Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  “I can’t believe you went to jail,” she said. “How did you find me? My chip?”

  “I wish,” he said. “It wouldn’t work, and they were in jail, tesoro. I knew it would be at least another week until they could get out, and I didn’t know if you had that long to wait. I had to do something. I had to do whatever it took to find you.”

  “What did you do?” she asked, suspicious of his cryptic words. “Whatever it is, I’ll understand.”

  He shook his head. ”It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter. Why do you keep saying things don’t matter?”

  “Because there are some things you shouldn’t know right now.”

  “You can't mean that,” she said. “We aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. You said we’d tell each other everything.”

  “I know, but things change. There are some things I can’t tell you... some things I won’t be able to tell you. It’s shit you won’t wanna know, Haven. And I realize that doesn’t make sense right now, but I don’t want you to worry about it.”

  “How can I not worry? What do you think you can’t tell me?”

  He started to respond, but the ringing of his phone silenced him. Groaning, he pulled it from his pocket and shot her a nervous look as he answered. “Yes, sir?” His tone was even, his demeanor instantly shifting. “But I don’t... yes, fine. I get it. I’ll be there.”

  He sighed as he hung up and sat back down beside her. He took her hand, lightly placing a kiss on the back of it. “Nothing is more important to me than you, tesoro. I'd give my life for you.”

  “You’re scaring me, Carmine.”

  “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I was desperate, baby. I wasn’t lying when I said I couldn’t live if you died. I needed to know you were alive. I needed to see you, and now that you’re safe, I can’t regret it. It sucks, and I know it’s not what any of us wanted, but seeing you here, I know it was worth it.”

  “You’re not making sense.”

  “I’m not surprised,” he said, letting go of her hand. “I have to go.”

  “Go?”

  “Yeah, but I shouldn’t be gone long,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get back, but I don’t have time now. I can’t be late.”

  “You can’t be late for what? Tell me what you did, Carmine!”

  “I went to Sal. Is that what you fucking want to know?”

  “What do you mean you went to him?”

  “I mean I asked him for a favor. I asked him to help me, so now I owe him in return.”

  She stared at him, fighting back her panic. “Owe him what?”

  “My loyalty.”

  She shook her head as she sat up, crying out from pain at her sudden movement. He reached out to her, but she pushed his hand away. “You have to take it back!”

  “I can’t,” he said. “It’s too late.”

  “But you can’t do that!” she said. “You can’t be like them!”

  “I am now.”

  “No, you’re not! You can’t do those things they do. We talked about this before. You can’t be that kind of person!”

  “Do you think I wanna be that person? Do you think I wanna do those things? Of course I don’t!”

  “Then why’d you do it? How could you agree to that?”

  “I didn’t have any other choice. You were almost dead when we found you, Haven. Can you honestly hold this against me when you tried to do the same thing after the accident? You so easily turn your life over in exchange for mine, but you can’t understand how I could do it for you? I get it if you’re upset, but it’s done. I’m in, and there’s no way out.” He paused. “Not alive, anyway.”

  He stared at her imploringly, begging her to understand, but she just couldn’t in the moment. She averted her gaze when he reached over to wipe the tears from her cheeks. His touch was gentle and should’ve been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish her fears.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” he said as she lay back down on the bed. “Nothing’s changed.”

  Her heart ached to believe his words. She wanted nothing more than for everything to remain the same, for them to go on as they planned, but she wasn’t naïve. Not anymore. It was a life of crime, a world of violence where danger constantly forced its way in. It was a world that turned men cold and cynical as they did unspeakable things that she couldn’t begin to fathom. It was a world that had taken both of their mamas and had nearly killed them too. It was a world they’d tried to escape, but one that had sucked them in, anyway.

  It wasn’t a world she’d envisioned for their future.

  All she could think about were their plans, her stomach sinking as they started slipping away. Going somewhere no one knew them, starting over fresh with just the two of them. Where he could just be him and she could just be her, untainted by slavery and the labels forced upon them. Going to a college, him playing football while she studied art—all of it a distant dream. Getting married and starting a family—the concept of it overshadowed by reality. She wasn’t sure what was possible anymore, where they could go or what they could do. Would he be allowed to go to school? Could they bring children into that world?

  More importantly, what would happen to Carmine? Could he live that life and be the same person she loved? Could someone do bad things, but not be a bad person? And how was she going to live, knowing the one she loved did such deplorable things? Could she forgive him for the pain he might cause? After being brutalized her entire life, how could she just accept him becoming one of them?

  How had Maura done it?

  * * * *

  Vincent stood at the front of the dim church, staring at the flickering flame of the candle he'd just lit. It glowed brightly, illuminating his hand as he sullenly made the sign of the cross.

  There was a quiet shuffling behind him after a moment. Vincent turned to see Father Alberto approaching, clutching a bible in his hands. He nodded at the priest. “Father.”

  “How are you, my child?”

  “I’m well.”

  Father Alberto shook his head. “There are certain people in life you can never fool, Vincenzo, and your priest is one of them.”

