Chapter 11

Less Lonely

The real Frida Kahlo, this time.

Rosa had never even dreamed of having the chance to encounter the famous pintora. Frida was one of her favourite artists. She could even state that she was as enamoured with her as Miguel was with de la Cruz.

Besides music, painting and drawing were amongst her top hobbies. Fortunately, those weren't forbidden in their family, so she practised as often as she could. She had quite a few paintings she was particularly proud of pinned up on the wall in her room back at home.

The thought of home aroused longing, but the present moment didn't grant her time to plan apologies in advance.

Frida lifted a brow. "You! How did you get in here?"

Miguel motioned to Dante. "We just followed our…"

"Oh! The mighty Xolo dog."

Frida knelt down to pet Dante, overtaken with affection for him. "Guider of wandering spirits. And whose spirit have you guided to me?" Her gaze sparkled with interest.

Miguel's right eye squinted in incertitude, "I don't… think he's a spirit guide."

"Ah-ah-ah," Frida wagged her finger, "The alebrijes of this world can take many forms. They are as mysterious as they are powerful."

Hey monkey switched colors before releasing a strong jet of blue fire from its mouth.

Of course! Her alebrije is a monkey! Rosa finally deciphered, Frida loved monkeys when she was alive! She was enthralled by the peculiar powers of the monkey, briefly wondering what other magical things alebrijes could do.

Did the Riveras also have one of these fascinating creatures?

Frida momentarily scrutinised them, her eyes gleaming again, "Come! I need your eyes."

She escorted them to another part of the studio, setting them down on a small wooden bench.

"You are the audience." She clapped, the lights going off at her signal. "Darkness! And from the darkness… A giant papaya!"

The lights flicked onto an enormous papaya in the centre of the room.

"Dancers emerge from the papaya. And the dancers…"

More women wearing the same wigs and black leotards slithered gracefully out of the fruit prop. They whirled their skulls around to peer at them.

"...are all me. And they go to drink from the milk of their mother, who's a cactus, but who is also me. And her milk is not milk but tears."

Frida turned back to them, uncertain, "Is it too obvious?"

Rosa had no clue what she'd just witnessed. A performance for sure; even though she hadn't seen many of those in her life, for her, this one was by far among the weirdest ones. She hadn't exactly deemed the renowned Frida Kahlo to be so… eccentric.

Miguel found his tongue quicker than her, "I think it's just the right amount of obvious? It could use some music," He lit up, "Oh! What if you did, like… "

He made a few tunes, the painter snapping her fingers to signal a band of musicians to reproduce them with their instruments. Rosa was captivated not by one, but by three violins, accompanied by a trombone and a trumpet.

"And maybe you could also add some thunder in the background to make things more dramatic," she chimed in.

"That's not bad at all," Frida held her chin thoughtfully, before suddenly brightening up, "And… What if everything was on fire?"

Miguel was a bit uncomfortable with the idea, as he gave a slight grimace, while Rosa had mixed feelings about it. The dancers shared their sentiments, appearing concerned.

"Yes! Fire everywhere! Inspired! You, chicos, have the spirit of artists!" Frida took Rosa's hand and tilted Miguel's chin; the cousins were heartened.

"What do you want to become?"

Rosa wavered with her response. Miguel wasn't as quick to reply as she'd expected.

He sighed woefully, "I… I want to be a musician, but… our family won't allow it."

They both changed their focus on her, Frida with an inquisitive eye and Miguel with an unsure yet hopeful glint in his gaze. Rosa's ears heated.

"I've always wanted to be a shoemaker, pero… I think I also want to be a musician one day, if things in our family change."

Miguel was visibly stunned, while Frida nodded in asseveration. She smiled.

"If there's one thing I know, it's that all it takes to be an artist is passion. If you have passion, you can do anything you want in life."

The girl lit up, "You really think so?"

"Mija, how do you think I got where I am today? No matter how many times life hits you, the most important thing is to get back up."

That's what Miguel had indirectly told her in the past. While Rosa was still in reverie, Frida turned back to the rehearsal.

"The dancers exit, the music fades, the lights go out! And Ernesto de la Cruz rises to the stage!"

A figure rose from a trap door. The boy gasped in anticipation. A slight thrill overtook Rosa, against her desire. Luckily for her and unfortunately for Miguel, the spotlight revealed a mannequin. The boy was crestfallen, while she internally made a little happy dance. It wasn't that she didn't want to meet de la Cruz (the experience could have still been a memorable one, even if she wasn't much of his fan), but she didn't feel ready for it yet.

