Stories of Héctor and Imelda throughout their lives, and, for good measure, their deaths. All featuring some variation of an apology.
For whatever reason, they had to apologize a lot.
1910
“I expected this sort of thing from your brothers,” Sor María tied off the bandage wrap so it remained snug and trimmed the loose end with a deft pair of scissors. She had been saying that all morning.
Imelda tried to open and close her fists, relishing in the painful bruised sensation it caused. “I didn’t start—"
“It doesn’t matter who started what,” Sor María covered Imelda’s wet hair with another towel and began ruthlessly scrubbing it. “We all must take responsibility for our own sin. There’s no blaming other people for your actions.”
Imelda groaned under the towel. María yanked it off, leaving her hair standing up in all directions, arguably more of a black mess than how she came in. “I want you to apologize to that boy,” she continued, “both in person and in prayer. ¿Entiendes?“ Her long billowy sleeves covered Imelda’s face for a short minute while she tried to re-part the girl’s hair. She began to methodically brush it out while it was still damp.
Imelda seethed at every snag. She was more than old enough to wash and brush her own hair. If anything this incident proved she was capable of taking care of herself. She absently kicked her legs in the air, just centimeters from touching the floor. Two large, square bandages were bound over both kneecaps. The scrapes still stung. Her muddy, ruined dress hung in a shapeless mass over the lip of a small bucket next to the bathtub. Her mud caked shoes were in there too.
If she concentrated in her mind she could still hear the satisfying, twanging crack the guitar made when she had swung it down.
I’m trying to write a post-movie fic but it’s not quite coming together. For now, here’s the first snippet from it; I have a second snippet I’ll upload later, too.
“You know, you can tell me if I’m in hell.”
Imelda entered the afterlife in the
same way she spent a majority of her life: alone, ready to get to work, and
frustrated at what was keeping her from getting to work. A few hours ago, the
target of that frustration had been her arthritis and weak lungs; now, it was
the skeleton in front of her who was sorting through entirely too many files
and making her wait.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about @scribblrhob‘s Teacher!AU and @upperstories‘s art for said Teacher!AU, I ended up writing something that’s probably a mess to read because I want to end 2017 crying about Hector and Miguel.
Imelda was still angry with Hector, meaning that when he was late to the welcome-back assembly she couldn’t text him to see where he was. She’d maintained complete radio silence for three months now despite his best efforts and was very proud of herself for it.
But she was also his supervisor and she needed to know if he was going to be late to his own class. Again. So if you thought about it, texting him now wasn’t actually a sign of weakness, but of annoyance. Which was alright.
¡Hector! You are late 4 morning assembly. ¡Vamanos!
Imelda bit her lip after sending the text, locking her phone screen before she could see his old texts.
She looked out over the assembly crowd to the older student’s section, spotting where Señora Gutiérrez was keeping an annoyed eye on Hector’s restless flock of first-period students, as well as her own. If Hector’s students, and more importantly their parents, didn’t adore him so much he’d be on probation by now. The idiota was lucky that his goofy charm seemed to work on everyone.
Well, until he messed up badly enough.
Imelda caught her vice principal watching her with a knowing look and stopped turning her phone over and over in her hands, tucking it in her jacket pocket instead.
She grit her teeth. Ever since Hector “accidentally” informed his entire class that they were seeing each other at the end of last school year, it was all any of the staff talked about. Not in front of her of course, not after she’d ripped apart Señor Alejandro in full view of everyone in the teacher’s lounge, but it was easy to see that the vice principal obviously thought she was texting Hector right now.
Which…she was…but in a strictly professional capacity.
She growled and slipped out her phone again as the assembly wound down, shielding it from the vice principal’s view with her hand. No response from Hector.
Hector. Your class is about to start. Without you. She typed.
He’d been either very brave or very stupid when he’d come by last week for his extra key, having locked himself out of his own apartment. After she’d broken up with him he’d been just intelligent enough to give her the space she needed, only smiling and waving from across the apartment complex when he spotted her.
Well, actually he’d learned to keep his distance after she’d thrown a shoe at him the first time he’d tried approaching her, but he’d gotten smarter after that.
And he’d had a little boy with him last week too, the only reason he hadn’t gotten another boot to the face. Curiosity had been eating her up for the whole week, almost badly enough for her to crack and text to ask him who was foolish enough to make him a babysitter.
