Page 11 of No Greater Oblivion

“Estaré en mi recamara por si me necesitas.”

“Doña Ana,” I catch her by the wrist before she can run to her bedroom and hide. “I hope you know that my being with Rian isn’t going to change anything. Pase lo que pase, siempre vas a estar a mi lado. You’ll go wherever I go, with or without Rian.”

I don’t miss the tremor in her hands as she smooths her palms down the front of her skirt and gives a curt nod.

I try for a bit of humor. “But if it’s with Rian, you might want to work on your English.”

Her cheeks redden with indignation. “I know how the English.”

“Last week at Sephora, you couldn’t say sheet mask.”

“Sh-it mask! I say it, I know!”

I smile and kiss her cheek. “You know I love you, right?”

Loving maternal figures have been few and far between in my life. My mother died when I was young and Tia Paula was there but only so far as her own responsibilities as a mother would allow. I had my grandmother and other women around me but Doña Ana is different. She’s only mine. I don’t have to share her with anyone else.

And I think, for someone who has devoted her entire life to the well-being of other people’s children, it must be nice to have someone of her own to love too. It’s why when Alejandro and I separated, I made it clear I was taking her with me. Maybe Alejandro saw it as something else, an open door for reconciliation, but the time for mending our broken relationship had long since passed by the time I mustered up the courage to leave.

We were never married but I like to joke Doña Ana was part of my divorce settlement. Alejandro, however, doesn’t find it funny.

“Yo también, hija. Los quiero a los dos.”

She fixes me with a contemplative gaze. Her warm brown eyes sweep over my features and the weight of her stare settles in the pit of my stomach, my entire body tightening with apprehension. After a moment, she sits on the stool Lyss once occupied and takes my hand, guiding me to sit in the one across from her. I’m surprised when she switches fully to English.

“Do you know what you are doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know he hurt you. You hurt each other,” she says, brows furrowing. “But I don’t believe when you say there’s no love. I don’t believe.”

I heave a sigh and shift on the stool preparing to explain myself for the thousandth time but she stops me.

“I see. I watch. I know everything. And I know how big you love. Eso no cambia de la noche a la mañana. I remember how you cry when we came here. I know you cry sometimes…when you think no one listens. But I listen y sé lo mucho que te duele.” She folds her hands over her heart. “I think you hurt so much you push away. You push and you push and you push. But Dahlia, mija…Alejandro only go so far before he stops trying to be close. One day you regret it.”

“I won’t regret it. I want him to stop being so close.”

I want him out of my life completely. Before, I held on out of spite and anger because he’d hurt me and it felt like the only way to get back at him was to hurt myself. I spiraled out of control for the first and only time in my life. I spent lavishly and recklessly, surrounded myself with dangerous people, and immersed myself in a world I knew he hated. Yet somehow, I found me amid the chaos and metamorphosized into something different. Something stronger. I like who I am now much more than the girl I was when he met me.

That girl couldn’t even look him in the eye the first night at El Aliciente. Now I doubt he’d be able to meet my gaze head on. I’d be too much for him.

I know Doña Ana is holding out hope for us to get back together but no matter how many times I try explaining to her that it won’t happen, the truth hasn’t quite permeated yet. If our talks help ease her conscience then I don’t mind listening to what she has to say, although, I fear this afternoon’s conversation has had the opposite effect.

She’s shown me the only way to move on is to let go. And I can’t if I’m still under Alejandro’s thumb.

Rian is a visionary. Moreso than he gives himself credit for.

His newest high rise in Long Island City is situated east of the Pepsi-Cola sign and minutes away from the waterfront. From the outside, the structure is dynamic and multidimensional, made of beautiful, dark brick and reflective glass within black coated steel panels. It’s modern without being garish, lacking the cold brutality of most hideous developments popping up around the city lately.

The construction is entering its final weeks of the interior build-out. I can’t believe that less than six months ago, this place was nothing but wires and bones. Now the penthouse is almost complete, save a few final touches like doors and kitchen appliances, and doubles as Rian’s workspace when he’s out here. I find him bent over a large folding table in the living room, dragging a pencil across a set of blueprints.

“Make sure this gets fixed before the end of the week. A wiring job like this can make or break an inspection.”

I won’t lie and say getting over Alejandro was easy. On the contrary, it was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.

The first few weeks were spent in denial. Then anger. Finally, acceptance. I bounced between various stages of grief, sometimes skipping several at a time. No one tells you how traumatic breakups can be, especially for a relationship as intense as ours was. We weren’t two people deciding to go our separate ways. An entire family structure collapsed in on itself when we broke up and the future we envisioned together suddenly ceased to exist. As young as I am, it never occurred to me that I’d have to reimagine what my life would look like without him. I thought I’d be in Spain forever—that we’d get married one day and have children.

A year later, I’m once more in danger of heartache, knowing that if Rian gets any closer, I’ll fall in love with him. And if this crashes and burns a second time, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to put myself back together again.