Sempre (Forever) (42 page)

“Pull into the parking lot to the right,” he said as they neared the grocery store. Haven turned, and the car skidded to a crooked stop across some parking spots. A tear slid down Haven’s cheek. Carmine undid his seatbelt and pulled her into his arms. “I made that a lot harder than it should’ve been. I think someone else would be better at teaching you this.”

“Why do I have to learn?”

“So you can get around on your own.”

“He’s going to let me in public on my own?”

“Maybe. Besides, it’s a nice skill to have, and one you’ll appreciate when we start over together somewhere.”

She pulled back from his embrace, a curious expression on her face. “Start over?”

“Yes, a clean slate. No matter what it takes.”

“You really think…?”

“I know.”

She smiled. “Then I don’t want anyone else to teach me how to drive. I want it to be you.”

He chuckled. “Your short term memory must be shot if you forgot about the disaster of a teaching job I just did.”

“We’re learning everything together, remember? I think driving should be no different.”

“Okay, then,” he conceded. “Let’s try again. First and foremost, when you come to a yellow light, slow the fuck down and stop.”

Chapter 27

Haven stood in the kitchen, surveying the refrigerator as she contemplated what to cook for dinner. Her mind kept drifting as Dr. DeMarco’s words infiltrated her thoughts, echoing in her mind like a song on repeat.

She wanted a life with Carmine, but they’d need to find a way out that didn’t involve running away. Was that possible? She wasn’t sure. But against her better judgment, she desperately hoped so.

Haven yelped when an arm slipped around her waist, so lost in thought she hadn’t heard Carmine approach. She turned around, her heart beating erratically at the sight of him. He’d just gotten out of the shower, and his damp hair was sticking up all over the place.

He kissed her, his mouth minty from toothpaste. There was another bitter taste on his lips, and she pulled back, eyeing him suspiciously. “Have you been drinking?”

He smirked, his expression the only answer she needed. She turned back around, and he chuckled as she gazed into the refrigerator again. “Let’s get drunk tonight,
tesoro
.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Because it’s Friday? Because I survived my first week back at school? Does one need a reason to get drunk? I promise to be a perfect gentleman.” He leaned down, nipping at the nape of her neck with his teeth. “Well, maybe not a
perfect
gentleman.”

She laughed but didn’t bother with a response.

“You know, we do have air conditioning,” he said. “You’ve had that fridge door open for so long I thought maybe you were trying to cool the kitchen or something.”

“I’m thinking about dinner.”

“Awesome, because I’m starving.” He grabbed a glass from the cabinet. She took it from him, and he looked at her before just shrugging.

“What are you hungry for?” she asked, grabbing a jar of cherries and a bottle of Coke.

Carmine leaned against the counter, his eyes raking down her body. “You.”

“Exactly how much did you have to drink, Carmine?”

“I’m not drunk. I barely took a sip. My desire for you is natural, not chemically induced.” She handed him the drink, and he took a sip. “You're entirely too good to me.”

“You can make it up to me later,” she said playfully.

“If you wanna go upstairs, I’ll make it up to you right now.”

“I have dinner to make,” she said. “Your father will be home soon.”

“Fuck him. He probably won’t even eat with us tonight.”

“Regardless, dinner’s supposed to be ready at seven, which means I only have thirty minutes to throw something together,” she said, pulling some sausage out of the freezer. She stuck it into the microwave to defrost, but Carmine grabbed the sausage and tossed it back into the freezer. “What are you doing? You’re going to get me in trouble!”

He didn't answer, instead pulling out his phone and scrolling through it to make a call. “Hey, is pizza cool for dinner?” he asked as soon as the line picked up. “Yeah. Bye.”

He hung up. “There. Dinner’s done.”

“We’re still not going upstairs.”

He laughed. “Fair enough, but I do wanna get drunk tonight.”

Dominic got home a few minutes later and looked at Carmine with confusion. “Where's your car, bro?”

Carmine smirked. “Dad traded with me so Haven could drive.”

“She drove? And the car’s still in one piece?” He glanced out the window. “Okay, well, you obviously clipped something.”

