An Awaited Encounter
Ernesto de la Cruz's mansion mounted the very top of the tower, with a lot of stairs leading to the entrance. Groups of guests were chatting, either seated at tables or standing, and alebrijes were roaming around. Performers were showing off their impressive skills, while servers didn't even have time for a short break.
The Rivera cousins and the band exited the funicular. While Miguel and Rosa were baffled by the grandiosity of the place, the leading musician bid them farewell, "Enjoy the party, little músicos!"
"¡Gracias!" The kids took off, skipping some of the stairs in eagerness.
Finally! They'd get to meet the renowned musician. Even Rosa felt elation start building up inside her.
A fire breather released some strong flames that morphed into butterflies, and his observers applauded.
"Look, primo!" She pointed to a figure dressed all in white with a sombrero.
Miguel's legs accelerated, and she darted in order to keep up. He called the artist's name, but it was useless, the music coming from inside the party covering his voice. They slithered past multiple guests before finding themselves in the mansion.
The atmosphere rendered them speechless with stupefaction.
The huge, tall room was drowning in shades of purple, dark red and navy blue. In the centre, the water of a guitar-shaped pool was gleaming and rippling thanks to the graceful synchronized swimmers performing in it. On all the walls, some enormous screens were playing various clips of de la Cruz acting or singing and playing his signature guitar. Somewhere close by, a DJ was playing energetic songs on his mixer. Meanwhile, the hundreds of guests were having the time of their afterlives drinking, laughing and dancing.
Miguel jumped over the heads of some people, screaming the musician's name.
"We need to get his attention," Rosa told him.
Her cousin turned around to peer up at one of the screens, where de la Cruz had once played the role of a priest.
He will listen to music!, his character was saying, guitar in hands.
Miguel's eyes sparkled with mischief, "Are you up for another performance?"
She smirked, "I was born ready. But how will we get them to listen to us? It's so loud in here!"
"We'll grito!"
"Alright, then. What will we sing?"
"How well do you know "The World Es Mi Familia?""
"Well enough, I think."
"We could make ourselves seen from up there," He pointed with his index finger to the railing above their heads. "Do you think you can climb up?"
Rosa eyed him as if he'd said something outrageous.
"I've literally ascended the tree in our yard so many times, and you're asking me if I'm strong enough?"
Miguel arched a brow and scoured her from head to toe, "Musculosa."
She rolled her eyes, punching his arm.
"Ow! That hurt!"
She began shinning up the pillar, carefully placing her feet and hands in the most convenient and safe of places. She reached the railing, standing on top of it, Miguel joining her not even a minute after. He grabbed his guitar.
"You ready?"
She would've been scared if it hadn't been for their previous and first performance, but surveying the immense room, she couldn't have felt more prepared.
"¡Estoy lista! On one, two, three!"
After a soothing exhale, they let out gritos that needed double the strength to be released than the ones before Poco Loco.
Surprisingly, the music died down, and the guests' gazes switched upwards. Rosa felt the heaviness of the spotlights. Miguel was trying to keep his breathing steady as he lifted his arm and launched into the intro.
Their voices became one,
Señoras y señores,
Buenas tardes, buenas noches
Buenas tardes, buenas noches
Señoritas y señores.
They climbed down from the railing, landing amongst the guests, who were already smiling warmly at them while parting to let them descend the stairs.
To be here with you tonight
Brings me joy! ¡Qué alegría!
For this music is my language
And the world es mi familia!
Rosa glimpsed an elderly couple gazing at them; the woman's gloved hands were placed onto her chest where her heart had once been, and the man was holding her close. A young lady tittered when Miguel winked at her, while a man in an unspoilt tuxedo doffed his top hat in Rosa's direction.
For this music is my language
And the world es mi familia
The crowd kept beaming at them as they passed through. At the bottom of the stairs, they finally spotted him.
