Page 119 of No Greater Oblivion

The Past

I’m not sure whether to be impressed by Alejandro’s handling of my family’s chaos or concerned. Either he can handle them so well because he has the patience and temperament to do so or he’s secretly a lunatic like the rest of them and I need to get out while I can.

Tio’s absence is noted throughout the evening as the constant flurry of aunts, uncles, cousins, and other nosy relatives pass over the threshold. Luckily enough for Karina, our family mostly forgets about Rogelio the moment Alejandro smiles and introduces himself. He’s a bit of an anomaly here. I’ve never brought a boy home, not since high school, and that fuck up was so bad I ended up getting an abortion junior year.

Every time another cousin or pushy uncle pulls him aside for a “don’t break her heart or we’ll kill you” talk, my heart leaps into my throat. Anxiety builds and at any moment, I expect Alejandro to decide this isn’t worth the trouble. I wait for him to grab his coat and leave and I brace myself for the impact but it never happens. The talks always end in laughter and smiles, an exchange of language and culture as they ramble on in Spanish and fight over which country produces the best salsa music.

As the evening begins to wind down, I busy myself with clearing the plates in the dining room and Brent comes to help. At the very least, his parents made sure to house train him.

“It was a good idea.”

I look over but he doesn’t meet my gaze as he speaks.

“Bringing your boyfriend and his family. Kay’s been stressed out about the holidays because of her parents, but everyone’s been too distracted to notice.”

I take a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. “I hadn’t even thought of it like that.”

“Well, unintentional or not, it worked.” He clears a plate of leftovers into the large aluminum pan I’m using for garbage and adds it to my pile. “I haven’t known what to do with her these last few weeks. She’s inconsolable. Nothing works.”

“Her parents are getting divorced, Brent. How should she be?”

“I’d prefer it if she cried. Threw things, had tantrums, screamed. Instead, she just ices everyone out. It’s like she’s using her parents’ divorce as an excuse to destroy our relationship. This isn’t a marriage anymore, Dee. We’re strangers who live in the same house.”

We carry on a while in silence because I don’t know what to say. Or better yet, how to say it.

Karina grew up in an idyllic household where her parents never allowed their children to see behind their happy family façade. Tio Rogelio was wrong for cheating but I can’t say my surprise went bone deep. They stayed together as long as they did out of obligation with the pressures of culture and religion beating down on their shoulders. For as long as I’ve been alive, I can’t remember the last time they were truly happy. Maybe content, satisfied. Resigned to their fate. The complete opposite of the tumultuous hell storm that was my parents’ relationship. When I was little and the whole family still lived in New York, I used to spend all my time in either Lyss’s house or with my aunt and uncle.

I resented my parents for not being more like them. Paula and Rogelio created a home and a family. It wasn’t perfect but it was stable, warm, and loving. A safe place for their children to grow and flourish whereas my parents couldn’t be bothered to take my feelings into consideration. I wouldn’t say it was intentional so much as it was careless but I think their carelessness stung more. Their lack of awareness and concern for the people, or person, around them: me.

Paula and Rogelio divorcing is shattering the illusion of what family and marriage is supposed to be. Karina has built her entire life around the fantasy of having the same marriage, the same family life as her parents. A mom and dad who are married and live in a nice home with their children who go to private school and have soccer games. The kind of family that goes to church on Sundays and takes vacations to Florida every summer.

Brent was born into a very privileged life and family whereas Karina watched her parents struggle and build together. Their experiences, and by extension their perspectives on what marriage and love should be, couldn’t be more different. Karina’s dream of the perfect family kept her going through years of hardship and financial struggle. And now her father has broken his vows and absolutely obliterated the reality his daughter once lived in.

Of course, she’s feeling cynical. Of course she’s trying to implode in her own marriage. She doesn’t believe in anything anymore.

I wish I could explain that to Brent but I don’t know how.

“Maybe therapy?” I try suggesting.

“Therapy implies talking which she refuses to do. She hasn’t even cried, not a single tear. Sometimes I catch her sitting alone in the shower with the water running. Gasping, heaving, as if she’s trying to force it out of her. But the tears never come.” He drags his hand down the length of his face. Exhaustion causes deep creases to form around his mouth and black and blue crescents to form under his sleepless eyes. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but my aunt sticks her head through the doorway.

“Brent, I’ve been looking for you! Something happened to the TV.”

“Go,” I tell him. “I’ll bring the dishes to the kitchen.”

He attempts a smile but manages a curt nod instead. He follows my aunt to the living room and I carry the dishes back to the kitchen. As I start to load the dishwasher, I notice the light on the back patio is on and am about to flip the switch when I notice movement. It’s too cold for any of the kids to be playing in the yard so I grab a sweater hanging by the patio door and step outside. I’m about to call out for my cousins when the lights on the opposite end of the patio flicker to life, my presence having triggered the sensors.

I look over and Karina and Diego are sitting on the swinging bench, both completely oblivious to my presence. Diego has his back to me, body angled to face Karina as she stares out into the backyard. Judging by their coats and Karina’s red face, they must’ve been sitting out here for a while.

I can’t hear what they’re saying. Diego whispers, and Karina murmurs in a hushed tone. His hand reaches across the back of the bench and rests on her shoulder. I know I have no business standing here, watching, listening, but I can’t leave either. Shock and instinct has me rooted in place.

Diego is very tender with her. At times she seems to lose her patience—not at him directly, but she snaps just the same, providing heated, rapid answers to his questions. She spirals into a long-winded tangent and she waves her hands around frantically. He takes hold of her wrists but she doesn’t notice; she’s too deep in her rant to care. I watch as he removes his gloves and puts them on her, giving them a firm tug so they won’t fall off. As soon as he lets go, Karina is back to her wild gesturing and he sits there and listens without interruption. At one point he cups the side of her face, cheeks red from the cold, and she leans in for a beat before pulling away.

It happens in slow motion. Karina gasps, takes a sharp, shaky intake of breath, and her shoulders collapse. Her brows furrow and her face crumbles and in that moment, I know a lifetime’s worth of tears have finally broken free.

Without making a sound, I walk back into the house and shut the door behind me.