Teaching a class was one thing, leaving Hector to actually care for a kid was quite another. She couldn’t even trust him to remember to water a beloved houseplant while she was out of town.
Which she had in fact done before. Only once.
Imelda kept a sharp eye out as the assembly wrapped up. Teachers across the auditorium started shouting as they herded crowds of students out doors and towards their respective classrooms. She stood and strode to the exit, adults and children alike quickly parting to let la directora de la escuela through.
By the time she reached the front office the reberating echo of the class bell had faded and the long linoleum hallways were empty again. She was about to duck into her own office to have a very stern phone call with a particular employee of hers, when she saw a rush of suspiciously furtive movement out of the corner of her eye.
She spun to see Señor Rivera himself attempting to sneak past her, coffee in one hand, towing a young boy along with the other. His ever-present guitar case on his back.
“Rivera.” She barked after him, folding her arms.
Hector froze and slowly turned to face her with a sheepish grin, caught.
“Imelda!” He said, a little too cheerful, “Wow, can I just say you look great this morning? Really, you do. You know I’d love to stay and chat, but I seem to be running a bit late today. I’ve got to hurry over to my class before they think I’ve given up on them before the year’s even started.”
“Who is this?” Imelda said, pointing to the small boy half hiding behind Hector. The same one she’d seen the other day when she hadn’t knocked Hector back down her fire escape.
Hector looked down, eyebrows raising as if noticing he had a shadow for the first time. “Ah! This is my godson Miguel, guitarist extraordinaire and my teaching assistant for the day.”
“When you said he’d be staying with you for a while, I thought you meant the weekend.” Imelda said, her tone becoming much more calm with a child present.
And not just because of his age, Miguel seemed to have that kind of subtly fragile look about him that she had seen far too many times before in her career. Something bad had happened to him, and recently, if her directorial instincts were any good.
“Nope,” Hector said brightly. His careful tone matched the same kind of childproofing as hers as he ruffled the boy’s hair. “Miguelito here’s gonna be with me for a few months, we’ve been having a great time too, haven’t we chamaco?”
The boy shrugged, leaning against Hector’s leg with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his red hoodie.
“Well Miguel, we’re so glad to have you here.” Imelda said with a smile. “I suppose you’re going to be attending school with us then?”
“Tio Hector forgot to sign me up for classes.” Miguel said, looking up at his guardian with a slightly weary look that Imelda could relate to only too well. She was starting to like this kid.
“I was just going to have him hang out with me today and get his paperwork figured out after school.” Hector said, his sheepish look back as he rubbed the back of his head. “It slipped my mind, I apologize for that. It’s funny, I’ve never had to worry about signing up a kid for school before, just about stuffing something useful into their heads once they get here.”
“You mean once you get here.” Imelda said cooly. “You go ahead to your class, I’ll make sure Miguel gets where he’s supposed to be and that his records are processed.”
“Eres un ángel Imelda.” Hector said, smiling with relief. He looked down at Miguel, who was now holding tightly onto his pant leg. “Ay gordito, Imelda’s gonna get you to your own class okay? She won’t bite if you don’t. I’ll catch up with you after school.”
Miguel hesitated, but then nodded and let go of Hector’s pant leg, making his way through the office door Imelda was holding open for him.
“I’ll be right in Miguel, I just need to ask your tio a few questions.” Imelda said before closing the door.
“Hector, what is going on?” She asked, worry coming back into her voice now that they were alone in the hallway. “You never told me you had a nephew.”
Hector sighed heavily, suddenly looking ten years older with fatigue, weighing down what little smile he managed to keep on his face. “His parents both died two weeks ago and I’ve been playing godfather while his family figures out what to do. Sorry about today, he’s not too excited about started a new school and we got a late start this morning. Poor kid’s had his whole world turned upside down. He’s from Santa Cecilia, his records should be in whatever school district covers that town.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Imelda said, her heart breaking for the boy sitting in her office, “I’ll get everything taken care of. You just worry about getting to class, you definitely owe Señora Gutiérrez for covering for you again.”
“Muchas gracias diosa, you’re a real lifesaver.” Hector looked like he wanted to hug her, but the glare he got from using her pet name cooled him just enough to get him moving down the hall instead, waving cheerfully over his shoulder as he trotted away.
