by JM Darhower
His brow furrowed. “It’s not even six yet?”
“No, it’s not.” She handed him a piece of paper. “Relax, it’s going to go fine.”
“You’re sure? I mean, it’s enough, isn’t it?” he asked. Dia raised her eyebrows, her expression causing his foolish panic to surge. “Christ, it’s too much. I’m going overboard.”
“She’s going to love it, Carmine.”
“I’ve never done any of this before,” he said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“I know. It’s all very sweet of you. I’m more than happy to help.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll get some cash in town and pay you for your freelancing.”
She laughed. “No need to. This one’s on me. I’m kind of looking forward to hanging out with her today.”
“No shit? You actually want to socialize with a girl in my life?”
Dia rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault you used to only bring people like Moanin’ Lisa around.”
The roads were fairly deserted that early in the morning, so Carmine made it to Blue Ridge Parkway in record time. When he reached the shopping center, he pulled out the list Dia gave him and glanced through it. A few of the items seemed like a waste to him, but Dia had assured him she knew what she was doing.
He wandered through some shops for a while and found a decent basket at an antique store to cross ‘picnic basket’ off his list. He didn’t know what kind of basket it was, or if there was even a difference. He agonized over it for far too long before asking the saleslady, but she just looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.
After paying, he glanced back through his list and froze when he saw ‘picnic blanket’. He glared at the word ‘picnic’, wishing he was taking her to a restaurant instead.
He imagined some red and white checkered blanket like he saw on cartoons growing up, vaguely remembering one about an anteater with the ants carrying the food away. Just thinking about it stressed him out even more—he hadn’t even thought about bugs.
Glancing back through the list, he grabbed his phone to call Dia when he didn’t see anything to ward off pests.
Her voice was tentative as she answered. “Yeah?”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do when ants try to steal our food, Dia?” She didn’t respond for a second but finally laughed, which stirred up his anger. This was serious. “I don’t find anything funny. And what the hell is a picnic blanket?”
Dia continued to laugh, so he hung up. She wasn’t helping at all.
Before he could put the phone back into his pocket, it started ringing. He answered it with a groan. “You wanna laugh some more?”
Dia snorted, trying to contain herself. “You’re getting worked up over nothing. Bugs won’t be a problem. And a picnic blanket is just a blanket, any blanket.”
He hung up without saying a word and walked into a store, determined to buy the first blanket he saw, and shook his head when the red-and-white checker pattern caught his eye.
Once again, he’d lost his temper for no reason.
Carmine grabbed it along with some containers and paid for it all before going back out to the Mazda. He drove across town to the grocery store, grabbing a carrying basket they had sitting inside the door.
At least he knew that wasn’t a picnic basket.
He went through the store, having a bit of experience now from shopping with Haven, and picked up everything Dia had written on the list. The florist was next. He felt out of place as he looked around at the flowers. He couldn’t tell the difference between most of them, so he just went with what he knew. Ordering four-dozen pink roses, he stared at the cash register when they were rung up. Who would pay over $200 for flowers?
Apparently the answer to that was him.
* * * *
Haven picked at her cheese and mushroom omelet, listening as Dia ranted about school. They were sitting in a booth at Crossroads Diner, a small restaurant in the center of town. Dia had woke her up an hour before and asked Haven to have breakfast with her. She had resisted the idea, afraid to leave the house without permission, but Dominic called Dr. DeMarco to ensure it was okay. She didn’t know why she was there, but she was grateful someone wanted to spend time with her.
Even if that person was still sort of a mystery to Haven.
After Dia finished her pancakes, she excused herself to the restroom. Haven grew nervous as she disappeared from sight. The fact that she was in public by herself, surrounded by strangers, put her on edge.
“What’s a beauty like you doing eating alone?”
She grew rigid as Nicholas slid into the booth across from her. “I’m with Dia. She just went… somewhere.”
“Cool, it’ll be nice to see her,” he said. “So, I have a question for you.”
She gazed at him apprehensively. “What?”
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pink box of candy hearts, dumping a few of them in his hand. “What do you call a vampire's sweetheart?”
She smiled. Another joke. “A vampire’s sweetheart? I don’t know.”
He popped a piece of candy in his mouth. “A ghoul-friend. Get it? Like girlfriend but with a ghoul?”
She stared at him, not seeing what was so funny about that.
Dia returned then and slid into the booth beside Nicholas. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged. “Just stopped by for some breakfast on my way to the station. I have community service with the police chief.”
“Community service?”
“Yeah, I got in a bit of trouble.”
Dia’s brow furrowed. “Shouldn’t you be in school, though?”
“Looks who’s talking—shouldn’t you?”
“I took the day off,” she said. “Haven and I are spending it together, getting her ready for her date.”
Date? The word caught Haven off guard. Nicholas looked just as surprised. “Date? With who?”
“With her boyfriend,” Dia said when Haven remained quiet. “You know—Carmine.”
Nicholas’s expression fell. “DeMarco?”
