Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  Carmine stayed still for a moment before pulling his hand from Haven’s hip. Dr. DeMarco’s expression remained blank as he eyed his son’s hand, and Carmine winced a few times as he pressed on his knuckles. “You’ll be fine.”

  “Like I said…” Carmine pulled his hand away. “Fuck you.”

  Haven started carrying the food to the table once it was done, but Dominic stopped her and offered to do it. She thanked him quietly and planned to go to her room, but Carmine took her hand and led her into the dining room. Pulling out a chair, he motioned for her to sit down.

  “Signore, benedici questi peccatori che essi mangiano la loro cene,” Dr. DeMarco mumbled before they filled their plates with food.

  The tension mounted through dinner. No one wanted to be there, none of them wanting to deal with the situation, but they all knew it couldn’t be avoided anymore. The wheels had been set into motion, and it was too late for any of them to go back.

  A fork clanged loudly as Dominic cracked. “I can’t take this anymore. We need to get a mediator or something, because this can’t go on.” No one spoke as he glanced around. “No one has anything to say? We have to clear the air. We need to have a sit-down.”

  Dr. DeMarco shook his head. “You know nothing about sit-downs.”

  “You’re right, and I hope to never find out what happens at one, but we’re going to have our own version,” Dominic said. “No one leaves the table until we get some answers.”

  “There are questions I can’t answer.”

  “That’s fine,” Dominic said. “If you can’t answer something, just tell us. Plead the fifth—it’ll be good practice in case the cops ever haul you in. But things can’t keep going like they are, Dad. We used to feel like a family—a dysfunctional as hell one, but still a family. And now it’s every man for themselves.”

  Dr. DeMarco stared at his plate. “Fine. Family meeting.”

  The word ‘family’ struck Haven, and she jumped to her feet. “May I be excused, sir?”

  “Yes,” Dr. DeMarco said, waving her away.

  Carmine glared at her. “Sit down, Haven. This involves you, too.”

  She remained frozen, having no idea what she was supposed to do.

  Frowning, Dr. DeMarco pointed at her chair. “Take your seat.”

  She sat back down carefully, folding her hands in her lap.

  “Okay,” Dominic said. “I’ll start. What’s your problem with Haven?”

  Her eyes widened at the question. She suddenly wished she would’ve left anyway.

  “Why do you think I have a problem with her?” Dr. DeMarco asked.

  Carmine scoffed. “Maybe because you fucking threaten her?”

  “Hey, calm the hell down,” Dominic said. “There’s no yelling in my sit-down’s. Let me handle this.”

  Carmine grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “That’s better,” Dominic said, turning back to his father. “Maybe because you fucking threaten her?”

  Dr. DeMarco shook his head. “I have nothing against the child.”

  “But you said…” she started before she realized what she was doing. She shut her mouth, nervous she’d spoken out in the middle of their meeting.

  “I said what?” Dr. DeMarco raised his eyebrows. ”Be out with it.”

  “You told those men I wasn’t worth it.”

  “You’re right. I did say that, and I won’t take it back. It doesn’t mean I have a problem with you, though.”

  Carmine shook his head, fighting to remain silent, while Dominic continued with his questions. “So if you don’t hate her, what’s the big deal about her and Carmine being together?”

  “Because there are complications they don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve told them they can be together for the time being if that’s what they want.”

  Carmine couldn’t restrain himself any longer. “Can’t you see how unfair that is? We can be together ‘for the time being’? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means until I figure things out, I can’t give you any guarantees on the future.”

  “What things?” Carmine asked. Dr. DeMarco didn’t answer. “Fine, I’ll figure it out myself. Just tell me—who is she related to?”

  “I can’t say. If they find out you know, you’re going to get hurt. I need you all to understand that.”

  “Why don’t you just tell whoever the guy is?” Dominic asked. “What’s the big deal? So she has more family… isn’t that good?”

  “No, it’s not good. He’ll expect her to be handed over, and she wouldn’t be safe with him. That’s why I haven’t told him.”

  Haven’s mind furiously tried to work through what he’d just said.

  “No one’s taking her,” Carmine said. “I won’t let it happen.”

  “I know. If I turn her over, you’ll follow right behind, and I can’t have that. I can’t have you both being taken down. I’m trying to find a way out where you walk away from this, but you’re making that difficult on me.”

  “Do I know him?” Carmine asked.

  “I can’t answer that.”

  He laughed dryly. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “You need to mind your own business,” Dr. DeMarco said. “You have to forget all about the DNA test.”

  “Why can’t you?” Dominic asked. “Forget about it. Burn the results and let the information die.”

  “Because three can keep a secret if two of them are dead—that’s why. People know. You have no idea the dilemma this has put me in, how hard it has made helping her.”

  “I’m still confused,” Dominic said. “If you’re trying to help her, why do you threaten her?”

  “Because Carmine has no regard for his own life. He made that clear again last night. Threatening him wouldn’t affect him, but threatening her would. And it’s not an idle threat. If it comes down to it, I will choose my blood.”

  Haven’s heart thumped hard in her chest as Carmine snapped. “You’re stupid if you think I’d just move on with my life if something happened to her.”

