Showdown -Part 1-
Clustered on Pepita's back, the Riveras preserved silence on the way to Frida Kahlo's studio.
The plan was simple: ask the renowned pintora for help to get inside Ernesto's show, obtain the photo, then send Miguel and Rosa home.
Easier said than done.
Surveying her family members, Rosa took notice of their emotional states; Imelda's shoulders were squared as she guided her alebrije; Victoria was frowning in contemplation; Julio was throwing furtive glances at Héctor, whose mouth was pressed against his interwoven fingers, staring blankly in the distance; Rosita's usual smiling face was dominated by a straight countenance that masked everything she was feeling; Óscar and Felipe were communicating with the help of their twin bond through questioning looks; Miguel was absently pulling the drawstrings of his sweater, Dante tucked under his arm, his head on the boy's knee.
As for Rosa, she was pensively stroking her ponytail. Despite appearing collected, there was a storm of distressing thoughts within her that she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to contain.
The wrath at de la Cruz was momentarily gone, and all that was left were grief and guilt; the former regarding Héctor's fate, the latter regarding the guitar in the mausoleum.
She had been feeling the rage and grief rolling off in waves from her family members after the truth of de la Cruz's deeds had been exposed. Héctor himself had had quite a tight-lipped frown plastered on his bony features for a short while after ascending Pepita again, but that expression had melted away to give room to dejected eyes.
Miguel was wearing that rare countenance of his when not much could be read on his face. His prima only made a guess as to what was dwelling in his heart, unwilling to disrupt the quiet that provided a bit of relaxation after the wild night they'd had.
It wasn't even over, but there wasn't much time left until sunrise. She didn't need to steal a peek at her transformation to know that it was nearly complete.
Her gaze swiped to her great-great grandfather. She was still wrapping her head around the relation between him and all the Riveras.
Héctor Rivera… Somehow, it sounded right in her ears. It sounded… familiar even though she'd never made that association of names before. She wondered how things would have gone had she or Miguel introduced themselves to Héctor with their surname. They probably wouldn't have changed much since "Rivera" was a common family name.
Imelda suddenly whipped around to face her family. Her face told Rosa that a serious discussion was going to take place.
"Miguel, Rosa, we need to talk."
All Riveras, including Héctor, straightened their backs, broken from their thoughts, heeding her with deserved attention.
Imelda's gaze was switching from one grandchild to the other. "Why were you still in the sinkhole when you had that winged horse with you?"
The kids exchanged glimpses. They both told their side of the story, and by the time they finalised, the silence that followed was more nerve-wracking than they'd expected.
"How did the blessing work?" Victoria was the first to find her voice, articulating the aspect that was the most confusing of all.
Rosa's heart was pounding violently. Was she transforming into a freak before their eyes because of that blessing?
"I have no idea," she squeaked out. "Perhaps you're all thinking that de la Cruz might somehow be related to my mamá's side of the family because how else could the blessing have worked? But I know her extended family tree by heart, and he is not amongst the Delgados."
At least she thought he wasn't. She didn't believe she could bear the knowledge that she was indeed his relative, that her brothers, mother and the rest of the other side of her familia were related to a murderer. That thought made bile constrict her stomach. She made a mental note to research her family tree very thoroughly and dissipate all doubts and suspicions.
They must have picked up on her panic since Rosita said, "Calm down, mija. No one's blaming you, nor are we judging you. Plus, we can't know for certain if that musician is truly related to your mamá."
"Maybe since de la Cruz considered you family and you did the same with him, that's how the petal glowed?" suggested Felipe.
"It's possible, but whatever happened with that blessing is something we'll try figuring out later," added Óscar to alleviate the strain the subject had seeded. "Right, Imelda?"
"Sí."
Julio cleared his throat. "So, Miguel didn't get to receive his blessing."
It wasn't a question.
"No, I didn't," his great-grandson spoke quickly. He scowled. "De la Cruz didn't get to finish it, actually. I don't know if it would've worked for me the way it did for Rosa."
His cousin raised her brows. "Did it light up?"
"Well, no, but he didn't say the whole "I give you my blessing"."
A million thoughts were racing through Rosa's mind, her brain harbouring all kinds of explanations despite his statement, but her contemplation was interrupted by another issue that had been causing her intense restlessness, and she cringed.
"I must confess something."
They all regarded her, her heart thumping faster from their thorough attention. Hopefully they wouldn't get mad at her for purposely excluding this significant detail out of her story earlier.
