Coco, a young woman now, stood before her closet, deciding what to wear. She had many shoes—pumps, sandals, boots, and heels. Most were quite beautiful and very comfortable, but some were totally useless or odd because her uncles often tinkered with new designs. They once made cleaning shoes with thick bristles on the soles for scrubbing the floor while walking, but the bristles went flat as soon as the customers took their first steps. Another time they made boots with pockets for storing keys and money, but no one wanted to reach down to their shoes when reaching into their coats or purses was easier.
"You are not inventors. You are shoemakers," Mamá Imelda told them, throwing away the bad designs. But Coco loved the shoes and the playful imagination they represented, so she rescued them for her collection. She smiled every time she saw her uncles' failed experiments, though she never wore them. She preferred to wear strappy heels because they showed off her painted toenails.
Coco grabbed a pair of heels and buckled them around her ankles. Then, after making sure her braids were tight and straight, she went to the courtyard and found her mother setting down a bowl for the cat.
"Mamá," Coco said, "I'm heading to town to pick up supplies for Oscar and Felipe."
Mamá Imelda smiled as the cat messily lapped the milk. "They must need a lot of supplies," she said. "You've been going to town almost every day."
"Uh…yes…haha," Coco chuckled nervously. "You know how they are
—so disorganized."
Mamá Imelda nodded, but she had a doubtful expression on her face. "Very well. Since you're heading to town, can you also pick up some flour?"
"Of course," Coco said, kissing her mother on the cheek before rushing away.
As she walked into town, she felt a little guilty because she'd told a lie.
It was true that her uncles often sent her for supplies, but sometimes, like today, Coco went to town for other reasons. Secret reasons. And if Mamá Imelda knew what she was up to, she'd probably lock Coco in a dungeon— because Coco went into town so she could dance!
Many young people danced as the bands played in Mariachi Plaza. At first, Coco would sit on a bench to watch as they circled the plaza. Then she'd get restless, so she'd practice on the sidelines, copying the steps and pretending to have her own partner—until one day, Julio, a young man with a dark mustache, asked her to dance. First he taught her the rapid one-two- three of polkas. Coco loved the festive accordions and the way her heart raced as she and Julio skipped along with the quick beat. Then he taught her the waltz, her favorite. It, too, had a one-two-three rhythm, but much slower. At first Coco kept stepping on Julio's feet, but eventually she learned to match his stride and to recognize the subtle pressure of his hands as he signaled her to twirl or change direction. Today they danced the polka and the waltz, and they would have danced all day if Coco hadn't spotted a flower cart passing by.
"I have to get flowers for my mother," she said. "She's waiting."
Julio nodded, and they went to the cart. Mamá Imelda hadn't specified what kind of flowers she wanted, so Coco selected a bushel of daisies. Meanwhile, Julio bought her a red rose.
"You deserve a flower, too," he said, making her blush. Coco tucked it in her hair, relishing its perfume as she walked home.
When she got there, she went to the kitchen, knowing it was time for Mamá Imelda to prepare dinner. "Here are the flowers," she said, handing over the daisies.
Mamá Imelda looked confused. "I meant flour for cooking, not flowers." Then she spotted the rose. "And where did you get that?" she asked, pointing.
Coco blushed again. "Oh…uh…this? The vendor was giving them away."
"Hmmm…" Mamá Imelda muttered. She seemed unconvinced, but she let it go. "Well, go fill a vase with water. Perhaps tomorrow you can pick up the right kind of flour."
"Yes, Mamá," Coco said, relieved.
The next day Coco returned to town, but before going to the grocer, she went to Mariachi Plaza for more dancing. Julio beamed when she arrived. The band played a cumbia, so they grabbed hands and danced side by side. Other couples danced, too, and Coco couldn't help laughing when she spotted a child holding both parents' hands and hopping up to swing from them. She lived for these moments and was having a wonderful time until she turned a corner and gasped! Right beside the gazebo was a cat—Mamá Imelda's cat—and it was staring straight at her!
She froze, and Julio asked what was wrong.
"My mother," Coco said, nodding toward Imelda, who was standing beside the cat with her arms crossed and her eyes glaring.
Coco approached, hanging her head with shame. "Hola, Mamá."
"I thought you seemed"—Mamá Imelda glanced at Julio—"distracted."
She bent down and lifted the cat to her shoulder. "Luckily, my gato has excellent tracking skills. She found you right away." Then she turned to Julio and got right to business. "I'm Coco's mother, and you are…?"
"Julio," he answered, nodding with respect. "And your intentions with my daughter?"
"Only the most honorable," Julio answered quickly. He turned to Coco and looked at her directly. "I wish to marry her someday."
Coco's eyes widened and her heart raced, for this was how she felt about him, too.
But Mamá Imelda had a practical, rather than romantic, personality. "Do you have a trade?" she asked, listening carefully as Julio listed his skills. One in particular got her attention. "You can do upholstery?" she asked. "Sí, señora. My abuelo has a shop."
She thought a minute. "If you can do upholstery, then surely you can make shoes."
"I have never tried," Julio answered, "but I'm a fast learner."
Mamá Imelda nodded and glanced back and forth from Coco to Julio. She seemed to be making a decision. Then her cat purred into her ear. "Very well," she said. "Tomorrow you will come to the hacienda to meet the family and visit the shoemaking shop. And then, if you decide this is what you truly want, you can become our apprentice."
"I would appreciate the opportunity," Julio said.
"But there's one important rule," Mamá Imelda continued.
Julio nodded and ventured a guess. "Everyone says that the Riveras are the finest shoemakers in town, but that they don't allow music."
"Yes," she said. "It brings us painful memories."
"It's because of my father," Coco explained with regret in her voice. "He loved music more than anything else."
"And he left us to pursue his dream," Mamá Imelda added. "We never heard from him again." She paused to let this sink in. "Music hurt this family, so we choose to live without it."
Julio seemed truly saddened by this, but then he said the magic words. "Family comes first. That's what I believe. And if your family has a rule against music, then I will honor it."
Later, as Coco headed home with her mother, her heart ached. On the one hand, she was glad that Julio accepted her family's conditions and placed love over selfish desires. On the other hand, she felt hurt that she'd never dance with him again.
"Can't we have music?" Coco asked her mother. "Not every day but sometimes? On special occasions?"
"Why would we want to ruin special occasions with painful memories?" "But Mamá, it can't be as bad as we think. After all, music and dancing
is how I met Julio."
"And shoes, m'ija, is how you will stay with him."