Frida continued, "He does a couple of songs, the sun rises, everyone cheers…"

"Excuse me!" Miguel raised to his feet, "Where is the real de la Cruz?"

"Ernesto doesn't do rehearsals." Frida imparted the information to them, not looking pleased about it, "He's too busy hosting that fancy party at the top of his tower."

She gestured to a full-length window to their left, where an enormous bright tower stood out among other buildings.

Rosa was bemused. "That tower belongs to him and him only?"

"That's right."

The kids approached the window. Rosa knew she'd never be able to have that much to herself, knowing the depressing truth of poverty.

"I don't really want to be famous, Miguel. I just wanna do what I like."

"You don't have to be famous to be a musician, Rosa," he said, gaze still fixed on the tower, "You could just learn to play the violin and it'd be enough. Although I think I do wish to be famous."

She already knew that.

"Miguel, be careful. Fame can be very perilous. And who doesn't come to rehearse!" She flung her arms in the air. "I may not know a lot about music stuff, but even I know one needs to rehearse plenty of times before a show, especially right before it."

Another detail to add on her "Not a big fan of De la Cruz" list.

Miguel seemed to gloss over that fact as he remarked, "You never told me you wanted to be a professional violinist."

"I never really knew I did."

"But… Can you be two things at once? Like, both shoemaker and musician?"

"I don't see why not," Rosa shrugged, "That way, I could make both our family and myself happy."

He glanced down, "Yeah… I guess I'll never achieve that."

She knew what he meant. "You… don't fancy making shoes, do you?"

He shook his head, "If I start learning that, when will I go to the plaza? When will I practice my guitar? I desire to make our family proud just as much as you do, Prima, but…" He fidgeted with the drawstrings of his sweater, "It's complicated… And when will I have time to talk to Mamá Coco?"

"Miguel… Mamá Coco will still be with us."

He winced, "How long do you think that'll last?"

The question caused her to still. His eyes were glassy.

She knew how close he was to their great-grandmother, probably as close to her as Elena was. Rosa also spent time with the elderly woman, but not nearly as much as her cousin did. Miguel was the only member of the family who put aside time every single day to talk to her. From the knowledge Rosa had about Alzheimer's disease, it helped Coco that somebody chatted with her so often.

"Miguel, there would still be time for you to spend with her."

"Not as much as before," He shook his head, yearning already having settled in, "Her time is almost up, Prima. Don't you think we should be by her side as much as possible while we still can?"

His words wrung Rosa's heart. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away.

Suddenly, a worried Héctor rounded the corner, noticing them.

"¡Niños!" He hastily hustled up to them, placing his hands on their shoulders and guiding them away, "You can't run off on me like that! Come on, stop pestering the celebrities…" He flashed Frida another one of his charming grins.

"We weren't pestering her!" Rosa jerked her arm, scowling at him, "We actually managed to help her. And you lied again, Héctor!"

"You said our great-great grandpa would be here!" Miguel added, also rejecting his touch.

"And guess where he is?"

"He's halfway across town, throwing some big party."

Héctor glowered at the distant tower in disapproval, "That bum! Who doesn't show up to his own rehearsal?"

Miguel set his hands on his hips, "If you're such good friends, how come he didn't invite you?"

"He's your great-great grandpa!" Héctor retaliated, "How come he didn't invite you?"

"How could he have invited us?" Rosa argued, "He probably doesn't even know about us yet. We've only been here for a short while."

Héctor limped to Frida's band of musicians.

"Hey, Gustavo!" He called out to one of the violinists, "Do you know anything about this party?"

The rather short, bearded man spoke back, "It's the hot ticket! But if you're not on the guest list you're never getting in, Chorizo!"

His band mates joined his foul mockery, howling at the nickname.

Héctor pinched the bridge of his nose, his face contorting into a tight-lipped frown, "Ha! Ha! Very funny, guys. Very funny."

"Chorizo?" Miguel grimaced, questioningly raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, this guy's famous! Go on, go on! Ask him how he died!" Gustavo pumped eagerly.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Héctor refused, rolling his eyes.

"He choked on some chorizo!"

The violinist roared with laughter, his fellow musicians joining him. Miguel giggled, yelping when his cousin jabbed him in the ribs.

Héctor's pique morphed into barely-controlled rage as he sharply articulated each of his words: "I didn't choke, okay? I got food poisoning, which is a big difference!"

Sadly, the explanation wasn't of much help.

"What's so funny about choking with a sausage, huh?!" Rosa snapped the five musicians out of their guffawing episode, "It could happen to anybody, including you."