“What other Carmine is there?” Dia asked. “And don’t be so shocked. He’s not the same person you knew.”
“Carmine will never change,” Nicholas said, his voice scathing. “He might pull the wool over your eyes, but I’m not charmed by his antics like everyone else.”
“You just don’t know him anymore,” Dia said.
“Everyone in this ridiculous town still thinks the sun rises and sets on that boy, that he can do no wrong. It’s bizarre.” He paused, fiddling around with his candy some more. “Anyway, I have to go.”
Dia scooted out of the booth to let him out. He set one of his candy hearts down on the table in front of Haven before walking away, shoving the door open and leaving the restaurant without eating.
Haven glanced down at the orange candy heart in front of her, reading the words “Talk 2 Me” faintly written on it in pink.
* * * *
Carmine was pacing the foyer yet again, dressed in a black suit and nervously twirling a red rose in his hand. Ever since he’d told Dia about his plans, she’d been calling it Operation Cinderella, although he thought it was more like Operation Please-Don’t-Fuck-This-One-Up. The closest he got to being Prince Charming was being a Principe della Mafia, but there was nothing romantic about that.
His mind was running through all the potential catastrophes, already preparing for the worst. He was going to say something wrong and offend her. She’d be disappointed or else overwhelmed by it all. The picnic would be a disaster because of food poisoning or invading ants. If none of that happened, it was going to storm even though the weatherman said it would be a clear night.
Earthquake. Tornado. Tsunami. Monsoon. Hurricane. Fire. Flood. Hail. Blizzard. He didn’t even know if half of them were possible, but he was imagining them all coming at once.
There was too much that could go wrong, and as he paced the floor, every sce
nario bombarded him. This was supposed to be perfect, but something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it didn’t feel right. It was like having a puzzle and none of it fitting, because there was a missing piece.
Eventually he heard the clunky hunk of junk Dia called a car pull up outside. His heart pounded hard. It was only Haven, he reminded himself. It was the girl who, somehow, saw him at his worst and still managed to love him.
The door opened, and Haven stepped in. The moment his eyes fell upon her, all of the panic melted away. Because at that moment, he knew exactly what had been missing.
Her.
She was that missing piece to his puzzle. Now that she was there, it all fit seamlessly. He didn’t worry about tornados or earthquakes or fires, wasn’t freaking out over pesky little ants. None of that mattered as long as she was there.
She fidgeted, wearing a white dress. A tiny bit of makeup shined on her face, her wavy hair tamed and pulled back.
“Buon San Valentino,” he said, holding out the flower. “Happy Valentine’s Day, hummingbird.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the flower from him.
He leaned in, pressing his mouth softly to hers. Her lips were coated in gloss. He ran his tongue along them, tasting the sugary strawberry flavor. “So sweet,” he said, pulling away. “You know that shit’s gonna be gone before we even get anywhere, right?”
She pulled a tube of pink tinted gloss from her pocket. “I know. That’s why Dia gave me the whole thing.”
Carmine turned off the highway when they made it to Black Mountain, driving straight to the art center on Cherry Street. The sign above the main entrance of the gray building announced what it was, but as Carmine helped Haven out of the car, all he saw in her expression was confusion.
“It’s a gallery,” he explained, not knowing if she’d understand.
“Like a museum?”
He smiled. “Yes, sorta like that.”
Excitement flared in her features. He knew then he’d made the right choice bringing her here. He took her hand to lead her inside the building, and she glanced around hesitantly. The place was dim, only a subtle glow of light throughout the building, shining above the scattered exhibits. “Come on, tesoro.”
She didn't move. “Don’t you have to pay?”
“No.” He hadn't expected her to ask that. “You don’t have to pay to look at the art here.”
He stood there, apprehensive about what she was thinking. He felt bad bringing her somewhere that didn’t cost him a dime.
“This place is really free?”
“Yes. They don’t charge.”
“Why not?”
He never thought about it before. “Educational reasons, I guess. More people will come if they don’t have to pay. Artists are kinda like musicians and work more for pleasure than money.”
He had no idea if he was right or not, but it sounded good.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He still hated that word. “So, can we look at the art now, or do you wanna discuss money some more?”
“We can look at art now.”
They walked around, pausing every few feet to check out exhibits. They had every type of art possible—carvings and pottery, sculptures and paintings, drawings and photography, and other random crafts. It wasn’t the usual thing he’d get into, but he found anything was enjoyable with Haven around.
She was beaming the entire time as she commented on the art, saying things he never thought she’d say. He just stood back, listening to her with amazement. “You need to go to college,” he said after a while. “You’re too damn smart not to.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is it appropriate to curse in a gallery?”
He laughed. “Fuck if I know.”
She shook her head. “Do you really think I could go to school?”
“Yeah, I do. I mean, you’d need to work hard, but there’s no reason you couldn’t do it. You know I could help you, right?”
“I know you could try,” she said playfully. “Whether or not it works is another matter.”
