Saturday was not a normal day.
The Rivera family was on pins and needles, yet no one could explain why. There was, however, a fair reason for the change. Everyone had been exhausted by trying to cheer up Imelda after her disastrous market trip earlier in the week. They had been thrown off their own natural balance, and now they were all paying the price.
Rosita had been squashing her tendencies for gossip all week long, and was fairly bursting at the seams to know what had happened between Mamá Imelda and Héctor. Julio knew his sister a little too well, and his efforts to keep her mind occupied and away from… certain topics… had left him at his wit's end. Oscar and Felipe's inventive hobbies spawned from a natural curiosity and inclination for experiments; when not indulged, the old "devilish" unruliness from their youth came back full swing. Although far too old to be causing mayhem, they were still unable to sit still for more than ten minutes without fidgeting. The noise bothered Victoria, teeth grinding with every finger snap and toe tap until she was in danger of cracking her canines.
Only Imelda herself seemed untouched by this madness. She sat primly in her favorite armchair, the sun shining through the open window and making warm patterns across her lap. She seemed the very picture of matronly serenity as she sewed, patiently plucking at errant stitches on her needlepoint without a word. If she had bothered to hum as she worked, she might have seemed grandmotherly. Without any background noise at all, she was distant, lost in her own world of tiny stitches.
Victoria was the first to crack, her frazzled nerves driven to their breaking point by the uneven tapping of the twin's soles on the polished hardwood floor. Shutting her book with enough force to break even Imelda's concentration, she stood and dusted off her skirt with a tight smile.
"It's such a lovely morning," she said, speaking faster than usual in an attempt to hide the edge in her tone. "I think I'll take a walk around the neighborhood. Won't you join me, Tía Rosita?"
"Hmm?" Rosita glanced up from the skirt she was hemming, her eyes full of confusion. Victoria jerked her head slightly towards the door. "O-Oh! Yes, I'd love to take a walk! The sunshine is so bright today." She was on her feet in an instant, bouncing on her heels as she hurried to her niece's side.
"Let's go, too," Oscar suggested, rising to his feet.
"Yes, let's!" Felipe agreed, stretching his arms over his head. "If only to get out of the house," he muttered under his breath, so quietly that only his twin heard. Julio looked first at Imelda, than his daughter; he made a little gesture that all children, whether alive or dead, know to mean "aren't you forgetting someone?". Victoria swallowed a sigh, but managed to keep her smile in place.
"Will you join us, Mamá Imelda? We can visit the plaza," she offered. "I know you like to sit near the fountain." At the word plaza, Imelda yanked the thread hard enough to snap. She blinked in surprise, mouth puckering at the frayed ends dangling from her needle.
"No, thank you." She began to pluck at the torn thread, tucking it beneath another stitch to hide it. "I think I'll stay here."
"Then I'll stay, too." Julio settled deeper into his worn armchair. "These old bones would be grateful for the rest." Imelda smiled at him, happy for the company. If she noticed how jittery the rest of the family seemed, she clearly did not care to comment on it.
The small entourage breathed a little easier as they passed the gate and reached the sidewalk, heading towards the plaza in the center of the neighborhood. There were few people on the streets at this time of day, most choosing to sleep in on the weekend or relax in the comfort of their homes. A group of men reclined in wooden chairs outside of an empty saloon, nodding to the twins and tipping their hats to the ladies. Children played hopscotch and tag in the alleyways, or sat huddled together on the stoop while watching videos on their phones.
"I just don't know what we're going to do," Victoria sighed as they paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. She squinted at the sky before adjusting her shawl to cover the crown of her head; she did not like to be out of doors on such a bright, blistering day, even if she no longer had skin to burn. Still, it was worth the price of her sanity. "This is starting to feel ridiculous."
"What is?" Rosita asked absently, chuckling at a trio of little girls jumping rope. The one in the middle lost her balance—and her skull—forcing her older sister to catch it before it rolled down the street.
"I just don't understand her." A group of teenagers rolled by on skateboards; Victoria glared as they blatantly ignored the red light, cruising across the street with a grumbling roll of wheels. "Does she think that if she pretends he doesn't exist, Héctor will suddenly disappear?"
"Well, have you seen him?" Felipe pointed out reasonably. Héctor had not visited the shop since the afternoon he'd danced on the workbench. "It's working so far."
"And what happens when he decides to visit us? If he decides to visit us?"
"Mamá Imelda didn't ban him from the shop," Rosita protested. "He will still be able to visit."
"But is she going to hide upstairs again? Or will she just pretend like he's not even in the room? Are we just supposed to tiptoe around the topic until our Final Deaths?" The twins shrugged in unison.
