by JM Darhower
“How can I not love you? I’ve told you so many times that I’d die for you, so how could I blame you for my mom feeling the same way?”
“It shouldn’t have happened,” she said. “I’m not worth it.”
“Don’t say shit like that. You can’t just shut down and pull away from everything because of this.”
“But you said—”
He cut her off before she could repeat the things he’d said. “I know, but I was just angry. We all do shit when we’re upset that we don’t mean. I’ve lost too much as it is. I don’t want to lose you too.”
She choked back a sob as he pulled her into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”
“Fuck, tesoro. Don’t apologize. I don’t know how we’re gonna get over this, but we need to find a way. I’m miserable without you.”
He stood there and held her, comforted by having her in his arms again. She pulled from his embrace as her crying slowed and peered up at him. Carmine wiped her cheeks. “You know it's dangerous out here at night. You could've fallen in.”
“Nicholas said you used to swim here all the time at night.”
“Yeah, well, I used to be reckless.”
“You still are,” she said. “Coming here was reckless. You could've gotten in trouble.”
“But I didn't.” There was a moment of silence, an awkward tension mounting around them with so much still left unspoken. “So why’d you come here?”
She turned to look out at the lake. “I don’t know. I guess I needed to talk to someone.”
“But him? What did you talk about what?”
She shrugged. “We talked about his mom. He lost her, too.”
“I know,” he said. “She died in a car accident. The roads were wet, and she hydroplaned or something. The only reason she was driving was because he wanted something. She went to get it for him.”
She nodded. “I know how he feels.”
Carmine sighed, unhappy about the turn in conversation. “I do, too.”
“I know you do,” she said, “but I don't feel like I'm disappointing Nicholas by feeling the way I do. I don't owe him anything.”
His brow furrowed. “You don't owe me anything, either.”
“Don't I?” she asked. “After what your family has gone through, don't I owe it to you to live my life to the fullest?”
“I guess.”
She continued to stare down at the water. “I sometimes feel guilty for having been born, Carmine. I know you're going to tell me not to say that kind of stuff, but it doesn't change the way I feel.”
“But you could say that to Nicholas without feeling bad?”
“Yes,” she said. “Instead of telling me I was ridiculous, he just said 'that sucks'. That's it. There was nothing deep about it, but it made me feel better, because it told me I was allowed to feel that way. I'm not sure he even cared how I felt, but he still listened.”
“Sounds like Nicholas.”
She glanced at him. “I know what he did to you was wrong, and I'm sorry if I hurt you by talking to him. It's just... no matter what his reasons were, he went out of his way to try to make me laugh.”
While Carmine questioned Nicholas’s motives, he realized, as he stood there, that everyone had been right. His father told him he needed to respect her decisions, and with that he had to let her make mistakes. And Dia had asked where his faith in her was.
Where was his faith in her?
“You know he fucking hates me,” he said.
“He's angry, but he doesn't hate you. I think he misses you.”
He laughed bitterly. “He says some bad shit about me.”
“He does sometimes, but like you said a few minutes ago—we say things we don't mean when we're hurt. He doesn't know you anymore. The two of you used to be so close, so much the same, and now you have me, but who does Nicholas have? No one. I can understand why he doesn't want to accept that you've changed, because he hasn't. He doesn't want to believe you're not the same troublemaker you used to be, because that means he really is alone. He's troubled and lost the only real friend he felt he had.”
“What makes you think he's troubled?”
She shrugged. “He was talking about leaving everything behind. It reminded me of how we talk about starting over with a clean slate. People who aren't troubled don't usually do that, do they?”
“No, I guess they don't.”
“I used to think he talked to me to make you mad, but I think now he started seeking me out because I was a connection to you. Maybe that's stupid, but it kind of seemed like I wasn't the only one that needed the company tonight.”
She turned to him and reached up, palming his cheek as she started to cry again. “I can't believe I hit you.”
He covered her hand with his. “I would've hit me, too. I kinda deserved it.”
“No one deserves it,” she said. “I should've known better.”
“Didn't we talk about people doing things they don't mean when they're hurt twice now? Do we need to talk about that shit again?” She shook her head, and he smiled gently. “Good. You wanna go home now? It's been a long night, and I should probably get out of Aurora Lake before Nicholas changes his mind and calls the police.”
* * * *
Heaps of paperwork surrounded Vincent, the piles seeming to grow bigger every time he blinked. He’d been sitting there for hours trying to get it knocked down, but he couldn’t seem to focus.
He was exhausted, and everything was falling apart.
The office door was thrust open as Vincent read the same paragraph for the fifth time. Glancing up, he watched as his son strolled into the room. “You're making my night hell, Carmine.”
“Well, I have something that's either gonna make it all better, or it's just gonna make your life worse.”
Carmine dropped something on top of the paperwork, knocking the pen right out of his hand. Vincent saw it was a book and sighed, picking it up. “What's this?”
“You don't recognize my mom's diary?”
