Coco fanfic-To Be Forgotten

Abuela's Secret

Another! *Slams down the publish button*

Enrique's POV

Dinner that night was a somber affair. No one really felt like eating, or talking for that matter. The only sound in the room was that of forks scraping plates, and cups thudding on the table. Even Manny and Benny seemed to sense something was wrong, and had stayed silent for the most part.

I pushed the grilled chicken around on my plate, each bite like ash in my mouth. It felt wrong to be sitting at the table with two empty spots, one never to be filled again and the other...the other unknown. I had to explain to everyone else that Miguel had disappeared again, that—that I didn't know, if he knew about Mamá Coco, or if he'd make it back for the...the funeral.

I moved to force another tasteless bite, when a bright light began to fill the room, forcing me to cover my eyes. It lasted for only a moment, and it wasn't long until I was blinking spots away, trying to see again. "Mijo!" I cried, rushing out of my chair and to mi hijo, who was holding...paper?

"What—where were you? What is that?" I asked, moving to help him empty his hands.

His fingers tightened around the papers, and I paused. "They're, uhm...they're letters." He glanced between the letters and me, before handing me one with my name on it. "They're...Mamá Coco wanted to say goodbye." He whispered just loud enough for me to hear, eyeing the table with clear trepidation.

"Mamá Coco?" I swallowed, not sure what to say. "But, Mijo, she—"

"She's with Mamá Imelda and Papá Héctor and everyone else now. I know." He shuffled back and forth on either foot, then asked, "should I give them to la familia now?"

I blinked, wondering what to do. 'On the one hand, no one has seen Miguel in the past few hours. Unless he saw Mamá Coco dead before Abuela, then there was no way for him to know she was gone. That, and...' I glanced down at the letter in my hand, examining the way my name was written. 'This is Mamá Coco's handwriting. There's no way Miguel could have written convincing letters from her, and really, what would be the point? There would be no reason for him to—'

"What do you have there, Miguel? And where have you been?" Rosa interrupted my train of thought, probably tired of being left in the dark.

"Sí, Mijo," mi mamá interjected, and I noticed abruptly we'd been talking right in front of her the whole time. "You mention that—that Héctor was murdered, and that this de la Cruz guy tried to kill you too, and then you run off?!" She shook her head, and I moved to block Miguel with my body. If it wasn't for the vivid concern I could see on her face amidst the confusion, I would have hauled him from the room by now, just in case. That, and the fact that the rest of the familia was now spewing questions as well, obviously bewildered by this new information.

I knew they weren't going to let the matter rest now, at least not easily. "It's a long story. Maybe tomorrow, we can—"

"Why would de la Cruz try to kill Miguel? Is it because he stole his guitar? Is he haunting him now?" Abel asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"Did he come back like Héctor did?" Berto glanced between the door and Miguel, probably wondering if the house was still safe.

"It's not like that!" Miguel said, popping his head out from behind me. "We're fine here, it just—"

"I should have done a better job keeping you away from music!" Abuela cried, her hands balling into fists. "If I'd just schooled you at home, then maybe—"

"Mamá, what's done is done." I rubbed my forehead, reaching blindly backwards to grab mi hijo's arm. "And while it has definitely caused some...rifts, in our familia, we can find a place for it if—"