“It was a mailbox,” Carmine said. “I freaked her out a bit. I’m not exactly the most patient person on the planet.”

“You got that right. But why would Dad ask you? Did he want his car to be destroyed?”

Carmine shook his head. “I don’t know, but it was a disaster. I’m lucky she didn’t kill me with the way she was running red lights and stop signs.”

“I didn’t run any stop signs,” she said.

“Stop sign, yield sign—same difference. They both mean you’re supposed to slow the hell down in case something’s coming, which you clearly didn’t do.”

“There is a difference. One you stop at, no matter what, and the other you slow down in case something’s coming, right?”

He sighed. “Like I said, it was a disaster.”

“That was probably the point,” Dominic said. “Anyone with half a brain could see throwing you two in a car together without any mishaps is impossible. He could’ve done it himself, so why ask the one person guaranteed to fuck it up? No offense.”

They were all quiet for a second before Carmine spoke. “Whatever, I’m not playing his games.”

Haven heard a car approaching and glanced over to the window, watching the Mazda pull up outside. Dr. DeMarco stepped out with some boxes of pizza. “He’s home.”

The front door opened, and Carmine sighed exasperatedly as he let go of her. Dr. DeMarco walked into the kitchen and laid dinner on the counter before glancing at Carmine, a light groan escaping his throat. It was barely audible, and Haven looked at Carmine with uncertainty, seeing he was sipping from his glass of Cherry Coke.

“Do you have my keys, son?” he asked. Carmine pulled them out, and Dr. DeMarco exchanged keys again. “I have some things I need to take care of tonight, so I won’t be back until tomorrow.”

He headed for the door again before any of them could react. Dr. DeMarco walked to his car, pausing at the passenger mirror. It had a long scratch dug into it, noticeable against the shiny black paint. He turned his head slowly toward the house, his eyes coming to rest on Haven at the window. She worried he’d come back inside, but he just climbed into the car and drove away.

Haven sighed, turning to Carmine once Dr. DeMarco was gone. “I think I want to go upstairs now.”

“Alright, we can do that,” he said, snatching the top box of pizza. “I can still get fucked up, right?”

She smiled at his expression. His lips were turned down into a childish pout. “Of course you can.”

“And you’re still gonna drink with me, aren’t you?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“I wanna do everything with you,” he said. “Even shit we’d probably be better off not doing together.”

“Like driving?”

He laughed. “Yes, driving. So let’s get smashed and forget you nearly killed me today trying.”

*  *  *  *

Haven brought her cup to her lips cautiously and took a sip of the sweet fruity drink. The alcohol taste lingered in the background, not so bad that it hindered the taste. “This is good. What is it?”

“Sweet-Tart. You know—orange soda, kool-aid and Everclear.”

Haven didn’t know, but she liked it anyway. She took another drink as Carmine laughed. “What do you wanna do while you’re still coherent, hummingbird?”

“What is there to do?”

“We can play a game or something.”

“Like 21 questions?”

“No, I think we’re past that. We have some board games around here, or we could play a card game. There’s always drinking games, but I don’t think you need any help getting drunk.”

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows, and she pulled her already half-empty cup from her lips. “It tastes good.”

Grabbing his bottle of liquor, Carmine took a drink. He was shirtless, and Haven was captivated by the way his stomach muscles grew taut as his body quivered. He scratched the scar on his side, and she was transfixed by his hand. It was rough and calloused from playing football, but it was strong, his fingers long and lean.

Carmine cleared his throat, and she glanced up. He’d caught her ogling him. “I know what we can play,” he said.

“What?”

He held up a finger, silently telling her to wait, and crouched down to look under the bed. He started digging out boxes and glanced inside of them before shoving them back under. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled out a gray game console and a controller.

“What is it?” she asked as he hooked it up to his television.

“It’s the original Nintendo. Kept it from when I was a kid.”

“And we’re going to play it?”

“We’re gonna try.” He blew into a game before sliding it inside the console, turning it on as he glanced at the screen. It started up right away as he sat down on the floor, stretching out his legs and patting the space between them. “Come here. Let me teach you how to do this.”

