Laced & Leather Chaos

Epilogue: Talks

Of course once both boys were safely back in the Land of the Living, Ernesto had been small work to take care of. Antonio Perez didn't usually solve his conflicts physically, and had only decked a total of one person before his death or since, and that had been forced. The solid retaliation of one good punch to Ernesto's cheek that maybe cracked his bones a bit more was also.

With that family duty done, he was done though, as were the Riveras, everyone letting Pepita fly the villain off to his shabby hole once more but with a threat that he would not be trying anything again! And he probably wouldn't. 

Once again, the Riveras were left with What Now after taking a breath at the end of a hectic Dia de los Muertos. They settled on inviting the Perez' back to their place for a late supper that was more manners than need of eating before Daisy and Antonio headed back to their place, but not before Héctor Rivera extended an odd invite for Antonio to drop by if he wished when he visited some Old Friends.

By the other skeleton's wife's look when they were mentioned, Antonio wasn't sure who these old friends were or what to think of the offer either, or why it was being extended, but he took it up, showing up two days later and after everything of the holiday had settled. It turned out it was a set that Kit Larson probably ran into as well, around a campfire, but actually within Shantytown. The cowboy wasn't there currently, hadn't even taken the invite to the Rivera's place, just making off along his way after helping, as herders like them tended to do.

Héctor Rivera still kept touch, it seemed, with the Forgotten souls of this place. Despite letting the ofrenda tradition die with him, as he said, Antonio had still had Daisy and Cecilia's memory to help him along, if not an actual ofrenda, and even his own mother apparently never stopped thinking fondly on her son, though she passed with Antonio's own trip here; so the skeleton wasn't sure about showing his white bones around these less fortunate, but no one treated him any less and he was warmly greeted and conversed with before the group slowly dwindled down, soon leaving just Héctor and Antonio.

The former didn't make a move to leave now that it was just them, though, and instead smiled up and over at Antonio again, "So, how you doing?".

Antonio frowned, confused, "Good...".

"That's good", Héctor smiled and poked the fire, going on before Antonio could ask anything else, "I just...well, wanted to make sure you weren't beating yourself up. Guilt and all. I know how that is. Victoria filled us in on your history and all", he said, but casually, still looking at the fire.

Now Antonio glanced to the embers, that and his last words to Trent had probably provided a big clue.

"It's not the same, you know?", Héctor went on after another pause, "you did right by your girls, and all boys are meant to leave home even-".

"They're not meant to let Ofrenda traditions die because they're a coward and can't face the thought of disapproving ancestors, condemning their own parents to worse than letting them figure the business on their own while they break their bones for a living and...", glancing to a wrist fracture that the healing of was visible even here, Antonio cut off on saying aloud his fear of the same traits he'd seen in Trent of leaving the tannery for music. Except he saw more sense in his grandson than he'd had.

When he glanced back over to Héctor Rivera, he saw understanding, but also clinging tears that he thought had nothing to do with his story. "You want to hear about failure, amgio?".

And oddly, as Héctor told his story, it struck Antonio as the least selfish thing he could do, to take over the talk as it were. It was still about what Antonio had told him, in a way, a reassurance by comparison; and also both skeletons sharing a non-condemning understanding about horrible failure.

***

It was 2019 (by the time the next Dia de los Muertos rolled around) and Trent Larson, blonde-haired green eyed Texas farm boy by decent or no, could be in a budding mariachi band and fully embrace and execute the ofrenda tradition. He'd only wondered for a half a second about Grandma Daisy, Kit, and even his other grandfather on the Larson side whom he hadn't got a chance to locate, before setting the pictures (his family actually had been able to find a picture of the farm first up, with Kit in it) proudly on his own little alter.

His mother came in, and smiling, gave him a hug to see him taking up again what she should have tried to salvage also, even if her father never stressed it. Cecilia still wasn't sure if she believed what Trent and Miguel said they'd been through, but...in a way she had to. Something in watching her son just told her he had. The Riveras backed up this feeling and said that after 2017 they'd watched the same take hold in Miguel.

It both helped the boys' band, their common ground now, and didn't matter.

As she left, Trent turned back to the pictures and scanned them over again, landing on Kit once more. He knew what the cowboy probably thought, especially after having to deliver his begrudging true thoughts on music as a career, but...Trent didn't hold that against him. Not really anyway. Plenty of neighbors had said it! In both towns!

Trent had no idea if his family members could hear him yet, or at all, with the barrier back up, but it being Dia de los Muertos, but began speaking softly anyway.

"Thanks again for taking care of Ernesto back last year...saving me...all of you", the Riveras too, he acknowledged at least mentally, "and...don't worry...I won't let the farm die, and sorry...if I sounded like I would...but after...meeting you, well...I get it. Sorta. It was pretty cool, you starting it all the way back then, and...that it shouldn't just die out with us, me, if I can help it. Uncle Grant still says he'll watch it, but...if there's no one else. I'll...I'll watch it. In-between gigs. Make sure it doesn't go under". It wasn't a fully formed promise or statement either; but it would do.