De la Cruz was wearing a pearl-white mariachi suit with a matching sombrero and glimmering shoes. He ceased talking with his guests when hearing their voices, slowly turning around, his face the perfect depiction of awe.
Hope exploded in Rosa's heart, and her stomach was in knots at the sight of one of the greatest musicians of all time looking reverently at them, yet her spirits kept getting higher and higher. Miguel was radiating.
For this music is my language
And the world es mi familia
For this music is my…
She - they - should've noticed the huge pool. By the time they had, they were both on the way to fall into the water. Miguel yelped and she shrieked, the gasps of the audience being audible even from beneath the cool water.
She helped Miguel take off his guitar strap. Just then, Ernesto's figure dived into the pool and pulled both of them to the surface. She hadn't expected de la Cruz to be the life-saving type, yet here he was.
As she and her primo were panting for air on the cold floor, Rosa wished to just vanish. Whispers were crashing into her ears, and she sighted a couple of concerned expressions.
"Are you alright, niños?" asked de la Cruz, slightly hovering in their direction.
Rosa instinctively scooted closer to Miguel. Everyone, including Ernesto, gasped when they elevated their heads, their fleshy faces now fully visible and their hoods slid off.
"It's you," Ernesto said. "You are those kids, the ones who came from the Land of the Living."
"You… know about us?" Miguel inquired, his eyes widening.
The musician chuckled, "You are all anyone has been talking about! But why have you come here?"
The girl gulped down the bubble of chagrin, both of them sitting on their knees, "We're Miguel and Rosa. Your great-great grandchildren."
The mumbles of the crowd escalated.
Ernesto seemed shocked, "I… have two great-great-grandchildren?"
Rosa's mind screamed, How on earth doesn't he know about us?!.
"We need your blessing," Miguel proceeded as if the question hadn't raised any suspicions for him. "So, we can go back home and be musicians just like you."
A shadow of gloom crossed his face. "The rest of our family… they wouldn't listen."
"But we hoped you would?" added Rosa with uncertainty, her tone pleading.
The artist gazed at them for several beats before a huge smile broke out on his features, "My kids… with such talent like yours… how could I not listen?"
Miguel rushed to hug him, Rosa following shortly after to keep a good image, even if she felt reluctant to display such a strong form of affection within the first minutes of meeting the musician. The crowd applauded feverishly as Ernesto picked them up, placing them on each of his wide shoulders.
"I have two great-great grandchildren!" he announced, the guests' enthusiasm picking up as they yelled.
Miguel embraced his idol again, the man looking lovingly up at him, but Rosa refrained from repeating the simulated gesture; she instead just grinned at their long-gone grandfather…
"Is this alright, chica?"
"Sí. Thank you!"
The retainer placed her flower headband on her head as if crowning her. Rosa combed her hand through her long, now dry ponytail.
She and Miguel had been given under the care of a few maids, who had led them to the shower cabins and had dried their clothes while they had been cleaning themselves up. The pretty ladies had offered them some other clothes, but both cousins had refused that particular service, preferring the comfort of their personal attires, which helped mend the homesickness that had settled in their souls ever since they'd escaped Mamá Imelda.
If Ernesto had attendants to help him get ready every day, then Rosa was positive that this wasn't the kind of life she'd ever wish to live. This whole mansion was simply too extravagant, the quality of life - or death - here was too much for her to handle, and the wealth of the people was stupid rather than staggering.
She craved nothing more than to just receive the blessing to go back home. The night had already been crazy enough.
When she finally got to be with Miguel again, she towed him into a corner before meeting up with their ancestor.
"Miguel, I have a very strange suspicion about this place, about de la Cruz."
"Why would you feel that way? He welcomed us with open arms and didn't even ask for proof," Miguel curled an eyebrow.
Rosa sighed, "I don't know, it's just my intuition. I'm telling you, something's off about this guy. I don't… I don't feel safe around him."
"Come to your senses, Rosa! This is Ernesto de la Cruz we're talking about! What could possibly be wrong?"
