Page 64 of No Merciful Corruption

I wait because I know there’s more to that statement. He sighs again and drags his hands down the length of his face.

“It’s so ridiculous.”

“What is?”

His jaw tightens. “I didn’t even realize how much I wanted it until I thought it was real. I know it’s bad timing, I know that. We have no business having a child right now. But when I found the test and thought it was yours I…I was beside myself with happiness.”

I move closer and rest my head on his shoulder.

“I never knew how much I wanted it until then. I was practically floating down the stairs on my way to see you. I couldn’t believe it.” His voice quiets. “And now my brother gets to have that and he doesn’t even want it. Of course I’m jealous. I’m angry too. He’s impregnated a girl he barely knows, doesn’t love, and who is currently married to someone else. Obviously, I know it takes two and Karina clearly consented but I can’t help but feel my brother should’ve known better.

“When Karina stayed with us for your birthday that summer, I knew something was going on. I told Diego to leave Kay alone because she was married and he had no business flirting with her or trying to seduce her. I know my brother; he enjoys a conquest and the last thing I wanted was for your cousin to be one of his targets. And now she’s pregnant.”

He takes another steadying breath. “I’m happy for her. I really am. Crazy as it sounds, I think she truly wants this. I just wish her child had a better father.”

I’m not sure what to say. Ultimately, the decision to keep this pregnancy is Karina’s and she seems to have already made up her mind. At seventeen years old I made the decision to end mine and it was the best thing I ever did for myself. The right to choose goes both ways and I have to respect Karina’s wishes even if I disagree with them. My place isn’t to pass judgment or offer unsolicited opinions but rather to provide support. As for the role Diego played. there are still so many unanswered questions. How, when, why? I can’t wrap my head around any of it.

What’s going to happen now?

SECOND FIRST DATES

Dahlia

March

“It looks so much better.”

I spin around in the salon chair and pull out the last roller from my hair. “You don’t think it’s too dark?”

“It’s perfect.” Karina says. “Just the way I remember.”

Using a wide tooth comb, I break up some of the bigger, tighter curls the rollers left behind and wait to see where they fall naturally. Each strand glows ruby red in the daylight, glistening like the seeds of a pomegranate, and an unfamiliar tightness in my throat makes it difficult to speak. I fight the urge to smile at my own reflection in the mirror.

“This feels like you.” My cousin tells me.

Being a brunette the last year was fun and all but there’s a reason I’ve been coloring my hair since the moment I discovered box dye at the drugstore.

Red has always been my color.

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything?” The hairstylist brings over the checkbook and I slide my credit card inside. “There’s still time if you wanted to do something…like get a trim.”

Almost subconsciously, a hand travels to the braid running down her back and she runs her fingers through the ends. “Oh…no. No, I’m all right.”

“Long hair gives you migraines.”

“I’m fine.” Karina closes the lookbook on her lap and rises from her seat by the window. “Ready?”

I can’t get out of this chair fast enough. After having spent the last six hours in a sedentary position, I’m ready to run a mile to offset the damage done to my legs and backside. The thought of getting in a cab or sitting on the train for another twenty minutes is miserable so I convince Karina to take the forty-block walk with me.

It’s the first time we’ve been alone since last week’s revelation. She’s been staying at my house ever since but between her teaching schedule and my final semester of grad school, we’ve barely seen each other. My professors have been more than lenient with me since the incident but I can’t keep slacking forever. Midterms are coming up and if I intend to graduate on time, I need to condense six weeks’ worth of work into this weekend and then bust my ass until finals. Sometimes I wonder how I manage to balance it all.

“How’s your project coming along?” she asks.

She means my thesis studio. It’s the final major project of my degree where I have to come up with a design for a landmarked building, choose a position—restore, repurpose, or rebuild—and then defend that argument in front of my professor, classmates, and other architects. For my project, I’ve decided to make a historic 19th Century apartment building my focus and base my thesis on the importance of preservation and restoration and how they can co-exist with modern safety regulations. The Barcelona house is my model.

“I’m a little behind. In fact, I’m a little behind on everything.” I confess. “The semester started a week before I was released from the hospital and my professors were pretty understanding. But it’s been over a month now and I have to catch up. To be honest, I’ve been dragging my feet a little bit.”

“I hope I haven’t been an added stressor,” she says quickly. “Just tell me and I’ll go stay with our grandparents, it’s not a problem.”