#abel rivera

Despite all the big opportunities he was presented, he rejected the offers as he was content to just being a plaza singer. The other mariachis around him thought it was a huge waste of talent.

The thought of travelling to another city for his dream was absolutely scary to Héctor. Every time someone asked him why, he couldn’t really give an answer, so he would just resort to saying he loves Santa Cecilia a little too much and he would get homesick very quickly.

Many other musicians have wanted to collaborate or form a duo or band with him, but he would always decline the offers. He just didn’t trust them for some reason, no matter how close they were.

Currently, he was in his apartment, changing out of his orange charro suit into something more casual. Today was Dia de Muertos, and the Rivera family invited Héctor to come celebrate with them since he lives alone.

He had been a family friend of the Riveras ever since the incident with Luisa. Even when he was still living in the orphanage, he would come visit regularly to help out with Miguel to whom he is a godfather to. They even allowed him to put his mother’s photo on their ofrenda. Eventually, the Riveras had him as a part-time delivery boy and he would help deliver orders to clients.

When he first told them that he wanted to be a musician, they weren’t too happy with his choice of career. But since he wasn’t really family, they couldn’t really stop him from pursuing it. The rules they had for him were that he couldn’t bring his guitar and he couldn’t hum, sing, or dance whenever he visited. Though he thought it was weird, he never went against the rules. Not purposely at least.

“Tío Héctor! You’re here!” a pre-teen boy exclaimed while running up to him.

“Miguel, how have you been?” Héctor greeted as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“I’m doing great! I’ve been getting better at the guitar as I’ve been practising the chords you’ve taught...” Miguel was immediately cut off with Héctor putting a hand over his mouth.

“Shush, chamaco! We can’t have your Abuelita thinking I’m a bad influence on you.”

“Héctor, so glad to see you could come!” an old lady greeted him.

“Hola, Abuelita.” Héctor greeted back.

“Both of you follow me. I need some help in the ofrenda room.” Abuelita instructed.

The three of them made their way to the ofrenda room. Once there, Héctor was greeted by his mother’s smile in the photo he left.

“Hola Mamá.” Héctor greeted as he planted a kiss on the photo.

“Now, Miguel. You will be setting up the offerings on the ofrenda. Héctor, do help me with the cempasúchils, please.”

“No problem, Abuelita.” The both of the answered.

The both of them began their work. Miguel arranged the offerings on the ofrenda and Héctor got to work on plucking cempasúchil petals to scatter later. Miguel decided to join him after he was done with the offerings.

“So, chamaco...” Héctor began.

“Hmm?”

“I never really asked your family this before, but what is it that made your family hate music so much?”

“Oh, it’s a long story.” Miguel exasperated. “You see, back in 1921, my great-great grandmother and great-great grandfather got married and had a little girl, my Mamá Coco. He was a musician, like you. One day, he had a dream to play for the world and never returned home since then. My Mamá Imelda wasted no time in ridding everything related to music, including him. That’s why you see his face on the photo ripped out.” Miguel explained as he gestured to the photo on top of the ofrenda.

Héctor looked up to see the ripped photo sitting on top of the ofrenda. The more he looked at it, the more familiar it became. Hadn’t he seen that woman before? And the little girl in her lap. Something about the both of them gave him a sense of nostalgia and deja vu. As weird as it sounds, he could almost picture himself being in the moment when that particular photo had been taken.

All of a sudden, his head started pounding as it tried shutting out the distant memories. Héctor dropped the cempasúchils as he gripped his head in pain.

“Tío Héctor? Are you alright?” Miguel asked worriedly.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a bit of a headache.” Héctor said with a reassuring grin. “So because of that situation, hence the music ban?”

“Sí. It’s taboo to even mention him.”

“That’s tough, chamaco.” said Héctor as he continued with his task.

“I wish I had a chance to become a musician, just like Ernesto de la Cruz.”

“de la Cruz? That’s your idol?” Héctor snickered.

“Hey, he’s the greatest musician of all time!” Miguel argued with faux annoyance.

“Haha! Greatest butt chin of all time, but his music? Eh, not so much.” Héctor countered.

