17. Are We Happy?
17
ARE WE HAPPY?
Dahlia
The Past
G etting the boot taken off doesn’t feel like a reward anymore.
I stare at my bare ankle and am glad to roll it around without pain but the evening is soured by my conversation with Lyss this afternoon.
Alejandro doesn’t come home for dinner and if I had the energy, I might be upset. All I can manage is indifference.
Why am I here? Why did I come to Barcelona?
Was it because I really loved him or have I been just replacing Karina with Alejandro? The way I once replaced Lyss with Karina? A source of love and attention was slipping from my grasp and before I could allow the loneliness to settle in, I made sure to fill my life with new people who could distract me for a little while. Is this the source of my discontentment? I don’t know.
I thought grad school would fix everything. It’s been a few weeks and I’ve enjoyed it but there’s something missing from my life. What is it? Why can’t I find it, why am I never satisfied?
Lyss was wrong; I may be independent and self-sufficient but I am not immune to feelings of loneliness. I guess I’ve avoided it for so long because I lost myself in other things like my relationship with Karina. The more I think about it the more I wonder if our relationship is completely one-sided. Is our closeness sincere or imagined on my part? Because I can’t imagine a family member who truly loves and is concerned for the well-being of another would be as inconsistent with their interest in me as she is.
Sure, we used to take our trips every year but what if it was more about her getting away than being with me? What if I’ve overinflated my importance in her life because I want to mean as much to someone else as they mean to me?
Why is it so hard to be loved with the same depth and devotion as I love others? What’s wrong with me that I’ve never encountered anyone in my life who reciprocated the feelings of closeness I crave and desire?
My mother died when I was a kid and my father left the moment he was legally able to do so. My childhood best friend chose to go to school on the other side of the country and the cousin I thought I was close to married my college nemesis. Not to mention the boyfriend I completely rearranged my life for is never home and when he is, I’m lucky if he comes to bed at night. Time passes so quickly when it’s wasted and the last year is starting to feel like a waste.
None of what I’ve read this past hour has sunk in. No matter how many times I start over I can’t focus but luckily, I don’t have to. At half past midnight, Alejandro slips into the bedroom as if not to wake me but gives up all pretense of sneaking in when he realizes I’m awake.
“It’s late,” is all he says as he shuts the door.
“I wasn’t tired.”
He nods—distracted—and as he passes me on the way to the bathroom he kisses me on the top of the head—mechanic. The next half hour goes by quickly and before I know it, he’s kissing the top of my head again and turning off the lamp on his side of the bed.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
He releases a heavy sigh. “For once, I think it can wait until morning.”
“Oh.”
A few minutes pass and he looks over his shoulder. I still have my book on my lap but I gave up on reading a long time ago.
He sits up, closes the book, leaves it on my nightstand, turns off the light, and kisses me again, this time on the cheek. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me against him but I make no effort to move into a more comfortable position.
“Why are you with me?”
“Because you don’t snore at night?”
I can’t help myself. “Am I replacement for Regina?”
Alejandro stills beside me.
Seconds pass.
He gets up and turns on the light again. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
What I don’t tell him is, I think I have a habit of replacing people in my life because I can’t stand to experience loneliness and if I feel that way, than maybe you do too.
“I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous in my entire life.”
“You almost married her.”
“Yes and I didn’t.” His eyes narrow. “Has she tried reaching?—”
I shake my head. “No, I haven’t had any contact with her. Not since the time I told you about.”
“Where is this coming from?”
I answer with a shrug. “I ran into an old friend today.”
“A friend?” he asks with suspicion.
“One from New York. She’s doing a semester abroad at BIS and we bumped into each other. We spoke for a little while,” I say. “I don’t know. Talking to her put a lot of things into perspective. I guess I’ve been feeling a little lonely.”
“I think you’re stressed out and need a vacation,” he remarks flippantly, as if intending to make a joke out of it. “God knows I need one too.”
I almost break my neck turning to look at him. “I’m telling you I feel emotionally neglected by the man I rearranged my entire life for and your response is that we need a vacation ?”
He stiffens. “No, of course not?—”
“I’m so sorry you’ve been burdened by my feelings.” I snatch my book off the nightstand and get out of bed. “I’ll take my grievances with me to the next room.”
“Dahlia, espera?—”
I leave and slam the door shut behind me, almost hoping it’ll fly open a few seconds later.
I don’t know why I’m disappointed when it doesn’t.
T he next day, I have a plan.
