Sempre (Forever)

by JM Darhower

  He headed upstairs, and Carmine smirked as Haven turned to look at him. There was curiosity in her eyes, a small smile on her lips. “Your girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. Do you not like me telling people?”

  “Oh no, I love hearing it, but it’s just… he knows,” she said quietly. “It’s not like he doesn’t know what I am or anything.”

  He shook his head. “What you are, Haven, is my girlfriend.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Quit thinking about yourself that way. They’re just technicalities.” She cracked a smile as he used the word. “They’re titles other people give us. They don’t make us who we are. If you’re just a slave, than I’m nothing more than Principe. Is that all I am, Haven? A Mafia Prince?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Just because some people see us that way doesn’t mean it’s what we are. We’ll overcome our labels together. They don’t matter; they don’t make us who we are. We make us who we are. Fuck those motherfuckers.”

  She laughed. “When did you get so smart?”

  “Baby, I’ve always been smart,” he said playfully. “I’m just lazy as hell and rarely show it.”

  * * * *

  Haven and Carmine were in the family room watching TV when Celia strolled in. Carmine smiled when he saw her. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite aunt.”

  “I’m your only aunt,” Celia said, shaking her head as she scanned the two of them. “I see you’re not being as sneaky this time around. I’m glad. You make a gorgeous couple.”

  Carmine smirked as he looked at Haven, seeing the blush rise up into her cheeks. “We do look good, don’t we?”

  Celia laughed. “I see your ego’s still as big.”

  “That’s not the only thing big about me,” Carmine joked. “Isn’t that right, tesoro?”

  “I’m going to start dinner,” Haven said as she ran from the room. Carmine’s smile fell, feeling bad about embarrassing her.

  “Is everything okay?” Celia asked once she was gone.

  Carmine nodded as he stood up. “Yeah, it’s fine. I should probably go try to help her.”

  “You? Help?”

  Carmine shrugged. “It’s more like me being in the way and annoying the shit out of her, but I like to do my part around here.”

  The sound of Celia’s laughter followed him to the kitchen. He took a seat on the counter beside the stove to watch Haven while she cooked. He found it fascinating how entranced she was when she concentrated, zoning out with her brow creased. She’d hum to herself, and it was like he wasn’t even there unless he was intentionally doing something to get her attention.

  She made him a Cherry Coke, and he drank it as she threw together Chicken Cacciatore. His father came down while she was cooking and paused in the doorway to the kitchen. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes, Dr. DeMarco. Everything's great, sir.” The words rolled from Haven’s lips so fast Carmine doubted she even registered what she was saying.

  “Good,” Vincent said. “I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

  Carmine looked at Haven once his father was gone. “You know, a simple ‘yes’ would’ve worked.”

  “I did say yes.”

  “You said a whole bunch of other shit too. Did you notice that?”

  “I was being polite,” she said.

  He rolled his eyes. He wanted her to mean every word and not just say things she thought she was supposed to say. “It’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it’s not,” she said. “It’s never ridiculous to be polite.”

  “It’s unnecessary.”

  “It’s not unnecessary. It’s a sign of respect, and your father said respecting him is necessary.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to be so formal. It’s not disrespectful to call him Vincent.”

  “It doesn’t feel right,” she said. “I know what you said about labels, but I still feel that way with him. You probably think that’s silly, since he’s your father, but I can’t see him as anything but a label. He’s just… Dr. DeMarco. He’s not a person. He’s a master.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “He doesn’t think of you like that, though. I know he’s done some fucked up things, but his intentions are… well, I wouldn’t call them honorable, but I guess I’m just trying to say he doesn’t mean to be such an asshole.”

  He felt like he wasn’t making any sense, but she nodded. “I know. Maybe when I finally overcome my label, he will too.”

  Carmine sat there for a while longer, watching her quietly as she pulled out some dough. His eyes widened when he saw the ricotta cheese and chocolate chips. “Just when I thought it wasn’t possible to love you anymore than I already do, you go and make cannoli. You are definitely heaven-sent.”

  He tipped back his drink, downing the rest of it, and she smiled as he got down from the counter. “I’m guessing that means you like it?”

  “I’m Italian, Haven. I think it's a sin not to.”

  She simply hummed in response and focused on dinner, her brow creasing as her lip found its way between her teeth. After she had it all put together, he helped her set the table. Like usual, he was in the way. “How about I just go get everyone.”

  He headed to his father's office and swung open the door. Vincent looked at him with surprise. “Everything okay?”

  Carmine’s brow furrowed. “Why the hell do you people keep asking me that?”

  “I wasn’t aware ‘we people’ kept asking you anything. Did you need something from me?”

  “No, just coming to tell you that dinner’s done.”

  The atmosphere was awkward at the table that night. Haven didn’t appear comfortable, so Carmine placed his hand in her lap and soothingly rubbed her thigh. She smiled, taking his hand and squeezing it.

  Everyone disbursed after dinner, and Haven headed into the kitchen to clean up. Celia followed her, and Carmine lingered in the doorway for a bit, trying to stay out of the way. He was leaning against the doorframe as she loaded the dishwasher when a voice cleared behind him in the foyer.

  “I need to see you in my office,” Vincent said.