"When my gut tells me something, it's usually right! Maybe he saved us, but please trust me, something's definitely wrong here!"
Just then, the musician rounded the corner.
"There you are, my grandchildren!" He opened his arms, and Miguel threw himself at him.
This time, Rosa only put her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her face blank. When Ernesto gestured to her to join the embrace, she faked coughing and simulated admiration at the sculptures of the foyer.
Ernesto squinted. He couldn't pinpoint it, but there was something about these kids that ignited distant memories within him. Miguel's grin and unbridled zeal reminded him of a cheerful spirit he'd once been best friends with, while Rosa's stern, watchful glances and pursed lips formed the silhouette of a woman in his mind, though her face was rather misty.
Or maybe it was just his imagination. Because of how many stars and fans he'd had the pleasure to get acquainted with, sometimes faces got muddled up.
Nevertheless, he was grateful to have family around.
"Why don't we go meet some of my amigos? I'm sure they'll be thrilled to get to know you!"
Miguel was reeling and even Rosa smiled, but it quickly melted away as her sensible side spoke up.
"What about the blessing? We need to get home before sunrise."
"Yeah, otherwise we'll be stuck here forever," Miguel added, lifting his shirt to emphasise his point; his spine was already visible, and a faint orange light was the only thing that outlined his body.
Rosa felt hollower now that the reminder of their insidious transformation greeted them again. In the last few hours, she had forgotten about it due to the wide range of strong emotions she'd had.
Ernesto's worried countenance was replaced by a carefree grin.
"There's plenty of time left until sunrise. I'll give you the blessing after I have presented you to my friends. ¡Vámonos!"
Sighing, Rosa complied, pulling on Miguel's sleeve to warn him about keeping his zest in check.
Ernesto presented them to a lot of guests, so many of them that Rosa forgot their faces in less than five minutes. It was only the stars whom she knew something about that stood out to her, and to Miguel as well.
They shook hands with pretty much everyone, but didn't have much time to talk to them since Ernesto was in a rush to show them off to as many people as possible.
It was during a horse ball match that Rosa managed to get away from de la Cruz. Even though she felt blameworthy for leaving Miguel with the grandfather whom she oddly didn't trust one bit, she had faith that Miguel would be fine. After all, what could happen? Sunrise was still a few hours away.
Feeling an urging need for privacy and air, she charged through the huge heavy doors and entered the foyer where the party had been held. She threw a frown at the pool before surveying the room attentively.
Good. No one else was present.
She stepped into the room, relishing the silence that granted her freedom and a sense of security.
Rosa started to sway gently. She exhaled. She could do this, nobody would see her, and even if they saw her, what would be the problem?
She wasn't chained anymore, she didn't have to temper her desire for music, at least for now, so she'd make the most out of every moment which was at her latitude. This was the night when she needn't worry about being caught singing or humming by Abuelita or her parents.
The lyrics of a song she'd been in love with ever since she'd been eleven crystalised one by one in her mind.
Slowly, more timidly at the start but growing with aplomb with every word, she sang:
A million thoughts in my head
Should I let my heart keep listening
'Cause up 'til now I've walked the line
Nothing lost but something missing
I can't decide
What's wrong, what's right
Which way should I go?
The lyrics had had a major impact on her due to how much she could relate to their message when she'd been torn between choosing music and sticking with family.
Her voice rose steadily in pitch as she climbed up the stairs,
If only I knew what my heart was telling me
Don't know what I'm feeling
Is this just a dream?
Ah oh, yeah
If only I could read the signs in front of me
I could find the way to who I'm meant to be
Ah oh, if only
If only
If only
She was giving the performance of a lifetime. The crowd was chanting, the claps were growing louder and louder, but her voice was echoing the most powerfully.
She skipped some stairs, spicing up her imaginary solo with dance moves and graceful jumps.
She crossed her hands on her chest, where her heart was beating as fast as it had during Poco Loco.