  “I know you think that—”

  Carmine growled. “Don’t pretend to know my feelings! Stop treating me like a child!”

  Dr. DeMarco slammed his hands down on the table. “Then grow up! I know how you’re feeling, because I felt the same way when I was your age! I know what you’d risk for her, but I can’t let you. I have to at least try for your mother!”

  Carmine’s eyes narrowed. “My mom has nothing to do with this!”

  “Your mother has everything to do with it! She loved her!”

  Carmine blanched at that, his eyes darting to Haven before going right back to his father. His mouth flew open, like words were trying to force themselves out, but there was nothing but silence.

  “Your mother was too naïve,” Dr. DeMarco said. “She’d insist there was a way out of this where no one got hurt, but she’d be wrong. Someone is going to get hurt. I’m just hoping it’s neither of you.”

  Everyone was quiet after the turn in conversation. Haven was as confused as ever. Carmine shook his head, his voice shaky when he spoke. “Who did it?”

  “Who did what?” Dr. DeMarco asked, not even bothering to look up.

  “You know what. Who killed her? We’re clearing the air here, and I want to know who shot me.”

  “Their names don’t matter.”

  “Then why did they do it?” he asked. “The least you can do is to tell me what caused it all.”

  “There’s no point, Carmine. What’s done is done.”

  Carmine laughed dryly. “Don’t give me that. I have a right to know whose fault it is.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?”

  “I mean I don’t know who to blame!” Dr. DeMarco said. “Your mother—God, I loved your mother—but she went behind my back and did things she knew she shouldn’t do. She was asking questions, and it caught up to her before I knew
what was happening.”

  “What questions?” Carmine asked. “Why was she snooping?”

  “Why did your mother do anything? She was trying to help.”

  “Help who?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Carmine.”

  “Yes, it does,” he said. “I’d like to know who was so important that she’d risk everything for them. I wanna know who she’d willingly throw her life away for!”

  His anger frightened Haven. Dr. DeMarco stared at his son, his expression blank but gaze intense. Carmine’s enraged expression softened as his brow furrowed, and he broke eye contact. Dropping his head down, he ran both hands through his hair as he blinked a few times.

  “You’re too much like your mother, Carmine,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I can’t let history repeat itself. Not anymore.”

  Carmine pushed his chair back, throwing his napkin down on the table. He bolted from the room without waiting to be excused and stomped up the stairs.

  “Is this sit-down adjourned?” Dr. DeMarco asked. “I’d hate to walk out in the middle of it.”

  “Yeah, it’s over,” Dominic said. “It was a failure, anyway.”

  Dr. DeMarco stood up, patting his son on the back. “It wasn’t a failure. We’re walking away from it with our lives intact. We’re usually not that lucky in real sit-downs.”

  * * * *

  A flood of emotion rushed through Carmine as he locked himself in his bedroom. Horror. Shock. Love. Longing. Gratitude. Anger. Remorse. All of it was so intense that he felt like he’d be sick.

  “Fuck!”

  He kicked the bed frame as he walked by it, tugging at his hair so hard his scalp throbbed. A ton of weight pressed against his chest, nearly crushing him with the force of the truth.

  It was Haven. She was the reason his life had been shattered.

  He started tossing things around, trying to release some pressure. His thoughts were convoluted as he shifted blame, trying to find logic where none could be found. Everything was supposed to be easy for him, so why did it feel so fucking complicated?

  He caught sight of the picture frame on the desk and snatched it up. Staring at the smashed photograph of his mom with Haven’s blood smeared on the glass, tears of resentment stung his eyes.

  Nothing had changed, but everything seemed different now.

  He set the frame back down and stepped into the bathroom, his gaze falling on his muddled reflection in the mirror. His bloodshot, sorrowful eyes reminded him of her, and the last thread of control he’d been holding onto snapped.

  His fist connected with the mirror. It cracked, shards of glass flying everywhere. He pounded on it in a rage, not slowing down until the last piece of glass was obliterated, his reflection gone from sight.

  Emotion swirled through him again as he slid down to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. His anger gave way to despair as the tears started to fall. He surrendered to it, not having the willpower to fight anymore.

  The anguish took over as he put his head down. He let himself slip under, wallowing in the misery of what he’d lost.

  By the time Carmine resurfaced, the bathroom was encased in total darkness. He walked over to the sink, the glass from the mirror crunching under his shoes. Turning on the faucet, the cuts on his hand stung as he washed off the blood.

  He grabbed a bottle of vodka from his stash and started down the stairs, pausing when he hit the second floor. The light was on in his father’s office. He didn’t bother to knock before stepping inside, kicking the door closed behind him. Plopping down in the leather chair, Carmine took a drink of the liquor.

  “I never wanted to have to tell you,” Vincent said. “I thought it would be cruel, especially now.”

  Carmine said nothing. Was he supposed to thank him?

  Vincent leaned back in his chair. “Your mother asked me to save her, but Frankie Antonelli wouldn’t let the girl go. I told your mother to drop it, but I should’ve known she wouldn’t. She started taking money and couldn’t explain what she was doing with it. I shrugged it off back then and didn’t consider the fact that she was lying to me. She’d never given me a reason not to trust her.”