"That's what we did."
"What we're still doing, in effect."
"And whose fault is that?" Victoria demanded.
"Why, Héctor's!" Oscar laughed. Felipe nodded his agreement.
"Maybe that's fine for you, but I'm not about to stand by and let it happen." Victoria clenched her fists, hurrying across the crosswalk and forcing the others to jog after her. "I'm going to do something about it."
"But what?"
"Well… I'm going to find Héctor." She pushed her glasses up until they sat firmly on the cheekbones. "I don't care how long it takes me."
"And then what?" Rosita puffed, trying to keep abreast of her. Victoria stopped short, looking momentarily lost.
"I… I don't know yet." She shook herself, her frown more resolute than ever. "But I can think of the rest after I find him."
"But how do you expect to find him?" Oscar shook his head. "He's just one man."
"I'm going to ask around. I'll ask every person in the neighborhood if I have to, and if I don't find an answer I'll move on to the next. Someone has to know where he is." Even as she said it, Victoria sounded uncertain. Felipe let out his breath in a low exhale.
"Victoria," he began slowly, "even if you do manage to find him… what good do you think it will do? Imelda said it herself: she and Héctor came to a mutual agreement. Even if you change his mind, there's no guarantee you'll be able to change hers."
"I don't know! But it has to work. It has to." Rosita grabbed her hand, slowing her until they stood together in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Mija…." She smiled faintly. Victoria scowled, her shoulders slumping.
"Of course it's not going to work," she admitted, rubbing her forehead. "But we can't sit around doing nothing. We have to try."
"I think we need to find a curandera," Rosita suggested, clapping her hands together with a smile. "There's nothing a good folk remedy won't heal."
"Mamá Imelda isn't sick," Victoria huffed. "She's just stubborn."
"My mamá used to say that the best cure for marital problems was for a curandera to bless the house. In fact, it may be that Papá Héctor has a bad spirit connected to him due to his murder." Rosita held up her hands, appealing to some higher authority. "We should bless him too, while we're at it."
"Tía Rosita, Héctor is a spirit." Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose. "We all are. And we're not getting a curandera." They cut through a narrow alley, stepping down a flight of rickety wooden stairs before emerging on a main thoroughfare leading toward the plaza.
"Well…" Rosita paused to look wistfully at a cart of flowers, smiling as she touched the edge of a rosebud. "We could have used the advice, in any case."
"Advice?" Felipe trailed to a stop, Oscar nearly running into him and knocking them both into the side of a building.
"Yes." Rosita turned to look back at him. "They say curanderas give great advice." Felipe didn't seem to hear her, eyes glazing in thought.
"Advice…." Felipe grinned, snapping his fingers under Oscar's nose. "Tell me, brother. Imelda won't listen to us."
"Never has," Oscar agreed obediently. "She'll tell us to mind our own business if we try."
"Exactly! But, she needs to listen to someone, is that right?"
"That's right." Oscar caught on, leaving the ladies baffled as he began to nod along with his twin. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then… I think so!" They turned to Victoria and Rosita, who were beginning to lean away warily. "The solution is…?"
"Who—?" Felipe prompted, waving his hands for them to add the rest. Rosita smiled apologetically, Victoria shaking her head. The men rolled their eyes before finishing the sentence as one.
"Who does Imelda listen to?" Felipe shook his head, as though it were the easiest answer in the world. Unfortunately, he was met with silence.
"Are we supposed to answer that, too?" Rosita asked nervously. "I'm not doing very well at this, am I?"
"It doesn't matter, anyway. It's a trick question," Victoria guessed. "Mamá Imelda listens to Mamá Imelda."
"No. There is one person." Felipe held up one finger. "Oscar, who was the one person Imelda always listened to, without fail?"
"Mamá."
"Mamá Isa?" Victoria repeated incredulously. "She's not going to take our side in this."
"No, not her. Outside of the family."
"Ah… hmm…." Oscar ran a finger along his mustache in thought. "Oh! Lucía!"
"Lucía!" Felipe grabbed his brother's shoulders in excitement. "All we need to do is find out where she lives now—"
"And ask her to help us!"
"She'll talk to Imelda—"
"And Imelda will listen—"
"And forgive Héctor! Of course!" Oscar cheered. "Our problems will be solved! You're a genius!"
"You would have thought of it, had I not," Felipe replied modestly. "That settles it. We'll just have to go find her."
"Lucía…?" Victoria thought for a moment. "She was Mamá Imelda's childhood friend, right? The loud one."
"I remember her!" Rosita exclaimed. "Size 8, preference for suede, and… wasn't she our first pair of rattlesnake boots?"