Every step, every word
With every hour I am falling in
To something new, something brave
To someone I, I have never been
I can't decide
What's wrong, what's right
Which way should I go
If only I knew what my heart was telling me
Don't know what I'm feeling
Is this just a dream?
Ah oh, yeah
If only I could read the signs in front of me
I could find the way to who I'm meant to be
Ah oh, if only
Yeah
Rosa pirouetted onto the vast balcony that the stairs led to. She swayed the folds of her skirt, her fingers clenching tighter around the mic and ultimately, she scaled onto the railing.
Am I crazy? Maybe we could happen
Yeah
Will you still be with me when the magic's all run out?
Her family, they were all there. Carmen, Berto, Elena, Miguel, her brothers and all the other relatives were smiling at her widely. Carmen had to keep her sobs under control while Luisa had tears in her eyes. Berto was looking fondly at her, nodding with every perfectly executed note, and Elena had her hands over her chest. Abel was letting out cheer after cheer, Miguel was singing along, their gazes meeting, making Rosa's grin widen. Manny and Benny were giving it up for her non-stop, thrilled to be a part of their sister's immense audience.
There was no ban, no curse, no controversies, no broken bonds and guitars, only the sheer joy that Rosa was stirring up in everybody's hearts.
She sang the next two lines tenderly before unleashing the full potential of her voice for the last part of the song,
If only I knew what my heart was telling me
Don't know what I'm feeling
Is this just a dream?
Ah oh
If only I could read the signs in front of me
I could find the way to who I'm meant to be
Ah oh
If only, yeah
If only, yeah
If only, yeah
If only
If only
If only
She lengthened the last notes, unwilling to cease singing, her voice softening considerably.
There was a moment of undisturbed silence before the public erupted in applause and ovation, sending all kinds of acclamations at her. She grinned, light as a feather and made her reverence, blowing kisses to the crowd and waving.
Her life was just the way she'd always wanted it to be…
Rosa opened her eyes.
The room was empty, and her throat was stinging. She couldn't help the slight disappointment that came with the shattering of her fantasy. There was a hollow feeling that the room was emanating, but it was probably because of her imagination having gone wild for a few minutes.
Still, she wished the event had been real...
But maybe it could one day really be… If she and Miguel could make the family understand…
She also desired that there had been someone to listen to her; maybe they could have given her some well-deserved feedback.
As if the universe was listening to her thoughts, someone from behind clapped. Rosa gasped, bouncing back onto the balcony in an instant, her heart skipping a beat.
It wasn't Miguel, nor de la Cruz.
Dolores del Río was smiling radiantly at her, her deep red dress shimmering in the moonlight coming from the glazed roof.
Stiffly, Rosa curtsied, her hands trembling from the jumble of emotions.
The famous actress approached her, "That was maravilloso, chica!"
"T-thanks," she stuttered through gasps for air.
"Ay, no wonder you're Ernesto's granddaughter. You and your primo."
"Thank you!"
Though I'm not really proud of us being related to him, she added in her head.
"How long have you been listening?" Her heart was already thumping, but it sped up at the possibilities.
"I think about halfway through your song."
Rosa's jaw dropped. Half of the song was not that little…
"It's not my song, I just listened to it a lot."
"Maybe, but your interpretation was absolutely stunning!" Dolores praised in animation. "Your pitch, your rhythm, your body language… You were so coordinated, just the way one ought to be on stage!"
"Well, I was imagining myself in front of a massive crowd. And my family." Rosa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling sheepishly. Her gaze became lost. "It's one of my dreams… to play for my family…"
"I'm sure you'll get there. You have everything you need." Dolores placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, this gesture, alongside her joyful face reminding the girl painfully much of Héctor.
Her heart tripled in size nonetheless. Both Frida Kahlo and Dolores del Río believed in her! They believed that she, Rosa Rivera, had something special. They had faith that she could reach her dreams…
And if they had it, then Rosa could do herself a favour and trust her inherent aptitudes too.
