Somos Familia •|•|•

Chapter 2

As soon as the train squealed to a halt in Santa Cecilia station and the harried train attendant managed to pry open the door, Héctor leapt from the passenger car, belting out a soulful grito and twirled in a circle, swinging his cases and nearly taking out a few bewildered pedestrians in his wake.

"Buenos Dias, Santa Cecilia! Aaaay-ha-heeyyy!... Ah heh- perdon, señora." Héctor reigned in his excitement long enough to apologize to the poor old lady whose head was nearly knocked off by his guitar case. He also didn't notice the train attendant shake his head and sigh, glad to be rid of this annoying boy who talked his ear off for eight hours about his beloved familia.

The train station was very small, and by the time he passed the ticket booth Héctor was in the outer marketplace. Héctor face lit up as he saw all the familiar faces at their own stalls, and he took a deep breath in. Smells of leather, straw, oil, animals, and street food, all cooking under the hot sun and melding together into a wave of nostalgia, melting away the ache in his chest. I'm home. Finally!

"Héctor?"

Héctor turned to the direction of the voice and smiled as he recognized his neighbor. "Facundo! Qué onda?!" He set his cases down and embraced, then lifted, the shorter man.

"Oy oy oy, basta! You know I hate it when you do that!" Héctor put the man down, but still smiled. "I am surprised to see you, though. It's been what, eight months since you left?"

"Six actually," Héctor sighed, "but it might as well have been eight. I must have really been homesick if I've missed seeing that mug of yours."

"Oh, like you're one to talk." Facundo harrumphed. "Well, amigo, I haven't seen you or Ernesto's names splashed across the papers, so I'm guessing your little path to fame and glory didn't turn out quite like you had hoped?"

Héctor scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. "Ah heh heh-... It's true, were not famous, per se, it's more like we're... well known! I haven't given up with my tail tucked between my legs, if that's what you're thinking. It's just been put on the back burner for a while so I can spend time with my precious girls."

"Ah si... you're... girls." Facundo awkwardly coughed and shifted his gaze away from Héctor. "Well, I was just getting some feed for my horses, but if you want I can give you a lift back home."

"Ah, Facundo, I have so much energy right now I could practically sprint home!" Héctor sighed, and then turned with a smirk. "But if you're offering..."

Sitting backwards of Facundo's horse drawn buggy on top hard bags of grain, Héctor waved at passersby and shouted greetings to all the neighbors, the viejos, and snot-nosed brats that he didn't ever think he would miss six months ago. Some waved happily, while others, which caused Héctor some concern, shouted back that they didn't think they would ever see him again. Never come back? How? His family lived here, why wouldn't he return?

Finally, the buggy pulled up to a courtyard with the large set of green doors that he had painted himself, and Héctor jumped off in excitement and joy. "Gracias, Facundo!"

"De nada, Héctor."

"Oye, why don't you stay for lunch? It's Friday, so I'm sure Imelda will be making sopa de pescado!"

"No gracias amigo, I don't want to be caught in the cross fires."

"Eh?"

Without another word, Facundo snapped his reins and made a quick escape from the Rivera complex. Héctor shrugged. More for him anyway. In his haste to come home he had ignored his stomach by bypassing all the stalls selling grilled meats and pan dulce, not to mention he hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon, which was only half of a chorizo that had seen better days. Just the thought of Imelda's cooking made his stomach fold in on itself to remind him how empty it was.