She fiercely glared at Gustavo as if he were her nemesis. Thankfully, they weren't making fun of Héctor anymore, all eyes now heeding her instead. The man's grin dropped, his face regaining solemnity.

"Well, I was lucky enough not to suffer that humiliating fate," He stated in self-defence.

His expression was worth slapping off, something Rosa went all out not to make the mistake of doing. Yet her fists still balled up.

"Yeah, but you weren't lucky enough to be given a good heart."

The room suddenly became ear-splittingly quiet. Rosa was far too aware that she was the target of their feasible outburst, but she couldn't care less. She was quite proud of herself, actually. She would have removed one of her flats to strike Gustavo one or two times, but he was a musician of Frida Kahlo's. Unfortunately. He was an important person; plus, Frida's great view about her and Miguel would lessen were she to find out.

Her primo squeezed her shoulder in a silent warning. Her nails were digging into her flesh.

"Rosa…" Héctor alerted, but she scarcely heard him, "...Calm down, it's not worth it."

Gradually, she managed to reduce the intensity of her flaring death stare, but she still fixed the musician with narrowing eyes.

"Well, if you really wanna get to Ernesto, there is that music competition at the Plazade la Cruz. Winner gets to play at his party. There, so you don't say I don't have a good heart, muchacha."

"Fair enough…" she muttered. After Gustavo rejoined his band mates, she added, "...Pendejo."

"Rosa!" Héctor's clear, authoritative tone had both of them whip their heads in his direction, their eyes wide, "You shouldn't talk like that."

His earnest, almost stern face strikingly contrasted his usual cheerful smile.

"I'm thirteen! I'm not a kid anymore!" she protested, although a pang of mortification washed over her, deflating her anger bit by bit, and she ultimately looked to the side, "I guess I shouldn't have provoked him in the first place, right?"

Or want to hit him with my shoe.

She remorsefully watched Gustavo and the other musicians prepare for another practice session.

Héctor shook his head, "No, it's never good to challenge somebody, niña. It can arouse unwanted conflicts. But…"

She eyed him, hopeful this time.

"...thank you for standing up for me. Not many have done that before."

Rosa was taken aback by his gratefulness. Now that her reasoning was sensible again, she wasn't entirely certain why she'd stuck up for him, a guy who was barely more than a stranger. Perhaps because of her aversion towards lack of compassion, or her pity for the distraught. But she wasn't growing fond of this Héctor, right? No, no, it couldn't be. This man was a liar, a con artist who only wanted to use them for his personal gain.

Yet a tiny part of her still wondered, "Is he really?"

Maybe there's more to his story than we know, Miguel's wise words echoed through her mind.

"You're welcome," was all she said.

Héctor chuckled, rubbing the top of her head playfully, "Ay, you reminded me of my wife back there. She used to be hot-headed, but so caring too."

For some unknown reason, she beamed at that, in spite of being doubtful why.

"My cousin is quite the warrior when it comes to putting people in their place," Miguel winked at her, and she smiled at the compliment.

"This is why I don't like musicians. Bunch of self-important jerks," Héctor voiced his displeasure.

His confession shouldn't have wounded her; she did NOT consider herself a musician.

Or did she?

"Hey!" Miguel's tone was light-hearted, though she knew he'd been negatively impressed, "I'm a musician! And Rosa is too!"

"You are?" The man's dark magenta eyes dilated.

"That was only for a short while," Rosa refuted.

"Maybe, but it still was something," He pivoted to face Héctor, his smile broadening, "I play the guitar, she plays the violin."

"I played the violin, Primo."

Miguel's gaze was attracted by De la Cruz's tower like a magnet. As if knowing what the boy was contemplating, Héctor frantically snapped his fingers to get his attention.

"No, no, no, chamaco, you are loco if you think…"

"We need to get our great-great grandfather's blessing," Miguel worriedly studied his and Rosa's hands; these were almost fully skeletal by now.

She made a face, cringing, "If we don't get back to the Living World by sunrise, we… we…" The words felt like bile in her mouth.

A concerned, bewildered Héctor waved a hand to save her the anguish of finishing the phrase. "Sí, chica, entiendo."

"You know where we can get a violin and a guitar?" Miguel radiated at the mere thought.

"Primo, I only played for four months. That qualifies as almost nothing. The violin is harder to learn than the guitar."

Imagining herself try to perform with so little experience drove her queasy.

"Okay, alright! I'm not forcing you. Just a guitar, then, Héctor?"

Héctor sighed, rubbing his forehead as if he were battling an intense headache, "I know a guy…" He composed himself, "¡Venga! There's only so much time we have until sunrise."