It was obvious that Ernesto's ofrenda room would be massive and filled with gifts, but neither of the young Riveras had expected it to be this big and filled with gifts.
"All of this came from my amazing fans in the Land of the Living! They leave me more offerings than I know what to do with!" The musician engulfed the room with his arm as the kids studied their surroundings in quiet amazement.
"Have you ever crossed the bridge to visit anybody?" Miguel looked up at him.
He paused for a moment. "I used to visit the Land of the Living, but in the last decades, I stopped."
"Why?"
"Because… There are simply too many ofrendas to visit and it gets exhausting! And it's painfully miserable that I cannot collect all my offerings, even with the help of my staff."
Wow, the girl inwardly marvelled at the confession.
She would've asked something as well about this topic, about his family for instance, but his reply had stunned her too much and had given her all the needed answers.
Miguel was just as aghast as Rosa. It was incomprehensible… Ernesto hadn't even mentioned anything about his family, which could be translated that perhaps he hadn't visited them. Or maybe he didn't have a family…
De la Cruz's proud face was replaced by a concerned one. "Hey, what's wrong? Is it too much? You look overwhelmed."
Who wouldn't be overwhelmed by all this?, thought Rosa.
Miguel shrugged, "No… It's all great…"
"But…?"
He sighed, "It's just… I've been looking up to you my whole life. You're the guy who actually did it! But… Did you ever regret it? Choosing music over… everything else?"
Ernesto knelt down. "It was hard. Saying goodbye to my hometown… Heading off on my own…"
Miguel's voice became pained, "Leaving your family?"
Rosa's head whipped in her cousin's direction. He seemed truly hurt by the question. Once, he'd told her that he would leave the family in order to pursue his musical dreams, even though that decision had shattered his heart. Now, he looked extremely doubtful of its righteousness. The thought of leaving his family behind after realising what that felt like due to tonight's events had very likely impacted him strongly, just like the fact that they'd run away from their relatives was still stinging her heart.
Ernesto might have had thousands, if not millions of fans and many celebrity friends, but none of them counted as family, for family was irreplaceable.
The musician spoke again, "Sí… But I could not have done it differently."
He grasped their shoulders. Rosa refrained from pulling away.
"One cannot deny who one is meant to be. And you, my great-great grandchildren, are meant to be musicians!"
Miguel's face broke into a smile as his idol got up and neared the full-length windows which overlooked a part of the colourful city.
"You and I, we are artists, niños! We cannot belong to one family. The world is our family!"
"Actually, I want to make shoes besides being a musician," Rosa intervened, her hand raised.
"Shoes?" Ernesto said incredulously, scowling at her over his shoulder. "What kind of joy do you find in crafting footwear, chica?"
Rosa perked up, "That way, I'm able to help other people."
"Music also helps people."
"I know, but…"
"Listen to me! Imagine what you felt during that outstanding performance you two gave earlier, and compare your feelings from then to the way designing boots makes you feel."
The girl frowned, her arms akimbo. "Both music and shoes make me happy."
De la Cruz shook his head, "Wrong answer. Listen to me, chica, music is infinitely better!"
He turned back to the window, gasping in childlike excitement when fireworks exploded up in the night sky.
Miguel was torn as to whose side he ought to be on. If he chose Rosa, then his grandfather and idol would possibly resent him, whereas if he took the musician's side, he'd hurt his prima, therefore he simply bit his lip, waiting for the awkward moment to pass.
Rosa shook her head dismissively. Making shoes was a noble art to the Riveras. Making shoes was just as important to her as music was, and he could be incapable of understanding that for all she cared.
Deep down though, she knew that he was their great-great grandfather, even if she hadn't accepted that certitude yet. And deep down his words cut her.
She hadn't warmed up to him at all, unlike how things had been with Héctor. Not that she'd expected to. De la Cruz might have saved them, but he was a jerk if he tried making her feel foolish, stupid even, for having a passion other than music. All he'd done since he'd met them was show them off to literally everybody and praise his fame and accomplishments; to her, those weren't the best ways to spend one's first hours with newly encountered relatives.
