Chapter 3: Making Up

For hours the five members of the Rivera family sat at the quaint kitchen table, eating Imelda's delicious food as well as conversing what had happened during the last six months during Héctor's absence. Héctor regaled them with tales of all the cities he had been to while touring, the people he had seen and the best and worst shows he and Ernesto had performed. He also bemoaned the fact that for all his promises of future riches, he didn't even earn enough money to bring Coco and Imelda any gifts from his travels. Imelda was quick to reassure him that the money he had mailed to him, and his presence here and now, was enough for them both.

Héctor leaned back his chair content and completely full, even though he didn't eat near enough Imelda had wanted. He lazily peeled an orange and handed slices to Coco as he listened to his wife explain what she and her brothers had been up to as well. "I understand what you're saying, and it's a great idea…"

"But?" Imelda inquired.

"Why shoes? Why not start a candy business? I love the candies you make, so would everyone else!" Héctor looked at Coco for validation, and she excitedly nodded in approval. "Coco agrees!"

"Candies are just quick flashes of pleasure that are gone in an instant. Shoes, on the other hand, are concrete." Imelda rose from the table, as the twins groaned in unison. They knew what was coming.

"A life full of hard work and strife will always show on the feet. It takes superior craftsmanship, quality materials, and a sound work ethic to make a pair of shoes that will lesson that burden. That is where Rivera Shoes will come in. Boots for the field workers with toes of the strongest steel, huaraches for the mothers woven with the softest leather, and dance shoes so soft and light you will feel like you were floating through air! Santa Cecilia deserves have the finest shoes made from its most passionate and strongest citizens!" She finished with a fist over her heart and her chin held high.

Héctor was floored. "Diosa…" he whispered. "That was beautiful."

"Also Senor Guzman is retiring from shoemaking." Oscar said.

"And Imelda wouldn't stop pestering him until he took us all on as apprentices." Felipe added.

"I will never look at shoes the same way again." Héctor gushed, not listening to them. Coco sighed in disappointment: No candy then.

Imelda turned back. "This is just Plan B, however. A backup plan in order to earn some money while you did your tour with Ernesto."

"Might want to make it Plan A, amor." Héctor said.

"Que?"

"Well, like I said, touring isn't for me, and like you said shoes are concrete. I don't know when Ernesto is coming back, and until then maybe it's time I learned a trade instead of dallying off to the plaza everyday earning loose change. I have a family to think of."

Imelda's eyes turned soft and she smiled. "You really want to learn to make shoes with me?"

"I want to do anything with you! Always. Besides, it would be nice to have free shoes that actually fit me for once." Héctor smiled.

"Héctor…" Imelda wrapped her arms around his strong, lithe body and hugged him close. The two together again were a much missed sight for Coco, who smiled and giggled at her parents happiness.

Héctor's face lit up. "Ooh! How about a fireworks workshop instead?" This earned him a slap on the back of the head.

"And then mija, when you reach the last house on your journey, you sing the song one more time. That's when they say 'Si, we have room! Come in!' and that's when you and the other chicos bring inside Mary and Joseph. They have found shelter at last!"

"That's sounds boring, Papá." Coco grumbled from her bed. When her father had told her that she was now old enough to take part in Las Posadas coming up in a few days, she was excited. But the thought of going out into the cold carrying around ceramic figures from the church for eight days didn't sound fun at all.

Héctor stopped strumming his guitar. "Coco!" he gently chastised. "This is a very important tradition for all little ones! I've taken part, so has your Mamá, and your Tíos too. Besides, all that hard work will pay off when the party starts~." He sang and strummed with a flourish.

That got her attention. "Party?!"

"Si! There will be singing, dancing, games, mountains of food from people all over town, and don't forget…" Héctor strummed furiously to build up tension, and then slapped the body for dramatic effect. "La Piñata!"

"Piñata?!" Coco squealed. "I love piñatas!"

"Who doesn't love piñatas?! But here's a secret for you Coco. You are a Rivera, and a Rivera has the magic touch." He whispered.

"What's the magic touch?" she whispered back.

Héctor resumed his strumming to softer, more lulling tune. "The magic touch is a secret power that all Riveras possess when it comes to piñatas. We have the gift to always be the one lucky enough to break it ourselves, whether it's the first hit or if it's been hit a hundred times before that. And the one who hits it always gets first grabs for the little presents!"

