Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  Carmine was out of shape, his wrist sore, and half the team was mad at him for one reason or another. All he wanted to do was play some football and go home to his girl, but it seemed karma had finally caught up with him.

  And karma was being a bigger bitch than even Tess Harper.

  Today was the sixth day at camp, and he was close to giving them all the middle finger and strutting away. Coach Woods had been railing on him since the moment he stepped on to the field, and Carmine’s irritation was to the point of no return.

  “Run the play again!” the coach yelled, blowing his whistle. Carmine lined up and grabbed the ball. Taking a few steps back, he looked down the field for the wide receiver named Ethan and snapped the ball. Carmine watched the perfect spiral as it flew through the air, and he grinned as Ethan caught it.

  “Wipe that smirk off your face, DeMarco,” Coach Woods said. ”There’s no room for your ego on this field.”

  Graham laughed, purposely knocking into him. “Cocky Carmine.”

  “Meghan calls me cocky too,” Carmine said. “Just for other reasons.”

  Graham’s eyes narrowed as he shoved him, getting in Carmine’s face. Unable to take it anymore, Carmine drew his fist back and connected with Graham’s jaw. Pain ripped up Carmine’s arm again as Graham lunged at him, but their teammates pushed them apart. Coach Woods furiously blew his whistle. “Knock it off! I don’t care what your problem is with each other, but you leave it off the field. DeMarco, ice your wrist. If you hurt that throwing arm with all of this fighting, I'll bench you this season. I don’t care how good you think you are—you’re replaceable. Everyone else is dismissed. Get a good night sleep, fellas, because I expect you back out here at nine sharp.”

  Carmine started off the field with Ryan a few steps behind him. “Better Graham than me,” he said, not intending for anyone to hear, but Carmine caught his words.

  Glancing back, Carmine chuckled. “Camp’s not over yet. There’s still plenty of time to piss me off.”

  They showered and hit the cafeteria for some dinner, but Carmine didn’t have an appetite for the lumps of mushy pasta they were serving. Instead of eating, he walked around campus for a bit before heading back to his room on the third floor of the dormitory. Sore and wound tight, he lay back on the uncomfortable mattress.

  He drifted off to sleep but was awoken shortly after by incessant knocking. Cursing under his breath, he stumbled over to the door and pulled it open. The bright light in the hallway made him wince as he glared at Ryan. “You woke me up.”

  Ryan shrugged. “You locked me out.”

  “Yeah, well, vaffanculo,” Carmine said, throwing himself back down into bed. He didn’t even really have the energy to be mad.

  * * * *

  The alarm clock blared at eight the next morning. Carmine slapped at it until it stopped making noise. His eyes burned from fatigue and his body ached, but he’d finally get to go home tonight, and that was incentive enough for him to haul his ass out of bed.

  He dressed and was about to step into the hallway when he paused on a whim, turning back around. Grabbing Ryan’s pillow, he tugged it out from under his head. The movement jolted Ryan awake, and he sat upright as he blinked rapidly.

  “You slept through the alarm,” Carmine said, smacking him in the face with his pillow. “You’re gonna be late.”

  Ryan clutched it and stared at him. “Thanks.”

  “Whatever.”

  Carmine skipped breakfast and went straight to the locker room, where the trainer taped up his wrist to keep it stabilized. At exactly nine, he and his teammates made their way out onto the field.

  Everyone kept making mistakes in their early scrimmage, fumbling and missing Carmine’s throws more times than he could count. The offensive line got so slack that he got sacked more than once, pain radiating through in his back that matched the ache in his wrist. Coach Woods berated them for their incompetence, forcing them all to run drills until they were on the verge of passing out.

  After the final whistle blew, signifying the end of camp, the coach called Carmine’s name.

  “What?” Tired and frustrated, he just wanted to go home.

  Coach Woods clapped Carmine on the shoulder. “You played well.”

  He just stood there. He hadn’t expected to hear those words.

  “I’m hard on you because you have potential,” the coach said. “If you keep your temper in check, you could make something of yourself. The UNC coaches were watching, and it might not be appropriate for me to say this, but they expressed interest in you.”

  His mouth dropped open. “No shit?”

  Instead of chastising him for cursing, the coach just laughed. “Yes, but they don’t like hotheads, DeMarco. No one does.”

  Carmine watched as he walked away. It wasn’t often people told him he had potential, unless they were referring to a life of crime. He had to admit it felt good to hear.

  It was after nine in the evening when Carmine reached the Durante town limits. His anticipation mounted with every passing mile. He pulled up in front of the house and climbed out, stretching his sore back before grabbing his bags.

  Carmine was halfway to the porch when the front door swung open and Haven stepped out. The unbridled enthusiasm in her expression caused him to pause as she leaped off the front porch, rushing right at him. Their bodies collided with such force that he stumbled when she buried her face in his chest.

  He dropped his bags and wrapped his arms around her as she glanced at him adoringly, a hint of worry in her eyes. “Your face,” she said, running her fingers gently across the bruise Graham had left. “What happened?”

