El Viaje de Coquita
El Capítulo Veintitrés

Ernesto looked to the doorway closest to him. "Who are you? What is the meaning of this?"

Imelda stepped into the dimly lit foyer, watching as Héctor did the same, still dressed as Frida.

Coco looked back and forth between them. "Mamá? Papá?"

Héctor discarded his Frida garb and re-donned his normal clothes.

Ernesto looked quizzically at Coco. "You know these people?"

Imelda walked right up to her daughter. "I'll be taking that pedal and sending her home now."

"I'm her family just as much as you are."

Imelda reached for her boot. "You will listen to me."

Sensing a confrontation, Socorro tried to intervene. "Mamá Coco..."

Héctor reached the edge of the pool on his side. "Did you find anything?"

Ernesto turned his gaze. "Héctor?"

Socorro turned around. "Nothing he hasn't already told the cameras."

"What did you ask Ernesto?"

"Mamá Coco told me to avoid asking any direct questions since you'd tried talking to him several times without success."

Ernesto took a good look at Héctor. "My friend,... you're still being remembered. But everyone who knew you in life is dead."

Socorro reached into her pocket. "Mamá Coco gave all of Papá Héctor's letters to my brother, and he wrote a book about him."

Ernesto took the book and started looking through it. "How many people have read this?"

"Yo no sé. My family isn't allowed to talk about Papá Héctor, so my brother hasn't told a lot of people about it."

Imelda joined in on the discussion. "And if they read the book, it would just make matters worse."

Héctor and Socorro were confused. "How?"

"Because they would think that you really did give up everything dear to this family like I did."

"Why did you think that?"

"When I heard his songs being sung by de la Cruz, I thought he saw playing for the world more worthy than his familia."

Héctor was dumbfounded. "What?!"

Socorro was confused. "That doesn't make sense."

"He was never good with large audiences, so I'd assumed that he was working behind the scenes. Then came the movies, which made up the days we spent growing up and meeting each other. When they first played music for me, our days growing up at the orphanage, and conflicts that unfolded throughout our teenage years. It was exactly the same way as it happened in reality."

"You really thought I'd let my heart wander like that? The music tour was Ernesto's idea, not mine!"

"I didn't know you were dead, Héctor."

"But why did you think he had a change of heart? Especially since he said he was on his way home in his last letter?"

Imelda took a hard swallow. "It was because of something that happened the night he left. I didn't want him to go, so he tried to put my troubles to rest. Just before he left, we drank together, and he said he would move heaven and earth for his diosa."

Socorro's eyes went wide. "H-Heaven and earth? Like in the movie?"

Imelda nodded. "Sí."

Héctor seemed out of the loop. "Huh?"

"That's Don Hidalgo's toast in the de la Cruz movie 'El Camino a Casa'," Socorro explained.

"What are you talking about?"

Socorro looked around at the projector screens until she saw the clip. "There!"

On the screen, Don Hidalgo chuckled as he gave Ernesto's character a pat on the shoulder. "Never were truer words spoken! This calls for a toast!" He walked to his desk, poured himself a shot of tequila, and raised it to the farmer. "To our friendship! Jajaja! I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo!"

Socorro watched alongside her tatarabuelo. "But in the movie, Don Hidalgo poisons the drink."

The two characters clinked glasses. "¡Salud!"

Ernesto went in for a sip, but immediately spit it back out. "Poison!"

Socorro turned back around toward Imelda. "You thought Papá Héctor hadn't been truthful about his promise because of that movie scene, didn't you?"

"Exactamente."

Héctor's gaze remained fixed on the projector screen as Ernesto's character wiped the floor with Don Hidalgo. "That night... the night I left..."

Imelda gave a huff. "You should be ashamed that you let it come to it."

"No, the night I tried to come home."

"¿Qué?"

"We'd been performing on the road for months. I got homesick, and I packed up my songs." Héctor started acting out what he and Ernesto did that night. "You want to give up now? When we're this close to reaching our dream?

"This was your dream; you'll manage.

"I cannot do this without your songs, Héctor!

"I'm going home, Ernesto! Hate me if you want, but my mind is made up!"

Coco looked to her mother with a stunned look in her eyes, remembering when she said those exact words to her when she implored her to leave her father at the station.

"Oh, I could never hate you. If you must go, then I'm... I'm sending you off with a toast." Héctor pretended to pour two glasses of tequila and give one to his partner. "To our friendship! I would move heaven and earth for you, mi amigo! ¡Salud!"

As Héctor pretended to clink glasses and drink his shot, the two Cocos exchanged fearful glances, knowing exactly what was about to happen next. Imelda also knew what was in store, but it was clear that she was trying to decide whether or not he was just telling the story to appease her.

"He walked me to the train station." Héctor suddenly lurched forward with his hands over his midriff. "But then I felt a pain in my stomach. I thought it must have been something I ate."

Coco struggled to breathe. "Y-You thought it was that... ch-chorizo, Papá?"

Héctor's gaze hardened on Ernesto. "Or something I... drank." He dropped to his knees before collapsing facedown on the floor.

A full three seconds passed before he rose to his feet again. "When I woke up, I was dead."