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Carlos was a man of pride...pride in his name, pride of his career, pride in his family and all he wanted was to have his son, Manolo have this pride as well and to NEVER disgrace the family name...
Yet he did it anyway...for a GUITAR! Manolo lost his pride and name to this "music" and worse yet, he disgraced the family name.
It stung Carlos hard. And on the night of Manolo's failure at being a true Sánchez, he told his son that he was gravely disappointed and wanted him out of his house and yet...when Manolo came back looking so...broken, he couldn't just let him be like that.
So he made the boy help him with his outfit as he stared at Carmen...his love.
When he looked into Manolo's eyes, he saw that look...the look he had when he was in love. In love with her...as he looked at Carmen, as he scolded his son and as the pineapple hit his face, and as Grandma Anita told Manolo what he needed to hear, he ran off...with a smile on his face.
Though he didn't love what his boy was doing...he still loved him, his son. He loved his warm smile...reminded him of his mother.
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"Ay, where is that boy?" Grumbled Carlos as he waited by the window, it looked as though it was gonna rain.
"Probably bringing home our miembro de la familia, patience Carlos..." Anita said numbly as her eyes never left her work, her fingers moving nimbly.
"Hopefully not messing that up like he did at the arena! BAH! I can't take it! I'm going to go get him!" Carlos walked from window to door and before he could even say goodbye-
"Carlos..." said Anita. He turned his head to see her gaze up at him. "Make sure he gets this."
She throws a weird soft thing at Carlos face.
"A scarf?" Carlos commented.
"No, you idiot...a shawl." The shawl she threw was wool and soft, it was vibrant red with splashes of white and black.
"Tell him it's a wedding present." She smirked as she pulled out her original piece of work. Carlos looked at it and slung it over his shoulder, waved goodbye to his Grandma and went to find Manolo.
The shawl was quite lovely and detailed, something similar to what she made for Carmen, he thought as he walked through the streets of San Angel. Maybe, it was a gift for Maria?
As he strolled the empty streets of San Angel it began to rain, he grimaced and started running, yelling for Manolo's name. Where was that boy? Making him search for him in the rain like this, not that he minded too much, he needed the cardio he just wanted to know where his son was.
He decided not to wear the shawl, fearing it would get terribly wet, putting it under his arm for safe keeping, he wouldn't want to ruin such a lovely gift for his (hopefully) future daughter in law.
Though Manolo failed at being a Sanchez, hopefully he wouldn't mess up at love..
He smiled on the inside at the thought, to have his son grown up with his love of his life like he had. He-
"OH NOOOOOOOOO! OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
He heard...cries? Those sounded familiar, coming from...the San Angel gate? He started to run...when he heard those cries something in his gut told him to find Manolo. At all costs.
He ran and ran in the rain, as it started to hit harder and harder and as the thunder clapped, something was deathly wrong he could feel it as he arrived at the gates where he saw General Posada with Joaquín and the rest of his men.
"My...MY LITTLE GIRL!" The General cried, Carlos saw in the General's arms...Maria.
Maria was lifeless, her eyes closed as though asleep yet she gave off a dark glow...like a flame went out. Carlos could feel his eyes widened when he saw the sight.
He looked at Joaquín, who gave off this unpleasant aura. Especially when he locked eyes with Carlos. His eyes were dark and icy, yet filled with tears when he saw the older man.
"Your son...he's that way."
He pointed to the tree, his tone cold and with no feeling, as his eyes lingered on Maria. The last part sounded...sinister.
Carlos didn't waste any more time and started running, running as fast as his legs could take him. He passed the extinguished candles and looked forward at the tall tree, where he, Carmen and Manolo used to sit for hours when he was young.
He hoped, he prayed that his son was there that.....no.
Carlos stood there, under the big tree as he saw the horrific sight of Manolo.
Lifeless.
He crouched down, holding the cloth under his arm close as he checked if he was breathing, maybe Joaquín punched him, or...or...
As he felt his sons hand it was stiff cold, it was unmoving. Tears welled up in his eyes, no...NO NO NO NO NO!