"That's her," Oscar nodded. "When we were young, Lucía and Imelda were inseparable."
"And after we were grown, too."
"She was always around, before Imelda married—"
"After Imelda married—"
"After she married—"
"Fine, fine!" Victoria waved her hands to make them stop, eyes practically rolling in her skull from switching between the two faster than the audience at a tennis match. "But are you sure she'll want to help?"
"Maybe? She likes Héctor. Or… she liked him, once." Felipe scratched his head. "It can't hurt to try."
"But how do we find her? Is she even…" Rosita winced. "Here?" How are we sure she hasn't been Forgotten? The question hung in the air between them, unvoiced and yet on everyone's minds all the same.
"Imelda visits her from time to time," Oscar assured them. "And her family always puts her picture on the ofrenda. I'm sure she has not been Forgotten yet. As for how to find her… we can't ask Imelda, but there is a place we can ask."
"The Directory at the Department of Records!" Felipe blurted out. "They should be able to give us her address!"
"Right! There has to be a payphone around here somewhere…."
"Very well. You two go and find Lucía." Victoria looked at her aunt. "Meanwhile, we'll keep looking for Héctor. We'll meet back here at noon and share what we've found. Agreed?"
"Agreed!"
"Thank you for calling the Directory of the Deceased. If you are calling about the status of the Recently Deceased, press 1 now. If you are calling about a possibly Forgotten soul, press 2 now. If you—"
"Just press 0." Felipe prodded Oscar on the shoulder to get his attention. "That should take us to the operator, right?"
"Shh!" Oscar smacked his hand aside, eyes narrowed at the phone. "I'm trying to hear the options!"
"If the person you are calling about is unrelated to you, press—"
"Here we go!" he shouted, repeatedly pushing the faded #6 on the number pad.
"Please hold. A representative will be with you shortly."
"No!" Oscar jabbed the key again and again. "No, no!"
"Please hold. A represent— Please hold. A rep— Please hold."
"Ay!" Felipe slapped a hand to his forehead. "I told you to press 0!"
"Shut up! Do you have any more change?" Felipe dug in his pockets while Oscar held the receiver in the air between them. A full ten seconds of jaunty elevator music looped loudly; there was a short pause, and they both held their breath only to groan aloud as a prerecorded message began to play.
"Here at the Department of Family Reunions, we treasure our patrons. Thank you for holding. A representative will be with you shortly." Passersby peered through the glass doors of the phone booth at the pair of them, mirror images folded together with knees bent and skulls scraping the metal ceiling as they fed the machine the last of their coins.
"Good morning! Thank you for calling the Directory of the Deceased. My name is Samara; how may I be of service?"
"Hello? Hello, yes—" Oscar fumbled with the receiver. "I'd like to find the address of an old family friend, please."
"Certainly! I'd be more than happy to assist you with that today." There was the sound of a computer mouse clicking in the background. "May I have their full name, please?"
"Right! Her name is Lucía…a…erm…" He looked helplessly at Felipe, mind drawing a complete blank. "What was her last name again?" he hissed in a panicked whisper.
"How am I supposed to know?!"
"You were always better at remembering things—"
"We haven't seen her in nearly— Didn't she marry Fransico?"
"She married Fernando, but what was his name?"
"Señor? Are you still there?" Oscar grimaced, gulping back his nerves before shouting down into the receiver.
"She married Fernando!" There was a long moment of painful silence. When the representative spoke again, she sounded very tired.
"Señor, I'm sure you understand that there are many people in the Land of the Dead named Lucía and Fernando."
"I do understand, yes." He looked again at Felipe, who shrugged as best he could in the crowded space. "Our Lucía is from Santa Cecilia. She would have been alive in the 1920s."
"She would have been…" Felipe counted quickly on his fingers, "twenty-four years old in 1920. She married that year, and she ran a bar in town until she died. Her husband Fernando was the butcher's son, and her mother was named… Rosa, I believe. Or maybe Ramona?"
"Do you happen to know her date of death?"
"Well…" Oscar thought. "She died after Imelda, but I'm not—"
"I see." Now the representative merely sounded impatient. "Please hold while I get in contact with the Department of Records." Before they could utter a single protest, the tinny music filled the booth once more.
"I… I don't think we're very good customers, Oscar."
"I think you're right, Felipe." They both stared quietly at the receiver, repeating the recorded message word for word with the chipper male voice whenever it appeared. Just when it seemed they might be at a loss after all, their last coin spent and time quickly running out, the representative returned.
"I was able to find a Lucía Fernández Oreiro de Santa Cecilia, who married a man named Fernando Garcia in 1920. If that isn't your Lucía, then I'm afraid—"
"Wait! Yes, that's her!" The representative let out a breath that sounded too close to a sigh of relief.