Imelda shook her head as she watched him go. Miguel’s situation was making it harder to be angry at Hector and it was annoying her.
“So Miguel, let’s get you set up for school all right?” she said, entering her office and sitting down at her computer. She had to try several times before her old school monitor logged her in, sometimes we wished she could just smash the stupid thing and go back to good-old fashioned filing cabinets. “Can you tell me a little about yourself?”
“Well, I do like music. I’m not really super good yet like Tio Hector was saying, but I am going to grow up and be a famous guitar player.” Miguel said, holding the sides of his seat and kicking his feet in the air as he looked around her office. His gaze fixed on the bowl of tangerines on her desk. “May I have one por favor? Tio Hector never has fruit.”
Now that was definitely something she believed. “Of course, help yourself.”
Miguel eagerly scooted forward on his chair and took a tangerine in each hand, shoving one in his hoodie pocket and tearing at the peel of the other. Imelda watched him attack the fruit out of the corner of her eye as she coaxed her computer to pull up his school records on her screen.
“Did you have breakfast today?” She asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“Yeah, a hot pocket.” Miguel said around a slice of tangerine. “Hector eats a lot of fast food, and frozen stuff.”
Imelda sigh was long enough that it turned into turn into a sort of growl at the end.
Hector was not a bad person, he was actually the sweetest and kindest man she’d ever met, but that didn’t change the fact that he was sometimes a clueless bachelor and that growing children needed more than just emotional support. They needed structure and dependability. And real food for breakfast.
“Muchas gracias.” The boy said, smiling as he dropped the peel in her trash can.
Imelda nodded, smiling back as she saved his records file to process later. He was so polite, not something that she saw every day. “Alright Miguel, you’ll be with Señora Marrón today, you’ll really like her class. And I don’t suppose Hector packed you a lunch?”
“I don’t think so.” Miguel said, scratching the back of his head in exactly the way Hector did when he was embarrassed. Did they know they both did that? “He’s really great, he just forgets stuff sometimes.”
“Well, that’s alright,” Imelda said quickly, not wanting him to feel awkward. “I’ll tell the cafeteria workers that you get a free lunch today as a welcome present to our school.”
“Gracias! You’re pretty cool for a directora.” Miguel said brightly.
“Well, thank you.” Imelda said, chuckling as she logged out of her computer and stood. “Plus we’re neighbors now since I’m only a few doors down from you, I think that counts for something.”
Miguel chatted the whole way to his new classroom, his confidence having apparently been bought with fresh fruit. There was no denying how adorable he was, one of the sweetest boys she’d probably ever met, and she’d met quite a few.
By the time she dropped him off at class Imelda felt ready to do anything to protect the boy, even more so than she usually did for her students. Yes, probably partly because Hector was his guardian, but really everything about Miguel’s situation was pulling on her heartstrings. If only there was some way she to make sure Hector didn’t accidentally kill Miguel by malnutrition.
Well, there actually was an easy way to do just that, but that would mean swallowing a very large chunk of her pride.
She tried to dismiss the plan slowly forming in her head, but by the time she reached her office it had gone from her brain’s polite suggestion to a promise of guilt if she didn’t act on it.
Imelda closed her office door behind her and groaned, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the door. She really didn’t want to visit Hector. She’d been doing so good keeping distance between them, even despite his best efforts.
The image of Miguel eagerly tearing into his tangerine sprang to mind and she growled at herself. She was a strong, independent woman. If there was an adorably polite orphan in danger of excessive junk-food living a few doors down that she could help, then she sure wasn’t going to let her own pride prevent her from doing whatever she could to help him.
All she had to do was make sure Hector understood that she was visiting for Miguel’s sake. Not his.
Which was definitely and completely the truth.