  “Who are the others?” he asked curiously. “My mother?”

  The sober old priest actually barked with laughter. “I have known your mother for decades. I can safely say she sees and hears only what she wants, nothing more. It’s a gift with that woman.”

  Vincent smiled. “Should you talk that way about people?”

  “I’m not judging her,” he said. “It’s not my place to judge. I’m simply telling the truth. While in church. It’s a nice concept. Would you like to give it a try?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then I’ll ask again. How are you, my child?”

  Vincent hesitated. “Terrified.”

  There was no surprise in Father Alberto’s expression. “What scares you, Vincenzo?”

  “Corrado's in the hospital.”

  “I heard. Is he getting better?”

  “Not that I can tell,” he said. “Celia believes he’ll be fine, that he’ll wake up soon, but I don’t see how. His brain went without oxygen for too long for him to just get up and walk away from this.”

  “How long was he without oxygen?”

  “Almost four minutes.”

  “Is it impossible to recover after being down for four minutes?”

  “Impossible? No, but it is improbable.”

  “A doctor would also say a virgin birth is improbable.”

  Vincent shook his head. “No, a doctor would say a virgin birth is impossible.”

  “But yet Mother Mary had Jesus.”

  “She did.”

  “Miracles happen,” he said. “There’s a reason you don’t see what Celia does, why you have a hard time believing he’ll recover.”

  “Because I'm a doctor?”

  “No, because you've lost your faith.”

  Vincent looked at the priest with disbelief. “If that was true, I
wouldn’t come here.”

  “On the contrary, Vincenzo. You come here because you wish to find your faith again. You can’t fool God, either. He knows everything, and it’s okay, because He’ll forgive you. The question is whether you’re ready to be forgiven.”

  He was quiet for a moment, turning back to the flickering flame of the lit candle. “I am.”

  “Then all you have to do is ask.”

  Vincent took a deep breath before speaking again. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

  Father Alberto’s voice was gentle. “Go on. You’re safe here.”

  The word safe made him hesitate again. For the first time since he was that young boy, walking into the church and believing he belonged, he felt like he was truly safe there.

  “The first time I killed a man, I was eighteen-years-old. I shot him once in the heart with my revolver. He lost consciousness instantly, but it took exactly a minute and twenty-nine seconds for him to stop breathing. I counted. Seems so quick in retrospect, but watching it happen, it felt like he’d never die. And the whole time I stood there, all I could think about was how wrong it seemed.”

  “Wrong because you shouldn’t have killed him?”

  “No, wrong because there wasn’t enough blood. Some seeped out onto his shirt, and his nose bled as he choked on a bit, but it was a relatively clean scene. He bled out internally. It just didn’t seem right. I thought a shot to the heart should’ve been messier.”

  Father Alberto was silent for a moment. “Why did you kill him?”

  “He raped my wife,” he said, his voice an octave above a whisper. “I was judge, jury, and executioner. He had to pay.”

  “You didn’t think God would make him pay?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I just made it so he’d face God sooner.”

  “Why?”

  Vincent’s brow furrowed. “I told you why.”

  “You told me what this man did wrong, what sin he committed, but you didn’t tell me why you killed him. I remember you at eighteen. I married you and Maura at eighteen. You were not a vengeful person, and Maura wouldn’t have wanted you to do it.”

  He was quiet for a moment. The priest was right, of course. “My father sanctioned it. He called it my wedding present. I hadn’t wanted to, but it wasn’t open for negotiation. Permission to kill him was my first order, my first test. He though he was doing me a favor.”

  “What other favors did your father do for you?”

  Vincent shook his head. “I don’t think there are enough hours in the day to tell you it all.”

  “I have time,” the priest said. “Just as long as you’re finished by Sunday morning.”

  Vincent laughed, relieved the priest was so relaxed about it.

  “Come on,” Father Alberto said, motioning toward the confessional. “We will do this right.”

  The candle still flickered, and Vincent gazed at it for a moment before following him. The moment he sat down in the confessional, the words just seemed to come flooding from his lips. He spilled it all, every sinful thing he’d done in his life. The men he’d murdered, the places he’d robbed, the people he’d hurt. Every shameful act, every scornful word. Vincent didn’t stop until it was all out in the open.

  “How do you feel?” Father Alberto asked when he was finished.

  How did he feel? He felt relief. He felt at ease. He felt as if a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, a weight no longer pressing on his chest. He felt freer, lighter. He felt forgiveness. He felt peace.

  “I feel like painting a door blue today.”

  * * * *

  Shifting uncomfortably in the chair, Haven gazed out of the large window at the world outside. It was close to dusk and dozens of kids wandered the street in costumes, stopping at houses with their buckets for candy. She watched them for a while, a sense of longing brewing inside of her. They were all so young and carefree, ignorant to the dangers that lurked even a few feet away from them. She’d never known that type of innocence. When she was their age, the monster in her life had been real.

  “Hey, twinkle toes.”