Vincent froze. “Is this the book the girl had?”
“Yes. I don't know what is in it, or how much Haven read, but she knows the truth. She found it in the library.”
He slumped back into his chair, staring at the book in a daze. “I suspected your mother kept one, but I figured it was in storage with the rest of her belongings. Never even struck me that it might've been with the books.”
“Well, it was, so there you go. That's why I went to the lake after her. If you wanna yell at me, go ahead, but I don't regret it.”
Vincent said nothing. He couldn’t find the words.
After Carmine was gone, Vincent ran his hand over the worn cover. He opened the book, his curiosity fueling him on as he flipped through it to the last page. The familiar handwriting made him feel like someone had plunged their hand into his chest and gripped onto his heart, squeezing it tightly.
He scanned the passage at the top, seeing the familiar date. October 12th, 1997. She’d written it the same day she died.
He could almost hear her voice as he slowly read the entry.
The closet door in Carmine’s room was stuck this morning. I had to break the knob to open the door. Another thing to add to the list… the bottom step is loose, the porch is buckling, the kitchen window won’t budge most days, the tire swing out back fell down, and the front door is in desperate need of new paint. Such small things, one after another, all easily fixed but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like everything is falling apart around me, the world crumbling as I stand here, still. I think time has run out—not for her, but for me. I’ve hit a wall and it’s too late to turn back. Not that I would, even if I could. I know Vincent doesn’t understand right now, but someday he’ll see what I see. Someday he’ll realize why I couldn’t give up on her. Maybe when that happens, he’ll hang the tire swing again. Maybe the porch will be fixed, the window replaced, and the step will be nailed down. Maybe the door will be painted again. Blue this time, instead of red. I’m tired
of seeing so much red. Maybe then it’ll be our time to have peace. And maybe then she’ll finally be free. I think when that happens, the world will stop crumbling again.
Vincent closed the book. His world was still crumbling.
* * * *
Haven stood by the kitchen window and gazed out into the driveway, her eyes fixated on the Mazda. The damage appeared even worse in the daylight, the passenger side windshield buckled from Carmine’s fist. Even from where she stood she could see the streak of blood from his knuckles.
She’d hurt him, and just as the Mazda hadn’t magically fixed itself overnight, she knew it would take work to heal them, too. Neither could just forget about it, no matter how much they may have wanted to.
“I woke up alone.”
The gritty voice rang out behind Haven, drawing her from her thoughts. She turned to see Carmine in the doorway.
“You looked peaceful,” she said. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She glanced at his hand, the bruising on his knuckles darker this morning.
“My hand’s fine,” he said, noticing the attention she was giving it. He flexed his fingers to prove his point, his jaw rigid as he fought back a grimace. His hand was clearly not fine, but she didn't argue with him about it.
They stared at each other in silence. There was so much that still needed to be said, but Haven had no idea where to start. All of it was overwhelming.
Her eyes filled with tears as she blurted out, “I’m sorry,” the same time Carmine spoke, echoing her words and distress.
He frowned. “Why are you sorry?”
“You’re hurt,” she said.
“I told you, Haven. My hand’s fine.”
“Not your hand. You,” she said. “I hurt you, and I didn’t mean to.”
“You did,” he said, “but I understand, because I did the same thing. I’d be a hypocrite to blame you. I could've stopped this before it even started, and that’s why I’m sorry.”
She turned back around, his apology making her feel worse. He was trying to reassure her when he was the one that needed comforted. He deserved to have the burden lifted off of his shoulders, and she selfishly stood in silence, unable to find the words to ease his pain.
His bare feet slapped against the cold, hard floor as he shuffled over to where she stood, pausing beside her at the window. “Christ, look at my car.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“You have to stop apologizing,” he said, startling her as he grabbed her hips. “It happened, it was fucked up, but it’s over now. Dwelling on who hurt who isn’t gonna make the shit go away. You can’t hold grudges and expect anything to get better, because it won't. It’ll just eat away at you.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“I’ve been doing it for years, all the while wondering why my life was so shitty. I’m tired of repeating the same mistakes over and over again. It's time to accept what happened and forgive.”
She was amazed by his sudden burst of maturity when less than twelve hours before he’d been so volatile. It was as if he'd been completely crushed, defeated to the point that he had no will left to fight.
“Does that mean forgiving Nicholas too?”
His posture went rigid. “What does he have to do with this?”
“You said nothing would get better holding grudges so I figured—”
“You figured wrong. That’s different.”
“How is it different?” she asked. “I know he hurt you, but you said dwelling on that stuff wouldn’t help anything. It happened, but it’s over, so it's time to move on. Right?”
He stared at her. “He’s an asshole, Haven. He hurts everything he touches.”
She shook her head. “That’s the same thing he says about you. He’s wrong, and I've told him that, but maybe you’re wrong, too.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. I’m just saying maybe the two of you aren’t that different, and maybe if you can put everything aside, you guys can—”
“I know what you’re saying, and that's a lot of fucking maybe’s. It’s not gonna happen, so there's no point in talking about it. In fact, I don’t wanna talk about him at all, ever. He has nothing to do with us.”
