he's recovered enough of his energy to start breathing and for his bones to hold together a little more firmly, he is also regaining the strength to feel what's happened to his body."
He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the bottle. He seemed to weigh it in his hand, studying how much was left. Dr. García then gave a short nod of satisfaction before setting it back down.
"He was in pain because his bones nearly crumbled apart and he's finally in a condition to feel it," he continued. "But he's recovering. Hopefully that means that his bones will grow at least solid enough for the pain to ease. Until then, rest will help. And if he needs it, you have what's left in the bottle to try and keep him comfortable."
Dr. García turned and met Imelda's gaze firmly. She appreciated his directness. Especially since every word he spoke seemed hopeful about Héctor's chances. He wouldn't lie to protect her feelings. This was his honest opinion.
He believed exactly as she did. Even as he pointed out the less-than-pleasant aspects, Dr. García considered this to be a good sign.
"Remember, Señora Rivera. This has never happened before," he reminded her. "We are in uncharted territory in terms of his recover. But he is improving. Give him time. Let those memories strengthen his body for a while longer. Once he's in better condition and has the energy to spare, I suspect he'll regain consciousness."
What he meant was that Héctor would be all right. That he was truly getting better and would wake up eventually. It would involve waiting, but the uncertainty was gone. They weren't going to wake up to find him gone. It wasn't a vigil for someone that could disappear at any moment.
She'd believed as much, but it was still comforting for an expert to confirm it.
They could give him whatever he needed to recover. They could give him time. They could give him time to heal. Because he would heal. He was already improving. Héctor could take all the time that he needed because he actually had time.
And perhaps it would be enough to prevent her sleep from being disturbed by anxious worries and dreams of what could have happened.
"I'll come and check on his progress again every few days," continued Dr. García. "But if anything else changes or he wakes up, let me know. Even though he is showing improvement, I want to keep an eye on his condition."
"We've been watching over him since Día de Muertos. That's not going to change," Imelda said.
Though she could relax a little now. Some of the tension had already faded from her bones, the worry and stress melting away as he pulled away from the Final Death and then the pain eased from his features.
Now they would be keeping Héctor company so that he wouldn't wake up alone in a strange place. Not so he wouldn't die alone a second time.
"Of course, Señora Rivera. I have no doubts that you can take care of him properly. Just make sure that you take care of yourself as well. You need to rest as much as our patient."
I chose Imelda and Héctor's wedding date so that they would have at least a little time as newlyweds, singing and dancing together adorably, before pregnancy struck. As for Coco's birthday, which is the same as her actress, Ana Ofelia Murguía, it has a story reason for it.
Since the creators told us that Héctor was born November 30, 1900, that he was twenty-one when he died, and the sign on their business announces that the Rivera family have been making shoes since 1921, that would indicate that he died in December 1921. I had Ernesto confirm a couple chapters ago that Héctor died in early December. Now here's where gets interesting. That means that he spent his birthday touring with Ernesto rather than with his family. But since in this story, I placed Coco's birthday in December and his and Imelda's anniversary shortly afterwards, that would imply that being away from his family on those days would be a sacrifice too much. Maybe Ernesto managed to argue and convince him to continue during the first few times he tried to go home, if only barely, but Héctor would make it back in time for his daughter's birthday.
Or he would die trying.
"Calmato" means the music should sound calmed or relaxed. Which is exactly what this story needs after all the stress so far. The song should be very soothing if it is marked that way.