She wanted to get out of here with Miguel for once and just go home, to let this guy drown in his fame and fortune.
She had a strange, unexplainable fear that Ernesto wouldn't have cared about them had they not been talented regarding music.
And that shouldn't have wounded her at all.
The entrance hall was still empty when they reached it.
"Soon, the party will move across town for my Sunrise Spectacular! Miguel, Rosa, you must come to the show! You will be my guests of honour!"
"You mean it?" Miguel's eyes shone with hope.
"Of course, my kids!"
"Umm… Miguel? Aren't we forgetting something?" Rosa cut in. "Curse? Transformation? Ring any bells?"
"Oh… right," Miguel lifted his shirt again to reveal that the skeletal transformation had progressed to his ribcage. "We don't have much time left."
Freaked out, Ernesto drew back, "I really do need to get you home."
He plucked two marigold petals from a vase filled with cempasúchil.
"Before you give us the blessings though," Rosa said before he could get a word out, "do you happen to know about a guy named Héctor?"
The musician was taken aback, but he quickly composed himself.
"I've met a lot of Héctors in my existence, Rosa."
"You know, slender, tall, sharp features, possibly with a gold front tooth?"
Ernesto was giving them a death stare, but a smile intended to be jovial took shape almost immediately, but it was the kind of smile people give to hide their actual reaction, the fake smile that could send shivers down your spine knowing that it's dishonest.
"Why do you ask?"
"Why don't you answer?" Rosa stood her ground, her eyes narrowing into his.
The tension was tangible, the two staring each other down. Miguel, caught in the middle, had no clue how to intervene.
De la Cruz sighed, "I did know the person you're talking about once, but we haven't kept in touch. Personal problems, destroyed friendship."
Rosa would have liked to ask further, but something in his frozen countenance told her that no matter how hard she'd try, she wouldn't receive any more information. Plus, he'd gone from looking all friendly to being terrifying in seconds, so her desire to just go home for once! enhanced all of a sudden.
She'd had enough of being near this suspicious stranger who only viewed them as prizes.
"The blessing, please?" she voiced to crack the tension.
For a moment, she was unnerved, thinking that he wouldn't listen and break his promise.
But he didn't.
"Right, right." He held one of the petals in front of her. "Rosa, I give you my blessing to go home… to play music… and to perform as much as you like."
The petal's glow intensified with every one of the conditions. Rosa sighed in relief and glanced at her cousin.
"Don't make me wait too long," she smirked.
"I won't, I promise," Miguel smiled lopsidedly.
Her fingers came in contact with the petal and a weird sensation webbed her body as petals transported her to the other realm.
After a boot to his head from Ceci, Héctor had managed to obtain another Frida costume.
As he was hurrying through the vibrant city towards his former friend's tower, his thoughts were filled by the images of the young kids he'd befriended.
He'd encountered a lot of lost or orphaned children in his awfully long time in the Land of the Dead, and had always acted on his parental instincts, taking them under his wing until they were engulfed by the Final Death or - for the few lucky ones - got adopted by a loving family.
But it had been a lot more different with Miguel and Rosa.
Those muchachos… ay, they were so bright and talented! He had been unable not to see parts of himself in each of them from the times when he'd been young, and the kinship and sympathy he was still feeling for them had evolved further and further as the night had gone on.
Miguel was full of life, but what had stood out to Héctor in the first place had been his eyes.
Coco's eyes.
Every time Miguel had looked at him, an arrow of woe had pierced his soul at the comforting yet uncanny resemblance between his daughter and the boy, and Héctor still couldn't wrap his head around how such a strong similarity could even come to be.
And it wasn't just the eyes. Miguel's laughter, the way he lit up every time he heard music were also details that reminded him painfully much of his dear daughter, along with other ones that he didn't have time to count.