She stopped talking, his tone telling her the subject was closed. The tension in the room mounted again, and she fought the urge to apologize for irritating him.
“Il tempo guarisce tutti i mali,” Carmine said after a moment, rubbing his chest where those words were inked on his flesh. “Time heals all wounds. When I first got the tattoo, I didn’t believe it, but I do now. You can get over anything with enough time. I’m not sure how much it’s gonna take to work through this shit we have going on, but I have all the time in the world for you.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she closed her eyes as she hugged him. “If you didn’t believe it, why’d you get the tattoo?”
“It’s something my mom used to say.” He let out a curious laugh. “Reminds me of you and your random pieces of trivia. I don’t know why it took me so long to see the similarities. It should’ve been obvious that my mom had grown up like you.”
Haven pulled away from him. “What did you say?”
He cut his eyes at her. ”Which part?”
“Your mama was like me? You mean a slave?”
He cringed at the word but nodded. “I thought you knew that. I mean, you saw the diary.”
She shook her head. “I only read a piece of paper that fell out of it, Carmine. I didn’t read your mama’s diary.”
His eyes widened. “You didn’t? I thought you read it. Hell, I would’ve read it. I gave it to my father so I wouldn’t be tempted.”
“Dr. DeMarco knows?”
“Of course he knows,” he said. “He’s known for years. It’s no coincidence you ended up here, Haven.”
All of the sudden, as she stood there in the kitchen, the fog started lifting and everything became clear. Dr. DeMarco had done it for his wife. The reason he bought her, the reason he was freeing her. Masters were supposed to take life away, but yet he’d done everything in his power to give her one instead.
The knowledge of that made it feel like the ground was moving.
* * * *
Haven was in her room when Carmine walked in, clutching a fairly large white envelope. “You have mail, tesoro.”
She eyed him warily as he sat down on the edge of the bed. He handed the mail to her, and the return address was from North Carolina Community Colleges. “Is this…?”
“Your test results,” he said, answering her question before she could finish asking.
She stared at the envelope and ran her finger along the seal.
“Are you gonna open it?” There was enthusiasm in Carmine’s voice. It frazzled her. It was the first time she’d put herself out there. The thought of failing scared her.
“Can you do it for me?”
He shook his head. “You should do it.”
She carefully tore the flap and pulled out the paper. The actual scores were lost on her as she stared at the certificate attached to the transcript, the words High School Equivalency Diploma etched along the top with a golden seal.
“I passed?” she asked, trying to hold back the excitement threatening to burst forth, but it was stronger than her. She threw herself at Carmine before he could get out a word, the force of her body knocking him over.
Laughing, he rolled them over. “Damn, baby. Trying to throw me off the bed?”
She smiled excitedly. “I passed!”
“You did,” he said. “Can’t say I’m surprised. I knew you would.”
He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her slowly, but she could feel pure passion emanating from him. It was an innocent kiss, yet so much more than that. It was a kiss of redemption, of forgiveness and pride. It was a kiss that said no matter what may have happened in the past, there was still hope for the future.
Hope. It was a feeling she reveled in now, instead of cowering
away as before. “Thank you for believing in me,” she whispered against his mouth.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he responded, pulling back with a smile. “And don't worry, because everything will work out. We're one step closer. You can go to college now.”
“What about you? When are you going to test for college?”
“Soon,” he said. “I signed up before we went to California.”
“Are you excited?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn't say the SAT's are thrilling, tesoro. I’m just ready to get it over. I need to start filling out college applications, so we need to figure out where we're going... especially if I’m gonna try to play football next year. California? New York? Camelot? Bikini Bottom? Narnia? Emerald City? Take your pick.”
She had no idea what most of those places were. “I don’t know.”
“Well, think about it, okay? But not today. Today’s for celebrating, not thinking. Look at where you were a year ago and look at you now. You're free, you have a degree, and we're in love and gonna make it through this shit if it kills us.” He paused, his brow furrowing as she laughed. “Yeah, that didn’t make sense, but you get what I’m saying. We haven't had a reason to celebrate in a while, so come on, get up, put on some decent clothes, and let's forget about all of this for awhile and just be. We don't get to just be enough.”
She glanced down at the black pants and Durante High School football shirt she was wearing. “What's wrong with my clothes?”
“Everything I just said and all you got from that is me telling you to change?” he asked with amusement, pulling her to her feet. “Change. Clothes, not you. I don't want you to ever change, but I’m kinda tired of looking at that fucking shirt.”
“I like this shirt,” she said, his laughter filtering back in as he left the room.
Chapter 45
Time passed swiftly as they settled back in to life. Haven stayed busy during the days when Carmine was gone, cleaning and baking to pass the time. It was difficult for her not to dwell on things when she was alone, her guilt continuing to eat away at her.