—————
I’ve got another chapter or two coming in the next couple days, @slusheeduck and I will be co-authoring this story (alternating chapters) so be sure to follow us to get them as soon as they are posted. 🙂
Cheers,
-Wit
well
I had 4 whole chapters planned for my coco fanfic and had already written half of chapter 1 but suddenly we got more canon info that makes it so I have to rewrite most of what I had in mind
By now, you’ve probably heard Coco is one of the most well researched films about Mexico and its culture. There are many small details that make it feel like Mexico: the stone roads in a small town, the traditional embroidery patterns in the shirts of Miguel’s female relatives, an uncle wearing a soccer team shirt, even a bowl of limes in a stand of aguas frescas. Of course, the looks of papel picado, day of the dead altars, and cemeteries are also well represented. The clothes of the relatives Miguel sees in the world of the dead is accurate to their eras. While these are a nice touch, you’re ultimately not missing out on anything by not spotting them, so in this post I wanted to talk about the more culturally based details that show the most research and you might not understand if you’re not very well acquainted with Mexican culture:
Names and pronouns
1. Coco
This one is the most straightforward, so let’s start with the name of the movie. While the protagonist is called Miguel, we soon learn that Coco is his great grandmother. “Coco” is what we call a woman called “Socorro” (lit. “help” – it’s a very traditional name that’s considered old fashioned).
The Rivera family calls her “Mamá Coco,” which means “Mother Coco.” They also call Imelda “Mamá Imelda,” and so on. Calling your grandparents “mamá” or “papá” instead of “abuelita” and “abuelito” is a thing you can do, though I can’t say how common it is.
In the Spanish version of the film, Miguel’s grandmother, Elena, talks to Mamá Coco with “usted” (I didn’t notice other instances, but they might be there). Spanish has a formal and an informal version of singular “you:” “usted” for formal, “tú” for informal. The verb conjugation also changes depending on which one you use. You can talk to older family members with “usted,” which means respect rather than the distance the formality might imply. Nowadays, it has fallen out of use: as someone born in the 90s, my grandparents talked to their parents almost exclusively with “usted;” out of my parents, my mother talked to hers with “usted” and my father with “tú;” I speak to my parents with “tú.” I have cousins on my mother’s side that talk to their parents with “usted,” but I would say that makes them a minority nowadays.
Traditions and beliefs
2. Crossing to the world of the dead on a bridge of marigolds
If you paid very close attention, you might have noticed two children scattering marigold petals on the ground and their mother telling them not to scatter them, but to make a bridge so the dead could cross over. It was easy to miss, but that’s actually something we believe!
There are several types of flowers you can place in a day of the dead altar, but the one you can’t do without is the yellow marigold. Its petals are scattered all around the altar, and at the very front, you’ll form a path surrounded with candles. The bright yellow will help the dead properly make their way to the altar, and the candles surrounding the path will light their way.
3. Crossing to the world of the dead with a xoloitzcuintli
Several prehispanic cultures had a similar concept of the underworld as many other cultures around the world, in which there was a river they had to cross to get there. For both the Aztecs/Mexicas and the Mayas, a xoloitzcuintli would guide their souls so they could cross the river safely and arrive to Mictlan (Mexicas) or Xibalba (Mayas). To achieve this, a xoloitzcuintli would be sacrificed and buried with its owner. Day of the dead altars can have a xoloitzcuintli figure so that the dead can make it back safely as well.
4. Being thrown into a cenote
My screenshot isn’t the best but at some point, Miguel is thrown into a big pit with water. That’s not just any random pit, but a cenote.
Cenotes are naturally ocurring sinkholes caused by the collapse of limestone. The word “cenote” has Maya etymology, as cenotes are commonly found in the Yucatán peninsula, where they (still!) live. In old times, they would sacrifice animals and people as tributes to the gods, and also throw ceramic objects and jewelry as part of the tribute.
5. Alebrijes
I left these for last because they don’t have any deep meaning. Alebrijes are colorful fantastic animals that a man called Pedro Linares saw in a fever dream. He was a skilled artisan, so when he woke up from his long sickness, he brought them to life in his art.
In Coco, alebrijes are spiritual guides, and while their designs are to the likes of the real alebrijes, the film actually gave them a more important role than they have for us.
Music
6. Genres of Mexican music
The songs in Coco all belong to genres we’ve grown up with, so even if someone isn’t that knowledgeable in music theory or genres, we could vaguely tell they sounded “Mexican” (some more than others). Someone who is more knowledgeable of music genres can help me out here, but I think:
– Remember Me / Recuérdame is a bolero ranchero.
– Much Needed Advice / Dueto a través del tiempo is a ranchera.
– Everyone Knows Juanita / Juanita is a corrido.
