El Viaje de Coquita
El Capítulo Nueve

Héctor and Coco whipped around at the sound of the voice.

"Mamá!"

"Imelda!"

The woman marched up to the duo. "You kept all of your Papá's letters and the piece of our foto with his face?!"

"S-Sí."

"And you gave them all to Miguel before you came here?!"

"He was the only one I could trust with them."

Imelda's fist tightened around the piece of pan dulce in her hand, crushing it completely in two. "You idiota! Do you realize what you've done?!"

"Mamá, I - - "

"Have you forgotten why this family has the rule about 'no music'?!"

"Mamá, - - "

"You've put your own great-granson on the road to walking out on the familia, just like this hijo de - - "

Héctor reflexively stuck the detached piece of pan dulce in her mouth. "Hay niños presentes."

Imelda sighed out her nasal cavity and chewed her food before continuing. "That boy is already deep in musical ambitions as it is. Have you learned nothing from your papá?"

"I've learned more than you have. Miguel should be allowed to make what he wants out of his life."

Héctor tried to get a word in. "There's nothing any of us can do about it now."

Imelda grabbed Coco's wrist. "Come. We're going home. Now."

Coco followed after her mother, keeping a grip on her father's wrist.

"And leave that músico here!"

"No!"

Imelda shot daggers out of her eyes. "¿Qué dijiste?"

"I'm not leaving him here!"

"He is dead to this family!"

"We're all dead!"

"Socorro Catalina Rivera-Garcia, you will let go of that man right now, or I will take my boot off!"

"He's staying with me, Mamá! Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up!"

Imelda's lips tightened. "Fine. If that's how it's going to be, I don't want to see your face again. ¡Salgan!"

And with that, the baroness of boots spun around on her heel and marched back home alone.

Coco watched her mother disappear down the cobblestone roads with tears forming in her eyes.

Héctor gave his daughter a comforting hug. "There there."

"What am I going to do, Papá?"

"We'll think of something."

"I want to see the rest of mi familia, too."

"You're not alone, mija." He put his arm around his shoulder. "I'm sure you can stay at my home until your Mamá opens up to you."

With little other choice, Coco allowed her father to take her to his home.

Imelda made her way back to her zapatería, pumping herself with angry emotions to drown out her sadness as she prepared to explain Coco's absence from her return journey. She made her way to the front door and stepped inside, where the rest of her familia was hard at work making shoes.

Julio was the first one to notice her. "Where's Coco?"

"There was a mistake," Imelda lied. "It was a different Coco, not our Coco."

"Oh." Julio went back to work.

"She's already at least 100 years old now."

"So, she should be here sometime this year."

"At least before the year's end."

"Or before the next Día de Muertos."

"Because not many people live to be a hundred."

"We certainly haven't."

Victoria slammed the workbench with the shoe she was working on, silencing the twins. "That's enough!"

Rosita went to the kitchen. "So, when do you think Coco will cross over?"

Imelda headed upstairs. "She'll get here when she gets here."

She locked herself in her bedroom, covered herself in blankets, buried her face in the pillows, and cried the ghostly remnants of her heart out.