“You’re so mean to him!” Miguel giggled at Héctor’s remark on Ernesto.

Evening falls and Dia de Muertos has begun...

Miguel’s music collection and guitar were thrown onto the ground right in front of him.

“What is all this? You keep secrets from your family?” Abuelita exclaimed.

“It must be all that time he spends in the plaza.” Tío Berto remarked.

“It filled his head with all these crazy fantasies.” Tía Gloria added.

“It’s not a fantasy! Music is what I love, and I know it’s something I can be good at.” Miguel argued.

“Héctor! Is this your doing? You’re the only one here who is a musician.” Abuelita accused.

“Uh... I.... Yes, kind of...” Héctor admitted.

Everyone in the courtyard gasped.

“But I never let him play, I only showed him chords on the guitar.” Héctor reasoned.

“It doesn’t matter. Now he’s influenced into liking music, because of you.” Abuelita snapped.

“But you said my family would guide me, Mamá Coco’s papá is family. I’m meant to be a musician. It’s not Tío Héctor’s fault.” Miguel protested.

“Never! That man’s music was a curse! I will never allow you to follow in his footsteps.

That remark made Héctor feel really small. Music? A curse? Wait, why is he getting his feelings hurt? It’s not like he wrote that man’s songs.

“But if you would just...” Miguel begged.

“No buts, Miguel! You will listen to your family, no more arguments.” Tío Enrique scolded.

“Just listen to me play.”

“End of discussion!”

Miguel ignored his father’s words and began plucking a tune in an attempt to convince his family. His performance was cut short with Abuelita snatching his guitar away.

“Do you want to end up like that man? Forgotten? Left off your family’s ofrenda?” Abuelita retorted.

Miguel gasped as he looked at Abuelita, taken aback by her words. He then turned to the rest of his family. His eyes finally landed on Héctor, who looked as shocked as he was by her words. He began to tear up.

“So you’re saying, if I play music, you’ll leave me off the family ofrenda?” Miguel asked with a tearful expression.

Everyone looked at him speechless. Tía Luisa spoke up amidst the silence.

“No, Miguel. Abuelita just meant...”

“Then I don’t want to be in this family!” Miguel cried out before running out of the courtyard.

“Miguel!” Héctor called out as he ran after Miguel.

Héctor felt extremely guilty. He never should have shown his music to Miguel, then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten chewed out like that. He had to follow Miguel, to make sure he was safe.

In the streets...

“Miguel, come back! It’s not safe out there!” Héctor called out once more.

“They don’t love me at all, Tío Héctor!” Miguel exclaimed. “They‘re willing to forget me if I play music!”

“Miguel, that’s not true! Abuelita didn’t mean it that way.”

“Yes, she did!”

“Miguel, look out!”

Miguel looked in front of him to see a car speeding towards him. He stood there in shock before feeling a hard push on his back that caused him to tumble forward. He heard a loud crash behind him. He looked back to see Héctor’s body a few feet away from the car that collided into him.

“No... no, no, no, no, no, no!” Miguel muttered as he made his way to Hector’s lifeless body.

“Tío Héctor! Tío Héctor, can you hear me?” Miguel kneeled beside Héctor and placed his hand on Héctor’s chest. There was no heartbeat.

“No, Tío Héctor, please! Wake up! I’m sorry I shouldn’t have run away from you! This is all my fault! Tío Héctor, please wake up! I’m so sorry...”

Abuelita, Tío Enrique, Tío Berto and Abel were able to catch up with the two of them. They stopped in there tracks at the sight in front of them. Miguel cradling Hector’s body and begging him to wake up.

Tío Berto immediately dialled the emergency number to phone an ambulance over. Once it arrived, the paramedics immediately loaded Héctor onto the vehicle with Miguel and the other four Riveras coming along.

At the hospital...

“The Rivera Family?” the doctor called out.

The five of them immediately came up to the doctor. She immediately gave out a sad sigh.

“I’m Doctor Martínez. I regret to inform you that Héctor García was unable to be resuscitated and therefore has passed on. My condolences goes out to you.”

At that point, Miguel collapsed on his knees and started sobbing uncontrollably.