"Great!" she drawled. "Now, are you ready for her address?"
"Excuse me, but have you heard of a man named Héctor Rivera?"
"No, sorry." The man brushed past Rosita, hurrying towards the bar.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but does anyone named Héctor Rivera live around here?"
"I don't know any Héctor Rivera, sorry."
"Well, that's nearly everyone in the plaza." Victoria wiped her skull quickly with the end of her shawl.
"What now?" Rosita leaned against the shade of a building, fanning herself with her hands.
"We pick a street and start knocking on doors, I suppose." Victoria crossed her arms. "There just has to be someone who knows him. He's been visiting the shop for ages now; surely someone besides us will have spoken to him."
"I— Excuse me, we're looking for a man named Héctor Rivera. He has a straw hat, usually barefoot?" The woman in question shook her head quickly, pushing her young son ahead of her as she disappeared into an apartment complex. Rosita sighed. "Maybe we should try another approach."
"What else is there to try?" Victoria stepped in front of two men. "Do either of you know a man named Héctor Rivera? He's about this tall, plays the guitar?" She measured the space with her hand.
"Sorry, don't know him." The men smiled sympathetically, stepping around her and continuing on their way. Victoria and Rosita looked at one another helplessly.
"Maybe we'll have more luck in the thoroughfare?"
"It will be more crowded, if nothing else— Excuse me!" Victoria lunged after a tottering elderly woman, catching her by the sleeve. "Do you happen to know a man named Héctor Rivera?"
"Oh, my…" the woman tutted. "The man from the Sunrise Spectacular?"
"Yes! Yes!" Victoria leaned forward in anticipation. "Do you know him?"
"Oh, no, dearie. I only saw him on the television." She tugged her sleeve free and continued on her way, her parrot alebrije fluttering overhead.
"You said you're looking for Héctor Rivera?" a gruff voice boomed behind them. Both women turned, looking around… and then up at a broad-chested man that could not have been anywhere under seven feet tall. He stared impassively back at them, his arms crossed over his thick ribcage; a tiny slip of a woman stood in his shadow, fanning her curls against the heat of the day.
"D-Do you happen to know him?" Rosita managed, gulping back her nerves.
"Skinny guy? Guitar? Red neckerchief?" They nodded. "Yeah, I know him. He owes me money. Had some excuse about needing it to buy flowers." The man lowered his skull, glaring at them over the rims of his sunglasses. "You payin' for him?"
"Ron, stop! You're scaring 'em!" the woman huffed, giving his forearm a hearty smack. The man's expression did not change, but he dropped his shoulders and let out a hearty laugh.
"Sorry, couldn't help myself," he chuckled, lifting the sunglasses onto his skull. "Yeah, we know Héctor. He's a friend of ours. But, uh… what's he to you?"
"He's my grandfather," Victoria answered. The couple stared at her a moment, brows raised, before glancing quickly at one another.
"Does he know?" Ron asked hesitantly.
"Héctor had a kid?" the woman asked at the same time, choking on the question before smacking her partner's arm once more. "¡Oye! Don't say it like that!"
"How else am I supposed to say it, Gina!? He don't really seem like the type to—"
"He knows," Victoria interrupted impatiently. "Please tell me you know where we can find him."
"Well, uh…" Ron scratched his cropped hair. "I know where I can find him, though I don't think you're gonna like it very much." He looked them over with the contemplative air of a man used to making judgements of character at a single glance. "If he's not up on Toño's wall—which he's clearly not," he added, glancing towards the bar, "the only other place I know where to find him is in Shantytown."
"Shantytown!?" Rosita squeaked.
"Yeah. Just ask around and you'll eventually get pointed in the right direction." He shrugged. "There's no other way to do it, really."
"Don't look so nervous!" Gina assured them, lifting her curls to fan the back of her neck. "What, can't you swim?"
"I think it's more the people they're afraid of, Gi."
"Pshaw! There's no one to be scared of in Shantytown!" she giggled. "And even if there were, you could easily outrun them on the docks."
"Not helping!" Ron grunted, shaking his head firmly. "Anyway, I wouldn't worry about finding him. Héctor's like a cat… he comes and goes as he pleases. He'll be back eventually."
"That may be so, but we're in a bit of a hurry. I think we may try Shantytown after all," Victoria finally managed.
"But Vic—"
"Thank you for your help," she continued loudly, drowning Rosita's mumbled protest. "We really appreciate it."
"Good luck." Ron waved away her gratitude before sliding the sunglasses back over his eyes. "By the looks of things, you're definitely going to need it."
