Page 43 of No Greater Oblivion

The first six weeks of the showing were booked through within minutes on the website. By the time Dahlia finally made it through the queue, she was lucky to grab tickets for the event’s penultimate showing.

And that’s tonight.

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere with your foot like that.”

“Stop deflecting. I must’ve reminded you a hundred times this week.”

Did she? To be honest, I can’t remember. Most of my days are a blur. They all blend together into one massive memory that feels more like a dream than reality. Like stumbling through the recesses of your mind where different scenarios bleed into each other but they all make sense because deep down, you know it isn’t real.

I don’t have time to go tonight. Now that Ferrer is on board I need to meet with the mayor and get him to strongarm one of the judges on his blacklist into a favor. As a show of good faith, I’m going to get Ferrer a few hours of visitation with his son this weekend. Seeing as how it’s already late Thursday evening, I don’t have much time to make it happen.

First I need to shower and get out of these clothes. Hopefully hide the fact that there’s a splatter of blood on my right sleeve and get away without having to change my bandages this evening. Although, maybe the latter isn’t such a good idea. My palms have been burning since early this afternoon and the pain has only intensified since my meeting with Ferrer a few hours ago.

“I’m sure you did. I’m sorry but I can’t tonight. Something came up.” I remove my suit jacket and button down, rolling both up into a ball before tossing them into the laundry basket, hoping she doesn’t notice. “Why don’t you call Lettie? She’ll be happy to go with you.”

“That’s not the point.” She follows me into the bathroom. “We were supposed to go together. We haven’t gone on a date in ages; I hardly see you anymore.”

While the water runs, I stop in front of her, cupping her face between my hands and planting a brief kiss on her lips. “I know, I’m sorry. Really. But I can’t spare the time tonight. It’s important.”

“Everything is more important than me nowadays.”

I grip her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Nothing is more important than you. Nothing.”

I hate disappointing her and when her eyes gloss over, I force myself to look away. She doesn’t leave the bathroom so I undress in front of her and turn the shower on. Before I step in, she says, “You can’t get those wet.”

I look over and she’s holding up a pair of plastic gloves. Sighing, I take them and pull them on, yearning for the day I can take all the bandages and ointments and hideous medical gloves out of the bathroom and throw them into a sacrificial fire.

After a while, Dahlia starts speaking, and I look over my shoulder, unable to hear her over the rushing water. The glass is foggy but I can still make out her silhouette, sitting on an ottoman across the room with her phone pressed against her ear. I only catch snippets of her conversation but it’s enough for me to know she’s talking to Lettie.

I turn the water off and when I open the shower door, she extends a towel to me, expression morose as she stares at her ugly black boot.

“Yeah…I’ll wait for you at home.” She pauses. “No, he’s here. Abandoning me to my fate.”

I kiss the top of her head. “Lettie’s much more fun than I am.”

Dahlia ignores me and continues her conversation with my sister, giving her instructions on what to wear, as she spent the night at Abuelo’s and won’t have time to change when she gets here. By the time Dahlia finds me in the dressing room, I’m already halfway dressed and struggling with the buttons on my shirt. She disappears into the bathroom again and returns a few minutes later with the brightly decorated basket she now keeps all the bandages and medicine in. I won’t lie and say it isn’t a relief when she cleans and redresses the wounds, the cool ointment working overtime to extinguish the heat burning in the centers of my palms. When she’s done, she buttons up my shirt and returns the basket to the bathroom in silence.

“I don’t know what time I’ll be back,” I say into the empty room, knowing my voice will carry over to wherever she is. “But I’m all yours tomorrow. I was thinking, why don’t we go somewhere for the weekend? Pack an overnight bag and see where we end up.”

She comes up beside me and as I pull on a clean suit jacket, she smooths her hands over my shoulders, flattening out any wrinkles. “Actually…I have a ton of studying to do.”

I crack a smile. “Studying? Let me guess, you’re trying to figure out how to repair a 19th century lift by hand?”

“No,” she hedges carefully. “The semester starts next week. I want to get ahead of my reading.”

Dahlia’s on guard the moment I turn to face her. Before I can get a word out, she’s already frantically shaking her head.

“No…don’t do this to me⁠—”

“Why don’t we revisit this in the spring? Aside from the fact your boot isn’t coming off for another few weeks, I’d prefer it if you weren’t out all hours of the day.”

“You expect me to do nothing for another six months? I’m going crazy in this house all day.”

“The renovations are going well⁠—”

“That’s not enough!” she pleads helplessly. “Alex, I’m here, all alone, day in and day out. I don’t have any friends, Karina’s in New York, and you’re always working.”

There’s no easy way to do this. How do I explain the necessity of her safety without exposing the truth about the fire? How do I explain that this isn’t me pulling away but surviving in the only way I know how? This is the side of me she’s never seen before. Riddled with fear, panic, uncertainty. And more than anything else, anger.