She inhaled. "I had to do something in order to get back here in the Land of the Dead. De la Cruz had added the conditions "to play music and perform", which meant I had to break at least one to return."
Her eyes rotated across all their faces; like Héctor's, some were in tense expectancy while Miguel's was decorated with apprehension and Imelda's eyes were wide in anticipation.
Sheepishly, Rosa gripped her wrist. Why was telling the truth sometimes so arduous, so excruciating?
"That beautiful white guitar belongs to you, right, Papá Héctor?"
"Sí, mija," he replied softly.
"Well, I…"
She was about to choke on her emotions. Flutters danced in her stomach and sweat built up on her palms.
In hindsight, couldn't she have come up with another solution to break those conditions?! She wouldn't have had to deal with such guilt and embarrassment now what with her desperation and impulsive actions.
She sighed, feeling her soul crack. No more torture. If she didn't address the issue, she would burst. Get the truth out quickly, like peeling off a bandage, even if their opinion of her - which she highly treasured - would be at risk of degrading a terrifying amount, especially Héctor and Miguel's.
"The guitar… I smashed it!"
Miguel gasped; there was so much shock on his face that Rosa started being disgusted with herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Héctor being thunderstruck; his eyes were large and his lips slightly parted. Somewhere far, her mind registered the others' reactions, which set her self-condemnation flaming brighter. Even Mamá Imelda seemed stunned.
All gazes were on her, something she was way too aware of, but she simply didn't find the strength to meet any of them.
She covered her face with her palms, her back hunching until her elbows met Pepita's soft fur. The feral negative emotions that had bombarded her in the mausoleum appeared again, this time with more force than she could have been prepared for.
The family heirloom… splintered beneath her touch. Shards of wood lying at her feet on the marble floor that was no longer impeccable… Blood oozing from her ankles after the violent impact… Her getting swallowed up in cempasúchil, leaving like a thief who'd got what they'd wanted…
A feeling of brokenness had followed, which had been lingering ever since, but it multiplied fast when the ghastly truth of her deeds was revealed.
In the back of her mind and deep in her heart, her timid inner voice was telling her she'd had a well-meaning purpose, which was the only thing keeping her from breaking down in front of the family.
"I'm truly sorry, I didn't want to do it, but I couldn't find another solution… It seemed like it was the only one that could bring me back to search for Miguel and not waste a lot of time…"
The apology felt so wrong; it was mocking her, whispering with contempt that there had been a million other ways to get cursed once more, that she'd been an estupida, that she had let desperation get the better of her…
"...But it made me feel so horrible, so…" She sighed, defeated. "I would never have done it, please tell me you know that… Lo siento…"
Miguel was the first to speak. He hugged her, and she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes.
"It's alright, prima. You've come back, which I had no clue if I should hope for or not. You don't know how thrilled I was to see you."
"Me too, primo."
A hand touched her shoulder, and she bolted up, inadvertently meeting Héctor's soft gaze. Deep within her, she found the valiance to maintain eye-contact, realising that it was primarily his thoughts she needed to know.
Her grandfather cupped the side of her face, and she froze at his gentleness. How was he taking this so well?!
"I don't care about the guitar as long as you did what was right. You came for Miguel, and I'm proud of you for doing that," he reassured with a benevolent smile.
Rosa almost beat herself up for assuming he'd have an unpleasant reaction. She really had to get to know him better.
"But it was - is - our heirloom and your instrument; the fact that you haven't used it in decades doesn't count. I ruined it!"
"Guitars can be fixed, mija. You're consuming yourself too much. It's not the end of the world. We tend to amplify the negative effects of some of our actions, but sometimes, what we imagined doesn't even come close to reality."
"What if it won't be repaired?"
"It will be!" Miguel butted in cheerfully. "Why are Riveras shoemakers if not for fixing things?"
Rosa still shook her head, words failing her. Héctor snapped his fingers.
"Listen to me, Rosa. I know you think that I - that we - are upset or disappointed in you, but take it from me. You followed your instincts, and you found us, which is what really matters, even though the guitar got busted in the process."
He stole a glance at Imelda, who nodded, the rest of the family doing the same.
He continued, "Supposing Miguel had lost his life because neither you, nor Imelda had found him before sunrise," - Chills reverberated in all their souls. - "would you still regret breaking the guitar?"
Rosa frowned. "Absolutely not."