Coco giggled, and then yawned. "Okay Papá, it sounds fun now."

"Good. You're going to love it mija, I guarantee." Héctor traced a finger across his baby's plump cheeks and smiled. Dios, he had missed tucking in Coco for bed. This was going to be his evenings from now on: pure bliss. "Now then, time to sing our song, si?"

"Si, Papá." Coco mumbled sleepily, although she didn't last until the second verse, and didn't feel him kiss her forehead before walking out the door.

"Hello, beautiful." Héctor leered as he walked into his and Imelda's bedroom, drinking in the sight of his lush, soft, amazing… bed. He launched himself into the air and landed with a soft bounce onto the mattress, doing snow angel movements into the blankets and moaning with pleasure. "Feels so gooood!..." he chortled, twisting onto his side and burying his face into his pillow with a contented hum. Having not slept at all on the train ride home, as well as not sleeping properly the last few days, his body was truly exhausted. He hadn't even taken his shirt or charro pants off, but he was already feeling the pull of sleep dragging him down.

"Don't fall asleep yet, Héctor." Imelda whispered from across the room, turning the end of his name into a soft purr. Héctor's eyes shot open, all exhaustion leaving him at the sound of his wife's voice. He shot up into a sitting position and looked at Imelda, and suddenly everything felt hot. Imelda was standing there in nothing but a sheer slip, with a smoldering look in her eye, and- Oh Dios mio…

"Imelda." Héctor gulped. "Your hair is down."

"Si." Imelda smiled as she ran her fingers through curly obsidian locks. Ay, didn't she know what the sight of her loose, flowing hair did to him?! How his fingers itched and burned to bury themselves into it? "Héctor Rivera, you have neglected your wife for six months." She purred again and slinked towards him.

"Yes." He whispered.

She reached out and cupped his cheeks so that he could look into her eyes, then her fingers slowly trailed down his neck, making him shudder. She reached the first button of his collar and loosed it, then the next, and the next. Finally she slipped a hand onto his quivering chest, over his heart. "For six months you have neglected yourself as well."

"Yes!" he hissed, then he felt a hand run through his hair and yank back hard, and Imelda planted a soul-searing kiss on him. He gasped into her mouth before finding his footing and returned it with fervor, their tongues dueling each other in a way they hadn't in such a long time. Héctor grabbed his wife by the waist and shoulder and brought her to his lap, and Imelda clawed his hair with both hands now as they panted and moaned. They broke the kiss long enough for Héctor to yank his shirt over his head and fling it across the room, and the sight of his bare chest caused Imelda to growl and she shoved hard against him, sending him on his back.

She then stood and let the slip glide off her shoulders, letting it pool at her ankles. "Brace yourself, mi amor."

"YES!" Héctor shouted, and his world was filled with Imelda.

Oscar and Felipe were doing their nightly ritual, which was reading two of their favorite novels from the small library on their nightstand before going to bed. Or at least that was what they were trying to do for the last hour, but something was keeping them distracted. Something from one of the other rooms across the courtyard. Something rhythmic. And loud. And filled with pure lust.

Oscar winced when a particularly loud shout broke his concentration from the page he had been stuck on for the last half hour, and then another caused him to throw his book down. "Dios mio, this is ridiculous! What if Coco wakes up? She shouldn't hear this."

"We shouldn't hear this!" Felipe grumbled. "That's our sister in there making those-"

"ATATATA!" Oscar recoiled and flailed his arm at his twin. "I was trying very hard to delude myself that it was someone else, so thank you for that pendejo!" He sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "Still, I guess this is for the best that she's… happy again."

Felipe groaned "You're right though, what if Coco were to wake up and hear-"

"Tío Oscar? Tío Felipe?" a young voice peeped, and the two men let out twin yelps. To their horror Coco was standing in their doorframe, with big scared eyes. "Mamá is crying. Is something wrong?"

For a few seconds, Oscar and Felipe just stared at each other, their minds burning hot trying to come up with a plausible excuse for the toddler to understand, all the while the noises continued unabated, if anything picking up in speed. Finally Oscar managed to croak out, "Gritos!"

Coco tilted her head. "Gritos?"

"Si!" Felipe chimed in, picking up on his brother's train of thought. "Gritos are the big, soulful yells that all singers make!-"

"Your Mamá is such a wonderful singer-"

"And your Papá is such a talented musico-"

"That they're writing a brand new song!-"

"That ha-has a… lot of… gritos in it?"