  She turned her head at the unexpected voice and saw Dominic standing in the doorway. He smiled as he walked forward, pulling an orange pumpkin-shaped lollipop from his pocket. He handed it to her, and Carmine groaned from his spot on the bed. He hadn't left her side since going to his meeting with Salvatore days ago.

  “She can barely keep soup down, and you’re giving her candy?”

  Dominic rolled his eyes. “When did you become her guardian? She’s her own woman. Let her have a sucker. It won’t kill her.”

  “Whatever,” Carmine said, standing up. “I’ll go get her something real to eat.”

  “Yeah, you do that, Martha Stewart,” Dominic said. “Go knit her a scarf while you're at it. Maybe some booties too.”

  “Vaffanculo,” Carmine hollered as he walked out of the room.

  Dominic shook his head, turning back to her. “That boy needs to chill out before he bursts a blood vessel.”

  “He’s just trying to help,” she said. “Give him a break.”

  “I know he’s trying to help, but that’s no excuse to deny someone candy on Halloween.”

  “Thank you for it,” she said, pulling off the wrapper and sucking on it. “I didn’t realize it was Halloween until I saw the treatsters.”

  Laughing, he sat down on the arm of the chair beside her. “They’re called trick-or-treaters.”

  “Oh.” She looked back out at the kids in costumes. “I didn’t know, since I’ve never been. I didn't get to have a normal childhood.”

  “Normal is a relative term,” he said. “Besides, it's never too late to trick-or-treat. Maybe we'll go one of these years.”

  She smiled, knowing Dominic would actually do it. “I'd like that.”

  “It’s really good to see you. I would’ve come sooner, but Tess made me promise to leave you alone.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to see friendly faces again.”

  He nodded. “So, how are you holding up? Can’t be easy losing a month of your life.”

  “I’m alive,” she said. “That’s more than I can say for some people.”

  “Nicholas,” he said quietly. “It’s a shame. He didn’t deserve what happened. He was a good friend, always had a joke for anyone that would listen.”

  “He did.” Tears formed, guilt eating away at her. “It’s dumb, but I can’t stop thinking about the last joke he told me. He was telling one when he was shot, but he never got to say the answer.”

  “Yeah? What was the joke?”

  “What’s black, white, and red all over?”

  Dominic laughed. “Classic Nicholas. That was probably his favorite joke. He’d give a different bullshit answer every time he told it, like a penguin with sunburn or a zebra with chicken pox. The real answer is a newspaper, though. It’s black and white, and read all over.”

  “Oh.” She sat there for a moment before a light laugh escaped her lips. “I like that one. It’s smart.”

  “It is. And it’s not stupid to think about it. He'd be honored to be remembered by his jokes,” he said, patting her head. “I’m glad you’re up and moving around. Everyone’s been worried, but I never doubted everything would turn out all right.”

  “I wish I was as sure.”

  “As hard as it is for you, twinkle toes, you have to keep hope. Remember I told you that before? I know what my brother did sucks, but I can’t blame him for it. If I was in his shoes and Tess was missing, I would’ve done the same thing. I know you would too. So maybe I’m not the only one who needs to give Carmine a break. I’m sure somehow you guys will figure things out, and it won’t be the ideal fairy tale, but when is life ever? Especially for the two of you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Anyway, I should go,” he said, standing up. He turned around and froze, clearing his throat. “Damn, that was quick, bro. You’re a regular ol’ Betty Crocker these days.”

>   “I didn’t make it, motherfucker,” Carmine said, handing Haven a bowl of vegetable soup. “I just poured it.”

  “Well, you did a damn fine job at that.”

  “Thanks, asshole,” Carmine said, feigning annoyance but an amused smile formed on his lips. “Don’t you have shit to go break with a sword or something? It’s Halloween.”

  “Hey, that reminds me! Isn’t today the anniversary of the first time you two crazy kids made out?”

  Haven smiled. “It was when I kissed him.”

  “I still can’t believe you made the first move,” Dominic said. “I bet you’re regretting that decision now, aren’t you?”

  She glanced at Carmine, shaking her head as she took in his solemn expression. “I’ll never regret it.”

  His face lit up at her words, and she immediately felt ashamed for her thoughts. She was still hurt, unsure of what the future held, but one thing Carmine had never done was give up on her. She’d doubted him, when he’d never doubted her. She was mourning a life that she thought she was losing, but it was a life she would’ve never even dreamed of having if he hadn’t fought for her in the first place. He'd sacrificed for her, his world irrevocably altered to give her a chance. Carmine deserved a life outside of the violence.

  How would she forgive herself if he didn’t get it?

  She sighed after Dominic left, setting her bowl of soup down on the small table beside the chair. She got up, wincing from the pain in her wobbly legs, and Carmine rushed forward when he saw what she was doing. She held her hand up to stop him, taking a few weak steps on her own to where he stood. He eyed her cautiously, but she just smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “I love you, Carmine DeMarco,” she said, nuzzling into his chest. Her shoulder throbbed from where it had been dislocated and her knees felt as if they were going to give out, but she held onto him and tried to ignore it all. None of those things matter. They’d fade, and with them the memory, but her love for Carmine would never go away.