#luisque

Sparing a brief moment for a sigh of relief at seeing her offspring in safe hands, the woman approached her men. "Miguel, you know you're not supposed to run indoors," she scolded her son. "There are a lot of things here you could trip over."

"I wanted Papa!" said Miguel in his defense.

"Miguel," intoned Enrique, "when Mama says you mustn't run indoors, then you mustn't run indoors."

The boy made a pouty face, as if accusing his father of betrayal.

Enrique did not let himself be intimidated. "Now, say sorry for scaring your Mama."

"Sowy," said Miguel, sounding reisgned.

Luisa sighed. "I'm not angry, mijo," she spoke to the child calmingly. "I just don't want you to get hurt. If anything bad happened to you, I'd be very sad."

"No sad, Mama. I'm okay."

"Okay then. Now, come. Papa has work to do."

"But I want Papa!" protested the boy, gripping onto his father's apron.

Luisa's face fell a little. "Miguel, Papa is busy," she reasoned, keeping a hint of warning to her voice.

Enrique knew his chance when he saw it. "It's okay, Luisa. I'm not doing anything important. I can watch him for a while."

Luisa gave him a slightly narrowed, suspicious look. Enrique was starting to think that perhaps he'd made a mistake, but his wife chose to back down. "Alright. He can stay," she conceded. "Just don't let him play with anything sharp."

"I'll keep that in mind," Enrique assured, giving Miguel a gentle squeeze.

Luisa regarded him thoughtfully for one more moment. Finally, she turned around and deserted the shop. It seemed she wasn't entirely happy with this solution, but had no wish to fight over it. At very least, she wasn't going to get out of her way to keep Miguel away away from his father, even when she happened to be anrgy at him.

Enrique was suddenly hit by a realization. Luisa had just talked to him. "Just don't let him play with anything sharp", she had said, meaning the words for him, specifically, and almost face-to-face. Something she had successfully avoided doing since the day started.

Her anger was wearing out.

A wide, wide smile spread across Enrique’s face. Yes. Oh yes. Things were looking good. They will be back to normal by dinner.

The moment the first sounds left the instrument, Enrique's smile dropped. He threw a quick glance at the source of the disturbance, an all-consuming panic twisting his normally pleasant features. Before Luisa could ask what was wrong, he grabbed her hand – something he hadn't done before – and quickened his pace, desperate to get away from the noise. He didn't break into a full-blown sprint, but the desire to do so resonated from his every step. Luisa could have sworn the frantic clatter of her companion's shoes against the pavement blocked out all other sounds, which may very well have been Enrique's intention.

Only when they were far enough not to hear the trumpet did the young man come to a halt. He looked behind, alarmed, as though the musician might have followed them and his intrument were a deadly weapon. Having confirmed that the danger was nowhere in sight, the young man steadied his breath and turned to his date. As he considered her, his anxiety subdued, dominated by embarrasment.

“I'm sorry” he said. “I didn't mean to startle you...”

At this point he looked down, and noticed that her hand was still in his grip. The realization hit him like a speeding truck. Petrified, he withdrew his hand and took a step back, struggling to steady his nerves.

“I'm sorry” he repeated, thoroughly embarrased.

“Are you alright?” Luisa asked, genuinely concerned for her date.

Enrique couldn't meet her eyes. “Yes. I'm fine. I mean, it's nothing, really...” he mumbled, crossing his arms. It didn't escape Luisa's attention that is hands gripped his arms tightly, and moved up and down a couple of times. The gesture might've been an attempt at reducing his anxiety, she realized. It seemed to be working well enough, for when Enrique next met her eyes, he did so with newfound determination.

“I don't like them” he declared. “I mean, what respectable people play in the streets? That's inconsiderate. Some of us value their peace and quiet, you know”

She considered his words. “So you like your peace and quiet?” she offered.

He nodded. “Yes. I like my peace and quiet”

She thought about it for a moment. It made sense, she supposed. Some people require loud music to relax while others are disturbed by the faintest noise. Enrique clearly belonged to the latter group. That in itself wouldn't have bothered Luisa the slightest bit, but Enrique himself seemed to be perceiving his auditory preferences as a serious drawback. When he admitted to enjoying silence, he sounded so defeated, so resigned. As if this particular trait had caused him problems in the past.

