Page 8 of No Greater Oblivion

I don’t bother leaving the alcove. I collapse right there and sit for what feels like a century. Eventually, Regina comes to join.

She sits across from me and leans against the wall. “I⁠—”

“How could you?” I ask—whisper—in the darkness. The light is fading outside. How long have we been here? Minutes, hours, days, time is bleeding together and I have no sense of it anymore. “How could you keep a secret like this from me?”

“I didn’t see the point. He was already gone⁠—”

“I should’ve been there. I should’ve…I should’ve held your hand in the hospital, I should’ve been given a chance to say goodbye. You shouldn’t have suffered alone—” I can’t seem to catch my breath. My vision blurs to the point of blindness. “He was my son too.”

I can’t stand to hold this secret any longer. I can’t hold any of them any longer.

“I should’ve never lied to Dahlia. I should’ve never let her leave.” I blink against the tears gathering in my vision, feeling the wetness on my cheeks. “All those years ago when I had the chance to make peace with Sandro, I should’ve done it. I’m filled with so much regret, Regina. Tormented by mistakes I made and cannot change. And now, I have one more death to carry on my conscience.”

She shakes her head frantically and crawls to me, eyes glistening with tears of her own. “Alejo, he was stillborn. There was nothing anyone could’ve done.” She reaches out and drags her thumbs across the apples of my cheeks, chasing away my tears while having little regard for her own. “I didn’t tell you or anyone because there was no one I could trust. My mother was dead and you and Sandro were at war with each other. I couldn’t risk either of you finding out I was pregnant.”

Regina swallows the lump in her throat before continuing. “I went back to Corsica with my grandaunt and she took me to Calenzana, where our family is from. I thought that if I stayed there long enough and waited for the baby to be born then maybe things would calm down. My grandaunt wouldn’t let me have access to any of the phones in the house so one of the housemaids helped me send letters but…you never responded.” She sniffles and drags the back of her hand across her cheek. “Sandro intercepted one of those letters and eventually, he found me. I had another few weeks left and he tried to bring me back but I went into labor early…”

She doesn’t finish and I’m glad for it. I can’t listen to another word.

“What did he look like?” I finally turn my head to meet her gaze. “Our son.”

She tries to smile but it never quite takes form. “He was…a beautiful little boy. He had dark hair that curled around his ears and a birthmark on the inside of his right wrist. And he was so small and so perfect and I remember that when I held his hand, his fingers were tiny enough to curl around my thumb.” She sniffles again and as if just remembering, starts to shuffle around in her pockets. “The midwife took a photo of us⁠—”

“No. No.” I shake so fiercely the pot of flowers behind me topples over. “I can’t. I can’t, Regina.”

Her hand drops.

“I loved you. My God, I loved you. I’d have done anything in the world for you. I killed Sandro for you.”

“No,” she responds harshly, voice rough with tears. “You did that for Dahlia. To protect her.”

“I did. But I did it for you too. Look at what it cost me,” I tell her. “The woman I love in exchange for what? Nothing.”

“Alejandro—”

“I thought you were finally done lying to me. But this…I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for keeping this secret.”

Regina releases a sob. She cradles my face in her hands but I turn away, repulsed by her touch. “I did it because I loved you, because I was trying to save you from this. I still love you…in my own way.”

Gently, I take hold of her wrists and push her away. “You don’t know what it is to love someone. Ten years ago, you were with me because you thought I could save you from your brother. What you love now is only a memory. A romanticized version of what we could’ve been. This isn’t love. Love is what I had with Dahlia. It’s what I threw away in my misguided attempt to save you out of guilt and spite.”

“Enough!” she cries and pulls away. “You’re being cruel.”

“I’m not being cruel. Regina.” I grip her by the shoulders and force her to look at me because I need her to feel and understand every word that comes out of my mouth. “You need to let this go. You need to let us go.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why can’t it be us? Dahlia’s gone and she’s never coming back. She was barely here a year before she ran back to New York and she’s been gone just as long. And do you know why? Because she’s a coward.” She seethes, her words laced with poison. “Because when she finally saw you, all of you, she got scared and ran away. We’ve known each other almost half our lives, Alejo. And I have never once shied away from the truth. I’ve never been afraid.”

Regina pushes herself away from me and rises to her feet.

“So maybe I’m not the one who has to let go. Maybe it’s you.”

3

I KNOW YOU CRY