#performing face

Everything Ernesto had seen of Ceci’s family over the last two weeks had been amazing. No one ever screamed or threatened each other, the children running around the hacienda were all well taken care of and energetic. It seemed like everyone genuinely cared for each other. They all kept an eye on him whenever he was over, but Ernesto didn’t mind nearly as much as Ceci seemed to, he was used to putting on a good performance.

“Thank you again for chaperoning us,” Ernesto said with his most Ernesto smile. “It really is very generous of you.”

“Here’s hoping that some of your politeness rubs off on my sister.” Sophia said.

Ceci stuck out her tongue, getting a playful shove in return from Sophia.

“Don’t get wax on my dress!” Ceci yelped with a laugh, letting go of Ernesto’s arm to frantically check her skirts, “I just finished stitching the hem, I don’t want the whole thing ruined before we even get to the Ramirez’s!”

“You could just tell them it’s the fashion in New York.” Sophia said with a trace of a smile.

“It’s not funny,” Ceci said, “This fabric is expensive.”

“I’d buy you more.” Ernesto said with a chuckle, taking Ceci’s candle-free hand in his. “No woman of mine is going to wear stained dresses.”

“Well, I’m glad someone in my life has good priorities.” Ceci said, lacing her fingers through Ernesto’s and kissing him on the cheek.

Sophia rolled her eyes with a smile as they continued to walk. Soon they joined up with the much larger group of people with Posada candles that came onto the main road as they all made their way through town. At the front of the group was Joseph leading Mary on a donkey, or rather, Senor Lopez dressed in a long robe leading the family donkey that his wife was riding.

“Ernesto!”

Someone walking beside him in the growing group of Posadas revelers slapped him on the shoulder good-naturedly as they joined the crowd, “Who’s this beautiful senorita you’ve got on your arm?”

“May I introduce you to Senorita Cecilia Luciana Rodriguez, the most clever seamstress you’ve ever met.” Ernesto said with proud smile, pulling Ceci forward a bit so the others could see her.

“It’s true,” a woman nodded, “she mended my daughter’s blouse last week and I’ve never seen a tighter stitch.”

“Muchas gracias, I’m glad the blouse turned out well.” Ceci said.

Ernesto was about to jump in on her behalf, that blouse had been horribly ripped and Ceci deserved far more credit for the job she had done, but their candle-bearing crowd was approaching the Ramirez house. Tonight’s hosts for Posadas.

As the crowd approached the closed doors of hacienda Ramirez they began singing.

“En el nombre del cielo

os pido posada,

pues no puede andar

mi esposa amada”

Ernesto could barely keep himself from rolling his eyes at the ragtag lack of singing talent around him. The song was a small tune for the holiday celebration, requesting entrance at a now long gone Jerusalem inn for Mother Mary and the unborn Christ child.

He’d always had the opinion that the singing of such a meaningful song should be from people who could actually sing, like himself and Héctor. The beating he’d gotten as a child when he’d mentioned the idea to his father had dissuaded him from mentioning it ever again though.

Sure enough, the Ramirez family was soon singing back in a tolerable, if distinctly out of rhythm, style.

“Aquí no es mesón sigan adelante, yo no puedo abrir, no sea algún tunante.”

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Ceci whispered.

“Just trying to focus on the song.” Ernesto whispered back.

She always took more stock in these kinds of things than he did. He suspected now was not the time to share his artistic critique.

“No seas inhumano, tenos caridad, que el Dios de los cielos te lo premiará.”

As the two groups sang the verses back and forth Ernesto let his voice carry just loud enough to lead the crowd’s verses without being obnoxiously overwhelming. Soon enough the singing was over and they were allowed inside the Ramirez’s home. Only a bit more of the traditional singing and praying left before they could get to the fiesta.

“You really do have such a beautiful singing voice, Señor De la Cruz.” A woman in the crowd said as they finally walked through the gates.

“Gracias.” Ernesto said with a smile, the satisfaction of the complement doubled at the use of his preferred name.

“It’s because he’s famous you know.” someone else said, “He and Señor Rivera have traveled all across Mexico playing their music.”

“It’s a talent we’re glad to share with the world.” Ernesto said, his familiar crowd-pleasing smile coming back to him easily, despite having rarely used it for weeks now.  

“Say, would you two be able to play at my wife’s fiesta next week?” another man asked, “I’ve been meaning to find musicians to play for it.”

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” Ernesto said, acting casual despite knowing very well that he was starting to run low on money and would certainly be glad to take the job.

It had been too long since he’d been serious about getting musical work. Instead he had been spending most of his time with Ceci or helping Héctor with odd jobs around town and the shoe shop. He hadn’t played at the plaza in weeks, hadn’t really been to a proper social gathering in weeks.

Now that he thought about it, it probably wasn’t a good sign that he and Héctor hadn’t been asked to play tonight. Not that Héctor would have been able to, Imelda had come down with a nasty cold earlier that day, keeping their family from joining them for Posadas.  