He steered them to a door, on the other side of which was a staircase.

As they scurried down the spiralling iron staircase, the space faintly illuminated, the girl asked: "Where exactly are we going?"

"You'll see, chiquita." Héctor didn't wish to expose them to the truth of the sad part of the Dead World yet.

Out of the blue, right when they got to the second floor of the block, a male voice reached them, "In all my time as an officer in the Land of the Dead, I've never thought I'd have to chase around for two living kids!"

All three of them froze as steps began climbing up the set of stairs.

"An incredible way to spend Día de Muertos!"

Héctor hastened to usher them through the single door of the third storey.

The immense room turned out to be a mix between a clothing store and a tailor shop. It was filled with ostentatiously-dressed mannequins and all sorts of shiny multi-coloured performance costumes hanging on props, along with multiple tables where fashion designers were either working or discussing the latest projects.

Performers bustled in and out of the dressing rooms, looking for the best ceremonial outfit. Some workers were striving to keep order and a decent level of noise under control, despite the hustle ruling the area.

"What's all this commotion for?" Miguel glanced up at their guide.

"Día de Muertos is the most significant holiday of the year. Some enjoy partying here besides visiting their families."

"But family is the most important thing," Rosa was mystified by the concept, "Do they not wish to spend as much time as possible with their living relatives, given that they only get to see them for a few hours a year?"

"Not everybody is the same, Rosa," Héctor's eyes got misty with dejection, "Some don't value family to be at the top of the pyramid."

Miguel imperceptibly shrunk away. "¡Mira!" He pointed to the other side of the chamber.

Rosa spied through the dozens of hectic skeletons and long rows of costumes to detect two patrol officers asking around, using their hands to show her and Miguel's height. She was roused from her petrified stance by Héctor's hold on her shoulder tightening. He led them to one of the changing rooms.

"Stay here, niños. I'll distract them while you go to that window over there, see?" He motioned to the closest window, which was on the opposite side of the store, "There should be some stairs leading to the ground from the balcony. But be quick, okay?"

"What about you?" Miguel sharply whispered, and his cousin nodded fervently, "We're not leaving you behind!"

"Shh, chamaco. Don't worry about me, I'll catch up to you. Just focus on getting there, sí? I will…" He caught a glimpse of another Frida costume nearby, "...play my part."

With a mischievous wink, he pulled the curtains to conceal them, snatching the dress and wig.

"Wait!" Rosa called, but he was already gone. "I can't believe he's doing this for the second time tonight," she said as they peeked through an opening.

"Me neither," Miguel shared her astonishment.

"Now I wonder how many times he's actually worn something that's supposed to belong to Frida."

"Maybe you don't really wanna know."

They watched in mute shock as Héctor exited another fitting room, wearing a different wig and dress than the first time they'd seen him. His bare feet could give him away, but they hoped that nobody would notice them. He fleetingly nodded in their direction before marching towards the two officers with confidence.

"¡Vámonos!" Miguel urged as he made sure Dante followed along.

They slunk past several skeletons, crouching behind rows of hanging clothing and glueing their backs to wardrobes. Rosa tripped once, but Miguel was quick enough to yank her away from people's gazes.

This is like an action movie, she couldn't help but make the comparison.

Meanwhile, Héctor was doing his utmost for the diversion to work out.

"What's happening here?" He faked the best female voice he could, though it still sounded a little terrible.

The male officer was staggered, "Señora Kahlo… We're looking for two living children. A source of ours communicated that they might be here."

Héctor scoffed good-naturedly, "Argh! I haven't seen any living children. What do you think they could possibly do in my warehouse?"

"Well, we have orders to–"

"No, no, no! Listen, Señor, I know you're just doing your job, but my dancers and my crew need to focus. Tonight's a big night, you know that."

"Wait," The female officer butted in, eyeing him quizzically, "Héctor, is that you?"

The entire staff and nearly all the performers were watching the peculiar conversation with wide eyes; even Miguel and Rosa had halted mere feet away from the window.

Héctor stiffened, but collected himself, trying to further feign his identity by making up whatever he could on the spot to buy time.

Miguel's heart was hammering; Rosa impelled him to take the remaining steps towards their salvation. "Come on, primo! Move your butt!"

"We can't leave him!"

"We won't leave him! He'll catch up."

Yet Miguel's mind was not to be changed. Just as the officers marched up to Héctor with determined faces, reaching to grab him, he got up lightning-fast, flailing his arms and shrieking for everybody to hear: "Hey! Living boy! Right here!"