She sat down carefully between his legs, and he held the controller in front of her to explain the buttons. She watched as he played the first board. “What’s this game called?”

“Mario. It's like a rite of passage. You’re nobody until you’ve conquered it.” His tone was serious, yet youthful and innocent. It made her smile. “Here, finish this part.”

She took the controller. “But what if I kill him? He can die, right?”

“He comes right back to life. It’s not like we’ll have to plan a funeral or anything.”

She turned back to the television. It took her three tries to get the coordination going to get him to jump over things, but she eventually got the hang of it. Carmine grabbed their drinks and sat back down behind her, pulling her body against his chest.

The next few hours passed as they fell into a cycle. She’d kill the character, and Carmine would complete a level so she could try the next one. Haven could feel the alcohol in her system, her limbs tingly and head foggy. She found it nice, the two of them doing something so carefree. She never got those types of experiences before. He was giving her parts of a life she missed out on.

She was playing a board with a bunch of turtles when Carmine nuzzled into her neck. Distracted, she ran the character right off a ledge. He chuckled as she shrugged and tossed the controller down.

“Does my drinking bother you?” Carmine asked, taking a swig from the bottle of vodka.

“You don’t drink enough for it to bother me,” she said. “You aren’t a mean drunk like Master Michael. The more alcohol he drank, the worse the punishments got.”

“I’d like to kill that guy,” Carmine said. “You don’t know how bad I want him to suffer for what he did to you.”

She shook her head. “You can’t do that.”

“Why not? You can’t seriously care about him.”

“I don’t care about that man, but I do care about you. I don’t want you to hurt people anymore. I don’t want you to be a killer.”

Carmine pulled her back to him tighter, kissing the top of her head. “You know, I never knew what I wanted out of life. Going to Chicago always made the most sense, but now that I have you in my life, I’m starting to see it differently. What you want matters, so if you don’t want me to do that shit, then I have to really think about it. It’ll be your life, too, and you mean a lot more to me than any of them.”

She smiled as his words washed through her, but her relief was dampened when he continued. “Maybe we should just go. I’ll find a way to block your chip, and we’ll just take off.”

“No, I don’t think we should,” she said. “I don’t want you to have to leave everything behind.”

“If that’s what you want.”

She nodded. “I just want no problems for awhile.”

“We’ll stay put then,” he said, pausing before adding, “for now.”

He started taking the game apart, and she watched as he put it back into the box. “I wondered what was in those.”

“It’s where I keep the old me,” he said. “Everything I kept from Chicago is in these boxes.”

She sat down on his bed with her drink as he pulled out a smaller box and took off the lid. It contained mostly papers, and he dug through the stack briefly before pulling out a black picture frame. He held it out to Haven. She took it carefully, glancing at the picture. Her gaze came upon a woman with bright red hair, eyes the same color as Carmine's.

Haven felt like she couldn’t breathe. She recognized the woman, the vision of her heartbreakingly familiar. It was a face Haven had seen repeatedly in her dreams, the angel in white that glowed in the sunlight.

Haven was so overcome with emotion that she hadn’t noticed Carmine crouched down in front of her until he placed his hand over the picture.

Haven’s voice came out as a broken whisper. “She’s an angel.”

Carmine went rigid. “What did you just say?”

She hesitated. “She looks like an angel.”

His posture relaxed as he took the frame from her. Instead of placing it back into the box, he set it on his desk. “She is an angel,” he said quietly. “Now, anyway.”

Dreams filtered into Haven’s sleep that night, interrupting her slumber. It was a dark, cloudless night, the glow of the moonlight illuminating the scene playing in her mind. She was back in Blackburn again, a fresh-faced little girl with nappy hair, trying to squeeze by to see out of the stables. “What's going on out there, Mama?”

“Nothing that concerns you, baby girl,” Her mama said quietly as she tried to shoo Haven away. “Go lay down.”

“But I'm not tired,” Haven argued. “Please, Mama? I want to see.”

“Nothing's happening,” she said. “It's all over.”