They went through the rest of the gallery, chatting casually and holding hands. Toward the end of their tour, Haven paused in front of a drawing. It was mainly done in pencil, a figure of a woman from the back, but beside it, hovering in the air, was a vibrantly colored sphere.
She seemed transfixed by it, a smile gracing her lips as she reached out to trace the outline of the drawing. “I like this one. It reminds me of myself.”
“How so?”
“Well, the girl… she’s stuck in life where everything’s so bland and hopeless, but then this beautiful thing comes along and brings color into her world. Color she never expected to see.”
He stared at her, stunned, before turning back to the painting. He had no idea how to respond to that, how she’d gotten something so deep from a pencil sketch. Haven started walking away then, tugging his hand to get him to follow.
They headed out to the car. Carmine glanced at the clock, shocked they’d been there for two hours. “You know, maybe we’ll see some of your work in a place like this someday.”
“You really think I’m that good?”
“Yeah. It’s natural talent too,” he said. “Imagine how good you could be if you took some classes.”
Carmine turned on a side road that weaved through the mountain, driving until the small cabin came into view. It was just one room with a bed and a fireplace, and a small bathroom built in. Although it wasn’t the type of place Carmine would usually go for, he had a feeling Haven would love it.
He parked the car in front and looked around. The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, casting light along the meadow that surrounded it. Tucked in among the trees were some deer. He stared at them as one took a few steps in his direction, suddenly feeling like he’d been sucked into a Disney movie.
If one started talking, he was fucking running.
“What is this place?” Haven asked as they climbed out of the car.
He pulled the key from his pocket. “We’re staying here. I rented it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “No wonder you took me to the free gallery. This must’ve cost you a fortune.”
He laughed as she grabbed his arm, hugging it. “Come on, let’s get something to eat. I think I can still afford to feed you.”
He grabbed the basket and spread the blanket out on the grass. Haven looked at it with surprise. “A picnic?”
He nodded. She sat down on the blanket, spreading her legs out in front of her. He sat beside her and pulled containers out of the basket, opening them up. Haven grabbed a grape and popped it into her mouth as he took the top off of the tall green bottle. Haven watched him warily as he poured the bubbly drink, handing a cup to her. She took it carefully. “Is this alcohol?”
“I’m afraid not, tesoro. It’s sparkling grape juice. We’re going sober tonight.”
She looked at him with surprise and took a sip.
They munched on the food for a while, chatting and laughing. She kicked off her shoes as they talked about trivial things, like TV and weather, before delving into more serious topics. She told him stories from her childhood, or her equivalent of one. In turn, he talked about his mom.
Carmine reached inside the basket and pulled out two Toblerone bars. “Dia said you’re supposed to give chocolate to your sweetheart on Valentine's Day.”
Haven smiled, opening hers and pulling off a triangle. “I didn’t even know there was a day where you show love. I thought Saint Valentine’s Day was just a massacre.”
He nearly choked. “How do you know about that?”
“They mentioned it on Jeopardy.”
Saint Valentine’s Day massacre, when seven Irish associates were killed by Cosa Nostra in Chicago. Carmine was curious if she realized the connection between their family and those things, but he thought better than to bring it up. The last thing he wanted was to have their night tainted by reminders of the world they’d have to go back
to.
They watched the sunset quietly, the atmosphere relaxed. It was one of the things he loved about being with her—she never felt like she had to fill the silence. He was gazing up at the sky when he suddenly felt a splat on his forehead. Closing his eyes instinctively, he reached up and prayed he hadn’t been shit on by a bird. He felt another drop after a second and groaned the same time Haven laughed. “It’s raining.”
He sighed and sat up. Of course the weatherman didn’t know what he was talking about.
Haven slipped her shoes back on, and they started toward the cabin. “So, you like my basket?” he asked.
“Yeah. Native American bark basket, right?”
“Uh, I don’t know. It’s not a picnic basket?”
She laughed. “I think picnic baskets have flaps on the top.”
Of course she, of all people, would be able to tell baskets apart.
* * * *
They settled onto the cabin porch as the rain steadily fell, a curtain of water cutting them off from everything. Haven watched it quietly, while Carmine strummed his guitar.
“Will you play something for me?” Haven asked. He started to reply, to tell her he was playing something, but she spoke again before he could. “Something happy?”
No more Moonlight Sonata. “Uh, sure, I’ll play a song that reminds me of us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s a real song,” he said. “I mean, like one you hear on the radio or whatever.”
“Will you sing it too?”
He stared at her. He could probably rupture eardrums and break sanities with his voice, but pure hope shined from her eyes. There was no way he could deny her. Not when she looked that way. “Okay, but this might not be pretty,” he warned.
Her smile grew. Carmine started the first few chords of Blue October’s “18th Floor Balcony” before softly singing the lyrics. He could feel her gaze on him, his fingers wavering, but he tried to keep focus so not to mess up. He could tell her all day long that he loved her, but this felt like he was cracking his chest open and stepping out of himself fully for her.