I don’t foresee any improvements to my situation in the near future which means I have to take matters into my own hands. Whatever’s going on with Alejandro is directly tied to the part of his “work” I don’t see and while I’d typically turn a blind eye to it, I won’t continue to do so as long as it affects our relationship. He wants my unconditional support and trust? Fine. In exchange, I want answers.
“I want you to explain the family business to me.”
Lettie drops her toast.
The three of them exchange glances across the breakfast table. Diego gets up and grabs his orange juice and newspaper, while Lettie quickly finishes the last of her green juice and scrambles to get away. Alejandro simply frowns.
“Don’t leave.” I pull out a chair at the other end of the breakfast table, toss down a journal, and sit. “I have questions for you too.”
Cautiously, Alejandro sets down his coffee. “That isn’t something you need to concern yourself with.”
“I’m a part of this family, aren’t I?” I lift a brow. “Shouldn’t I know what the family does? Considering this is my life now.”
None of them speaks. Diego gives in and sits while it takes Lettie longer to surrender and return to her poached eggs and toast.
“I don’t want to be the woman who has the door closed in her face. I want to be in the room when the thing happens. You can’t expect me to be with you, live with you, possibly marry you and have children with you one day if I haven’t the slightest idea of what I’m actually getting into.”
“Where’s this coming from?” Alejandro asks.
I flip open my journal. “I made a list of questions for all three of you. Are we going to talk about it or not?”
Diego opens his mouth to speak.
“And don’t bother switching to Spanish,” I warn. “I’ll understand you.”
“I liked it better when you and Do?a Ana weren’t practicing all the time,” he remarks.
“If you were better at Catalan…” Lettie sing-songs in Alejandro’s direction.
Her brother cuts her a look. “My Catalan is fine.”
“Look, I couldn’t care less either way.” Diego shakes out his newspaper and returns to the page he was reading. “Ask my brother, it’s up to him.”
“No, it’s up to me. I want to know. Either answer my questions or I’m leaving.”
This catches Alejandro’s attention. “Leaving?”
“Leaving.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a warning.”
A muscle in his jaw jumps with tension as he leans back in his chair, fingers flexing against the edge of the table. Right when I think he’ll send me back to New York on the first available flight, he grinds his teeth and gives a reticent nod.
“All right,” he says, very softly.
My breath catches and I do my best to hide the tremor in my hands as I hold open my journal and read the first question. “What are the twelve families?”
No one answers at first. They’re all waiting for Alejandro or perhaps me to elaborate further so I do.
“I don’t get it. They are mentioned all the time and I want to know why they’re so important.”
To my surprise, Alejandro answers. “Think of them as a coalition.”
“A coalition?”
“Twelve families all operating and co-existing within the same city. In order to avoid any serious conflict that could impact our businesses or control over certain territories, we answer to each other.”
“Sounds like a Five Families knock-off,” I say.
Diego snorts and almost chokes on his orange juice. He makes a show of clearing his throat and hides behind his newspaper.
“If that makes it easier for you to understand, then yes. Something like that.” Alejandro ignores his brother’s outburst. “We have rules to keep the peace. Government involvement is forbidden; if one family has an issue with another, they either resolve it internally or petition the families to make an inquiry.”
“What’s an inquiry?”
“Our polite way of launching an investigation.”
I press my lips together as I scribble down notes in my journal. “Okay…what are the other rules?”
“The Dons are untouchable. You can’t put a hit on one otherwise you forfeit your life and the safety of your family.”
“Sandro put a hit on you. Twice.”
“That’s a more complicated situation.”
“How so?”
“Well, for one, I would’ve had to prove it. In order to do so, I needed witnesses, all of whom are dead. Except for you,” he amends. “Which leads me to my third rule: partners, children, and civilian family members are untouchable.”
“Explain.”
Diego answers instead. “For example. Sandro has another sister—Montserrat. She’s a civilian, she doesn’t have anything to do with her family’s business. At least, not the part concerning the twelve families. Because of that, she’s untouchable. If I went out and killed her tomorrow, I’d be dead next. Probably the rest of us too.”
Alejandro’s gaze is searing but his brother ignores him.
“Make sense?”
Killing family members: big no-no
I finish writing and move on to my next question. “Makes sense. Okay, so by partners you mean romantic partners right? Someone like me.”
“No,” Lettie interrupts Alejandro before he can speak. “You haven’t been presented to the other families. It’s part of why Alejandro didn’t petition for an inquiry into Sandro’s assassination attempts.”
“Leticia.” His voice carries a warning.
“What’s the point in lying?” his sister replies. “Dahlia is right. We should put everything out in the open.”
