Page 136 of No Merciful Corruption

Easter passes by in the blink of an eye. An hour-long mass followed by another two hours of saying hello to every Fulano and Fulana in the entire region and then back to the hacienda to prepare for dinner. The kitchen is chaos and there are so many of us that Dahlia and Lettie have to set the table twice because they keep miscounting the number of plates.

Abuelo sits at the head of the table. Delivers a beautiful speech about family, love, and forgiveness. Tia Jimena leads us in prayer.

The whole time I’m thinking about my mother.

I look at Dahlia, laughing and glowing as my cousins flirt with her for their own entertainment, and know that if anything ever happened to her I’d never recover. It would be over for me.

But it’s different now. In a few weeks we’ll be parents. Will that feeling change? How?

What if one day something did happen. A freak accident, an act of God, an incurable disease, and I was left alone. Without her. Except, I’d be alone plus our child. I try to think about the position my mother was in an attempt to put myself in her shoes.

She’d been with my father since she was 18 years old. He was all she’d ever known. Their marriage, their children, and their life together. Couple that with the complexities of our family business I imagine much of her identity was wrapped up in them as a unit. Maybe a fracture like that really was enough to send her over the edge.

I love my mother. I understand her. And she hurt me. They’re three truths I’ve struggled to reconcile myself with since my father’s passing and they’ve made the potential for a full and true reconciliation difficult and complicated. Especially since I know how much she abhors the business side of our family business.

“Arias you old grump.” Dahlia gets up from her seat and kisses his cheek. “I knew you always liked me. Deep, deep down.”

She’s so beautiful.

She has refused to let the challenges of pregnancy get the better of her. Her hair is wild and gorgeous and red and her makeup is tastefully done. She wears a white, fitted lace dress that hugs her shape and the fabric cradles her bump perfectly. People always say expectant mothers have a “new mother glow” but Dahlia really does.

Sometimes I look at her and can’t believe how lucky I am. She stumbled into the lounge by accident, on a day I wasn’t supposed to be there, at a time where the doors should’ve been locked. Now she’s my wife and the mother of my child.

It took us a bit of work to get here and the transition hasn’t been easy. Dahlia’s transformation was more difficult than most and I often fear for the toll it may have taken on her. I wonder if it was the same for my mother.

Catching my eyes on her, Dahlia dismisses herself from her conversation with my cousins and crosses the enclosed courtyard to meet me. Right now, Allegra is floating paper boats in the water fountain with her parents while Lettie takes pictures with our father’s camera. Music plays from the radio in the living room and Anastasia’s husband spins her in so many circles she looks like she’s going to faint or vomit. Probably both.

Dahlia stops in front of me and lifts a hand to wiggle her wedding finger. “I’m married.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And you keep making eyes at me from across the room. My husband is going to get jealous.”

“I can take him.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. He’s big, and tall, and strong…”

I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me.

“And he has a really, really great ass.”

“How is that relevant?”

She rises to the tips of her toes and kisses me. “What’s on your mind?”

The song changes and I take it as an opportunity to pull her in for a dance.

We fall into step together easily. The movements are fluid and natural and she rests her head on my shoulder as she lets me take the lead.

“You were thinking about something earlier,” she says. “What was it?”

“I was thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.”

“Hm. Nice save.”

“I was thinking of how far you’ve come.”

She looks up at me with furrowed brows. “Me?”