Carlos: A Zambrano Family Novel

by Deici, Olivia

  He tapped the door. “Well, I'm out. Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?”

  I shook my head. “Thank you, but I'll be ok.”

  He left and from a distance, I heard the door close.

  I looked over one chart, and things were going great for the patient. The treatment plan was working.

  The last chart was one where Dr. Leideman wanted me to see. Poor man was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin's lymphoma at twenty-five. A little over a decade later and he now has acute myeloid leukemia.

  Fuck, life was unfair.

  The risk was supposed to drop some ten years into remission, but the risk of second cancer would always remain. As life would have it, you not only could get screwed with cancer the first time, but depending on your treatment, you could also later develop second cancer.

  At least he’d donated some of his own cells, which made treatment options better.

  I looked over his file before calling it a day.

  I wondered what Carlos was doing now.

  #525, if you're keeping count with me.

  I turned off the light and closed the door.

  40

  Carlos

  Be Alright,

  Dean Lewis

  “Bro, don't be a dumb ass. Call her.”

  I eyed Roman as I shot back three fingers of rum.

  “Listen. If she doesn't want to be with you, there are plenty of women out there. Play the field. Don't get strapped down so early, man.”

  Roman shoved Diego. Marco was staring away, out to the warehouse from where we sat in the large office, smoking a cigarillo. We were on the shipping dock waiting for the family meet-up. We owned a few shipping warehouses here.

  High quality coffee.

  Concealing deadly arms.

  “Don't be a fucking asshole, D. He's fucking in love. They are in love.”

  Diego snorted. “I don't know what the fuck is in the goddamn water, man, but I'd rather dehydrate than drink the shit.”

  “One day you'll find her, and you'll see how stupid your words are.”

  Diego sneered at Roman. “No piece of ass is worth the shit and trouble they bring.”

  Roman laughed. “Knock on wood or some shit, bro, before the girl meant for you has more baggage than a TV housewife.”

  Diego’s eyes went wide and he grimaced. “No thanks. Especially if they have a kid. Fuck. That. I don't need that kind of baggage.”

  I laughed when he reached out anyway, and knocked on the wooden desk.

  “What kind of baggage is that?” I asked.

  “A brat.”

  Marco turned and exhaled a puff of smoke. “So Ari is a brat?”

  Diego groaned. “No, bro. Damn. Of course not. She's my sobrina and I love her. But I don't want baggage. That includes a long term thing. I want quick fucks and no attachments. I don't need that. Ever.”

  Roman shook his head, downing the last of his drink. “Famous last words. You're going to eat them one day, hermano.”

  “The only thing I'm going to be eating is pussy belonging to some tight hot uncomplicated chick that can fuck like a whore and go on her way after.”

  “Fucking lost cause,” Roman said about Diego, before looking at me. “They're the same.”

  “What?” What the fuck was he talking about? “Who?”

  “Our women.”

  God. Here we go again.

  “They're best friends for a reason. They've been through heavy shit. We may have grown up in a mafia family but Mamá and Pop were always there for us. We're all tight and there for one another. They loved us unconditionally, gave us the basics every kid needs. The irony is laughable that we had a better upbringing as a mafia family, than our two women had. Both of their families were dysfunctional. They need stability. They didn't have that.” He let out smoke. “We have to be their stability, their safety net.”

  “You're fucking telling me the obvious, Roman. I know what Cari has been through.”

  “Then what the fuck are you waiting for?”

  “She needs time! She got spooked. I'm giving her time, fuck.”

  I was frustrated. Beyond frustrated.

  My arms missed being wrapped around her. My heart was empty. I didn’t need to hear this shit from my brother and make things worse for me.

  I already felt like shit.

  “Do you think I gave up on her?”

  Roman stayed quiet. Diego had a grimace on his face. Marco was still looking away, smoking down the cigarillo.

  “Of course I didn't!” That pissed me off. “I love her! I'm giving her some fucking time. The feelings between us, and the boat incident, they scared the shit out of her. She couldn't cope. I could see it in her eyes.”

  “She was messed up bad when you were gone,” Roman confirmed. “Even Izzy wasn't able to get her out of her head.”

  I clenched my jaw. “She's lost a lot. The loss of her mother and foster brother, and her time in foster care, had really fucked with her.”

  Pop walked in then, eyes curiously looking at all of us. “Vamos.”

  We nodded, and Diego and Roman followed behind Pop. As I proceeded towards the office door, Marco stayed me with a hand. My eyes found his.

  “Don't wait too long.”

  The grief, anger, and desolation in his eyes told me more of the pain my brother had faced and continues to experience, and what I would face at Cari’s loss, than any words could ever communicate.

  “I won't.”

  He nodded, slapped my back, and walked through the door.

  I’d give Cari another week.

  After that, I was busting through doors and walls-

  Both the metaphorical and literal kind.

  41

  Carlos

  “Good to see you, Tomás. Been a long time.”

  I eyed the new men from where my brothers and I stood behind our father. Apparently, the Valladares Cartel head had disappeared from the U.S. for over three decades, and that fuckface Orozco had taken over the American operations since then.

