Chapter 29: Don't Wanna Fall in Love

After the adults and the two older teenagers left the library, they went to check on Bruno and Gloria. The shoemaker stood in front of the door, feeling quite apprehensive.

"Do I really have to go in there?" Héctor gulped. "What if they did more than kiss?" He hoped not. Otherwise, his mother would either kill Bruno or him if Gloria gave herself to her lover.

"That'll be the talk of the town " Felipe elbowed Oscar, who snickered.

"That's their problem, not yours," Imelda barked.

"Now open the door!" Héctor only prayed that his ex-friend and sister only kissed and nothing more. Héctor knocked on the door. It was safer than barging in. He did not want to see them unclothed.

"Uno minuto!" Bruno's voice rang out. There was the sound of shirts being thrown back on. Then the door opened. Bruno had a lopsided smile and lipstick marks all over his complexion. His shirt was half open and the tie was undone. His lover had loose strands falling out of her updo. One of her shoulders was exposed for all to see.

"What were you two doing?" Imelda asked, hands on her hips.

"Um, nada!" Gloria smiled a bit sheepishly. Straightening her posture, the woman pulled up her sleeve to cover her shoulder and redid her hairdo to make it look presentable.

Bruno pulled out his handkerchief from his breast pocket and began wiping his face.

"While you two were busy making out," Oscar said, smirking at the blushing couple.

-"We were able to find the answer to Frida's crazy potion," Felipe finished, also looking amused.

"Really?" Bruno sounded relieved, as he stuffed his handkerchief back into his breast pocket. He buttoned up his shirt. "Sounds easier than I thought!" He tried to tie his bow but he struggled to tie it correctly. He smiled gratefully when his girlfriend approached him and began tying it herself.

"Um, you two didn't um…," the shoemaker stuttered, awkwardly.

"Hanky panky, did you?" Pausing in her task, Gloria and her boyfriend looked confused at first until they realized what he meant and blushed. "¡No, amigo!"

"Of course not, hermanito!" Héctor sighed in relief. Gloria resumed tying Bruno's tie. She finished it and gave him a peck on the lips, which left him looking tranquil.

(The twins snickered while their sister and guest gasped and looked embarrassed).

Héctor cleared his throat. "Um, bueno, because if you did-"

"-You two would be in serious trouble and face my wrath!" Imelda interrupted him, scaring Bruno and Gloria so much that they jumped back three feet away from her. "I would not tolerate such behavior just because you lack responsibility! And if this happens again…,"

"Imelda!" Before the shoemaker could reprimand the gangster for being too harsh, the dinner bell rang.

"Dinner is ready!" Tia Chelo announced, ringing her bell.

"Dinner!?" the twins exclaimed. Stomachs rumbling, they began dashing down the hall.

"Well, you heard Tia Chelo!" Bruno smiled, grateful for an opportunity to avoid Imelda's unpredictable fury. Usually, he was never lucky to escape her wrath but this time, God was on his side.

"Vadamos!" He grabbed his lover's hand and they headed down the hallway after the twins.

"Oye, aren't you two coming?" Gloria called out when she and Bruno paused in the hallway.

Despite feeling their own stomachs grumbling, they shook their heads. They remembered that they had an important job to do.

"No tengo hambre," Imelda responded.

"I'm not hungry, either," Héctor added.

"Very well, then," Bruno shrugged, smiling mischievously. "I'll have a basket of food sent up for you."

Imelda was about to tell him that there was no need but Bruno and Gloria had already disappeared like rabbits.

"Why did Bruno smile like that?" The shoemaker asked her.

"I don't know but we better keep an eye on him," Imelda pondered. "And his name is Juan."

"To you, he is Juan, your right-hand man, but to me, he will always be Bruno, mi amigo." The shoemaker sighed, wondering how he was going to help his amigo now that he knew why he ran away. Maybe after fixing the love potion, he will worry about that, later.

"Frida, we found it!" Héctor called excitedly, as he and the mafia woman entered the room. "We solved the riddle!"

"Oh goodie, goodie, goodie!" Frida clapped her hands excitedly, like a toddler.

"I think we found it," Imelda said, sounding uncertain.

"But we could be wrong."