"Then why are you feeling so remorseful now?"
She crossed her arms. "You can't convince me that you wouldn't be disappointed in me if I hadn't shown any penitence."
Héctor sighed. "Okay, maybe I would've been a little, but that's not the point. What I mean is…"
"...that family always comes first," the cousins completed in unison.
He grinned, ruffling their hair, and those small content gestures were all it took for his great-great granddaughter to feel more at ease.
"I must confess something as well," Miguel raised his hand, biting his lip. "Rosa, I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier. You were right about de la Cruz. And Papá Héctor, I know you're anything but selfish, and I apologise if I hurt you after the contest in the plaza."
"I apologise too," Rosa spoke up. "I was very mean to you back then. We shouldn't have run away from you, nor from Mamá Imelda." She eyed the matriarch, whose composure was on the verge of melting at their genuine apologies.
"Ay, mijos…" Héctor smiled gently. "Your dreams aren't stupid, I hope you can forgive me for saying that."
The young Riveras nodded vehemently. It felt so good to have heard him say those assurances!
Dante nuzzled Miguel's elbow.
"And you, boy," Miguel grinned, scratching Dante behind his ears; the dog patted his paws in contentment. "We love you, you're the greatest spirit guide we could have, besides Pepita of course." He added the last words before Imelda could have glared at him.
Speaking of the matriarch, she cleared her throat. "Rosa, Miguel, there's something I'd like to tell you."
They waited with uncertain anticipation until she proceeded, "I think I made you feel as if my love for you is not unconditional because of what I said, that you go home my way or no way." She sighed, her eyes glistening. In them, they noticed pure remorse. "I want you to know that I'm deeply sorry for that, and ask you to remember how much I - how much we - love you."
The Riveras were awestruck. It wasn't every day that the head of the family owned up to her mistakes, even more so in such an emotional manner.
Miguel and Rosa only smiled and hugged her.
"Let me see if I got this right," Frida squinted in concentration. "You need Héctor's photo to put it up on your ofrenda so he can cross over to see his daughter. But to do that, you need to get inside Ernesto's show because he's the one who has it?"
Miguel nodded, "¡Sí!"
Frida stroked her chin. "I always knew something was off about Ernesto. He never had that passion, that drive artists do."
Upon glancing at the family waiting for her response, she said, "But this isn't about what I thought, it's about you. And yes, of course I'll help you!"
The cousins cheered, high-fiving while their family smiled and thanked her before she detailed, "There will be a short pre-show before Ernesto makes his entrance. That's when my dancers, who have been practising so hard and whom I am very proud of," - she nodded in the bailadoras' direction, who bowed their heads in respect, - "will come on stage and do their number. I could sneak you in along with them. That means you'll have to wear costumes."
"That's no problem," Héctor commented, making his great-great grandchildren titter.
While the Rivera women didn't seem to mind dressing up, Julio, Óscar and Felipe surely did, but they couldn't complain. Time was running out.
As they were hurriedly slipping the bright colourful dresses and black wigs on, Miguel whispered to his cousin, "Look, prima, now you actually get to wear one of these dresses!"
"Yeah, I only wish it were my size," Rosa held up the skirt that covered her feet and threatened to trip her anytime if left unheeded.
"Is everyone ready?" Frida questioned after a couple of minutes.
"We are," Imelda stated.
There was so much certainty in those two words!
The ride to the Sunrise Spectacular passed in a haze for Rosa. She assumed that was because of the adrenaline racing through her body, making her muscles vibrate with energy even after such an eventful night.
She found herself in a giant papaya, squeezed between Miguel and Victoria. The family waited until the music started and Frida's dancers exited the fruit prop for the performance. The Riveras followed shortly after, creeping out like felines in the shadows that shielded them from the eyes of the audience. Rosa only got to see a glimpse of the public between the bodies of the graceful dancers in the ten seconds the Riveras spent on stage, and its vastness nearly threw her off her feet; thankfully, Miguel poked her back from behind to keep her advancing until they were all in the wings.
Frida smiled at them as they plunged down the stairs that led to the changing rooms beneath.
"Good luck, muchachos!"
"¡Gracias, Frida!" the cousins answered in the name of their familia.
Once backstage, they peeled off their glittering outfits, wigs and unibrows. Dante got out from under tío Óscar's skirt.
"I don't wanna sneak into a performance like this ever again," Rosa said under her breath.