“Not everything. ”
“Yes, everything,” I protest. “If you want to be with me, this is nonnegotiable. I turned a blind eye to everything before and I thought ignorance was better than unwanted knowledge but?—”
“You changed your mind. Why? Has something happened?”
“Your behavior lately is motivation enough. What other reason would I need?”
He bites his tongue.
Lettie continues, “The twelve families only respect a relationship when it’s been brought to their attention. Otherwise, the romantic partner is left vulnerable.” Her head whips around and she holds up a hand, effectively silencing her brother. “ Don’t interrupt me.” Lettie returns her attention to me. “Girlfriends, boyfriends, flings. All those people are dispensable. Only spouses and longtime partners are respected and protected. Which means if a Don wants to give a partner the protection of his name and family, he’s obligated to present them to the other families.”
“With the added caveat of them never being able to return to their normal lives,” Alejandro interjects hotly. “Or did you forget that part, Leticia?”
“Oh, please. No one’s enforced that rule for years.”
“Slow down!” I snap. “Jesus Christ…this isn’t helpful. What do you mean the person can never go back to their normal life?”
Diego replies this time. “The twelve families aren’t keen on the idea of their identities being so well known. There was a time, back in the seventies and eighties, where they used to just kill the girlfriends when the Dons were done with them.”
“But they don’t anymore!” Lettie adds hurriedly. “Haven’t for a while.”
“How reassuring,” I deadpan.
“If anyone so much as breathes in your direction, they’re a dead man. Don’t worry about the other families,” Alejandro says. “They know better.”
I almost comment on the fact he had to kill a number of people to protect me last year but think better of it. Best to move onto the next question.
“What exactly do you guys do?”
“Elaborate,” Alejandro says.
“The business.”
“What about it?”
“Shipping things can’t be all you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t—” I stumble over my words. “Well…you know…be involved in other stuff.”
“The shipping company exists under the umbrella of the enterprise, it’s…” Alejandro searches for a simpler explanation but I don’t think there is one. “Narvaez Enterprises is a multinational holding company and conglomerate. Which means we either own or have a controlling interest in a number of other companies, related or otherwise. The most important one is the shipping company which Abuelo founded sixty years ago.”
“What other kinds of companies fall under the umbrella?”
“Tia Leticia’s tequila business in Mexico, for one. Tio Horatio’s cruise ships, fashion brands, real estate companies. We specialize in luxury goods. Whether it’s luxury real estate, jewels, cars, whatever you can think of.”
“Why is the shipping company the most important?”
“Because it’s the oldest and worth the most. In a single quarter it can bring anything from two to three billion dollars. Not to mention the shipping company handles the distribution of all the other subsidiaries. If we lost it, the rest of the enterprise could potentially collapse in on itself.”
When he says billion, I almost choke on my own saliva. I busy myself with making more notes.
Billion—emphasis on the B.
As I write the word out, something occurs to me. “Wait, so if you guys are worth so much why all the Corleone stuff?”
Lettie’s nose scrunches with distaste. “The what ?”
“You don’t need to be involved in whatever illegal business the other families partake in. You guys are rich enough without it.”
“It’s not about the money,” Diego explains. “The Port of Barcelona is one of the most important ports in the entire region. It plays a vital role in connecting Europe with other international markets; Asia, the Americas, and all of North Africa. To control that port means near unlimited access around the world.”
“It’s why Sandro’s always fighting us for it,” Lettie comments.
“And it can’t be bought either,” Alejandro adds. “The port is a public entity, run by the city’s port authority. Which means we have to keep control of it by force.”
“What does ‘control’ entail?”
Alejandro gestures vaguely. “A number of things. For one, influence over shipping. Having leverage over which ships are allowed to dock and having control over what goods can enter or exit. It means evading inspections, charging fees, taxes. Having control over port security in order to move in and out undetected, managing the labor, exerting influence over other businesses.”
“And…when you say you keep control by force?”
“I’m not answering that question.”
I pick up my pen again.
Note: don’t ask about control.
“Where does El Rey fall into the picture?”
“Gambling’s a much smaller entity. I opened El Rey when the family was still trying to go legitimate.”
“Lettie told me the bulk of your money came from illegal gambling, arms dealing, and black-market contraband.”
He casts his sister a weary look. “Did she now.”
“In my defense, she was freshly kidnapped and I wasn’t going to tell her the whole truth! I’m not crazy,” Lettie defends.
Alejandro tilts his head at me, hazel eyes deep and endless. “Did we answer all your questions?”
“Almost.” I hold my breath for a moment before asking, “Will you ever try to go legitimate again?”