"Well just tell me anyway," the odd Madrigal woman encouraged.

"According to this passage from the Bible which fits your clue, the answer is…Love!" Héctor happily announced. At the answer, the man spun around once very smoothly, winked at the girls, and clicked his tongue. He was hit in the head by his host's stiletto.

"Ow!" He rubbed his head. "What did I do?"

"That can't be right, idiota!" Imelda snapped, holding her shoe. "The answer is supposed to be concrete, not abstract!"

"What do you mean?" the shoemaker challenged her. "It said so right here in this book. Read it and weep." The princess of the mafia put her shoe back on.

"Let me see that!" She snatched the book away from his hands so fast that her guest almost got a paper cut.

"This doesn't make any sense," she grumbled, scanning the book.

"How is love going to cure my unwanted suitor?" she almost gagged at the 'L' word.

"Kiss him senseless?"

"That'll be hilarious!" Héctor laughed, holding onto his belly. He was hit in the head by the gangster's shoe, again. "Ow, stop that!"

"Callate, shoemaker!"

"Why are you upset?" He questioned her.

"Shouldn't you be happy that we found a cure?"

"No, the cure is something that I utterly despise!"

"You despise love!?" The shoemaker could hardly believe his ears. He may not be interested in romance anymore but he still appreciates love when it comes to his family and friends.

"Listen, love is the key to this plague, so why don't we try it?"

"What's love got to do with it?"

"Oh brother…," Frida facepalmed. 'I bet everyone is having a peaceful dinner right now'.

Stephanie heard Tia Chelo's dinner bell. She put her books down and was about to leave the library when she noticed her guest still sitting in his chair. "Aren't you gonna come, Miguel?"

"I don't know…," Miguel said, feeling a bit awkward. It's not that he doesn't want to eat but dining at the Princesa de Mafia's mansion seemed to be too good to be true. Sure, he had a nice breakfast with them this morning. They skipped lunch due to the cooks being short on food and not being able to shop for groceries because of the quarantine rules.

"What if they poison us?" The boy blurted out.

"Que?" Mirabel was stunned. "No, you had breakfast here! And you're still alive."

"Yeah but-"

"So what makes you think they'd try to poison you and your uncle now?"

"Oh, yo no se!" the boy scoffed, standing up and joining her at the door. "Maybe to keep us silent in case the police asked us questions. Oh, I know we have nothing to worry about because the love potion is empty-"

"Then there's nothing to worry about!" the girl said, poking him in the chest. "Look, I know you're scared-"

"I'm not scared!" Miguel denied. The bespectacled girl rolled her eyes and proceeded. "Imelda may be harsh but she's not going to poison you or your uncle. She has never killed anyone."

The boy struggled, trying to show anything but fear and confusion in his complexion. He blushed when the girl put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, whatever they give you, I'll take a sip or bite first just to test it."

"You promise?"

"I promise!" Mirabel beamed. The two kids crossed their arms, put their hands over their eyes, and held each other by their pinky fingers. The friendly exchange put Miguel at ease.

"Now let's go to the dining hall before Tia Chela gets impatient!" the girl said. "She always cooks up a big feast for dinner!"

The two children descended the stairs and made it into the dining hall where all the other adults were sitting down at one lone table. They greeted Tia Chelo who just put down a pot of bean soup in the center of the table.

"Hola, Tia Chelo!" The head housekeeper embraced the preteens with her long bony arms. "Oh niños! So happy that you made it!"

"Can we eat now?" Miguel asked, sitting down in his seat. "I'm starved!" He was about to help himself to a basket of bread when his hand was smacked by Tia Chelo's spoon. "Ow!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Not yet, chico," Tia Chelo smirked. "We're still waiting for your guardians to join us!" Right on cue, Bruno and Gloria stumbled into the dining hall, giggling.

Mirabel smiled when she noticed them holding hands together. Seeing her uncle pulling out a chair for Gloria, put a smile on her face.

Miguel only scowled at the sight of his aunt giving Bruno a loving kiss before she took her seat. Part of him found it really mushy and gushy. The other part of him felt protective of his aunt because he knew she had little to no experience with courtship. "Where's Tio Héctor?" Maybe his favorite uncle can tell them to not act so mushy in front of him.