  “My thanks, Alejandro.” Valladares nodded to the man who stood behind him. He could be a younger version of Valladares. Both men were tall with black short hair and dark piercing eyes. Their skin was medium-toned with bulges of muscles covered in blatant tattoos.

  “This is my son, Emiliano.”

  His son nodded. His stance was as solid as his muscle and as serious as his face, but there was an underlying pallor to him, an almost sickly one. His skin didn't match the vitality one would expect given his physical fitness and age. He appeared to be in his mid to late thirties, about Marco’s age.

  Orozco stood next to him. Pop ignored Orozco, though. I could tell that bothered the little fuck.

  “From what was said at our last meeting, you are seeking to reestablish your previous territory.”

  Valladares nodded. “Yes. We had internal issues that led to me and my son’s absence in the States.”

  Pop nodded. “And your wife?”

  “Dead.”

  The haunted look that passed in that man’s dark eyes reminded me of Marco’s. Pop had given us a brief run-down of the Valladares Cartel but it didn't include much information about the man’s wife. I would need to ask him about this later.

  “I am sad to hear that.”

  Valladares simply nodded his head at Pop’s words and remained silent. My eyes focused on Orozco, who shifted on his feet. Emiliano gave him a dissecting side-eye.

  Fucking odd.

  “I have no issue with you reestablishing your territory.”

  “That's not how I saw it,” Orozco said, and Valladares’ head snapped to him with a deadly look in his eyes. The man’s jaw clenched so hard I was surprised that his teeth didn't crack. Orozco looked down but his tight fists were an interesting juxtaposition to his passivity in front of Valladares. Orozco was a live wire cloaked in a mild encasement.

  We’d needed to keep an eye on him. No doubt Pop felt the same.

  “Your man had a few i
ssues last meet. Doesn't know when to speak or be quiet. He's grossly unfamiliar with the rules and etiquette.”

  The only show of annoyance I could catch on Valladares’ face was the coldness that swept his eyes when they glanced at Orozco. Otherwise, the man wore a stoic mask.

  “It will be addressed.”

  Pop nodded. “Very well. We shall vote on the reestablishment of the territory.”

  Pop called on each head to cast a “yay” or “nay”, but since my father hadn't outright vocalized objection, typically, the other families would follow suit. When it came time for the Zaitsevs to vote, Pyotr hesitated and everyone noticed. Orozco shifted on his feet again and Pyotr’s eyes moved to his. When their eyes met, Orozco looked away.

  What the fuck was that?

  “Aye.”

  He was the last vote.

  “Very well. It's been voted and agreed to reestablish your territory. Our rules have not changed- no drugs, no slavery, no exploitation of women or children.” Pop paused a minute. “A reminder to those who hadn't had the sense to learn- these meetings keep the peace in this city, my city.” My father’s eyes were on Orozco. “Any action that disturbs the peace we all enjoy will be seen as an affront to me, and will be dealt with as I see fit.”

  Valladares’ turned questioning eyes to Orozco.

  “Our meeting is done.”

  Everyone rose after Pop’s words. Valladares remained behind along with his son and Orozco. My brothers and I remained behind Pop.

  “Estas bien?” Valladares ask his son if he was ok.

  “Is there something I can help with?”

  Valladares shook his head at Pop’s question. “I'll speak plainly since the friendship you and I had once, stretched over many years.”

  Pop nodded.

  “We have two reasons why we returned. The first was to reestablish our territory after too long of an absence. The second is for treatment for Emiliano.”

  “For what?”

  “Cancer.”

  Pop frowned. “I can recommend an excellent doctor- one of the best oncologists in the country. She treated me.”

  My heart sped in pride at him discussing Caridad. I didn't doubt that my father took into account her safety. He wouldn't have recommended her had it been someone else he would have deemed dangerous.

  Valladares was grim and Emiliano looked forlorn.

  “It’s not an easy fight.” Valladares looked at his son. You could tell the man had strong feelings for him. “This would be second cancer.”

  Pop grimaced. “I'm sorry to hear that. My prostate cancer returned recently but she helped me, and it's in remission again.”

  Valladares nodded. “We came to the States for treatment and would appreciate the name if you recommend her.”

  My father wrote down the information on a paper and passed it over. Valladares took it, and his eyes rounded at her name.

  “Caridad Zavala?”

  Hearing her name had me clenching a fist. I fucking missed her.

  My love.

  I would be going after her soon.

  My eyes caught on Orozco, who shifted again and clenched his jaw. Emiliano casted him a hard glare.

  “You know her?”

  Valladares shook his head at my father’s question.

  “No. Just an odd combination of names of personal significance. Perhaps it is a sign that she is meant to treat my son.”

  And she would. She would do everything to save Emiliano.

  Like she did everything to save everyone-

  Except herself.

  “We have an appointment with one oncologist. We will see how that develops and if it's not satisfactory, I will contact her.”

  My father nodded and stood. Walking towards Valladares, the men surprised all of us when they hugged and slapped each other's back.