Héctor whirled around, terrified, while the officials forgot about him and targeted his young charges.

Rosa straightened, yelling as well: "And living girl too!"

Before the officers could have gotten a hold of them, Dante shoved his teeth into the woman's skirt, preventing her from advancing, and Héctor defensively jolted in front of the living kids, already in his normal attire. As the woman struggled to free her long skirt from Dante's bite, the man was held back by Héctor's sudden incredible strength, which Héctor himself wasn't sure he'd had in years.

"Go!" he shouted over his shoulder, the cousins complying instantly.

The officers yowled after them, but they were already outside on the small balcony.

"There are no stairs!" Rosa hollered, "And there's no way to climb up!"

"But there's this!" Miguel pointed up.

Above their heads, a zip line was secured to one of the poles of the balcony; a few handles were roped to the end of the line so as not to slope away. The cable was long, long enough that Rosa was unable to see exactly where they were going to land; she peeked over the rails and immediately regretted it. Despite not being afraid of heights, she was still antsy at the distance between the ground and their feet.

From the way Héctor and Papá Julio had proved they were able to reattach their body parts after dislodging them, perhaps skeletons weren't as heavily affected by falling as humans were, but if she or Miguel were to get inflicted by a three-storey collapse… She shuddered.

In the meantime, Miguel had scrambled onto the iron rail bars to untie the rope from the first hanger-like handle.

"Grab it!" he prompted her.

"Where will this take us?"

"No time for critical thinking, Rosita. Come on!"

Rosa sprang, securing a death grip on the wooden handle, yelping when her feet dangled over the edge of the balcony.

"Hang on tight! Ready?"

"Yeah! Let's do this!"

Miguel released her right when Héctor appeared on the platform, out of breath.

The next thing she knew was that the wind was blowing in her face, sending her hood off. Her fingers tightened around the handle so much that her knuckles whitened. She made efforts not to peek downwards, afraid that she'd loosen her grasp out of nervousness.

Her stomach slowly unknotted, as her fears were diminished by the one of a kind view unfolding before her. Thousands of multi-coloured houses and blocks which topped each other were gleaming on either side of her, while dazzling alebrijes flew past her. A few of them even joined her, one of them threatening to make her ease her grip by fluttering its wings too close.

Rosa laughed what felt like one of the first genuine laughs in months. Maybe she was in a mess of a situation, maybe Mamá Imelda and the rest of the family (both living and dead) were mad, maybe she didn't plan for this whole thing to happen, but she didn't regret it. Whatever the outcome of this peculiar yet wonderful night would be, she was going to cherish this once in a lifetime adventure for her entire existence.

When she began descending more abruptly, she spotted a windowless bungalow hurrying to meet her. The brake installed near the end of the zip line roughly slowed her down, and she landed on a soft mattress inside the small house with a flop. She barely had time to come back to her senses after the euphoric episode and roll over when her cousin landed next to her with a grunt.

"That was awesome!" They exclaimed in unison before erupting in a fit of content belly laughs.

"We need something like this more often!" Miguel stated, to which she fervently agreed.

"If only Mamá Imelda knew we did this!" Rosa choked out through giggles that kept pouring from her mouth like a waterfall.

"Or Abuelita! "No, no, no, chicos, it's too dangerous!""

Rosa coughed from so much laughter at the hilarious impersonation. After drying the tears from her eyes, she adjusted her and Miguel's hoods back on.

They were still giggling when Héctor plopped between them, his body scattering around the tiny room, but he swiftly gathered his whole skeleton, placing his frayed hat back on his head.

"I see you had fun," He beamed at the goofy, energized kids as he helped each of them up.

"Perhaps too much fun," Miguel mischievously looked at her, and that was all it took for Rosa to start chuckling again.

The boy's melodious laughter and the girl's soft titters reignited the image of his sweet daughter cackling at one of his jokes. But this time, Héctor didn't feel remorseful or heart-broken, his heart and mind not being plagued by gut-wrenching yearning.

This time, he felt… a little less lonely.

A/N:

Did that keep you on the edge of your seat? I'm curious to know.

Alright, so Rosa is able to let go of her worries a bit, even if just temporarily. I wanted to grant her that joy. And give her and Miguel some real fun! Hope you enjoyed the ride of this chapter!

I made Héctor wear another Frida dress... But he'd do anything, no matter how humiliating, to help and protect these kids he's growing fond of.

I don't know if you could tell, but some descriptive parts were a bit hard to write. I love including description in my writing, but I'm still learning how to do it, so feel free to ask me if you didn't understand something.

Thanks a lot for reading!