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We start to talk with our eyes, a vacuum forming around us so we don’t hear anything at all. I don’t know how long we stay like this, but finally I breathe: I can read the decision in his eyes. I give him a nod.
“I can’t do it,” he says out loud. “I’m so sorry, Alicia. Please, forgive me,” his voice breaks, his eyes watering.
“No! Marc, please. Don’t do this to me. Don’t!”
Within a few seconds, the guests are crowding around us.
What a mess.
* * *
Hours later, the five of us, Jaime, and Alex are at the restaurant where the reception was to be held. We’ve come with Mom and Dad to cancel and apologize. Alicia’s family has refused to come and, of course, to pay a single penny. I don’t blame them.
When our parents go home, we stay and surrender ourselves to consuming the drinks we’ve already paid for with the cancellation fee. Right now, we’re sitting in a circle—I’m barefoot, and the guys have loosened their ties, hung their jackets on the backs of their chairs, and rolled their shirtsleeves up to the elbow.
“Wow, what a mess. If the Cabanas weren’t already well known for it, after today...” Hugo points out.
“Always in the eye of the storm,” Adrián says.
“Guys, I feel like shit,” Marcos tells us. “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. It got completely out of hand. I’m a fucking mess. Alicia will never forgive me for this. I promise you, the last thing I wanted was to hurt her.”
“You want me to talk about disasters?” River intervenes.
“Why? What’s wrong with you?” Adrián asks.
“Didn’t you notice that Cata hasn’t been with me for weeks? She didn’t even come to the wedding today.”
Shit, I didn’t.
“Fuck, you’re right,” Hugo says.
“Obviously, neither today nor in recent weeks have I noticed anything,” Marcos says.
“I don’t think I’ve noticed anything all summer,” I confess.
“I have no excuse,” Adrián says. “I never pay attention to what your wife does or doesn’t do.”
“I noticed,” Jaime intervenes. “I like Cata. She has something.”
Alex remains silent, looking at all of us.
“Cata wants a divorce,” River says then.
“Hallelujah!” Adrián yells.
I censure my brother with a look. Yes, okay, I’ve never liked Catalina, but she’s River’s wife, and even though we make fun of him and nag him constantly about divorce, this seems serious.
“You don’t understand. I can’t divorce her,” River tells us. “You don’t understand shit. Fuck!”
“Well, explain it then,” Hugo says.
“I can’t.”
“Why?” Adrián asks.
“What the hell is going on, River?” Marcos asks over the top of Adrián.
“Fuck.”