"And where's Imelda?" Mirabel wondered.

"Ah, she won't come down," Felipe answered, who was already taking a chair beside his twin.

"And neither would your uncle, Miguel."

"Oh, why am I not surprised?" Tia Chelo sighed, exasperated.

"Every evening, Cookie and I always cook up a big feast and that girl never comes down at all!"

"I put all my sweat and tears into it!" Cookie complained.

Everyone went silent when they heard a lot of yelling coming from upstairs.

Miguel and Dante slid under the table as a place for safety while Bruno facepalmed.

"Shall I go and fetch them?" Natalia asked, awkwardly.

"No, no," Bruno responded, abruptly. "That would not do. Tia Chelo, why not send them a basket of fruit? Don't forget to add a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Make the basket look very nice with a red ribbon on it. And do it quietly without disturbing them. Comprende?"

"¡Sí!" Tia Chelo agreed, feeling a sense of relief. That was a much better plan than risking her mistress's wrath. Immediately, she went back to the kitchen.

"Why do they have to eat upstairs together instead of downstairs with us?" Mirabel inquired, raising an eyebrow at her odd uncle skeptically. "Bruno, are you up to something?"

"No," Bruno said, vaguely, his smile was also full of mischief. "Why would I be?"
"Um, yes," Gloria laughed, nervously. "Why would we-er, he be up to something?"

Mirabel shrugged, frowning. It was no use pushing it when she knew that her uncle was going through one of those moods in which he had a vision about something and he was being secretive about it. Did he have a vision about Imelda and Héctor? She'd ask him after dinner.

"Is the fighting over yet?" Miguel asked as he and his dog peeked out from the tablecloth. "I don't hear any more fighting."

"Oh, I believe they are done." Bruno smiled. He sighed when he heard some raised voices only louder this time. He jumped when he heard a crash. "Or maybe not."

Later, Tia Chelo opened the door very slowly and tiptoed into the room in which she could see her mistress and the young man arguing. 'Oh dear, I pity that boy,' she thought, shaking her head. The old woman kept her head down, not daring to make eye contact with her mistress or the host. She didn't even notice Frida giving her a pleading look to save her. Quietly, Tia Chelo placed the basket on a table and tiptoed out of the room. Inside were six apples, six tangerines, three bananas, a bottle of pink champagne and two wine glasses. There was also a pink teapot set with matching tea cups. Slowly and quietly, the old lady closed the door.

"Don't you think you're making your problems worse than they were before?" Héctor sassed, crossing his arms.

"Worse!?" The woman roared at the cool and collected man. "Oh no, let me tell you something, shoemaker! My problems have always been worse! Do you have any idea what it is like to be betrayed by love?"

"Of course, I do," the shoemaker grumbled, thinking back to all the times that Ernestina De La Cruz had gaslighted him. When he first started dating her as a teenager, Ernestina was cute and pleasant. Then, she started insulting his character. One particular memory that sprang up in his mind was when Ernestina wanted to sleep with him. They were sitting by the pond one late afternoon, when just then, Ernestina tried to touch him in a sensual manner. He grabbed her hand and told her to stop. She pleaded for intimacy but Hector rebuffed her advances because he preferred to wait until they were married. He knew that if he caved in, he would be in serious trouble if she got pregnant. But Ernestina kept begging and begging and begging, even saying she'd take the pill afterward. She had figured that he would finally give in. But Héctor stood strong and was strict in his answer which made Ernestina so mad that she walked out, and said she would sleep with some other man. At that time, Héctor didn't believe that she would actually sleep with a man behind his back. Even when rumors were whispered throughout the town about it. But looking back at his failed wedding, he should have known.