Luisa's mind instantly filled up with images of a younger Enrique, left behind as all of his peers headed for the night club with the intention of dancing the night out. Perhaps he tried to join them on several occassions, but had to excuse himself after a brief while because of a headache. He just couldn't stand certain sounds. And now he was clearly expecting Luisa to cross him out as a potential partner, just because he won't be able to join her at discos, concerts, and certain kinds of parties.

Her heart bled a little at the realization. Nobody should have to feel guilty because of something they couldn't control. Her first instinct was to tell Enrique there was nothing wrong with disliking noise, but it occurred to her he may not respond well to to having his insecurities emphasized – male egos were so fragile, after all. Thus she opted for a more general, and therefore safer option.

“That trumpet was pretty loud” she conceaded.

“Yes” agreed Enrique. “It was loud. And sudden”

He seemed to be relaxing somewhat, but maintained a certain degree of caution. So far so good.

“Like a particularly obnoxious car horn” offered Luisa, doning a reassuring smile.

Enrique's face finally brightened. “Yes, exactly” he nodded eagerly, grinning. “Or an alarm clock”

“Or a school bell” added Luisa, enjoying herself. “God knows I get my share of those at work”

She was employed as an administrative assistant at the local elementary school (which was probably why Enrique took over the duty of walking his nephew to school and picking him up) [AN: this is actually a HC of @sweetiepie08] .

“Oh, poor you” Enrique said softly, his compassion colored with amusement.

“Neh, I'm fine” she waved her hand dissmissively. “The bell rings on a schedule, so it's not that much of a shock. If I heard it right now, outside of my working hours, well, that would be a whole different thing”

Just as she hoped, these words earned Enrique's full support. “You are absolutely right. Certain sounds belong to certain places. Those who want to play instruments should go to the Mariachi Plaza, and not disturb everyone else's peace. I mean, you wouldn't smoke in a classroom full of children, right? You'd go outside, so not to bother anybody with the stink. The same principle should be applied to music”

It was hard to argue with this logic. Personally, Luisa wasn't bothered by music in the streets, but she understood why it could be perceived as something highly undesirable.

“My mother would agree with you” she told Enrique.

That perked his interest. “Does she hate music?”

“Only when my father plays it at full volume” explained Luisa.

“She's always telling him to turn it down, and that he's not the only person in the house, and he's always telling her that there's no point in listening to this kind of music if it isn't loud. When she tells him our neighbors may not share his opinion, he says they should invest in sound-proofing”

Another argument Luisa's father loved to use was something along the lines of 'If they complain, we'll just say we're using the music to cover your cries of ecstasy, Pan Dulce' – at which point mother would cry in exasperation and go make herself some tea to calm down – but Enrique didn't have to know that.

“Fortunately,” continued Luisa, “he will usually keep it at a bearable level if he's asked by myself or my sister. We are his precious angelitas and our wellbeing comes before anything else”

The final remark was meant to lighten the mood. Luisa noticed that Enrique was deeply touched by her mother's struggles, and wanted to let him know the situation in her family wasn't all that bad. Her parents argued from time to time, but there was never physical violence or trully offensive epithets in the house. Luisa saw them as a perfectly average couple with perfectly normal problems, who cared for their children the best they could. In her opinion, it wasn't that bad of an arrangement.

As for Enrique, he also seemed to be forming an opinion.

“So you mediate with your father for your mother's sake? You're a good daughter”

Luisa chuckled. “I'm not being entirely selfless” she admitted. “When Mama is angry, she gets unpleasant towards Lucia and myself. You could say keeping her happy is in our best interest”

“I see” said Enrique. He hesitated for a moment before adding: “I hate it when my mother gets angry, too. We all do as she says, or else we get in trouble, and I mean trouble with a capital 'T'.”

Luisa nodded in understanding. “I guess all mothers get overbearing at times”

“Yeah” confirmed Enrique. “But it's only because they care about us so much”

“True. Nobody will ever love you as much as your own mother” ascertained Luisa.

“Family is the most important thing” added Enrique.