  “Que bueno verte, Tomás. Me alegro que regresaste. Sentimos mucho la muerte de Liliana. No supimos.”

  Valladares’ face softened. My father had told him it was good to see him and that he was happy at his return. He’d added that we felt sorry for the passing of his wife and that we hadn't known.

  “La cosa es complicada, amigo.”

  Valladares said it was complicated.

  Pop nodded. “Hablaré con Maria Elena a ver cuando podemos tenerte de visita.”

  I guess we would be having some guests at our family dinner. My father just told him he'd speak to Mamá to have them over.

  “Gracias, hermano.”

  We moved closer when Tomás motioned us to approach him. “Have there been new faces?”

  “A few.” Pop explained what had happened with the Italians, and with the Russians post massacre. Tomás shook his head.

  “I don't like that,” he whispered and motioned for Emiliano to join.

  “I don't like it, either. It's too coincidental. It has been a crazy few years here. Do you know something?”

  Tomás looked at Emiliano, who said, “The way our business has been run here in the States has been poor.”

  “So he's as incompetent as he looks.”

  Emiliano nodded. “It's more than that. Decline in profits for a long time yet he lives the same. There've been no changes. To anything. My men are hurting with the drop in income, but he’s not.”

  Pop stayed silent processing the information.

  “If we find out anything to involve you or the families, we’ll let you know.”

  “Gracias, Tomás.” My father looked at Emiliano. “I wish you health and recovery.”

  Emiliano nodded and extended a hand to my father, who shook it.

  My father blatantly ignored Orozco, who had remained standing at the back wall. Orozco’s eyes could have lasered a hole through Pop’s head.

  It took everything in me not to outright laugh. He could hate my father all he wanted- it wouldn't change a damn thing.

  My brothers were less tolerant of his leer, judging by their expressions. It was blatant disrespect. The hostility in their eyes rivaled the fires of hell.

  “Adios. Te vemos pronto.”

  We saw the other men leave as my father told them goodbye and that we'd see them soon.

  I think at this point, judging by the curious looks on my brothers’ faces, they had the same questions I did.

  “Come, my sons. I will explain.”

  And with that, we followed Pop out.

  42

  Cari

  Sweet but Psycho,

  Ava Max

  I was a fucking emotional wreck. I was literally spiraling to new lows.

  I’d started out ok, getting my life in order. I was trying to have a better outlook, and work on myself.

  But I was slipping down the slope. It was as if the longer I was apart from Carlos, the emptiness became as serious as being without air.

  It had been nearly three weeks since I broke things off.

  I was so frustrated and it was my fault.

  In my effort to protect myself from further hurt, I’d fucking set fire to the one thing that was pure and good.

  My relationship with Carlos.

  God, I fucking missed him.

  I hated myself.

  Really hated myself.

  I had no patience left for my fucked up thinking and feelings.

  Then I had also been dodging Iza for a while now, too.

  Because why not ruin only one relationship when you can ruin two?

  Distorted thinking.

  I was convinced it belonged in one of the categories of distorted thinking. But then, I wasn't a psychologist- just in need of one. My treatment was working, but psychological conditions weren’t an overnight fix.

  I felt so fucking alone. And it was my fault.

  Fear.

  A fear of losing more people I loved, so I push them away in an effort to control how I lose them-

  -That maybe if I have limited or no contact with them, it will hurt less if they die on me.

  And be suspended in time in my mind and memories.


  So that they're always happy, healthy, alive, and cancer-free.

  I once had a friend who loved her aunt so much, she never called her.

  Fucked up, right?

  Doesn't make sense does it?

  I knew that and so did she.

  But hearing her elderly aunt’s voice on the phone terrified her. It made the possibility of losing her that much more real.

  It caused her anxiety.

  Hearing the frailty of her voice scared her. She loved her so much.

  At least in her mind, her aunt was healthy and had decades yet to live. So she limited the contact with her because she couldn't bear to think of her dying one day.

  This was me now. So afraid to lose Carlos, I pushed him away.

  I lost him on my terms, not life’s.

  He's alive in my head, and I'd rather live alone knowing that he was alive, than live having loved and lost him.

  I slammed my hand on my desk.

  I hated myself.

  And because I pushed him away, I pushed Iza away, too.

  I was cocooning myself from hurt. Avoiding any strong emotions and just living life in the white- the land of the lifeless and loveless.

  No color.

  No emotion.

  Avoidance.

  Yet another psychological abnormality.

  White.

  It's where I lived. Not in the color that those who I loved brought into my life.

  Why be an oncologist since I'd deal with death a lot more than other specialities?

  That wasn't for me to solve.

  Maybe it was true, what Carlos had said. That I couldn't form too deep of a bond with someone in this type of specialty.

  I mean, I thought I did. I loved my patients and I might doubt other things, but I knew I was a good doctor.

  And since Chris had died, I was working harder to compensate for his loss by desperately saving others.

  I sighed. This was too much for me to think about right now.

  I'd picked up my cell so many times to call Carlos.

  Was I ready to take that step?

  Maybe he'd forgive and have me back, but maybe he wouldn't.