Coco looked back and forth at her uncles as they stumbled through their explanation, before finishing with smiles too big to be convincing to anyone but an innocent child. Coco smiled back and nodded with relief. "Good. I'm glad no one is sad." Her uncles slouched and sighed, and for a moment there was peace, until another loud shout came across the courtyard. "Ah, that was Papá's grito, right?"

"GALLETAS!" Felipe jumped out of bed and scooped Coco up in his arms. "Who wants to go out and get some galletas?!"

"Me! Me!" Coco cheered.

"Wait Felipe!" Oscar stumbled out of his own bed. "It's eleven o'clock at night, nothing is open!"

"Some vieja that lives nearby is bound to have a galleta for this poor girl, or pan dulce, or a bottle of chamoy sauce, Dios, anything as long as it's not here!" And with that he and his brother took their niece out of the Rivera complex and into the night, all of them still in their nightshirts.

Héctor moaned as Imelda kissed along his neck and splayed her hand across his chest and belly. "Diosa, please have mercy." He whimpered as Imelda nibbled on his ear. "I don't think I have anything left." After several rounds of fierce and then tender sex, Héctor was reduced to a limp pile of goo on the bed, his flesh overstimulated and slick with sweat and his hair matted to his scalp. He had scratches all over his back that slightly stung against the sheets, his lips were kiss-swollen, and he was sore in places he didn't know existed.

"Relax, musico." Imelda hummed against his cheek before kissing it. "I don't think I have anything left either. I just want to pet you for a while. I've missed this skin so much." She buried her nose in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply. "And your scent. It faded from the sheets so long ago."

Héctor opened his eyes and, gaining a little strength, turned onto his side to look at Imelda. He reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek and looked at her with big, sad eyes.

Imelda was immediately concerned. "Héctor? What's wrong?"

Héctor swallowed, and then spoke whisper quiet. "I thought that… if I didn't leave Mexico City, right then and there, then I'd-…" his voice hitched and he huffed out a sigh before continuing. "Then I'd never see you again."

Imelda turned and kissed the palm of his hand, then placed hers over it. "I had the same fear, mi corazon. But we're here, together. And nothing will part us again, claro?"

"Claro." Héctor smiled, and they kissed until sleep claimed them both.

Héctor woke the next morning, confused as to where he was. This was a phenomenon he had been experiencing for weeks now, having woken up in different hotel rooms each night for the past six months. But seeing the familiar stucco of his bedroom ceiling and the rush of passion filled memories from last night come crashing back, Héctor sighed happily and laughed in relief. Stretching out the kinks in his overworked body, he saw a bowl of water on Imelda's small vanity table as well as a bar of soap and a towel. Imelda must have set it out for him. How kind, although he never knew how she always managed to wriggle out of his sleeping embrace without waking him each morning to start breakfast.

Having washed up properly, he strolled into the kitchen and was greeted by his wife standing by the stove cooking eggs and his daughter and brother in laws sitting at the kitchen table. "Buenos dias, mi familia!"

"Buenos dias, Papá!" Coco said around a mouthful of eggs.

"Mija, don't talk with your mouth full." Imelda gently scolded before turning to Héctor. "Senor Guzman will be by for lunch later, and then he'll spend the rest of the day teaching us."

"Hope he won't mind an extra pupil." Héctor said and gave his wife a long, sweet kiss. Then he grabbed a mug, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat at the table.

"Papá, what's your new song about?" Coco asked innocently.

"My new song? What do you mean, mija?"

"The new song you and Mamá were singing last night. You both made such loud gritos!"

If Héctor thought a boot across the nose yesterday hurt, it was nothing compared to steaming hot coffee shooting up and out through his nostrils. This time he didn't bother to stifle the curses of pain, though they were smothered from hacking coughs and sneezes as tears streamed down his face. A cloth was shoved into his face and he held it in place over his nose, barely managing to hear Imelda nervously say that it was time to braid Coco's hair as she whisked their confused daughter out of the room.

It took several minutes for the pain to dwindle, and when his vision finally cleared from the tears he saw his two in-laws glaring at him with dark circles under their eyes. Guess he and Imelda weren't as quiet as he thought.

"What can I say chamacos?" he said, trying to put as much swagger in his voice despite it being nasally mangled. "She can't keep her hands off me."

Both twins pushed their breakfast away in disgust.