Again, Luisa could do nothing but approve. “It is indeed”

At this moment, she came to a very important conclusion – Enrique may have been oversensitive to noise, but he had his pririties straight. To her, that mattered more than his readiness to attend parties.

And when she looked into his eyes, she saw that he was forming similar conclusions about her, and deriving delight from doing so.

Suddenly flustered, she diverted her gaze.

Suddenly bold, he took the liberty to touch her shoulder.

The gesture was comforting on the surface, but Luisa saw it for what it really was – an expression of profound gratitude. Through this touch, Enrique was telling her 'Thank you for accepting me the way I am'.

'You are most welcome' she thought, casually placing her hand on top of his.

“Hola, Enrique,” said Carmen.

“Hola,” replied Enrique. A couple more ‘holas’ came his way, but Luisa didn’t even honor him with a glance, stubbornly focusing on the frying pan in her hand. The young man wasn’t surprised, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He briefly considered addressing his spouse directly, but ultimately decided against it. She clearly didn’t want to talk to him, and going against her wish would probably backfire.

With a subtle sigh, Enrique took his place at the dining table. Plates and utensils were already in place, as was a jug of orange juice, two small bowls of salsas, and a load of triangular corn chips to serve as a base for foods yet to come. Also in place were Enrique’s father Franco, brother Berto, and nephew Abel. Between the three of them, only the youngest seemed aware of the disturbance in their otherwise idyllic atmosphere. He did share a room with Miguel and was old enough to understand that a husband and wife sleeping separately was a bad sigh. Still, he lacked the erudition to figure out what exactly went wrong, and was now looking anxiously at his uncle with the inquiry painted all over his face.

There wasn’t an answer Enrique could offer him other than a shrug. There wasn’t much he could do, other than put on a brave face and act as normal as possible. Hopefully, it will be enough to ease Abel’s worries.

Fortunately, Enrique’s own son did not seem affected by the events of the previous night. The boy was currently running around the courtyard with his cousin Rosa, who was just a little older than him. Amidst their laughter, another pair were making their way towards the dining area. Enrique’s mother Elena was supporting her own mother – Mama Coco, the eldest member of the Rivera family.

As they neared the table, Berto stood up and went to pull the chair for Mama Coco.

As soon as the elderly lady was seated, Miguel planted himself in front of her.

“Mama slept with me tonight!” he exclaimed proudly, placing his hands on his great-grandmother’s knees. “Do you know why?”

Enrique froze. He threw a quick glance at Luisa, but she was giving him her back.

“Miguel, be careful,” pleaded Enrique’s mother, “Your Mama Coco has bad legs.”

She sounded concerned, but whether it was about her mother’s health, or the little boy blurting out something he wasn’t supposed to, Enrique couldn’t tell. Likely a combination of both.

Miguel took a step back. “Mama slept with me, because Papa made a huuuuuuge fart!” he beamed, spreading his arms wide.

Everybody went dead silent for a moment.

Only the sound of a spatula scratching the frying pan disturbed the general confusion.

The next moment a wide smile grew of Mama Coco’s face. “My, really?” she asked, genuinely amused.

Her heartfelt tone spurred others into action.

“Was it really that bad?” Gloria called over to Luisa, donning a grin.

Luisa kept a stone face. “It was so bad it could have killed a dinosaur.” She declared as she turned off the gas.

Mama Coco snorted.

Papa Franco gave a little laugh. “Oh, Enrique, shame on you,” he mock-scolded his son.

Berto leaned towards his brother. “Too much beans, wasn’t it?” he snickered.

Enrique could feel his face turning brick red. God, even his ears felt hot from the embarrassment!

“I’m sorry!” he blurted. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sorry,” he repeated in a small voice.

His wife, who was unloading scrambled eggs onto their son’s plate, was perfectly unimpressed.

“After breakfast, I’m taking Miguel to the playground,” she announced, addressing nobody in particular. “We’ll be back by lunch.”

“Oh. Okay,” muttered Enrique, watching as she filled her own plate, and then his, adamantly refusing to look him in the eye.

