80 Julico (Julio x Coco) 95 Elenco (Elena x Franco)
95. “There’s no going back if we do this.”
“Do not rub it in, Franco.”
The man sighed, removing his hat and placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. He could feel the bone through the soft fabric of her sleeve. His beloved had always been sharp as a take, but feeling the sharp edges of age reminded Franco of how little time she— the both of them— had left in this world.
“I am serious, mi cariña,” said Franco, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “No one is forcing you to do this.”
“No one but me,” Elena conceded, basket of warm bread tucked under her arm. “If I don’t swallow my pride and get this over with now, then I never will.” She sniffed, head held high. “Besides. This is not for my sake, but for our grandson’s.”
It was not often Franco found himself impressed. In his old age, he’d seen many hardships and triumphs. Smiles and tears. Yet here he stood, proudly striding in his golden years alongside his beloved wife, as impressed with her as he’d been the day he’d been gifted the best pair of boots in all of Mexico.
“He is very lucky to have such a wonderful Abuelita,” Franco laughed, slipping her arm through his, giving her gnarled knuckles a squeeze with a calloused hand.
“I will be sure to remind him of such when we get home,” Elena nodded, finally allowing her stiff shoulders to relax a fraction, leaning into Franco.
And with that, the elderly Riveras set off for Mariachi Plaza, arm’s full of peace offerings and apologies for every musician Elena had ever accosted with a shoe.
