Page 38 of No Greater Oblivion

He’s already shaking his head. “It is very kind of you to open the doors of your home to me. But no. I will stay here hasta que Dios decida.”

“Well, technically, it’s your grandson’s house. He foots the bill, I just live there.”

He scoffs at me and lifts a firm finger in admonishment. “No, no, no! The woman owns the house. The man just pays for it.”

Alejandro sighs as he sips on his coffee. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

I turn, confused. “Why, what did I say?”

Before Don Salazar can reply, Alejandro interjects. “Her name is on the deed.”

His grandfather gives a firm nod and then we descend into pleasant, light conversation for the rest of the afternoon. Around dusk, Lettie arrives and after greeting us, returns to the house where she helps Griselda prepare dinner. Sensing Alejandro and Abuelo might want a moment alone together, I bring the tray inside.

“How is he today?” Lettie asks when I enter the kitchen.

I shrug in response and place the dirty dishes in the sink. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s been like this for weeks. He won’t talk to me.”

“Diego and I tried having an intervention on Friday.” She frowns and wipes her hands on the apron around her waist. It’s rare to see Lettie in a state of domesticity but like her older brother, she finds comfort in the simplicity of the kitchen. Never mind the fact that she can only cook a handful of dishes without causing extreme harm to herself, others, or any of the kitchen appliances. “He wouldn’t budge. It’s strange…watching him pull away from everyone.”

“Do you think the fire triggered it?”

Lettie’s pale brows pull together. After a moment of contemplation, she returns to the stove and continues stirring a pot of pollo guisado, one of Alejandro’s favorites.

“You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Alex told you how Dad died…right?”

“Vaguely.”

Lettie avoids meeting my gaze head on. “When you were in the hospital, he was…talking. In his sleep.”

“What was he saying?”

“He was calling out for Dad.”

I’m not sure what to make of this revelation. Instead, I do what most Latin women do in times of crisis.

I start cleaning.

Waking up in the hospital was triggering because of what I experienced with my mother, but the feeling was short-lived. Once I removed all those wires and tubes and had a moment to calm down, I was able to keep the panic attacks at bay. Not to say the few days I spent there were easy, but it would’ve been much harder if I hadn’t been so distracted by Alejandro and his own self-neglect.

I keep the memory of the fire at a distance and the reality of my near-death experience is whittled away by having been saved. But it was Alejandro who saved me.

And maybe the fear of almost losing someone he loved, abruptly and traumatically, for the second time in his life opened a pandora’s box for him.

I wonder what other chaos awaits us in the weeks to come.

Alejandro

“All I want is your blessing,” I say.

Abuelo’s jaw is tense as he sits erect in his seat, avoiding my gaze.

“Gaspar was like a brother to you and Gregorio a son. I imagine my waging war on Sandro must be a difficult pill to swallow.”

“With or without my blessing, you’ll do as you please.”

“That’s true,” I confess. “But at least with your blessing, I can move forward with a clear conscience.”