“Don’t forget we promised to bring Coco something.” Ceci said.

“I won’t forget.” Ernesto said absently, already scanning the crowd, planning who he could talk to that evening to leverage some business out of them.

Soon enough the traditional parts of the celebration were finally over and the real celebration began in the courtyard.

Ernesto had nearly forgotten what it was like to be the life of the party and he’d missed it.

Every time he successfully remembered someone’s name, every time someone was drug through to crowd to meet him, every time one of his stories drew a rapt audience (many of them having never left Santa Cecilia) it all filled him with an addictive buzzing energy.

By the time someone struck up a song and everyone started clearing the courtyard for dancing, Ernesto felt back on top. He’d already smoozed his way into three different future performing jobs, had been told dreamily how amazing he was to have traveled so much, and had been complimented on his choice of woman more times than he could count.

Ernesto drank the last of his ponche, scanning the festive crowd for Ceci. He couldn’t remember when exactly she’d disappeared, but it must have been a while ago. He didn’t remember seeing her when he’d been telling his heroic story of when he’d saved Héctor from absently stepping in front of a train.

He set his cup down, frowning as he continued to look.

“Ernesto!” Senor Lopez called, “Where’s your girl? The dance is about to start and we want you two as the lead couple.”

“Uno momento, por favor.” Ernesto called back.

He relaxed as he finally spotted Ceci through the crowd, sitting off by herself at the edge of the compound for some reason.

Ernesto descended into the crowd, dodged nimbly through the dancers lining up to reach Ceci on the far side of the compound. She looked up as he approached, smiling up at him from her seat against the courtyard wall.

“Senorita, would you join me for this dance?” He asked, bowing and offering his hand.

“No thank you,” Ceci said sweetly. “I’m really not much for dancing.”

Ernesto blinked, feeling a little like he’d just been slapped.

“They’re about to start,” he said, still smiling, “they’ve asked us to be the lead couple.”

“Lo siento, I’d really prefer not to.” Ceci said with a good-natured grimace, “I don’t like dancing in front of people, especially people I don’t know very well.”

Ah ha, a reluctant performer. Well, if there was one thing Ernesto had learned from years of traveling with Héctor, it was how to get someone onstage when they “didn’t feel like it.”

“What?” Ernesto said, keeping his voice playfully light, “You’re going to rob everyone here of the chance to see the most beautiful woman in Mexico dance? I promise I’m not that bad of a dance partner.” His dancing was actually the best in town, but he needed to flatter Ceci, not himself.

“Ernesto, I really don’t like dancing in front of people.” Ceci crossed her legs and settled back further into her chair. “You can dance with someone else if you want, I promise I don’t mind.”

Ernesto didn’t exactly feel angry. It was more of the stiff, stubborn feeling he always got when he had to make Héctor do what he needed.

“Ceci, please,” Ernesto said, his voice no longer playful, “they’re expecting us, you have to dance at least once.”

“No, I don’t.” Ceci raised her eyebrows, looking both amused and unimpressed. “You aren’t budging me on this one.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ernesto frowned. Héctor had never put his foot down like this before, Ceci wasn’t leaving him the least bit of room to even try convincing her. “What will people think if they see me dancing with someone else?”

“They’ll think that I don’t like dancing.” Ceci stood and calmly brushed off her skirts, “Come find me when you’ve got your genuine self back, you have your performing face on right now.”

She rocked up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek, then turned and walked away towards the refreshments.

Ernesto watched her go, utterly speechless.

He straightened, pulling his hat forward as something hot and unpleasant rose inside him. She couldn’t just, just turn him down like that, he had a reputation to keep up. He hadn’t asked anything unreasonable, she was just being nervous, she would be glad later that he’d convinced her to dance. Ernesto nodded to himself and squared his shoulders, starting after Ceci.

Now that he thought about it, it as little wonder that his Héctor tricks hadn’t worked on her, Ceci was a completely different person. Ernesto just had to find out what would get Ceci to do what he wanted, what would make her bend. It was just like his father had always said, everyone has their weaknesses if you can just figure out where to-  

Ernesto stumbled sideways into a table, physically blindsided by the eviscerating twist in his gut as he realized what he’d been thinking.  

No.

No.

Something sour kicked up his throat and he began to cough, moving away from the table he’d nearly knocked over. Too-loud music began to play behind him. He spotted a side gate leading out of the compound and ducked out through it into a back alley.

The cold, shadowed silence of the empty alleyway encased him as he continued to cough, leaning back against the stucco wall. The muted music drifting high over the wall floated right past him.

Was that really it? Was that the reasoning he’d really been using on Héctor all this time? Was that the reasoning that he was using on Ceci? He’d been doing so well at forgetting his father ever existed, scrubbing every trace of him out of his mind. He hadn’t thought about him in a whole week.  

Ernesto pressed his palms to his eyes, grimacing. This was the same kind of anger that he had felt towards Héctor during their tour, this anger that had him acting like his father when he had to get others to do what he wanted.

