Page 130 of No Greater Oblivion

“That’s not⁠—”

Even as the words take form on my lips, they stop short. Brent is many, many things but it would be wrong of me to think the worst of him in this moment. Right now, he’s sitting in the emergency room, distraught and essentially useless. We have our issues but one thing I can never say I’ve witnessed is him mistreating my cousin. On the contrary, he’s annoyingly obsessed and doting, to the point of being overbearing. He’s never even raised his voice at her. He wouldn’t raise a hand to her…

Would he?

And if he did, would Karina tolerate it?

32

KIDNAPPED AGAIN

Dahlia

The Present

New York City

Ispend the entire day sulking in my bedroom and when the sulking isn’t enough, I go into my closet and dig out my keepsake box from where it’s hidden behind shoes, clothes, and garment bags, hoping that a good cry will help set me straight.

Everything from the last seven years is in this box, starting from my first New Year’s Eve trip with Karina after I turned eighteen. I’ve kept every plane ticket, receipt, tourist trinket, polaroid photo, and hotel key, all neatly organized in folders or smaller boxes. Whenever we went on vacation, we’d always bring a few disposable cameras with us because halfway through our first trip, our phones died when we were visiting Lake Como. Aside from being stranded and without chargers, we were more pissed over the fact that we couldn’t take any pictures. Luckily for us we stumbled into an old convenience store that doubled as a tourist trap and we spent thirty euros on the last kodak they had in stock. Best thirty euros we ever spent.

I look through the photos of our trip to Italy and there’s a picture of me smiling in front of the Trevi Fountain while holding up an almost empty bottle of limoncello. Judging by how my clothes are still dry this is likely from before I jumped in.

God, I look so young. Not to mention thin. Eighteen was probably the worst year for me as my falling out with Lyss and my father walking out on me had happened back-to-back. Not long after I started my freshman year of college and was thrust into adulthood without guidance or anything to fall back on. I’d never been so broken or vulnerable before in my life. I wasn’t eating or sleeping and started spiraling out of control. In college, I’d had a reputation for being one of the only party girls who could drink all night and still show up to her eight a.m. lecture with a washed faced and combed hair. Even still, it was almost impossible for me to make friends.

No matter how hard I tried the friendships never stuck. Everyone moved through my life like a revolving door—friends, classmates, hook-ups, the occasional short-term boyfriend—and I felt so isolated. Karina had proposed our first vacation as a way to help get my mind off things. The next year was because I was spending a little too much time with the wrong crowd and a lousy boyfriend and Karina dragged me to Paris with her. The year after things had finally begun to simmer down and we hadn’t planned another trip. Not until we both binge-watched all of Downton Abbey together over Thanksgiving break and decided if we didn’t go to England, we would simply die.

From then on it became tradition. I didn’t feel the need to build other relationships outside of Karina because what we had was enough for me, even after Brent entered the picture. To his credit he always respected our winter trips and may have been obnoxious with the phone calls but never tried to impose on us. At least, not until he randomly decided he wanted a New Year’s wedding, forever ruining the holiday for Karina and me. We fought about it for weeks but deep down, I knew it was a losing battle. Brent made a show of his money that year and said if it was really such a big deal, he’d help pay for our trip. And Karina in her guilt decided backpacking through Europe for the summer was a good idea.

I think Karina knew too…that it would be the last trip we’d ever take. She wanted to make it special and worthwhile and in the end, I suppose it did change our lives. Mine at the very least.

Tucked against the side is a satchel with the word Barcelona embroidered across the front. I pull it out from its hiding place and go through the keepsakes inside. There are boarding passes for Karina and me but none for our return flight because that year, we didn’t go home together and we never finished the rest of our trip.

I got the photos developed the September after I got home. Karina and me at La Sagrada Familia, Karina and me at Park Guell, Karina and me at the beach, Karina and me in the Gothic Quarter. Then the photos aren’t of Karina and me anymore.

It’s Karina, me, and Diego eating dinner at the lounge. It’s Alejandro and me standing in front of El Món Neix en Cada Besada, a mural in the quarter. It’s Karina and Diego sitting on a boat presumably arguing over the Uno cards on the table in front of them.

And then it’s Alejandro and me on what was supposed to be my last night in Spain. Diego must’ve taken the photo because Lettie is a blur of white hair in the background, the flash from the camera casting half her face in shadow. I wish I could go back in time and shake the girl in the photo. Smack the stupid, shy smile off her lips and strangle the man next to her who’s kissing her cheek and holding her close. In fact, I think I want to throttle them both for being so stupid.

I hate them. I hate them so much. Their happiness has an expiration date. One day, a year later from when the photo is taken, it’ll be the beginning of the end for them. They’ll both make mistakes, both hurt each other, both ruin everything that was once good and happy and beautiful.

“Dee?”

I startle at the sound of my door opening and Lyss hesitates at the threshold, retreating to the safety of the hallway. “Sorry, I was checking on you.”

“It’s fine.” I drop the stack of photos into the box and move onto the next. “You can come in.”

Lyss doesn’t enter immediately. She grips the doorknob and tiptoes inside as if entering a sleeping infant’s nursery. I continue my perusing and she sits on the floor with me but not before turning on another lamp for more light. The sun sets so quickly during the winter and I’m tired of the darkness.

“You’re wearing your necklace today,” she says in an attempt to start conversation.

“Matched my outfit.”

She glances at the box between us. “Going through your old vacation stuff?”

I shrug. “I was bored.”

She notices the Barcelona satchel and lifts her gaze. “How bored?”