Even though he lived with three couples, his parents, Berto and Carmen, and Enrique and Luisa, one would think the shoemaker would have observed what healthy love is supposed to be like. But Héctor felt he still didn't comprehend marriage. For his parents, it was hard to pinpoint whether or not it was healthy because even though they love each other, sometimes his mother can be domineering toward his father who stayed quiet and never spoke up. Berto and Carmen were loving at first; blessed with three sons and a daughter. But recently, Carmen had been feeling upset that Berto had developed a wandering eye for the flappers or pelonas, as his Mamá called them. Enrique and Luisa were the worst. Ever since Miguel was born, all Enrique has done is act passive-aggressive toward Luisa. Every time she did something wrong, he'd yell at her. They would fight so much that it would hurt Miguel's ears. If it weren't for him, Berto, and Gloria telling Enrique to cut it out, Luisa would have left the family for good. But it didn't stop the fights from occurring.

"Love hurts!" Héctor concluded.

"Love stinks!" Imelda cried.

"It's like a disease!"

"It makes you miserable!"

"I know!"

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" Imelda quietly chanted. The memories that came to her mind were her parents. She had never once seen them hug or share a kiss. All she had witnessed was how her father was beating her mother like a rag doll. It made her upset that her mother did nothing to defend herself. Nor would she defend her own children whenever the father gets mad at them.

"First of all, it starts with the little things," Imelda sang, poking her finger in Héctor's chest.

"Then it fingers more and more"

"A toothpaste cap, a gender gap, a radio on an all out war and-"

"First of all, it's way more than the little things," Héctor interrupted her with his vocals, becoming annoyed with her. Pushing her arm away from him, the shoemaker picked up the gangster's guitar which had been resting against the wall. He strummed a few chords and it was in tune.

"Pretty soon it's man and wife

"A full time job, a nob wheel-sob,

"A girlfriend barking you for life

"And, a total nag who sets the trap!"

"A total drag that's full of crap!" Imelda barked.

She threw a banana at him but he ducked and it hit a vase instead. It fell to the ground with a crash.

"A thick-ass fag," the gangster snapped.

"A handicap!" The shoemaker shouted.

"Who needs it?" Their voices blended in unison.

"Oh no, don't wanna fall in love!" Héctor lamented, as his fingers danced across the fretboard, each strum a defiant beat.

"Oh no, don't need to push and shove!" Imelda punctuated her insistence, with a determined stamp of her foot.

"The dreamy eyes, the butterflies!" Héctor sang while flashing his eyes with a silly expression.

"The who's and ha's!" Imelda snapped, listing with her fingers.

"The midnight sighs!" Héctor added with a sigh, mocking the typical half-melted look he had seen in the films.

"Oh no, don't wanna fall in love! No, that's not what I'm dreaming of!" Imelda harmonized, as she started swishing her skirt around.

"Don't need a magic crystal ball, to tell you I don't want to fall in love!" Héctor crooned.

'Whatever,' Frida thought, growing tired of their fighting. 'They are acting like children.'

"They're still yelling…," Miguel spoke. The relentless barrage of noises from upstairs made Miguel flinch, his gaze fixed on the dark blue of the ceiling as if it held the key to the chaos. A tremor ran through his small frame, a visceral memory of scrambling for safety beneath the heavy wooden table. Instead, he edged closer to Tia Gloria, seeking the solid warmth of her arm as it circled his small shoulders, a small island of calm in the brewing storm.

A wide, perhaps slightly strained, smile stretched across Felipe's face, his eyes crinkling on the corners with forced optimism. "They must be…uh…finding common ground!"

Oscar's brow furrowed in genuine bewilderment. "Yes, but what on earth could they possibly find to agree on?" A sharp, shattering crash from above, punctuated his question, causing him and Felipe to jolt upright in their chairs.

Wilhelmina threw her head back, and a dry rasping cackle erupted from her throat, laced with dark amusement. "Oh, they're bonding alright, the destructive kind!"

Bubo, perched precariously on the edge of his chair, nodded sagely. "The old crone speaks the truth, as does your novio," he declared to Mirabel.

"He's not my novio!" Mirabel practically yelped, a fiery blush blooming across her cheeks. Her hands flew up in the air as if to physically ward off the suggestion, her eyes a wide mixture of shock and something that flickered suspiciously like flustered awareness.

"I'm…I'm not her boyfriend!" Miguel mumbled, his gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the white tablecloth as if they held the answer to its inner turmoil. A faint blush dusted his own cheeks, and he shifted uncomfortably, his voice lacking the conviction he desperately wished it had. 'Definitely not her boyfriend. Not at all.' The thought echoed in his mind, weakening even to himself. He felt his aunt rubbing his arm in an attempt to calm him down.

