Wedded

Author's Note: Well, she had to have felt something

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     It shouldn't have come as a surprise really. The question was going to come up at some point, and it was only natural that Coco would be curious to know, as she was inexperienced. It probably would have been better to discuss the matter earlier, but they'd both been swept away by with the preparations that needed be done that week – from the dress, to spreading the word to those in the town who wished to come. Now, as Imelda stood arranging the colorful ribbons in daughter's updo, Coco timidly asked.

     "Mamá," she began, voice barely above a whisper. "What was it like for you... on your wedding night?"

     Imelda finished tying the last ribbon, and pulled up a chair to seat herself in front of her daughter.

     She'd told her what she needed to know, and nothing more. It wasn't like the time Coco had approached her at the ripe age of fifteen, fear in her eyes and splotches of red staining her favorite dress. That conversation had been far easier to have, as it mostly involved an explanation of their own female anatomy. The talk had merely called attention to the fact that her daughter was at an age where men could begin courting her. Even then, sitting in the dressing room years after his abandonment, it had been painful to retread on those memories again. Keeping him out of her thoughts this time was unavoidable. Hector had been the only man Imelda had been intimate with. Coco had known that her papá was relevant to the talk. She must have. That look of longing had flitted in her eyes before dissipating in the next moment. Imelda was no fool – she'd seen that same look years ago, every day when she'd ask when, just when her papá would return home. Imelda had been relieved once she'd stopped, though she could tell whenever Coco desired to speak about him again, even just once. Neither ever mentioned it to one another however, and it had simply been one of those things that would remain unsaid between the two of them. It hurt slightly, but it was a pain Imelda could endure. She'd kept her own secrets from her mother in her youth. She'd snuck out to the plaza to dance to the alluring sounds of music just as Coco frequently did. She'd purposefully run late from shopping at the market, excusing it as having to visit multiple stalls when in reality she'd been with Hector all the while. He'd been late for some of his performances with Ernesto on multiple occasions as well, she thought with amusement. But Ernesto could wait. He had plenty of girls who'd fawn over him. In a way, Imelda was grateful that Hector's partner was considered the "attractive one". In the end, it allowed her to take the real prize home.

     Coco was more collected after their conversation, and the walk to the church occurred at a swift pace, with the edifice only being a few blocks down from their home. They were met with a quiet, respectful regard as the ceremony began. Coco had been a bit tense as she clutched onto Imelda's arm, though seemed to relax some as she laid eyes on her groom. Julio nodded as his bride stepped in beside him, Imelda taking her place with the others in the pews.

     Watching them had easily reminded Imelda of her own wedding with Hector. Theirs had been a simple matrimony, under the roof of the very church they'd gathered in now. He'd looked so sharp in his formal wear, and – if his ogling was anything to go by – she'd assumed she'd looked fairly decent herself in the delicate white dress she'd worn. There were a few guests – friends from Imelda's youth, some townsfolk, and Ernesto as Hector's best man – though to her, it had felt as though it was just the two of them. There were no words to describe the euphoria she'd felt at being pronounced his wife, the knowledge of simply knowing that he was hers, and hers alone. Or... so she'd thought. If Hector's disappearance from their lives was anything to go by, it was clear that he'd found another woman who'd give him the satisfaction Imelda believed she had once provided. She hated to entertain the thought. To even think of him in the arms of a fair, young mistress shook her to the core with a blind rage. With how young he was, women could easily mistake him for a bachelor, and not a married man with a 3-year-old daughter to support. It really wouldn't be hard to believe that Ernesto had influence on him. His freelance attitude towards relationships had likely rubbed off on Hector after a while. There was no sure way of her knowing whether Hector had been loyal to her or not in all those months alone on the road, and there was no way he'd dare write about it in any of his letters home.

     Her heart ached as she saw Coco and Julio share a long, tender kiss. Imelda brought her fingers to her face, lightly touching her own mouth. She could still taste Hector on her lips, whether it had been light and chaste as their first few kisses were, or passionate and fueled with lust as it had been on their wedding night. Either way, the memory was engrained into her very soul, and she couldn't shake it from her mind no matter how hard she'd tried.

     Being that music wasn't allowed, the reception was rather silent in comparison to what the town was accustomed to. It hadn't bothered Coco as much as she'd imagined it would. Julio's presence in itself was enough to brighten her spirits and keep her distracted, the two of them exchanging loving glances and stealing a few quick kisses throughout the night when they believed no one was looking. Still, Imelda had caught a glimpse of the pair dancing before. Their motions had been hauntingly familiar to her own carefree waltz's with Hector. The pressure of his hand on her waist, eyes locked with each other, that subtle tilt of his head inviting her face closer.

     The reality hit Imelda all at once she finally returned to her bedroom that evening. Her daughter would be with her husband, whilst she spent another night alone in her cold bedsheets. She buried her nose into the pillow, hoping that by some chance she could catch Hector's familiar scent interwoven in the fabric. It shouldn't have been a bother – she'd gone plenty of years sleeping without a bedmate. Pepita occasionally joined her, though tonight she was nowhere to be seen. She was likely out hunting for mice. Imelda hated to admit how much she'd missed Hector's warmth, his arms holding her close to his thin frame in a protective embrace. She recalled how sated she'd felt the next morning after their wedding, skin to skin with him as he'd lightly peppered her face with kisses to awaken her. That of course, had been at a simpler time. Nowadays, she had no time to waste sleeping in or taking unnecessary rests. She had a duty to the family as the matriarch, and a business to run. Any careless indulgence could and would be cast aside for more important matters.

     Imelda wiped away the stray tears that had leaked out of her eyes, and situated herself for bed – carefully undoing the intricate coils in her hair and slipping on her cream-colored nightgown.

     She was confident this marriage would last. Julio had given her his word the day she'd taken him as an apprentice in the Rivera family. Family would always come first. With that reassuring thought in mind, Imelda allowed herself to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.