Chapter Text
He failed Miguel. His Papá didn't get him home. He left his family behind again.
Héctor let out an anguished cry. Oh dios, he couldn't protect his mijo he couldn't protect his family.
Not again. Please, not again.
Something warm pressed against his cheeks, swiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. He squinted through blurred vision, trying to make out what was so comforting. Héctor’s sobs had slown, as if the figure in front of him had cured him of all his sorrows and doubts.
It was a female, a very small one. He heard her voice earlier, calling out to him, singsong and high pitched. What did she say her name was? No, he didn't need her to say her own name to know exactly who she was.
He would always recognize his own daughter.
His Coco.
Coco patted his face affectionately. “Are you better now, Papá?”
Héctor just stared at her with wide, glassy eyes, more tears threatening to spill over at any second. Instead he moves forward, the guitar that was resting in his grasp slips out and clatters against the floor. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, letting her rest his atop his shoulder. He felt Coco sank into his arms further, and that was the que for Héctor to squeeze a little tighter.
He knew he didn't deserve this. After everything that happened? He shouldn't feel this joyous, but he couldn't help the rising hope in his chest.
For once his future seemed a little less bleak.
Héctor hesitantly pulled back, wiping away at his eyes. He let out a small chuckle. “Sí, mija. I'm so sorry. I'm a Papá, I shouldn't cry.”
Coco shook her head, braids flying fiercely. “Nu-uh! Coco cries all the time. You and Mamá make me feel better when I'm sad.” She paused standing up on the bed, bumping her fist against her chest. “Let me make you feel better. You can cry all you want!”
Héctor smiled, bumping his fist against his own chest to mirror Coco’s. “Alright then! Looks like it's a promise, mija.”
Coco’s smile grew wider. “Mmhm! So Papá?”
“Hmm?”
“What made you so sad?”
Héctor pulled himself upwards to sit next Coco, in which she gladly shuffled over to give him more space.
“I had a dream and it scared me.”
Coco tilted her head. “Why?”
Héctor lowered his gaze to the floor. “In my dream I had to go somewhere far away and it was so far I wasn't gonna be able to see you again.”
Hector felt the world change around him, the air became more cool like a summer night in the plaza. He didn't think in the moment and ran forward, marigold petals flying out from beneath his Rivera shoes.
“Everyone forgot about me! I tried, I tried so hard to find you again, no matter how broken I became—no matter how many times I was pounded into dust—”
Héctor’s knees collided with the ground, smashing some of the marigolds in the way. He buried his head in his hands, sobs coming out uncontrollably.
“I was so lonely and sad and no one understood how I felt. I started to think all my memories of you were just things I made up. I thought I was going crazy I—”
A stronger pair of arms that mirrored his Imelda's gripped his shoulders, pulling him towards them. Héctor raised his gaze, gasping at the sight before him.
Long black hair were locked in braids, a slim and round figure just like wife. Her eyes were bright just like when a musician performed, staring back at him, reflecting his own.
This had to be her.
His daughter had grown into such a beautiful young lady.
And he missed it.
“You're right Papá, that does sound awful.”
She closed her eyes and gave a fond smile, tightening her grip on Hector’s shoulder. “But it's okay now, really. I'm not going anywhere, especially if it was so far away I couldn't see you again. I'd never do something like that and neither would you.”
But Héctor did. He did leave her behind.
You're Papá was just trying to come home.
“You wouldn't? But how—” Héctor started, “how can you be so sure?”
She giggled and pulled him close to her, wrapping her arms around him. “You know how wimpy I am. If I did anything that makes someone as strong as you cry like this? It would break my heart.”
Héctor shook, eyes widening at her words. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. “It would break your heart?”
“Of course it would. I'd hate to leave you and Mamá.” She started, smoothing her hand down Hector’s hair. “Or Elena or Victoria. Julio, Rosita, and the twins. Even my living family—”
“My Miguelito.”
Wait. How did she—
“I wouldn't go if I couldn't see you guys again. I know I don't have the courage to do something like that— even if I didn't have a choice.”
A bright light shone and engulfed him and Coco, igniting the world anew with such brilliance. It's bright rays reflected the brilliant gold of the marigold field.
What was this feeling again?
Ah, realization.
He hurt everyone. He hurt her. Everyday Coco has been living in pain because of his mistakes. She wouldn't ever leave him, she always waited for her Papá to return to her.
He should've never left home.
Héctor squeezed his eyes shut, tears glistening in the newfound light. “You're right. I knew you wouldn't. I knew it would hurt you more than anything. But still—”
“How could I have been so stupid?!”
A light breeze stirred the field around them, causing them to break out as if they were dancing with a song.
“Papá.”
Héctor felt the back of his shirt being gripped tighter.
“I want you to know that when the time comes and you have to make a hard decision, you will have the courage to make it.”
The marigolds around them halted in place all at once. The orange glow in them dulled, and the petals drooped, flowing down to the ground.
“One day you will find out there are things only you can do, and then you'll know just how strong and kind you really are.”
The base of the marigolds lit up, becoming feather-like flowers. The light of the flowers continued to grow before flowing upwards into the sky, as if a thousand wishes were just made.
“Trust me Papá, I know.”
Héctor chuckled. He could hear the change in her voice again. This time from her sweet, rich voice to a more withered and breathy sound.
You would think it would be all wrong, but somehow it sounded just right.
Héctor pulled back, gripping Coco’s shoulder, which felt so much thinner. He didn't raise his head, he didn't want to see his little girl dead yet.
“I know there's a chance that you might just be an illusion, or a fake version of you that my mind has created—”
“How else could we see each other like this? Does it even matter?” He choked out.
He shook slightly before raising his head, catching the shape of a newly polished skull covered in colorful markings shaped like his own and Imelda’s.
“It does to me.” Héctor smiled and tilted his head to get a better look at his little girl. “I can tell you're the real Coco.”
“Your here and I can talk to you and feel your kindness one more time, and I'm so happy.”
Hector’s hands slipped down her boney arms and towards her hands, in which she gladly allowed him to take into his own. They gripped onto each other, not willing to let the other go.
“Thank you. I couldn't have asked for anything that would make me happier than I am right now. I love you so much, mija.”
Coco smiled, shaking her head. “No Papá, thank you for always pushing yourself for me, for our family. Never forget how much I love you, how much your family loves you.”
“I promise you'll go home, Miguel and I have made sure of it. I'll never forget you.”