  He smirked. “I fell.”

  Rolling her eyes, she reached up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was passionate, her hands locking in his hair. She pulled away for air after a moment, and Carmine laughed. “If I’m gonna be greeted like that, maybe I need to go away more often.”

  She shook her head. “No way! You're not allowed to leave me.”

  “Okay, then,” he said, pulling her back to him tightly. “I fucking missed you, hummingbird.”

  “I missed you, too. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Me either,” he said, his words breaking off into a yawn.

  Haven grabbed his arm and tugged. “Come on, we can nap.”

  Carmine bypassed his father’s office and his brother’s bedroom, forgoing greetings to get some rest. He stripped down to his boxers when they made it to his room, and Haven took a few steps in his direction. She placed her hand on his bare chest, running her fingertips down the trail of hair.

  “Your chest is harder,” she said.

  “I did a bit of working out,” he said, grazing his fingers along her bra strap. “You have tan lines.”

  She glanced at her chest. “I guess I got some sun.”

  “Did you do anything exciting while I was gone?” he asked as they slipped into bed.

  She shrugged. ”A bit of everything, but mostly just normal stuff.”

  Normal stuff. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he'd hear those words come from Haven.

  * * * *

  “Here.” Haven smiled brightly the next morning as she handed Carmine the piece of paper she'd taken from his desk.

  It was a pencil sketch of scenery—grass, trees, underbrush, and flowers. Carmine recognized it as the spot they'd gone to when he taught her how to shoot. The drawing was nearly perfect, all the little things exactly where they were supposed to be. Like the small fallen tree that had been slumped over since the first time he found the place, partially shielded from overgrowth, and the twisty vines along the edge coming in from the west. Things most people wouldn’t notice were drawn in precise detail, something she shouldn't have been able to do considering she'd only been there once.

  “It’s amazing,” he said. “How do you remember what it looks like?”

  She shrugged. “I can picture it.”

  “Is that how you draw everything? You
picture it?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Isn’t that how you remember things?”

  “I wish. Most of us just memorize certain things, but your brain seems to see it again like it took a photo.”

  “Is that good? You don’t think I’m weird, right?”

  He chuckled. “Of course it’s good.”

  Setting the drawing down on the bed, his back ached when he leaned down to kiss her. He groaned and rubbed it as she eyed him suspiciously. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m just sore from camp. They worked me hard.”

  “Really?” she asked when he sat down, pushing his hand out of the way to massage his back. “You’re very tense.”

  He moaned involuntarily at her touch. “You’re too good to me.”

  “You always say that,” she said, “but it’s not like it’s agonizing touching you. So what happened? Did you get sackled?”

  He laughed. “Sackled?”

  “Isn’t that what it’s called when you get knocked down?”

  “When everyone else gets knocked down, it’s a tackle. When I get knocked down, it’s a sack. Two different things. But yes, I got sacked.”

  “Oh. Did you have fun at camp, though?”

  “It was fine. I impressed some of the college coaches. They mentioned me playing for them after high school.”

  She lit up. “Like the games they show on the television?”

  “Yeah, they show some of them on TV. I don’t know if I wanna go to school here, but it’s nice to know the option might be there.”

  She continued working on his back. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Where ever you wanna go,” he said. “I’m gonna leave that up to you to decide.”

  Chapter 38

  Haven stood off to the side and tried to fight back the tears welling in her eyes. Everyone gathered in the foyer was chatting animatedly, the excitement in the air around them palpable. Dominic’s booming laughter rang out above it all, infiltrating her ears and causing the grip she’d had on herself to falter. A lone tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away, glad they were too preoccupied to notice.

  It was a Sunday afternoon at the end of August. Summer was already coming to an end when, to Haven, it felt like it had just begun. The past month and a half had been filled with activity: art galleries, museums, aquariums, and zoos. She drove and read, laughed and played, loved and learned, and in the bustle of life, it seemed like everything else faded away.

  Carmine occasionally had football practice at the high school over the weeks and took her along a few times. There were others there—family members, friends, and girlfriends of the players—gathered in groups while their loved ones played. Haven always sat off to the side on the bleachers, watching Carmine. He was confident and aggressive out on the field, and it made her proud. She told him often, but he shrugged it off as if it weren’t a big deal. It was, though, because it was his future… their future.

  She often reminded Carmine that just because her freedom had been alluded to didn’t mean that she was free. Until Dr. DeMarco was no longer her master, she would continue to cook, clean, and obey him. It felt like simple common courtesy, since she lived in their home and gave nothing in return.

  But she wasn’t fooled. She was still obligated, and she didn’t like to dwell on what might happen if she didn’t follow through.

  Haven wasn’t sure if Dr. DeMarco noticed her effort anymore, though. She rarely saw him outside of the normal seven o’clock dinner, and he often didn’t show up for that either.

