OOM: how do you leave the past behind...
(Typist's note: Assume all dialogue is in Spanish.)
Angel's heard stories, time and again, and that's how he knows where he is. It's not really accurate, of course - there's no escaping that when he never had a chance to go himself - but it works just as well for a dream as anything.
So this is the city his grandmother never quite left.
When he sees her, he recognizes her from her old wedding album rather than life, and somehow that doesn't surprise him. It makes more sense in context, at least.
"Andrew."
"Abuelita." Before she can say anything else, he adds, "Can we not get into the argument this time, and hear each other out? It's not really worth all the fuss, by this point."
"...You always did have a good head on your shoulders. It only ever added to my confusion."
He doesn't see what was so confusing, but he resists the temptation to argue - the stubbornness runs in the family, and it kept them from resolving this in life. "Go on."
"I love this city, Andrew. With all my heart. I only left Havana to give my family safety - including my grandchildren, even though your mother and her siblings were still young. I couldn't understand why you squandered that freedom, why you would want to risk your safety by dressing like you do and taking up with boys. I only wanted the best for you."
"I know you did. I can't help who I love any more than you can help loving your family. But if it helps you to think of it as a choice... let me put it like this. If I had it over again, I'd make damn sure I'd get to the people I have now before I undid any of my stupid mistakes."
"You are sure of this?"
"Absolutely. The family they've led me to is worth more than gold."
She considers that, and the pause stretches out so long Angel starts to worry it's all a lost cause anyway. But then she says, "Very well. You wouldn't settle for it if you weren't happy, I know that. Have you at least found yourself someone who knows the language?"
Angel grins. "He knows a lot more than Spanish, abuelita."
"Good. I won't say I understand. I may never. But I do like seeing you happy, Angel." She walks off into the bustle of her city - the center of her universe, for lack of a better phrase - and he wakes up.
She called him Angel again. Still with the masculine pronunciation, of course, but he hadn't heard it from her since high school, when the whole mess started. And even though it kind of sucks that it took this long to get closure, having the opportunity was... nice.
Cuba no tiene el Dia de los Muertos. He can't avoid the irony, given how vehement she always was about her birthplace.
But he supposes it's one of those things that had to happen.