"Here, let me help you," Héctor reached out to Imelda who was struggling to slip off her skirt.
"Don't touch me!" She hissed, forcing the garment off her waist; Héctor recoiled.
It was heart-rending to witness his attempts to get close to her and help her however he could, despite the tension of the circumstances. Rosa could see the sadness on Miguel's face. Was it ever worth hoping that their great-great grandparents would one day reconcile, given that the truth had been exposed?
Yes! Hope is always worth it!
They formed a huddle.
"Everyone clear on the plan?" Miguel asked.
"Find Héctor's photo," began Victoria.
"Give it to Miguel or Rosa," added Julio.
"Send them home," finished Imelda.
Héctor checked his pocket. "Got your petals?"
After making sure every one of them had a petal, including the youngsters, they went out on the corridor.
"Now, we just have to find de la Cruz," the matriarch stepped in front of the pack.
As if on cue, the musician responded "Yes?" just as only Imelda rounded the corner; the rest of the family remained hidden behind the wall, which they pushed themselves against once recognising his voice to avoid getting spotted.
With a high-pitched gasp, Imelda faced Ernesto, her eyes wide. It had been a long time since she'd seen him.
His brows furrowed in confusion. "Don't I know you?"
Imelda took off her boot before smacking his skull, causing it to rotate wildly. He whimpered.
"That's for murdering the love of my life!"
The kids looked at each other, smiling knowingly. Love of her life…
De la Cruz scowled. "Who the?"
Héctor stepped forward behind his wife. "She's talking about me!" With a soft gaze at Imelda and a hand over his chest, he said next, "I'm the love of your life?"
Imelda waved it off, her boot still pointed at de la Cruz. "I don't know, I'm still angry at you!"
Ernesto finally made the connection, his eyes travelling to his former best friend, his voice raising, "Héctor? How did you–?"
Imelda smacked his skull again, and he stepped backwards. "And that's for trying to murder my grandson!"
"Grandson?" de la Cruz asked in disbelief.
Miguel bravely revealed himself, ignoring Rosa's distraught "¡Primo, no!" and proudly saying, "She's talking about me!"
Ernesto's fury grew. "You!"
Héctor pulled Miguel closer to him, planting his hands on the boy's shoulders and glowering at the musician. Ernesto had a revelation while his eyes shifted between the two of them. "Wait. You're related to Héctor?"
"The photo!" Miguel pointed to the pocket of his unblemished white mariachi suit.
The rest of the Riveras came forward from behind the wall, their fists balling up and their eyes sparkling with determination. Ernesto became intimidated, and bolted in the other direction.
"After him!" Imelda ordered.
As they were rushing through corridors, Héctor turned to his wife, "You said love of your life?"
Imelda rolled her eyes. "I don't know what I said."
"That's what I heard," Miguel smirked and Rosa joined him.
They entered the last chamber, which was right under the stage, but were stopped by guards blocking their way to Ernesto, who knocked over the stagehand informing him that there were only thirty seconds left before the performance would start. Imelda was the sole member who managed to squeeze through the security and reach de la Cruz, forcing Héctor's photo out of his front pocket.
Adrenaline made Rosa unable to pay much attention to what her family were doing exactly; she only knew that they were all fighting with the fearlessness that characterised all Riveras. She was extremely grateful to be part of such a family.
She was distracting a bald guard by running around the room. When Héctor and the two sentinels battling with him came in her line of sight, Rosa ducked between the enemies' long legs, leaving her chaser no time to change courses in his undivided attention to seize her. He crashed into the other two, their bones scattering around the place. She only got a scratch on her palm.
Héctor helped her up, grinning.
"That was smart, mija."
Miguel suddenly tackled Ernesto to the ground, freeing Imelda from his grip, but causing her to collapse, albeit with the picture in hand. Victorious, she announced that she had it, but more guards chased her grandson. Héctor and Rosa both jumped to his aid, prying the arms of the men off him.
Imelda yelped, the platform she was on beginning to rise to the stage. Ernesto raced up the stairs, and so did all the Riveras less than a minute later, realising what had happened to their eldest relative.
The announcer let the public know about Ernesto de la Cruz's arrival on stage with a calm but thrilled voice.
When the Riveras reached the stage left, Mamá Imelda was frozen on the platform, all spotlights on her.
A/N:
Merry Christmas, everyone!
I honestly thought that Imelda also needed to apologise to her grandchildren, not only them to her.
Hope you liked this chapter!