"Whatever," Bubo drawled, his gaze sweeping over their clearly discomposed figures with utter indifference.

A weary sigh escaped from Tia Gloria's lips, the sound heavy with resignation as she turned her head to face her boyfriend. "Bruno," she began, her voice tinged with concern. "Don't you think we ought to at least see if everything is alright?"

"No," Bruno stated, his voice carrying a surprising weight of finality. "Let them be, Gloria. Some storms must be weathered alone." His gaze drifted upwards, following the trajectory of the relentless noise. Though his features remain composed, a network of fine lines around his eyes betrayed the anxiety churning within him. 'Por favor amigo,' he thought, a silent plea directed at the unseen conflict above. 'Give her a chance, just one!' Abruptly, he clenched his hands into tight fists, rapping his knuckles sharply against his forehead, then five times on the worn surface of the wooden table. "Knock on wood," he muttered.

A low whimper rumbled in Dante's chest, his ears flattened against its head as he and Pepita, with her ears also flattened against her head and meowing softly, scrambled to seek refuge beneath the tablecloth's fringed edge. It was a sanctuary not only from the noise but also a strategic vantage point for any morsels that may tumble from the table.

"It's forever, you'll never fall again," Imelda sang, walking around the room. It was her way of insulting the shoemaker. She picked up the Bible from the table, and flipped through the pages, trying to find other possible answers. Anything but love!

"And forever comes and goes!"

"And, love somewhere is always there,"

"The poetry turns into prose, and-"

Héctor leaned in closer to Frida, a sly smirk playing on his lips, his voice, a low conspiratorial whisper.

"She's the one that you'll never fall again,"

"Till' the next one comes along!" His eyes flickered towards the gangster, a mischievous glint in their dark depths.

Frida let out a throaty chuckle.

Imelda's head snapped up from the worn pages of her book, her eyes narrowed into fiery slits. A flush crept up her neck and painted her usually warm complexion, a stark, indignant red. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her hands gripping the book tightened, her knuckles showing white. "C'mon!" She exclaimed, her voice sharp and laced with hurt at the sting of his words. The air around her seemed to crackle with offense.

"A number scheme that ends the same,"

Where wrong is right but hardly ever- wrong!" Héctor's voice lilted with playful defiance as he crooned the nonsensical rhyme. A mischievous grin stretched across his face, his eyes twinkling with the anticipation of Imelda's reaction. He moved with practiced ease a swift dip of his head and shoulders, as Imelda's shoe whizzed past where his head had just been, landing with a soft thwack against the wall.

"A total fake, you're all the same!" Imelda snarled. She threw another shoe at him in hopes of wiping that annoying smile off his handsome face. But her target ducked again and her shoe broke another vase.

"A total flake, a ditzy dame!" Héctor sang, grabbing an apple and hurling it with a sharp flick of his wrist. The apple, a blur of red, spun through the air, missing Imelda by inches before it splattered onto the wall like a water balloon on the other side of the room.

"Oh, give me a break, oh love is lame!" The princesa de mafia vocalized, throwing the Bible at the rich guest.

The shoemaker quickly ducked before the heavy book could hit him and it hit Frida in the face who fell backwards in her cage. The shoemaker stood up breathing a sigh of relief and resumed playing Imelda's guitar.

"Who needs it?" Their voices intertwined, a unified declaration against romance.

Héctor's fingers danced lightly over the guitar strings, a playful frown creasing his brow. "Oh no, don't wanna fall in love!" he crooned.

Imelda's foot tapped a sharp rhythm against the floor, her tone ringing with conviction. "Oh no, don't need to push and shove!"

"The sleepless nights, the stupid fights!" A strained note entered Héctor's voice as he sang, hinting at the weariness etched by his arguments with Ernestina.

"The lowest lows and the highest highs!" Imelda countered, her voice laced with a touch of dramatic flair.

"Oh, no, don't wanna fall in love, no that's not what I'm dreaming of!" Héctor declared, his strumming becoming a touch more emphatic.

