[that stings, though it does please her even if she can't be fully happy about it. Of course he missed Coco a lot. She had always known he would. It reminds her of the old days and the old nightmares she used to have of waking up to find Coco gone, of him taking her with him-- secreting her away sometime in the night or luring her down the street.

And who could blame him if he did?

And who could blame Coco if she followed?

Imelda knocks back the drink and gets up to pour herself another]

She missed you too. Twice she disappeared from the house and I found her wandering in the streets. She nearly got herself run over by a cart. [and if her arms hadn't been full of her crying child she would have smacked the driver's ears off for being so careless, even if she couldn't remember his face anymore. Though when a child wouldn't stay at home, who was really to blame?]

I don't think she ever stopped looking. Even after she was a grown woman always going out and looking down the road. Julio used to look with her.

[Imelda shakes her head, knocks back that shot too and pours herself another before she begins to pace. It's annoying since she has to hold the skirt up at the same time but it is what it is]

Of course I should have realized that you'd died. Of course you'd died. You couldn't even walk into a cantina without causing trouble.

But I thought that finally De la Cruz was a man enough to look after you--

[she snorts]

I should have known he wouldn't be capable of it. That I'd never see you again.

[granted at the time she wasn't sure if she'd wanted to see Hector again but the truth was that she had always thought of him too, missed him, looked for him, though she'd rejected that part of her to survive and it could stay rejected just so she could keep her head on straight]

He could have at least told me you'd wandered off. You would think he would have the courtesy to that much. But no, he was too busy making himself into a preforming poodle to even think about me.

[she scowls at nothing, twisting the glass in her fingers. ]

I knew he hated me but at least he could think of Coco. Our-- Your daughter.

[she could blame him for that and she would blame him for that but there was nothing to do about it now. It wasn't the first time he hadn't told her something because he didn't like her. She could have made that easier on him, she supposed, liking her. But she was hardly ever able to make a friend let alone keep one.]

I suppose should have tried harder-- [because it had been important to Hector if nothing else] -- but all he wanted was mamabichos to follow him around. [she shakes her head]

It wouldn't have worked. We're both too proud.

[hadn't she been warned about that before? More than once? She'd even taken pride in it. it was who she was. She had worked hard to get to where she was and had managed a successful business and a large family -- and in that had done well.

But just because she had done it didn't mean she was suited for it. If she hadn't driven him and De la Cruz away, maybe one of them would have talked to her. If she had been easier on Coco, maybe they wouldn't have fought so much.

But maybe she just wasn't suited for this life she had built for herself, pulling stone by stone out of the field and building the wall for her familia to stand atop of, to rise above, to become strong and beautiful and to keep going despite everything.

She hadn't been able to keep a friend, she hadn't even been able to keep a lover. Her familia for better or worse were stuck with her otherwise, who knew...?

But suited or not she had made it--and in concession of her pride, how could she blame Hector for not wanting to be trapped under the weight of it when she knew he had wandering feet. When the world held so much more appeal than a sleepy little town and herself.

He could have had his pick of women but trusting Hector to pick wisely was just asking for disappointment. Asking and getting in spades. She knocked back that glass too. Feeling the customary disappointing nothingness.

She momentarily wished she had used the potion again and then was glad she had not because that might prompt him to try to romance her again and it was hard enough not to break with those meaningless words that nevertheless felt like he was was squeezing her non-existent heart to shreds.]

The point is, I can't forgive you for going. [because hard or not, it was still his responsibility]

But you deserved better.

[because as hard as it is to say and it hurts her pride to say, it's also true]