“No, no, no! He was still talking and walking a few hours ago! We were plucking cempasúchil petals just a while ago! He can’t be gone! He can’t be!”

Miguel’s father, uncle and cousin comforted him as best as they could while trying to hold back their own tears. Abuelita stood behind them, hands clasped onto her mouth, silently muttering to herself.

“What have I done?”

Miguel and his cousins watched from the doorway as their Abuelita sat in the courtyard reading the newspaper.

“You think this is a good idea?” Abel asked?

“Not really, but it’s the only one I’ve got.” Miguel spent all night preparing what to say to her. He rubbed his thumb over the cover of the journal in his hands. He figured, if she wouldn’t listen to him, she might listen to Mamá Coco. Even then, it might not be enough, but he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try.

“Maybe it would be better if one of us did the talking,” Rosa suggested.

Miguel shook his head. “No, it has to come from me.”

With one more breath, he stepped out into the morning sunlight. “Abuelita?” he said approaching the table. She flipped one corner of her paper down and peered at him over it. “I have something to show you.” He sat down beside her and set the book on the table. “I opened Mamá Coco’s gift. You know? The one she gave me right before she died?”

Abuelita put her newspaper aside, looked inquisitively at the book, and opened the cover.

“Careful,” Miguel instructed. “It’s very old and there’s a few loose pages.”

She turned to a random page and her eyes went wide when she saw the handwriting inside. “Miguel, what is this?”

He grinned. It was a small victory but those were the first words she spoke to him since that awful fight. At least he was making progress. “Mamá Coco gave me the journal she kept when she was young. She writes about a lot of things in here. She talks about Mamá Imelda and Tío Oscar and Tío Filipe. She talks about growing up in Santa Cecelia and working in the zapatoria… and she talks about music.”

Abuelita threw him a sharp look.

“I know, I know, it’s not your favorite subject,” he conceded, “but if you read her words, you’ll know she loved music too. Though, I already knew that because she’s the one who introduced me to music in the first place. She used to sing to me when no one was listening.”

Her lips curved downward into a hard frown. “You’re trying to use your Mamá Coco to justify your lies?”

“No, that not it,” he backpedaled. “I just meant that she loved music and she wanted to share it with the people she loved. She did it because that’s what her father did. She loved him and he loved her. She never believed he abandoned them on purpose and she was right. I know because I met him.”

Abuelita looked at him like he was trying to convince her the earth was flat.

“I know how it sounds, but it’s the truth. He’s the ghost who’s haunting the train station. I talked to him. Rosa and Abel talked to him. He went on tour with his best friend, Ernesto de la Cruz, always planning to come home, but when the time came, Ernesto wanted him to keep going.  He tried to go home anyway, and Ernesto murdered him for it, stole his songs, and became famous off of them. Now he’s trapped, but he’s still trying to come home.”

He placed the small photograph corner on the table, showing her Héctor’s face. She looked at it like she’d seen a ghost. Well, I guess she has.

“That’s him,” Miguel explained, sliding the picture closer. “His name is Héctor. Mamá Coco kept this for a reason.”

Abuelita kept staring at the photo. The initial shock left her face, but now, Miguel couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

“All he wants is to see Mamá Imelda and Mamá Coco again. That’s his unfished business. It’s why he’s still hanging on. He’s too late to meet them in person now, but there might still be a chance. You’re Mamá Coco’s daughter. I think if her met you, if he knew his family still loved him, it’d set him free. He’d be able to cross over and he’d finally return to Mamá Coco and Mamá Imelda.”

She was silent for a long time. Miguel resisted the urge to fill that silence. He knew she needed it and it was best to let her take this in at her own pace. “You lied to me,” she finally said. She didn’t sound angry, but hurt. “You lied to your whole family for years. After all those lies, why should I believe you are telling the truth now?”

Miguel felt a lump form in his throat. “I’m sorry I lied,” he began, gently taking her hand, “and I’m sorry for what I said to you on the night we fought. I regret that the most. I have no excuse for that. I was wrong to say those things. All I ever wanted was to share my love of music with my family. I still hope I can someday and I hope you’ll be there when I do, but this isn’t about me. Héctor is part of our family and he needs our help.”