Enrique was devastated. He let her have her little revenge. He did nothing to rebuke the story she made up. He sat through his relatives’ teasing remarks and took it like a man when they amused themselves at his expense. He was properly ashamed. This should have been enough to satisfy Luisa. Alas, the woman remained as unfeeling as Death herself.

It hurt.

Enrique barely registered Luisa telling Miguel to take his place and eat his food. He paid even less attention to Rosa piping up and saying she wanted to go the playground too. He was felt a sympathetic tap on his shoulder as Gloria served him coffee.

He did, however, perk up when Mama Coco spoke his name.

“Quique, mijo, there is nothing be ashamed of,” she assured. “I sometimes fart so loud I wake myself up.”

With these words, she had her entire family’s undivided attention.

“Even so,” she continued, “my farts are nothing compared to what your Papa Julio could produce. Poor darling was loud as a trumpet!”

Mention of a music instrument’s name sparked a collective gasp of all the adults.

“What’s a trumpet?” Rosa piped up.

“You mean like an elephant?” Miguel stood on his chair and leaned towards his great-grandmother.

Meanwhile the children’s grandmother was breaking into cold sweat. “Mama! There are children present!” she pleaded, struggling to reconcile the role of an obedient daughter with that of the family’s chief rule enforcer.

For some reason, Mama Coco seemed amused. “Oh, children! Elena, I suddenly remembered how you and Victoria had this farting competition in the bathtub. Do you remember?”

For once, Elena Rivera was lost for words. “I don’t remember anything like that…” she muttered evasively.

Meanwhile the eyes of her descendants darted from her to Mama Coco, their nerves tingling with a strange mixture of anxiety and excitement.

Mama Coco remined unperturbed. “Well, you were still very young back then,” she conceded, a touch of humor in her voice. “But I still remember your sister yelling ‘Mama! That disgusting swine soiled the water!’”

That did it – a chorus of giggles arose from the table.

“Did Abuelita win?” demanded Abel, his worries ultimately lost beneath a surge of child-like joy.

“Oh, I’d say she did,” said Mama Coco, ignoring the fact that her daughter looked like she was about to faint. “Who’d have thought a little girl could produce this much…”

“Mama, that’s quite enough,” said Elena sternly, her complexion going from latte macchiato to a an interesting shade of mahogany.

That might have been enough to stop Mama Coco, but another member of the family decided to continue what the elderly lady had started.

“My, my, Elena, I don’t think I’ve seen you this flustered since I first kissed your hand,” remarked Papa Franco.

His wife shot him a deadly glare, but it had no effect on him. The man was the calmest person in the family and refused to let himself be intimidated.

“Oh, don’t exaggerate, Franco,” said Mama Coco. “I’m sure there were a couple more times in between.”

“Most probably,” he conceded. “But then, it’s hard to tell once the lights are out.”

“Enough!” Elena demanded sharply. She stormed to where her husband sat, grabbed a bowl of corn chips and begun to unload them onto his plate. “Do me a favor and stuff yourself.”

Franco made a bold move and reached out for her hand. “Your wish is my command, mi amor,” he declared and kissed it lightly.

Elena shook her head, as though he was hopeless. It seemed that this particular battle was one she had no chance of winning. However, judging by the smile she displayed – one that was meant to be guarded, but turned out warm and affectionate – the outcome didn’t bother her all that much. Having let out a weary breath, she leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek, gently stroking his chin before letting go.

Just like this, the tension at the table was dispelled. Everybody’s attention shifted to food, and nobody seemed to mind that most of it had gone cold.

Amidst the general commotion, Enrique’s ears registered a chuckle, followed by a contented sigh.

Realizing just who it came from, he turned towards her.

She was smiling.

A sincere, genuine smile, the intoxicating kind that touched his heart and dispersed his worries.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. Luisa, his precious Luisa, she dropped the cold façade and rejoiced with the rest of the family.

The sight made him ridiculously happy.

The next moment she noticed he was watching her.

She remembered she was supposed to be giving him the silent treatment.

She forced herself into a grimace, turned her attention towards the food, and begun to eat nervously.

Surprisingly, it didn’t bother him all that much. Even if for a split second, she met his eyes. He got to see a dimple on the left side of her face. It was more than he could have hoped for just minutes ago.

It was all thank to Mama Coco.