Page 114 of No Merciful Corruption

“On paper only. He has other girls⁠—”

“No he doesn’t. You know he doesn’t.”

Karina presses her lips together.

“Sus ojos solo te buscan a ti y a nadie más. Ni siquiera se le ocurre mirar a otra.”

“He doesn’t love me, Alex. He pities me. I’m a wounded bird with a broken wing he wants to heal.”

“Ay, Karina,” I rake a hand through my hair. “Si tu supieras…”

“We only got married because everyone was pressuring us to do so. He deserves better.”

“Who better than the mother of his child?”

“I don’t want to be loved because I’m Allegra’s mother!” she exclaims, almost desperately. “I want him to love me because⁠—”

She stops herself. A switch goes off inside Karina and as impassioned as she was a moment ago is how calm she is now. Her eyes dry and the color returns to her cheeks. After a few deep, steadying breaths, she faces me completely.

“We should go upstairs now.”

“Kay—”

She leaves with the lighter and I’m left to wonder what’s really going on between Diego and Karina.

INTERVENTION

Dahlia

“Maybe we should stage an intervention.” Alejandro muses aloud.

I shuffle through the various racks of clothes in my closet, fishing around for a skirt whose waistband has at least a little bit of give.

“She seemed so distraught last night…” his brows pinch together as he continues his steady pacing of the dressing room. “Even Abuelo noticed.”

“Abuelo notices everything.” I spot a dress that might work instead and hold it up for him to see. “Do you think this makes my hips look too wide?”

He leans against the middle island and picks at the grapes and orange slices on my breakfast tray. I had an early start to my morning and Doña Ana brought my meal up for me. Shamefully, I ate all the pastries and none of the fruits or eggs. At this point I’ll be lucky if I fit into a pair of sweatpants.

“Aren’t you concerned in the slightest? Karina and Diego are getting divorced.”

I release a frustrated sigh. “Yes, I heard.” I wave the dress. “Hips. Wide. Yes or no?”

He bites into another orange slice and winces. “These aren’t very good.”

“Ugh!” I toss the dress aside and continue pilfering through every article of clothing I own.

I’ve never been thin; being as tall as I am has made it nearly impossible. A slimming down would have me looking more like Jack Skellington than a 90s supermodel. For years, a fluctuation in weight has always been a mood signifier for me. I was thin as a rail after my mother died, put on the freshman fifteen during college, lost weight during the stressful finals period, and gained all of it back and then some during the first year I lived in Barcelona. Oddly enough, I was in the best shape of my life the summer after Alejandro and I broke up.

Must’ve been all the dancing and the Adderall habit I picked up but that may as well have been a lifetime ago. Now, I’m happy.

Too happy. The joy is expanding around my waist and my fucking jeans will not zip.

“Oh God,” I whisper in front of the mirror. I keep trying to yank the low-rise denim over my backside but the fabric won’t give. “Please don’t do this to me…these are vintage Levi’s.”

“Do you think couple’s therapy would work for them? I know they aren’t technically a couple,” Alejandro rambles behind me. “But they parent Lela well together.”

I hop, wiggle, and kick in front of the mirror, praying the denim Gods don’t punish me for an overindulgent honeymoon.