The table goes silent.
“You can’t expect to go on like this forever. In fact, I think it’s a miracle your family’s managed to make it this far with so many skeletons in its closet.”
“Believe me. There’s worse out there.”
A shiver bolts down my spine.
Satisfied with what I’ve learned, I tuck my pen into my journal and close it. Given how much was revealed to me this morning, I believe I’ve handled the information dump reasonably well. After all, if I can witness my boyfriend kill a man then nothing else in the world should phase me. Least of all the backend part of his family business.
As soon as everyone leaves today, I’ll look up some of the words I don’t understand; like what it means to be a multinational holding company and how a company is different from a conglomerate. I suppose I have an idea but I’d like further confirmation without having to subject myself to anymore time in their presence. Right now, I don’t know how I feel about everyone, Diego and Lettie included. As much as I care about them and see them as family, I can’t turn a blind eye to their involvement in all this. I’m comforted by the fact that because of Lettie’s age, she was likely sheltered by her brothers. But Diego?
Does he have blood on his hands too?
“Those were all my questions.”
Lettie and Diego exchange glances, both of them visibly slumping with relief. I get up, ready to leave, when Alejandro says, “Leave me alone with Dahlia for a moment.”
“Don’t be rude. They’re in the middle of breakfast.”
Lettie finishes the last of her green juice and stands. “Actually, I’m running late for an appointment. Don’t worry about me.”
“Uh, I have…things.” Diego trails after his sister. “I don’t have things; I just don’t want to be here for this conversation.”
She punches his shoulder and the two of them bicker on the way out.
Alejandro abandons his place at the head of the table and meets me at the other end where he leans against the edge, hands folded in front of him. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable with the heaviness of his gaze.
“About last night…” he hedges, still searching for the right words. “I don’t want you to be emotionally neglected. I’m sorry.”
I’m not sure what to say. “Okay.”
He lifts a brow at me. “Is that it?”
“No one’s ever apologized for hurting my feelings before. I’m not sure how to react.”
I wish I hadn’t answered so honestly but something about my response must strike a chord in him because his shoulders stiffen.
“Are we happy?”
His question caches me off guard. “What?”
“Answer honestly. Don’t worry about my feelings or what I think. I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind when I ask. Are we happy?”
“I can’t answer that question.”
“Why?”
“Because the answer requires more than a simple yes or no.”
He takes a steadying breath and nods slowly, as if coming to a realization of his own. “I’m not happy,” he states bluntly.
I can’t help but startle. “You’re not?”
“No. My discontentment comes from other things.”
“Like whatever you get caught up doing when you’re supposed to be coming home to me?”
“Yes.”
“My unhappiness comes from not being your priority anymore. I think it’d be easier to accept if I knew what you were doing every time you stood me up or came home late or pulled away from me. But I don’t and so it makes me feel like I’m the problem instead.”
Alejandro considers this a moment and says, “I won’t deny it. There are other things going on but I can’t tell you what they are.”
“ Why ?”
“Because you don’t need to know, Dahlia. You shouldn’t .”
It takes everything in me not to fight back. To ask why, over and over again, demanding answers to all the questions that haunt me at night. At every turn I’m reminded of what I willingly got myself into and forced to accept the reality of not wanting to live this way anymore. Alejandro warned me—he told me it would be this way and, in my naivety, I thought I’d be able to handle it. Or at the very least, learn to live with it. Instead, I feel it chipping away at what was once an immovable foundation.
For the first time, I find myself wondering whether or not coming here was a mistake. I don’t know how much longer I can go on living this way—loving someone who I may not truly know. He spends more time away than with me nowadays. Deep down, I think I’m afraid of the man he is when I’m not around.
After all, isn’t that why I sat there and watched him murder Jean Beauchamp? To see what he’s capable of?
He leans forward and kisses my cheek. “Why don’t we go away this weekend? Just the two of us.”
Maybe we shouldn’t.
“Go where?”
“Anywhere. I have a plane that can take us anywhere in the world.”
Will it take me home?
“No, nowhere far.”
“All right. Why don’t we take the drive out to the villa? We can leave before noon and come back Sunday evening.”
Dahlia, stop. Stop.
Don’t.
“How alone will we be?”
“Just us. I’ll even leave Dimitrio and the others behind.”
Tell him.
Tell him you think we’re reaching the end.
Don’t be a coward.
I fight back against the voices in my head, the one screaming at me to be reasonable. To accept a truth I’m not yet ready to face.
I can’t. I still love him.
I give him the best smile I can. “Okay.”