He felt again, no pulse, he shook him, no reaction.
"MANOLO! MANOLO SÁNCHEZ WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!" But...nothing, all he saw was Manolo...Manolo the one he trained ever since he was 10, the young boy who loved his mama to the ends of the earth and the young boy who always played his stupid guitar and the young man who always had a sweet smile on his face...
His boy, was gone.
"No...NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
He cried, he brought Manolo onto his lap and cried, his tears fell onto his sons face as he cried to the sky, the rain intensifying the moment as he then looked down at his boy.
"...Manolo?" He turned his head to see, Joaquín.
"YOU...YOU! YOU...KILLED MY SON DIDN'T YOU?!" Carlos cried, he was enraged.
This man, this man reminded Carlos so much of his father, a egotistical careless MONSTER!
"I..." Joaquín looked to Manolo's body.
His friend....his best friend...the last thing he said to him was that it should've been him who died.
"No...." He whimpered out, the rain confusing the bull fighter, he didn't know if he was crying because of Manolo was crying or guilt or something else...
"I...Didn't kill him, I was mad at him but I would never kill him..."
Joaquín eyes darkened when he looked at Carlos, but his eyes did not darkened because of him.
"But...do you know who did?"
Carlos was startled by Joaquín's reaction...
He looked at him, then his son...
He looked at him, seeing if there was any sign of injury, Joaquín stepped closer but Carlos barely noticed as his looked around his son’s body for something that indicated his death.
Then he found them. Two bites from a snake.
Carlos looked at Joaquín.
Joaquín for a moment looked at Carlos then at Manolo.
His son. His close friend.
Is dead.
Everything was a blur after that.
Except the wails of Grandma Anita when she heard the news. It was unlike her, she didn't even cry at her son's funeral...but then again, she had this prideful air about her that broke when she saw a candle so bright, snuffed out in a instant.
Carlos heard so much.
Posada after his sobs apologizing for something...
The nuns saying their prayers for...someone...
Anita as she knitted. Knitted away..
How Joaquín looked at Manolo...with regret in his eyes.
Carlos held onto the shawl. Meant for Maria?
He did not know, nor ask...
He tried to give it to her anyway ...but...he couldn't.
He didn't want to give it back to Anita, the pain was too raw, he didn't want to bother Posada after all that was done.
But he...couldn't let it go because it reminded him of Manolo and his love for Maria.
The body of his son was ready for burial.
The hole was dug under his favourite tree.
It was only him. Anita...her heart could not take it. So he buried him alone as he placed the shawl in the hole, then his son.
It felt wrong burying his son. So wrong.
He should have been gone first.
Yet...
As he buried his boy, his dumb, music loving, beautiful, brave, boy...
He sat there. Wondering what he could have done...he should've told him. That he was so proud of him.
Even though he messed up multiple times...he was still...he was still a Sánchez.
There on the tree was his cape, the candles that lit a warm glow, the poster that had his face and...his broken guitar that he had when he was but a child. The other guitar? Buried with him.
Remnants of his boy, but he's gone.
Carlos thoughts as he looked at his son's face...
"What could I have done differently?"
"What could I have done to prevent this?"
"How...how do I tell him how much I love him? That I'm sorry."
So much grief but he dared not cry, even if he's gone, he didn't want his son to see him cry.
Carlos was a man of pride.
Pride in his son. He just wished he let him know sooner...
He heard the screaming of children.
Two young boys and one of those...menaces chasing after them.
One swift punch.
He was ready.
"Are you two alright?"
"Chakal is coming! With a whole army behind him!"
"You boys warn General Posada!"
"I will buy you some time..."
"Who wants to go first?"
Evil chuckles heard as the giant menace known as Chakal came forward, looking down at him with hate and anger that no amount of time can heal.
"I HATE Bullfighters.."
"Then come and get some!"
Swords clashing, two of a pair, one of pride and honour, the other of hatred and fear.
Only one pair fell.
Fear and hatred remained as pride was shattered but the honour remained strong as ever.
He was gone. But hope remain for his town.
As he saw his wife again and his son again.