La Bikina: Through The Years

1917: never been happier

Imelda heard a light knock on her balcony window, and she rose out of bed, hastily wiping her tears away. She really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone right then, and she especially didn't want Hector to see her in her present state, but she opened the door anyway.

Sure enough, Hector was standing awkwardly on her balcony, and her eyes furrowed, using anger to hide her exhaustion and grief, like she always did.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed quietly.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright," he whispered back, concern lining his features.

"I am," she returned bluntly. "Go home."

At first she thought he would turn away, and relief coursed through her body, relief at succeeding hiding her emotions, relief that he didn't see how broken she really was.

But then he had looked closer at her, and she could tell he noticed her red-rimmed eyes, and the dried tears along her cheeks, because his face softened and pity filled his eyes. "Oh, mi amor," he breathed as he pulled her close. She hadn't been able to hide her tears after that. Her body shook with sobs, and she collapsed in his arms.

"Oh, mi amor," he repeated over and over, never once letting go of her. She sank into his touch, into the comfort he provided, knowing her decision, knowing without a doubt she could never be without him.

"I'm so sorry," she heard him whisper sorrowfully, and she pulled back just enough from his embrace that their eyes locked together.

"It's not your fault," she said firmly, wanting him to know the truth. "It's not your fault she's like this. It's not your fault what she says to me."

She could see the sadness in Hector's eyes, could see he didn't actually believe that. She could see how he blamed himself for everything.

"None of this is your fault, Hector," she stressed, placing her palm on his cheek. He leaned into her touch, seemingly without noticing.

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "What did she say to you?" he whispered, and she debated lying, but then realized he would find out sooner or later.

"If I continue being with you, she'll disown me," she admitted, and fear surged through her. Yet it was done. She had refused to stop seeing Hector. There was nothing she could do now; her relationship with her family was irrefutably damaged.

"What?" he said sharply. Anger laced his tone, but she could tell it was anger directed at himself, not at her.

"Imelda, you can't. We can't do this anymore. I can't let you throw your life away for me. I can't, I can't," he shook his head, and she cupped his face with her hands, stilling him.

"It's already decided," she said firmly, making sure he knew there was no changing her mind. "I told her I didn't care. Tonight is my last night home," her voice lost a bit of its firmness at the end, and the words didn't come out as confident as she wanted them to sound, yet she knew without a doubt that this was the only decision she could make. The only decision she wanted to make.

"No," Hector said confidently. "I can't let you do this."

For a fraction of a second, fear surged through her. What if Hector really did leave her, what if this really was the last time they saw each other?

But then anger replaced the fear, as it often did in her mind, and her eyes narrowed.

"You don't let me do anything," she retorted. "I do what I please."

"Imelda, plase," he pleaded, and he was so earnest, Imelda let him grasp her hands in his. "I don't want to see you on the streets. I don't–"

She didn't know what possessed her to do it, maybe it was the slight panic swirling around in her mind, maybe it was the slight fear of the unknown, or maybe it was the fact that her love for Hector encompassed her and burned brighter than anything else. But whatever the fact was, she opened her mouth and before she knew it the words tumbled out. "Marry me, then."

His jaw dropped, and he simply stared at her. "What?" He said, stunned.

"Marry me," she repeated confidently. "Then I won't live on the streets. We'll be a family, Hector. We'll be husband and wife, we'll–"

She was cut off by his lips on hers. She instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, never wanting to let him go. She wanted him so much it hurt. She had always been the type of girl to have her life all figured out, to be in command of everything around her. But every day with Hector was something new, always an adventure, and even though it was completely at odds with her personality, she craved it more than anything. She kissed him harder, trying to convey her feelings to him. She didn't know if she could ever live without him. She prayed she never had to find out.

"Marry me," she murmured against his mouth.

"I can't," he whispered back, a tinge of regret in his voice.

The tinge of fear returned, and she kissed him harder, wanting to feel anything but. With him, she was never afraid. She couldn't lose him.

"Marry me," she repeated, and he broke the kiss.

"Imelda," he said, averting his gaze from hers. "Imelda, I can't marry you. Not now. Not like this." She opened her mouth to interject, but he didn't see her, and kept on going. "I won't be able to provide for you, I won't be able to give you the life you deserve. Look at you, Imelda. You're perfect. You could get any man you wanted. Any man better than me. Look at your home, built of stone and marble. I can't let you give that up for me. I can't let you trade that for my small adobe house. Don't throw your life away for me. I have nothing to my name."

"Neither do I," she whispered tenderly. "Not anymore. The stone walls, the marble staircase, they're not mine anymore. That is the life I'm trading, a life full of anger and rules and cages. I want to start a new life, a new life that we can build together. A new life built on a house of adobe, with walls full of music. I want a life with you, Hector. You and only you."

Hector looked up slightly, and their eyes met. She hoped she conveyed every ounce of love she felt for him.

"Yes," he blurted out. "Let's get married."

Imelda didn't think she'd ever been that happy in her life. She laughed, a rich, bubbly sound, and he pulled her close and dipped her, placing a kiss on her lips. She laughed through the kiss, tears of joy building up in her eyes, tears that she couldn't hold in, tears he wiped away tenderly before he captured her lips in another kiss.

Imelda then quickly went back inside her room, packing her dresses and shoes in a small suitcase. Anything that couldn't fit she had to leave behind, but she didn't mind. How could she, when she was about to marry the love of her life? Hector kissed her again and they climbed down her balcony, using the ivy growing along the walls. The sun was barely coming up when they knocked on the priest's door, and he opened it, still half-asleep and disoriented.

Imelda lied with ease, telling him that her parents had approved the union, and that they would be traveling the next day, so they had to get married now.

The priest confusedly agreed, not wanting to oppose what he thought were Imelda's parents' wishes, the most influential people in the town.

So they got married, just the two of them before the priest, and as the sun rose it shone magnificent light through the small chapel's stained glass windows, bathing the couple in colors.

Imelda was wearing a simple purple dress, and Hector was in his worn everyday musician apparel, and yet they had never been happier.