Page 131 of No Merciful Corruption

Our child…what a strange thought. So strange it makes me laugh and the sound must ease her anxieties because her shoulders slump as she leans into me.

“I…I’m…you…how?” I hold her closer, my grip on her tightening. “When?”

Her head shakes frantically. “I only found out a week ago and it was by accident. I didn’t…I think when I switched birth controls I must’ve missed a day or two and hadn’t realized because⁠—”

“Are you all right? Have you been to a doctor?” the questions pour out of me before I can stop myself. “How do you feel? Are you sick right now?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she insists, almost out of breath. “But…are you upset?”

“Upset?”

“Yes, upset!” she blurts. Her eyes widen. “I know it wasn’t planned and I was so afraid to tell you.”

“Oh Dahlia…”

“And then—” I kiss her frantically and her words come out muffled. “I was wondering—” kiss. “If maybe you weren’t ready!” kiss. “And I felt so terrible but I knew I had to tell you.” kiss. “Because eventually I’m going to start to show—” kiss. “—I’ll have to see a doctor and we’ll have to tell people!” kiss. “Alex!”

“Do you know what it is yet?” I ask then say before she can answer, “Maybe it’s a girl. It has to be.”

She lifts her hands to my cheeks and drags her thumbs under my eyes. They come back wet. “Are you crying?”

“I don’t know.” I answer honestly. “I feel drunk. Do you think it can hear us yet? Does it have ears?”

“Well—”

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” I kiss her again. So hard I think our lips are bruised. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you.” A thought suddenly occurs to me and I pull away abruptly. “We’re not putting a crib near a window. What if the baby falls out?”

Laughter explodes from her lips.

“Also, I don’t want a tacky beige nursery. Absolutely not. It’s ugly and depressing, I want color. Bright and bold and lots of plants and toys because they’re stimulating for the mind. A baby should be happy. And we need shelves. For toys. And one of those really big, um, Lela had one, it’s—” I struggle for the word. “No sé cómo se llama pero es grande y lo pones en el suelo⁠—”

“A play pin?”

“Sí eso,” I gesture vaguely. “And we have to buy clothes, we don’t have any clothes. Or diapers or formula⁠—”

“We have nine months for that.”

“Nine months is not enough.”

She laughs again.

“And we have to tell people. Everyone.”

“Everyone?” She presses her lips together before saying, voice tight with tears, “You’re happy then? I wasn’t sure…”

“I think I could live a hundred lifetimes and nothing I experienced in any one of them could ever come close to the joy I feel right now.”

I pull her into my arms, lift her off her feet, and kiss her until we’re both dizzy and laughing and love is no longer a color or a sound or a feeling. It’s a moment in time.

THE NARVAEZ FAMILY

Dahlia

April

Caldas, Antiqouia, Colombia

The land on which the Narvaez family compound sits has been in the family for five generations.