He’d known he was ignoring this same kind of anger that he’d felt on tour with Héctor and that there was something ugly in it, but he’d been trying to chalk it up to travel fatigue, not this.

But it was fine. It was all fine. This didn’t mean anything, he’d just...just slipped was all.

Ernesto clenched his fists until his fingernails dug into his palms, waiting for the awful feeling in his stomach to pass.

All those times he’d gotten that stiff feeling before, was that how his father had felt when he’d thrown out his own son for refusing to obey him?

Maybe Ernesto was overreacting. He hadn’t done anything, hadn’t even thought of doing anything to Ceci. He’d have backed down if she’d refused him again, he would have let it go, absolutely would have. And Héctor? Ernesto had felt that stiff feeling more times towards Héctor than he could count, but he’d never...

Well.  

Héctor had forgiven him for that one time.

He’d expressly forgiven Ernesto for that.

They’d both been tipsy when they’d started arguing over Héctor’s plans to propose to Imelda, and the verbal argument had turned to shoving when Ernesto’s frustration had become too much.

Ernesto had been horrified, and had immediately agreed to pay for the golden crown on Héctor’s shattered tooth. They’d laughed it off together over tequila they next day, but it was still something Ernesto hated to think about.

And it had been because Héctor had refused to do what Ernesto wanted.

But that was years ago.

But what about the same twisting frustration that had been building up in Ernesto during their last tour? Anger that Héctor wouldn’t play his new songs, that Héctor wanted to go home, that Héctor wasn’t performing with his heart anymore and it was starting to affect their performances. The whole last month was a hazy frustrated memory of shouting matches and passive aggressive pleading.

How much farther might it have escalated if they’d stayed on the road instead of coming back for the funeral?

“Ernesto?”

He jumped, for a moment panicked that someone had heard his thoughts.

“What are you doing back here?” Ceci asked, closing the side gate behind her as she joined him in the ally. “Are you alright? You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” Ernesto said, pulling himself together as quickly as he could, taking an unconscious step back as she approached.

She was so beautiful in the low light of the ally.

“You’re not fine if you’re hiding, what’s wrong?” Ceci said, looking worried as she took his hand, “I didn’t realize the dance meant that much to you. Really Nesto, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“No, no, it’s not that.” Ernesto said, trying to smile as he covered her hands with his to keep them warm in the chill night air. “I just needed some air. And I apologize for becoming flustered before, that was very tasteless of me.”

He hadn’t done anything. He could still move on like it had never happened as long as he didn’t look back.

“Well, I imagine it’s been a while since you’d had someone beautiful around to turn you down.” Ceci teased, stepping on the toes of his boots.

“We should probably get back inside before Sophia notices we’re gone.” Ernesto said, his smile softening as he relaxed a little despite himself, putting his arms around her waist.

Maybe forgetting all about it was the best thing he could do. He could move on like it had never happened, cover it over.

“Sophia’s busy.” Ceci said, leaning up against him,“But if you like, I don’t mind dancing with you alone.”

“Here?” Ernesto looked around the empty back alley. Nothing but moonlight was there to keep them company, and the music from the party drifting over the compound wall.

“I’ve never liked performing in front of people, it always makes me anxious.” Ceci said, her smile fading a little. “It always makes me feel sick, ever since I was a little girl. I nearly threw up at my own quinceanera when I had to dance in front of everyone, I’ve always been like that.”

“I understand.” Ernesto lied, trying to wrap his brain around what she had just said.

He’d been eager to get up in front of a crowd ever since he could remember, dragging Héctor up onto wooden crates in the market square to sing, or hanging around the edge of the town plaza to play guitar for passersby. The thought of being anxious in front of a crowd, of becoming genuinely ill at the thought of performing, had never occurred to him.  

Héctor had been reluctant to perform on their tour, something else Ernesto hadn’t understood, but he’d always been able to force him anyway.

After all, the show must go on. Right?

“You said that I had my ‘performing face’ on.” Ernesto said, “What did you mean by that?”  

“It’s that thing you do when you’re around too many people.” Ceci said, putting a hand on his arm and taking his hand with the other. “You put on a different face, you turn into a different person for a while. You don’t think about anyone else until you come back to yourself.”

“I, well, is that a bad thing?” Ernesto asked, walking them through the steps of a dance as the fiesta music drifted over the wall towards them.

“Only if you let it be, I think.” Ceci said, shrugging.

Ernesto didn’t know what that actually meant, but it felt like he was supposed to, so he didn’t ask.

They danced together in silence for a few minutes, the dancing becoming much closer than a chaperone would have permitted. Soon they were not so much dancing as much as swaying back and forth as Ceci leaned up against him.

But Ernesto could barely focus, his mind far too busy trying to untangle what she’d said.

Ceci had said he became a different person, and he was pretty sure he knew exactly who that person was.

And if he became his father whenever he performed, Ernesto was no longer sure about a lot of things in his life.

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Special thanks to @scribblrhob who motivated me back into actually finishing this story. <3