  He paused, staring down at his desk. “I realized what she was doing, but it was already too late. I was too late.”

  It all hit Carmine hard, and he blinked rapidly to ward off the tears. “Did she figure out the secret? Is that why they killed her?”

  He shrugged. “Your mother was on the right track, even hired a private investigator, but I don’t think she put the pieces together. She didn’t have enough time.”

  “And you blame Haven for it.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Vincent said. “She was just a child.”

  Carmine laughed bitterly. “You think I don’t fucking know that? Of course it’s not her fault. Doesn’t mean you don’t blame her anyway.”

  Vincent stared at him for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes when we suffer a loss, we try to place blame on a single cause. ‘Disproportionate Responsibility’ is what they call it. Makes it easier to cope when you can channel your grief and anger somewhere tangible so—”

  “Cut the medical bullshit. It’s a scapegoat.”

  “Scapegoat,” he repeated. “You’re right. I blamed her, because it was easy to. I’ve come to grips with it for the most part, which is why I felt it was safe to bring her here. But yes, I do still have moments where I slip back into that mindset and wish she didn’t exist.”

  Carmine could hear the regret in his voice, the tinge of disgust. “Was it Frankie that did it? Is he the one that had her killed?”

  Vincent nodded. “A few years ago, Sal told me Frankie panicked about your mother asking questions, said it was because the Antonelli’s son fathered the girl. He didn’t want his family’s dirty little secret to come out. It’s kill or be killed in our world, son.”

  “Your world,” he corrected him. “There’s no ‘our’ about it. I want nothing to do with any of it.”

  Carmine could feel the vodka burning through his veins. He ran his hand through his hair, cringing at the pain. His father frowned. “You must’ve been pounding on something hard.”

  “Just had a small mishap with a mirror.”

  “You should go to the hospital for an x-ray.”

  Carmine held up his bottle of vodka. “I have all the medicine I need right here.”

  He took another swig of it as his father muttered. “You drink too much.”

  “Yeah, well, we all have our vices.”

  “I pity your liver, heading straight for cirrhosis at seventeen. It's going to kill you if you keep it up.”

  “We all gotta die at some point, Dad,” he said. “May as well go out for something I love.”

  He brought the bottle to his lips to take another drink, and as the liquid started flowing, it struck him what he’d said. That was exactly what his mom had done.

  Wordlessly, Carmine climbed to his feet and headed back to the third floor, going straight for Haven’s room. She was clinging to her pillow, curled in the fetal position. The ache returned to his chest. He felt like his heart was going to explode, shattering into a million pieces like the mirror in his bathroom.

  Something sparked deep down inside of him then, a part that overrode the resentment. It was the part of him that needed her just as much as she needed him, the part that loved her more than anything.

  His emotions took over yet again as he slipped into her bed, his voice cracking when he pulled her to him. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Carmine.”

  The words ran through him, choking him up. She softly stroked his arms that were wrapped around her, her fingers trembling against his skin. He wished there were answers he could give her to make it all better, but all he had was a simple word. “Sempre.”

  Driving to the hospital the next morning wasn’t easy with a sore wrist, but Carmine managed to make it there without wrecking the car.

  He parked in the spot reserved for his father an
d headed inside, walking up to the woman working behind the desk in the ER. He held his hand up to show her, and she nodded, no words necessary. He followed her to an exam room right away, and she told him someone would be in momentarily.

  The door opened after a few minutes, and he breathed a sigh of relief until the shrill voice rang out. “Wow, I see the old Carmine DeMarco is making a comeback. Relationship problems?”

  He groaned. As if his week hadn’t been bad enough. “Fuck off, Jen.”

  Chapter 31

  The sound of the bell rang through the brightly lit room. There was a collective shuffling as the students gathered their things. Carmine closed his science book awkwardly with his left hand but made no move to get out of his seat. His right wrist was in a bandage, sprained from the incident in his bathroom.

  “Don't forget to study, folks!” the biology teacher, Mr. Landon, called out as the students filed from the room. “Quiz tomorrow!”

  Carmine climbed to his feet and grabbed his backpack before strolling to the teacher’s desk. Mr. Landon was erasing the board and turned, caught off guard to see him standing there. “Carmine, is there something I can help you with?”

  “I was wondering if you could explain what mtDNA is.”

  Mr. Landon pursed his lips. “We covered that at the beginning of the semester.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I'm still a bit confused.”

  Truthfully, he hadn't paid a damn bit of attention then. Carmine always relied on luck and common sense when it came to passing tests, and most of the time he had just enough of both to get by.

  “Oh. Well, mtDNA is mitochondrial DNA. Unlike nuclear DNA, it isn't unique to us. We share it with our mothers.”

  “Mothers? So my mtDNA would be the same as my mom’s?”

  “Yes, just as it’s the same as her mother, and her mother’s mother, and so on. Males don’t contribute to it.”

  “But can they be traced through it? I mean, say mine was tested. Who would it match?”

  “People related to your mother. Whatever a person’s mtDNA is, it came directly from the maternal side.”