Packing Up the Baggage {Héctor}
Sept 16, 2018 21:30:43 GMT -5
Post by Mamá Imelda on Sept 16, 2018 21:30:43 GMT -5
It threatened to annoy her, how easily Héctor took the blame for everything, but really at the moment it was nothing but sweet. Imelda smiled up to him, to thank him, and found his hand hovering as if wondering if he could place it on hers. Glancing back up to him, she gave him a small enough smile to encourage that small a moment at least.
And truth be told, she wanted to try to recapture some of what they had had before. Slowly, but still.
Maybe she should have known it would all get messed up... by her own doing even. There was just so much she couldn't ignore and which was still left between them.
Imelda was given no hint of it coming, everything was still good, even well on it's way to good memories, as he brought up his adorable way of interpreting how she placed the bottles in the fridge, all like a family. And why couldn't they let the families mingle? Imelda chuckled as Héctor insisted he would never dream of doing such a thing.
All it took was one off comment a part of Imelda knew Héctor didn't mean...
Imelda looked stunned. Like a deer caught in headlight, actually, and maybe Héctor saw her space out a bit, go into memories she shouldn't...
Rompope...
She only ever made it at Christmas time, but that Christmas of '21....she hadn't.
Because he died..., a part of Imelda's mind tried to remind her of logic, but logic hardly worked with her emotional states, and more than her anger at Ernesto, she saw a letter her husband had still written saying he was extending his tour. Sure he'd apparently headed back earlier than planned but...how long exactly had been planned? Imelda wasn't sure if she couldn't recall because Héctor hadn't said, or she had torn that part when she'd torn the letter after reading it.
She'd felt it the moment she'd seen that the tour was going to be extended. What about Coco's birthday that December? What about Christmas? Was she supposed to walk into mass without him and...
When Imelda had said Héctor had left her to "raise a child alone", she hadn't been telling the half of it. That first string of birthday and Christmas without him had been the roughest, she would say, because she didn't know what to tell Coco about why he wasn't there. Then every one after.
"Sí, and maybe if you hadn't written that stupid letter, you could have...", by the time Imelda caught the outburst, she realized that somewhere in her being lost in memory she'd frowned and clenched her fists. She managed to stop her words, but only half-heartedly in a way.
She should maybe apologize, but...she didn't feel like it! Her point still stood, maybe if he hadn't let Ernesto convince him the tour was more important he wouldn't have been in a position to...
Imelda knew she should maybe calm herself before she spoke any further, so she turned suddenly, crossing her arms and breathing in, once, twice, tres..., she was suddenly very grateful she'd followed Héctor into the kitchen, where there was a bit of privacy. Imelda strove to remind herself of facts, but her voice was still tight, controlled, as she went on, "I don't want to talk about Rompope, Héctor...por favor...", she addressed the wall, not him, but that was easiest right now, "It's only going to remind me that...you headed back early, and Ernesto...fine", Imelda couldn't finish Ernesto's part in all of it.
Yet as she went on, she swung to face Héctor again, "...but where do you get off writing to me that you're extending your tour and leaving me to somehow tell Coco?! Do you know she waited by the window for you and would hardly look at her birthday cake that year? Never-mind Christmas and...", but that wasn't his fault! Imelda paused herself, clenching her fists and eyes shut once more, trying for a reign on her emotions.
And truth be told, she wanted to try to recapture some of what they had had before. Slowly, but still.
Maybe she should have known it would all get messed up... by her own doing even. There was just so much she couldn't ignore and which was still left between them.
Imelda was given no hint of it coming, everything was still good, even well on it's way to good memories, as he brought up his adorable way of interpreting how she placed the bottles in the fridge, all like a family. And why couldn't they let the families mingle? Imelda chuckled as Héctor insisted he would never dream of doing such a thing.
All it took was one off comment a part of Imelda knew Héctor didn't mean...
“...no, wait! That was a lie! There was that one time when I mixed them all up when I was helping you put way all the ingredients to make your famous rompope..”
Imelda looked stunned. Like a deer caught in headlight, actually, and maybe Héctor saw her space out a bit, go into memories she shouldn't...
Rompope...
She only ever made it at Christmas time, but that Christmas of '21....she hadn't.
Because he died..., a part of Imelda's mind tried to remind her of logic, but logic hardly worked with her emotional states, and more than her anger at Ernesto, she saw a letter her husband had still written saying he was extending his tour. Sure he'd apparently headed back earlier than planned but...how long exactly had been planned? Imelda wasn't sure if she couldn't recall because Héctor hadn't said, or she had torn that part when she'd torn the letter after reading it.
She'd felt it the moment she'd seen that the tour was going to be extended. What about Coco's birthday that December? What about Christmas? Was she supposed to walk into mass without him and...
When Imelda had said Héctor had left her to "raise a child alone", she hadn't been telling the half of it. That first string of birthday and Christmas without him had been the roughest, she would say, because she didn't know what to tell Coco about why he wasn't there. Then every one after.
"Sí, and maybe if you hadn't written that stupid letter, you could have...", by the time Imelda caught the outburst, she realized that somewhere in her being lost in memory she'd frowned and clenched her fists. She managed to stop her words, but only half-heartedly in a way.
She should maybe apologize, but...she didn't feel like it! Her point still stood, maybe if he hadn't let Ernesto convince him the tour was more important he wouldn't have been in a position to...
Imelda knew she should maybe calm herself before she spoke any further, so she turned suddenly, crossing her arms and breathing in, once, twice, tres..., she was suddenly very grateful she'd followed Héctor into the kitchen, where there was a bit of privacy. Imelda strove to remind herself of facts, but her voice was still tight, controlled, as she went on, "I don't want to talk about Rompope, Héctor...por favor...", she addressed the wall, not him, but that was easiest right now, "It's only going to remind me that...you headed back early, and Ernesto...fine", Imelda couldn't finish Ernesto's part in all of it.
Yet as she went on, she swung to face Héctor again, "...but where do you get off writing to me that you're extending your tour and leaving me to somehow tell Coco?! Do you know she waited by the window for you and would hardly look at her birthday cake that year? Never-mind Christmas and...", but that wasn't his fault! Imelda paused herself, clenching her fists and eyes shut once more, trying for a reign on her emotions.