She went quiet again and looked off into the distance. He thought he could see tears brimming on her eyes. “You don’t have to answer me right now. Here,” he slid the journal closer to her, “I’ll leave this with you. I hope you’ll read through it. I think Mamá Coco wanted us to know how she really felt.”

He waited for a response. When none came, he picked up the picture of Héctor and left her with her thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long she would think it over or if she’d consider it at all. He hoped she would, but not just for Héctor’s sake. Their whole family revolved around this one painful event. If they put Héctor to rest, maybe they could put that pain to rest as well.

[-]

A few days later, Miguel had his answer. He was hanging out in the living room with his cousins when Abuelita walked it, journal in hand. “Alright, when do we leave?” she asked, looking at Miguel.

He went dumb for a second. “Leave for what?”

“To see this ghost of yours of course.”

“You mean Héctor?” he asked, jumping to his feet. “You want to help him?”

She nodded. “At the very least, I can see what he has to say for himself.”

“Great, so when do you want to leave?” It was really best to let her take the reins from here.

“Tomorrow, bright and early” she said. Her voice made it clear there would be no argument.

“Right, of course Abuelita. Tomorrow.”

[-]

The drive back up to Mexico City was tense to say the least. It was nearly silent. The no-music rule was still in effect, after all. Rosa and Abel sat up front and exchanged a few words but that was about all the sound they had. Miguel sat in the back with Abuelita, who looked out the window with a determined look on her face. At least the quiet gave Miguel time to think about how best to approach this whole day. That last thing he wanted was for Abuelita to chew out her long-dead grandfather in front of a crowd who couldn’t see who she was yelling at. And he definitely didn’t want Hector’s first encounter with his long lost family to leave him feeling even more alone than he already did. He just had to cross his fingers and pray this all went smoothly.

When they arrived at the train station, Miguel begged Abuelita to let him introduce her. “Fine Miguel,” she agreed with a shrug. “This is your ghost. We’ll do it your way.”

Once they got inside, it didn’t take them long to find Héctor. He popped up in front of them as soon as they walked through the door. “Miguel, what are you doing back so soon? I thought you had a promise to keep with your family.”

“I did and kept it. In fact, I brought some of them.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder at his cousin.

“I see. Hola Abel. Hola Rosa,” Héctor said cheerfully as he waved at them.

“I also brought my Abuelita,” Miguel said, gesturing toward her. “Abuelita, this is Héctor.”

“Can she see me?” Héctor asked.

Abuelita nodded. “I can.” From her awestruck expression, there was no doubt.

“That’s great! It seems your whole family can…” Something seemed to click in his mind and his face shifted into a thoughtful expression.

“About that, I did some more digging while I was at home and there’s a good reason we can all talk to you.”

Abuelita clutched Mamá Coco’s journal in her hands. Miguel gestured for it and she handed it to him without taking her eyes off Héctor.

“This Journal belonged to my great grandmother,” he said, showing it to Héctor. “She started it when she was fourteen. She wrote about her life in Santa Cecelia, her love of dancing and music, and she wrote about how much she missed her father. You see, he disappeared when she was a little girl. And her name was Coco Rivera.”

Héctor’s eyes went wide. If he could still breathe, it would have left him. “My Coco?”

Miguel nodded with a soft smile. He put his hands on Abuelita’s shoulders and gently guided her closer to the ghost. “Héctor, this is your granddaughter, Elena Rivera.”

“My…” He stared at her like he was seeing the sun for the first time. “I can hardly believe…”

“You…” Abuelita started. Miguel held his breath. “You…” she said again, apparently searching for the right word.

Miguel braced himself. Would it be an insult? A tirade about how he abandoned his family? Could he even hope she’d say something kind? Please God, let this go well.

“You’re a baby!” she said at last.

Miguel’s jaw hit the floor.

Héctor drew back and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“How old were you when you died?” she demanded.

Héctor’s eyes darted between her and Miguel. “Twenty one?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“No I’m telling…” He looked helplessly at Miguel who could only shrug. Neither were able to comprehend the awesome power of Abuelita.