– Un Poco Loco is a son jarocho.
– The World Es Mi Familia / El mundo es mi familia is huapango inspired.
– Proud Corazón / El latido de mi corazón is a a son (son de mariachi? I’m most uncertain about this one).
6.5 Un Poco Loco
Un Poco Loco starts in English as
What color is the sky, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, You tell me that it’s red, ay mi amor, ay mi amor
And in Spanish as
Que el cielo no es azul, ay mi amor, ay mi amor, Es rojo dices tú, ay mi amor, ay mi amor
(You say the sky isn’t blue, oh my love, oh my love, It’s red, you say, oh my love, oh my love)
This might be a deliberate reference to a huapango called “Cielo rojo,” which says:
Mientras yo estoy dormido Sueño que vamos los dos muy juntos A un cielo azul Pero cuando despierto El cielo es rojo, me faltas tú
(As I sleep I dream of us close together Going towards a blue sky But when I wake up The sky red, I am missing you)
Within the universe of the movie, this would make it an anachronistic reference, though. Additionally, Cielo rojo is a song of loss and Un poco loco is about a woman who thinks very differently and likes to say everything backwards, and that makes him crazy (in a good way!). Hence, in English we’ve got her saying to put his shoes on his head instead of his feet, and in Spanish him saying she might think with her feet and also how she keeps playing with his thoughts. Cielo rojo is a pretty sad song.
7. La Llorona
And I purposefully left La Llorona out of that list (it’s originally a son istmeño, though).
There’s a full musical number in Spanish, which seems to have suprised some people. For those of us who watched Coco in Spanish, it wasn’t too hard to guess it was this one: La Llorona was likely left in Spanish because it’s a very old folk song, one of those that are so old it has no known author and there are many different versions of the lyrics.
“Llorona” just means “weeper,” which is not really as unusual of a word in Spanish as it is in English. It’s closer to “crybaby” in use. If you’re curious, the version used in Coco says the following, with “llorona” being the singer herself:
Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you I climbed the highest pine tree to see if I could spot you Since the pine tree was so green, llorona, it cried upon seeing me cry
What is grief and what is not grief, llorona: it all is grief to me Yesterday, I was crying to see you, llorona; today, I’m crying because I saw you
Poor me, llorona, llorona dressed in sky blue Even if it costs me my life, llorona, I won’t stop loving you
Famous people
8. Ernesto de la Cruz
“Isn’t he an original charact-” NO LISTEN STAY WITH ME.
Remember how I said Remember Me is a bolero ranchero? Guess who we associate boleros rancheros with?
That would be Pedro Infante, who happens to have a strong resemblance to no other than Ernesto de la Cruz.
It’s probably not a coincidence at all, as later on we see Ernesto with Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete at his party.
My parents left the movie saying “Pedro Infante didn’t deserve that burn,” lol.
9. Frida Kahlo (and Diego)
She does have a rather prominent role so she’s hard to miss. For those unaware, Frida is the artist who made the flaming papaya.
The themes in Frida’s are autobiographical, as she had a rather unusual life due to polio and injury. She painted herself and her suffering a lot. That might be why we get performances with many Fridas and things like a crying cactus that’s herself.
Bonus: her husband, Diego Rivera, is also in the same studio where we meet Frida. He was an important artist, specifically a muralist.
10. Other Mexican celebrities
I already brought up Pedro Infante and Jorge Negrete as characters that appear right beside Ernesto de la Cruz.
But we also get to see a cameo of many other famous Mexican names in Ernesto’s studio! Excluding the people at the piano, from left to right:
Emiliano Zapata, a revolutionary; (my best guess is) Adela Velarde, another revolutionary; Ernesto and Miguel; (probably) Agustín Lara, composer and singer; (probably) Dolores del Río, actress (in Hollywood too!); Cantinflas, comedian and actor; Pedro Infante, singer and actor; María Félix, actress; El Santo, wrestler and actor; Jorge Negrete, singer and actor.
They kind of looked like this:
Another bonus: this gal looks like the calavera garbancera / the Catrina illustrated by José Guadalupe Posada.
There might be more things I’m missing or forgot; if that’s the case, feel free to let me know! You can also fix my music genres for me since that’s never been my forte.
Stop talking and start doing: My Fallout Shelter for my Tumblr blog 