  In fact, standing there in the foyer was the first time she’d seen him all week. Dominic’s bags were packed, his most prized possessions stuffed into the black car parked in front of the house. He and Tess were boarding a plane in a few hours, and Dr. DeMarco was flying out to the University of Notre Dame to help them settle in. They seemed excited about the changes their lives were undertaking, but Haven was dreading having to say goodbye.

  She’d looked up Notre Dame on a map with Carmine’s help. It was only a few inches separating Indiana from Durante, but Haven knew those inches may as well be a lifetime.

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Dr. DeMarco said. “We don’t want to miss our flight.”

  Haven’s feet left the ground before Dr. DeMarco even finished speaking. Dominic lifted her into the air and twirled her around. “I’ll miss you, twinkle toes.”

  She laughed and hugged him. “I’ll miss you too, Dominic. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me… even that sandwich.”

  He set her back down on her feet. “No, thank you. That crappy sandwich I made was nothing compared to the food you cooked for me.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys and carefully took one off of the ring. He slipped it into her palm, squeezing her hand tightly around it. “Keep my car safe for me while I’m gone.”

  She gaped at him. “What?”

  “I can’t take it, so you may as well drive it.”

  Dr. DeMarco grew impatient, once again saying they needed to go. Final goodbyes were said, and Haven felt the tears slipping down her cheek as they disappeared out the door.

  Carmine wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing the nape of her neck. “You’ll always have me, tesoro.”

  * * * *

  The trip to the city the next morning took almost an hour. Carmine talked non-stop the entire drive, but Haven barely heard anything except for the sound of her heartbeat thrashing in her ears.

  They made it to the local community college with time to spare. Haven climbed out of the car, black spots infiltrating her vision as she fought to keep herself together. Carmine walked her inside the building, stopping at the classroom door to give her a peck on the lips. He said he’d see her in a few hours, and Haven waited until he disappeared before stepping into the room.

  The bright florescent lights hanging from the ceiling irritated her eyes. The room was all white with small wooden desks and hard blue plastic chairs. Haven stood there for a moment, just taking it all in. She’d never been inside of a classroom before.

  People pushed past her, not bothering to apologize, and she hesitantly walked up to the big desk at the front. She smiled politely at the instructor, although she felt like she was going to be sick.

  “Name?” the instructor asked, barely looking at her.

  “Haven Antonelli.”

  He glanced through a list of names and checked hers off before holding out his hand for her paperwork. Dr. DeMarco had made sure it was all filled out beforehand so she wouldn’t have any problems.

  Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the driver’s license and handed it to him. She knew it wasn’t real, and her heart beat furiously as he checked it over. He grumbled something under his breath but dismissed her, and she carefully took a seat at the closest desk. Others filtered in for testing, and they started at exactly eight o’clock.

  Haven flew through the fifty questions on grammar and punctuation, but the second part of the writing test stalled her. She’d done a lot of practicing by filling up her notebooks, but she’d never written anything for someone to read before.

  The instructor told them they had forty-five minutes to complete it, and Haven glanced at the paper to read her prompt:

  What does it take to be a good parent?

  In your essay, describe the characteristics of a good parent. Give details to explain your views. Use your personal observations, experience and knowledge.

  People huffed and pencils scratched against paper as Haven stared at her topic. What did it take to be a good parent?

  Her father, abusive and malicious, refused to acknowledge he’d even created her. She suffered years of torture under his care before he’d sold her with no regard. If Dr. DeMarco hadn’t come along, she would’ve ended up at an auction, sold as a sex slave for money to buy whiskey for Michael and new shoes for his wife.

  She felt her anger growing and bit down on her lip. Her mama always had the best intentions, even though she
was helpless. She hid her for protection and never failed to keep the one thing even Haven had lost over the years—hope.

  Blinking away tears as memories assaulted her, Haven glanced at the clock on the wall across the room. Twenty minutes had already gone by, so she took a deep breath and started writing. She wrote whatever came to her mind as she thought of her mama, how a good parent never gave up and always encouraged their children to dream.

  The instructor called time as she was putting a period on the end of a sentence. He took her paper and it made her nervous, because she hadn’t had the chance to look it over.

  The rest of testing flew by fast, and they were dismissed at around three in the afternoon. The Mazda was parked in the fire lane with the music blaring, and she quietly slipped into the passenger seat.

  Carmine turned his music down as he pulled away from the curb. “How did you do?”

  She smiled softly as he offered her his hand. “Okay.”

  She waited for him to press her for more information, but he didn’t. Neither one spoke on the drive back to Durante. She went right to the kitchen to make something to eat when they arrived at the house. Carmine sat down on the counter beside the stove and watched her as she cooked. “Are you making Mexican?”

  She nodded. “Enchiladas. They were, uh… my mama liked them.”

  “It looks good,” Carmine said.

  “Thanks.”

  “We can eat and watch a movie or something.”

  “Okay.”

  “Or maybe we’ll play a game.”

  “Okay.”

  “Actually, I’m tired, so maybe we’ll just go straight to bed.”

  “Okay.”

  “Probably won't even fucking eat.”

  “Uh, okay.”