“Dios mio, I have grandchildren older than you,” she sighed, shaking her head. “My boys were idiots at that age. It’s no wonder you got those ideas in your head. All this time I thought you were cruel and careless. Turns out you were just young and stupid.”

Héctor’s eyes turned to the floor. “You’re right. I was stupid. My stupid choice caused my whole family pain. I’m sorry.”

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”

Héctor shook his head. “It’s all I think I have a right to say.”

“Don’t give me that,” Abuelita scolded. “I want to know exactly what you were thinking.”

“Abuealita,”Miguel interjected, “Héctor only recently got his memories back. I don’t think he’ll remember.”

“It’s alright Miguel,” Héctor said, floating closer. “I do remember.” He straightened himself up and looked Abuelita in the eye. “I remember that we were poor. I remember wanting to give Imelda and Coco a better life. I thought becoming a famous musician was the only way I could do that. I always planned on coming home. I never thought I wouldn’t make it and I never could have imagined why.”

“Your friend murdered you?” she asked frankly.

“Yes.”

“How long did you know him?”

He sighed. “My whole life.”

“How did he do it?”

“He toasted our friendship with a poisoned drink,” he answered with a bitter sneer.

Abuelita shook her head in disgust. “Coward,” she spat with the venom of a snake. “Well, you were stupid, but you didn’t deserve to die.”

Héctor’s face seemed to lighten up slightly. “Miguel mentioned before that after his great-great grandfather left, your family hated music. That you believed music tore your family apart.”

“That is true.”

He nodded sadly. “I am ashamed to be the cause of that. If I knew how much my family would suffer for my mistake, I never would have touched a guitar.”

“That’s nonsense,” Abuelita snapped, taking both Héctor and Miguel by surprise. “Miguel tells me your songs became very popular.”

“More like iconic,” Miguel corrected.

“If you have a talent like that, you should use it,” Abuelita affirmed.

Miguel thought he might lose his breath now. “Do you really mean that, Abuelita?”

She cast a teasing smile in his direction. “Do you think I’m a liar, Miguel?”

He beamed. “No, ma’am.”

Abuelita returned his grin and turned back to Héctor. “My family spent generations being angry at you. I used to think you were the slimiest, most self-centered snake to ever slither across the planet. I must say,” she let out a breath and smiled up at him, “you are not what I imagined. I think you’ve been punished more than enough, don’t you?”

Hope grew in Héctor’s eyes. “Does this mean you forgive me?” A faint glow began emanating from him.

Abuelita nodded. “I could never stay mad at my family, not when I know they meant well.” She gave Héctor a once-over and tsked. “Look at you. So skinny. That’s the real curse you put on my family. My sister, my son Enrique, and just look at Miguel.” She swung her arm in his direction. “All twigs thanks to you.”

Héctor laughed. “Now that I’m not sure how to apologize for.”

“Look at that, Miguelito,” she said, putting her arm around him, “you’ve got his dimple.” His cousins gathered around him as well. Héctor’s joy at seeing them all together radiated off him like the orange glow.

“Now what are you waiting for?” Abuelita said to him. “I think you’ve kept your family waiting long enough.”

Héctor’s light dimmed. “Do you think they’ll take me back?”

Abuelita gave him a sad smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer, but I read my mother’s journal and I do know this: she still loves you.”

Tears fell from Héctor’s eyes once again. There was no scent of tequila and not a trace of poison. These tears were real.

The orange glow around him grew brighter. The flesh on his fingers faded, revealing bone underneath.

“Héctor! Your hand!” Miguel cried as the skin continued to disappear.

Héctor smiled as he examined his hands, completely unalarmed by this change. “It’s alright, Miguel,” he laughed. “It’s alright. I feel better than I have in a century.” His flesh continued to burn away and he laughed as if filled with pure delight. “I love you all. I couldn’t wish for a better family.” His smile was enough to warm the hearts of everyone around him. “You set me free. I can’t thank you enough. Please never forget how much you love each other.”

“We won’t,” Miguel answered, tears filling his own eyes.