Chapter Text
The second she saw that red and gold sombrero walking towards their house, Coco screeched with delight.
Everyone within ten feet of the little girl, however, covered their ears in pain.
"Aye, mija!" her mamá scolded, rounding on the ten-year-old girl who was standing just outside of the courtyard, "what did I say to you about screaming like that?"
Coco didn’t pay any attention to her though. She was already running towards the mariachi player as fast her little legs could carry her.
"MIGUEL!" she shouted, kicking up dust behind her as she got closer and closer to her big brother. She shoved past people, barely remembering to say "excuse me" and "sorry" along the way. "HERMANO!"
Standing next to a table of alebrijes, her big brother finally, finally came into view. A wide smile stretched out onto his face as Coco's got even bigger. Her favorite (only) big brother barely had time to open his arms before she tackled him with the biggest hug she was capable of.
Miguel only laughed as he lifted her off the ground. She could feel his chest vibrating, almost in the same way her cat Pia did when Coco fed her pan dulce from under the table. Despite the buzz of happiness at seeing Miguel again, Coco calmed a little at the feeling. She wondered if this is what Pia felt whenever Coco held her: safe and warm.
Eventually, she was the first to pull away from the tight hug (mostly because Coco would probably suffocate from being held too tightly against his chest, but she would never admit it. She was the strong sibling; everyone knew that).
"I thought you weren't going to come this year!" Coco still held onto her brother's hand as he put back down on the floor.
Miguel only rolled his eyes dramatically, "I come back all the time, every chance I get Coco. I don't know what you're talking about." He picked up his suitcase and soon the Rivera siblings started to walk the street back home.
Coco pouted. "But you were late this time!"
"I’m not that late!"
“You’re days late, idiota!"
Miguel sighed and looked up at the sky. Coco did the same, hoping a bird would suddenly fly over and poop on him.
"I'm sorry, okay? The engine on my bus died so I had to walk back most of the way if I wanted to be here at all. Antonio and Facundo won't be here until the holiday is over. They’re staying at a hotel right now, waiting for the bus to be done." He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye, a shy, charming smile playing on his lips.
"Do you forgive me, chamaca?"
She smiled sweetly. "No."
Miguel’s eyes bulged. "No?!"
Coco giggled. "You have to sing for my forgiveness!"
He shook his head, still smiling, "why am I not surprised? What would you like to hear?"
Before she had the chance to reply, a swarm of people surrounded them, shoving Coco out of the way before she even knew what was happening. She was choking on her their dust clouds as choruses of "Miguel!" and "You're back!" filled the air between them. It was then that Coco realized where they were: back home. She couldn't help but be disappointed, she'd only had Miguel to herself for a few minutes before he was whisked away from her again.
It wasn’t long until Abuelita's voice rang out above the rest, "Dio Mio, Miguel! You look terrible! We were all worried sick when you didn’t show for the past couple of days!” It was then that Coco shook out of her disappointment and actually took a moment to look at Miguel. Abuelita was right, he did look terrible. He had his mariachi outfit was wrinkled and had more than a few tears in it. His face caked with dirt and sweat, and although he still wore his sombrero, Coco could see his greasy hair sticking from underneath. He still wore a smile on his face, but anyone could see he was ready to drop dead where he stood.
Abuelita’s voice pulled Coco back to reality once more: “No call! Away for months and you're nothing but skin and bones! Come! You’ll go take a hot bath while I make you tamales!”
Coco watched with unbridled glee as their Abuelita grabbed Miguel (who easily towered over her) by the ear and dragged him into the house. The rest of the family trailing behind them but her.
Alone in the yard, the small girl glanced over to the ofrenda room. I’ll catch up with him later, she thought.
Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, she bolted.
“Psst! Papá Hector! Mamá Coco!” The ofrenda was empty, except for her and the photos of her ancestors. The little girl looked up to the highest photo, zeroing in on the man with the skeleton guitar.
“He’s back! The plan is still in motion!”
A gust of wind blew in from behind her. Petals of marigolds flew off the ofrenda and into the air, fluttering to the ground. Coco closed her eyes and smiled.
Just because they aren’t in the Land of the Living, doesn’t mean they’re not here.
“Don’t worry. He’ll see you again soon.”
Coco cast a glance over her shoulder, looking into the yard where her brother had been moments ago. Dia de Los Muertos was only two days away. It was less time than she thought she had to work with, but Coco would make do. She looked back up at the photos. Mamá Coco’s smiling face warmed her.
“I promise.”