The boy had mischief in his sleeves, and his dear Imelda's bold persistence.
Rosa… She had something mysterious about herself.
Somewhat more reserved and mature than her cousin, she had the same fire and passion that Imelda had for what and whom she deemed important. With her protective loving spirit, she hadn't surprised Héctor only once during the night.
There was also a bit of Coco inside of the girl, but her voice was similar to how his wife's had sounded when she'd been a child. That aspect had saddened him because of the painful memories it had awoken, when he'd used to sing with Imelda in the plaza, but it had also made him quite joyous.
He was still enraged because he'd been lied to, especially since this was bound to be the last night of his existence. Yet, from the moment the words "stupid musical fantasy" had sprung from his mouth, Héctor had felt something break inside of him when witnessing the hurt on the children's faces, especially on Miguel's. The poor boy's guitar had been shattered just a few hours before and he'd had no idea…
Héctor focused ahead; the tower wasn't far.
He shouldn't have been so rough on them, they were just kids, foolish, inexperienced kids; but the fear that they might end up with a fate like his had hurled him into a kind of desperation he'd never felt before, but one that was akin to the times when he'd used to warn Coco not to touch sharp objects.
Perhaps, if he hadn't yelled, they would've listened. He wasn't the type of person - the type of father - to yell often, and mostly, he had a collected demeanour. If he'd been gentler, they wouldn't have run away from him and now, they'd be safe at home, their family at ease while he would've finally got the chance to see Coco one last time before he faded.
If something happened to Rosa and Miguel, he'd never forgive himself, just like he refused to forgive himself for leaving Imelda and Coco that day…
Héctor stopped short to fix his wig and skirt for he'd reached the tower, which was bustling with energy. Crossing his arms, setting a calm face, he hurried past the queue of guests, completely disregarding their pointed fingers, excited whispers and snapshots of cameras, heading straight to the bouncer.
Upon meeting his nervous eyes, Héctor used his fake voice, "Yes, it is I, Frida Kahlo."
"It is an honour, señora!" The guard let him in without any questions or need to check the invitation he didn't have.
"Gracias…" Héctor waved a dismissive hand, not looking back.
He hoped the real Frida wouldn't show up to the party.
In the funicular, he had to sign some autographs. Good thing he'd learned to copy Frida's signature, just in case somebody would have approached him in one of his schemes to cross over the bridge. And they had.
He refused to take any pictures with the fans though, claiming that he "needed peace before the party". That got a few pouty faces, but fans really needed to keep their exhilaration under control sometimes.
He exited the funicular only to be met with some other amped fans. After much struggle, a sea of autographs and even more camera clicks in his direction, he managed to approach the entrance to the party, where he played the same act with the guards posted at the entrance, who let him in, no questions asked.
Please make this work… he prayed.
Héctor reached the foyer just as a whirlwind of marigold petals illuminated the room.
Rosa landed in the mausoleum, feeling dizzy from the sudden transportation. After a minute of rest, she placed the fallen glossy white guitar back where it belonged, above the sarcophagus. Weird how she'd just interacted with the guy in whose honour this entire mausoleum had been built.
It was an experience she'd never wish to repeat.
She figured that it would take a few minutes at most until Miguel would arrive.
After five minutes with no sign of him passed, her heartbeat picked up, but she reassured herself that everything was alright.
Ten minutes…
It was impossible for him to have appeared in some other place, since the mausoleum was where they'd got cursed. She began pacing around, her panting reverberating on the marble walls.
Fifteen minutes…
Rosa's anxiety rocketed.
Something was definitely wrong…
A/N:
Thanks a lot for reading!
Disclaimer: Those lyrics belong to the song "If Only" by Dove Cameron. I highly recommend listening to it.
I thought that the message of the lyrics really fit Rosa's character, as it truly emphasizes her struggle to choose between music and family and shows the wide range of emotions she's been feeling regarding the music ban.
Let me know what you think about this choice of song!