Page 122 of No Greater Oblivion

“Titi loooook!”

A little Karina appears in the frame, dainty and starry-eyed, giving the camera a bloody, gummy grin. Both her front teeth are missing.

“Look it finally fell ooooooout!” she exclaims.

The woman behind the camera laughs. “Go wash your mouth out first. No, Kay! Don’t be gross!”

Karina makes funny faces at the camera, still grinning as she shows off the missing tooth.

“Karina!” a second woman comes into view and shoves a towel in her mouth. “One day, I’m going to show this to your future husband and he’s going to think you’re being disgusting.”

Brent’s nose scrunches up. “It is kind of gross.”

“Is not!” Karina protests. “I was little, I had just turned seven here!”

Diego merely smiles, content to watch in silence.

“Who’s filming?” Lettie asks.

My throat tightens. “My mom.”

Suddenly, the camera whips around to the man on the love seat. “You two have been awfully quiet…what are you doing over there?”

Soft giggling emerges from behind the coffee table and the man looks up, casting a wayward glance at Mom behind the camera. Something about the way his eyes meet mine, through the lens of a camera twenty years in the future, hits me like a bolt of lightning. His eyes are exactly like mine.

Papi.

“What are you doing here?” Mom asks teasingly.

I was a beautiful baby—chubby, rosy-cheeked, with wide expressive eyes and a heart-shaped mouth. Here, I’m a three-year-old toddler with curls tucked under an oversized Santa hat. When Papi lifts me up for the camera to see, everyone sighs and gasps, Lettie poking at my legs from where she’s seated on the floor and Diego gives a playful tug on my hair. Karina chuckles while Brent fills everyone’s cups with more coquito and even though I manage a smile, my attention never leaves the screen.

“I’ve never seen your dad before. You look just like him,” Brent comments.

“It’s the Rosario nose.” Karina drags her finger down the slope of her slim, pointed nose. “Family trait. Hard to miss.”

“Dee, I mean this in the most respectful way possible. But your dad is kind of⁠—”

Diego whacks Lettie with a pillow. “Don’t. Even.”

Papi smooths his hand over my head so the top of the Santa hat falls where it’s supposed to. I lift my little hands to cradle my face and smile widely for the camera.

“Stand up, preciosa, I want to see the PJs,” Mom says.

I get up and smooth my hands over the velvet Christmas gift sewn onto the front of my long sleeve shirt. “Mi Papi me dijo que mi abuelita me regaló estos y que⁠—”

“Dahlia, English, please.” The camera tilts slightly as my mother addresses my father on the couch. “Gael, they don’t understand her at nursery school. You have to start speaking English in the house more.”

Gael says something I can’t pick up on and Gabriela replies, “I don’t care. Practice!”

“So you do know how to speak Spanish.” Diego ruffles my hair from behind. “I knew you were holding out on us.”

“Your little voice was so cute!” Karina sighs. “Why can’t you be little again?”

“Aren’t you guys less than four years apart?” Alejandro points out.

“Yes. But she was the perfect baby doll. She used to let me dress her up in anything—even an old rice bag!”

“Now I know the root of all your language problems.” Lettie rubs her chin playfully. “This video right here. You were poisoned at a young age! We simply must convert you back.”