"Don't need a magic crystal ball, " Imelda sang, her gaze direct, "to tell you I don't wanna fall in love!"

Frida pressed her hands over her ears, a secret smile playing on her lips. 'Despite how loud they are, this tune is rather infectious,' she mused.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" Imelda chanted, her skirt swirling around her with each step.

"The crashing balls!" Héctor groaned, a vivid memory of Ernestina's disruptive entrances flashing through his mind.

"The stalking ex!" Imelda added, with a flourish, her body twirling. Though she'd never met the woman, the rumors of Ernestina's attempts to reclaim the shoemaker had reached her ears, and Imelda couldn't help but feel Héctor deserved better.

"The fights before the makeup sex!" A shared blush warmed their cheeks before they quickly moved on.

"What did they say, Miguel?" Stephanie asked, her brow furrowed.

"Yo no sé, Stephanie," Miguel mumbled, a sheepish look on his face.

The preteens exchanged wide-eyed glances, convinced they'd caught a forbidden word hanging in the air- one that would surely send their grandmothers into a faint.

"Nada!" Gloria interjected quickly, her smile a little too bright. "Nothing to worry about! Oh this dinner is divine, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is!" Bruno agreed a tad enthusiastically, silently acknowledging the colorful language his friend had likely used but determined to shield his niece.

Natalia and the other gang members exchanged knowing and bemused expressions, playing along with the charade for the kids' sake.

"No love can be impossibly complex!" Imelda and Héctor's voices soared, their earlier playful tone now imbued with genuine feeling.

"Oh no, don't wanna fall in love!" Héctor reiterated, his strumming more deliberate than ever.

"Oh no, don't need to push and shove!" Imelda insisted, her stance firm.

"The dreamy eyes, the butterflies!" Héctor sang again, this time with a dramatic sweep of his hand across the guitar.

"The who's and ha's" Imelda added, her voice softening slightly.

"And the midnight sighs!" Héctor contributed, his gaze momentarily distant.

"Don't wanna fall in love! No, no," Imelda belted, her voice full of conviction.

"No, that's not what I'm dreaming of," Héctor echoed, his voice resonating with the riffs of his guitar.

Imelda finished the thought with a knowing glance towards Héctor, "Don't need a magic crystal ball, to tell you I don't want to fall in love!"

"To fall in love!" Héctor declared, his final strum echoing the sentiment.

"To fall in love!" Imelda concluded, her final pose holding the weight of their shared conviction.

"Are you two done yet?" the Madrigal woman asked, sighing impatiently. She grabbed an apple from the basket and began munching on it. "I hate to take sides, but the shoemaker is correct, Imelda. The answer is real love!"

"Yes!" the Rivera man cheered, pumping his fist up in the air. "Two against one!" He wiggled his eyebrows at the Princess of the Mafia who scowled at him.

"Fine, shoemaker you win!" Imelda growled. Then she turned to her amiga. "Can you give me proof, Frida?"

"I will tell you a story," the odd woman responded, dramatically, lifting her arms up in the air.

"Oh, goodie!" Héctor piped up. He grabbed a tangerine from the basket and began peeling it.

"Is this the story of The Three Little Pigs?" He ate one slice.

"No, you silly man!" Frida laughed.

"This is the story of The Girl and the Love Potion," Frida said.

"Huh, sounds like one of my Mamá's romance novels," the young man shrugged, nonchalantly, as he ate a second slice.

"What, no!" Imelda shrieked. Her eyes were the size of pancakes and her heart sank. She kneeled down before the cage. "Frida, no, Por favor! Not that story! Any story but that!"

"Too late, amiga," Frida said, with eyes closed and a frown.

"I beseech you!" The angry woman sounded positively horrified.

"You said you want proof, right?" the strange woman challenged her old friend, in an icy voice."Well, I am giving it to you!" For once, the prisoner was getting back at the gangster for being a jerk. My how the tables have turned! "Otherwise, have fun being married to that goofy son of the mayor for the rest of your life!"

Imelda had to regain her composure and mentally prepared herself for the worst. If Frida tells this horrible recount, she would be forced to relive it. And that annoying but handsome shoemaker would never be near her again. That thought pricked her heart like needles.