"So what do you need help with on this song?" Imelda asked. With permission, she took the paper and read it carefully.
"Well, first of all, I can't think of a good melody for the song," Hector replied, slouching in his chair, his countenance full of mild stress. "I had proposed many ideas of a melody but none of them suited your husband's vision."
"What is his vision?" Imelda enquired. She had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. If Ernesto was so good at coming up with ideas for songs, why didn't he write them down? That way, he wouldn't have to force this poor songwriter to do all the work.
"Well, he wants something that is upbeat," Hector recalled. "Something that can get people dancing." He snapped his fingers and sat up straight. "Oh, and what do you think of the lyrics? Gustavo thinks we need more words but Antonio believes they are fine. But you tell me. What do you think?" A cloud lifted from his brow as he talked of his lyrics.
Imelda re-read the song carefully. Then she scrambled for a red pen from the small desk and began crossing. She was crossing so much that she didn't hear an astonished songwriter asking what she was doing. Imelda handed the paper back to Hector full of red cross-outs, much to his dismay.
"It is not very good" the woman critiqued. "It is no good enough for you guys to perform for the show. You must start writing all over again."
"But it will take forever!" the songwriter ejaculated. He slouched as he looked at his paper, finally realizing how sloppy the words sounded. "And we are going to perform soon!" He groaned, trailing his big hand from his head to chin, leaving his hair unkempt. The song may be poorly written but it was going to take him a long time to write a new draft! He jolted when a delicate small hand was placed on top of his other big hand.
"Then, we will get started right away," she responded, calmly. "Let's break it down to baby steps. First, we will write down the words and then, we will write the melody." Realizing that her hand was still on his rough but warm hand, she quickly pulled it away. "So, let's get started!"
While the dinner was cooking, Hector and Imelda work on the song together by brainstorming new lyrics. Hector wrote downs based on his idea sand. Imelda's. Mostly Imelda's ideas. Hector knew that the song should be about: a singer's dedication to the world for listening to him sing. He and Imelda both agreed that the song should still be called, "the World es Mi Familia." After writing the final draft, the last step to figure out was the melody. What should the melody be for the song? Hector thought of a bunch of ideas for it such as ragtime and classical but nothing clicked for him. It was Imelda who suggested a style inspired by Huapango. The songwriter brightened up at the idea. It didn't take him long to write down the musical notes for it.
"Now we need to test this song," the musician smiled, reading his paper. "With my old trusty guitar!"
He strummed the lyrics to his song. When the song was finished, he was so happy with it that he let out a grito.
"Aha, this is so perfect!"
"Aren't you glad I helped you?" Imelda smirked.
"Yes, yes!" He shouted. He bounced on the air and pulled a gasping woman into his arms for a great big hug. "Oh, Muchas gracias! Muchas gracias!"
"De nada," Imelda stuttered, still stunned by the physical contact. She stayed in his arms for a long time.
Realizing what he was doing, Hector pulled away from Imelda and cleared his throat.
"Um, gracias...the boys would surely love it!"
I'll...check on the dinner," the hostess said awkwardly. When she went into the kitchen, she took a few deep breaths. Imelda scolded herself mentally to relax, it was just a hug. Then again, it felt so nice to be hugged. The woman couldn't remember the last time she had been hugged. Her parents were the last people to hug her before her treacherous wedding. Shaking her head, Imelda thought it was just a hug.
When Imelda carried two plates of chapulines, Hector offered to take one plate from her. His fingertips accidentally brushed her hand when he took his plate for her. This second physical contact caused them to blush, as well. After sitting down, the two ate their dinner in silence.
"Is Ernesto here with my luggage?" Hector asked, concerned. He and Imelda had just finished cleaning up after dinner. "How am I supposed to go to bed if I don't have my pajamas and toothbrush?"
It was time for bed and Hector was concerned that Ernesto still hadn't come back with his belongings.
"How long does it take to fetch my stuff?"
"Don't worry, Hector," his hostess assured him. "I have Ernesto's spare pajamas which you can wear and I have a brand new toothbrush that I just bought."
"Gracias, Imelda but I don't want to trouble you. I'll just sleep in my clothes and skip brushing my teeth."
The woman scowled, left the guest room, and came back with the spare pajamas and a brand new toothbrush. She shoved them into her guest's arms who yelped a comical "oof!"
"Imelda, are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"It's fine, I don't need-"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Imelda shook her finger at him. "There is no way I am letting you go to bed naked and with a stinky breath! Ahora vete a la cama!"
She closed the door, making Hector jump.
"Aww, no goodnight kiss?" He whined, like a child who didn't get a cookie. The songwriter was surprised when his door cracked a bit open.
"Buenos Noches!" Imelda smiled.
Then she closed the door.
"Buenos Noches," Hector smiled softly. As much as he liked being independent, it felt nice to have someone look out for you. Shaking his head with a smile, the songwriter retired to bed.