  Carmine scanned his head to make sure he hadn’t done anything his father clearly had said “don’t fucking do,” but he was coming up blank for once. “I’ll be up in a minute.”

  Haven nodded at him, silently telling him she’d be fine. He went up the stairs and stepped into the office the second he reached it. He hesitated in the doorway, noticing his uncle standing off to the side.

  “Does he ever knock?” Corrado asked.

  “He’s getting better at it,” Vincent said.

  Carmine groaned as he sat down across from his father. “Did you call me up here for a lesson on manners?”

  “No, but they’re important to have,” Corrado said. “Reminds me of how my mother used to ask if we were raised in a barn when we forgot our place.”

  “Yeah, well, your mom's a bitch,” Carmine said, the words coming out before they even registered. “Shit, I mean, some people are raised in barns, so that’s not nice manners in itself, you know?”

  Corrado stared at him, his gaze so severe Carmine started sweating. Vincent simply smirked, amused about the situation. Carmine wanted to tell him there was nothing funny about this, but he didn’t dare open his mouth. It was clear he was capable of saying things he shouldn’t say.

  “I believe that’s the point I was trying to make before you interrupted with the commentary on my mother,” Corrado said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but your girlfriend is one of those people, and she has a lot better manners than you do. You don’t seem to appreciate what people have done for you enough to even knock on their door before entering their room.”

  “I appreciate what people do for me, but I never had to worry about someone kicking me in the face like Haven did. You learn to fake respect for people when they threaten your life, whether you want to be polite or not. I’d venture to guess half
the time Haven says, ‘yes, sir,’ she’s really screaming inside, ‘fuck you, asshole.’”

  “Do you want to initiate someday, Carmine?” Corrado asked.

  “Excuse me?” Carmine heard what he'd said, but the sudden shift in topic caught him off guard.

  “Stalling is unnecessary. You react impulsively, so just answer the question. Do you plan to be initiated?”

  “I don’t think—”

  Corrado cut him off, his voice sharp. “That’s right, you don’t think. And maybe it’s not my place to say anything, but it’s obvious you don’t grasp the reality of the situation. You’re in for a rude awakening if you intend to join our life, because all that you just said about respecting those you’d rather not because of the hold they have on your life? That applies to all of us in this life, the entire way up to me and your father. If we forget our place, we don’t get a foot to the face… we get a bullet. So if the answer to my question is yes, I advise you take a few pointers from that girl who was raised in the barn and learn to at least act respectfully toward those you may not truly respect.”

  “No,” Carmine said. Corrado’s eyes narrowed at his response, and he realized it sounded like he was trying to be difficult. “I mean the answer is no.”

  Corrado motioned toward Vincent. “Continue.”

  Vincent took a deep breath. “We need to talk about what you saw in my safe downstairs. Corrado feels it’s in everyone’s best interest that you know what you’re up against.”

  Carmine wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the truth spoken out loud, but he nodded for his father to continue. For the next twenty minutes, Vincent rattled on about underground wars and all of the lives that had been destroyed, the devastation that had been evident once the smoke cleared. “The girl’s mother is one of those people,” he said as he finished his story.

  Although Carmine wasn’t surprised, the words still managed to make his hair stand on end. “She’s mafia royalty?”

  Vincent nodded. “She was just a small child at the time, so she’d likely have no recollection of her life before.”

  “Do you understand the seriousness of the situation?” Corrado asked. “Although your father means well, he’s doing the same thing Frankie did—he’s knowingly holding Mafiosi blood in his possession. I’m going to do everything I can to contain this situation, but there’s still a chance it’ll be exposed. And when that happens, we’re all going to be in danger… especially you and her.”

  “Why us especially?”

  “Because your father and I would simply be killed, Carmine,” Corrado said. “You’d become pawns.”

  He was quiet for a moment, letting it all sink in. “Something still doesn’t make sense to me. Why would Frankie risk his life keeping the kid? Why not sell Haven? He didn’t care about her.”

  “We can’t know for certain,” Corrado said, “but it's possible he wanted to make her their daughter. Monica Antonelli wasn’t stable. She was, uh…” He waved his hand as if to think of a word. “…fuori come un balcone. Crazy. It was the reason they left Chicago and moved to the desert. Rest, they called it. Rehabilitation from a mental break, but she never recovered. Bloodlines are important to our families, especially the older generations. I think Frankie took advantage of an unfortunate situation to try to help his wife, believing he’d get away with it in the chaos. No one would ever suspect it, and the child was undistinguishable after he cut off all her curls. He lived so far away she wouldn’t be seen by anyone who may have been able to recognize her, anyway.”

  “Plus, no one keeps small children for labor,” Vincent added. “You can’t have a toddler washing dishes or cooking meals. No one would’ve considered she had been sold and not killed because of that fact. Child slaves end up one place, and they may have broken conduct and murdered innocents back then, but some things were still off limits to us all.”

  Carmine sighed. “Is that all? Can I go?”

  Corrado snickered. “He may barge in, but at least he has enough sense to wait to be dismissed.”

  “Not always,” Vincent said. “Sometimes he just walks out.”

  Carmine shook his head as he left the office, going up to the third floor to find Haven in the library with a book. She put it down when she spotted him. “Everything okay?”

  He shook his head. “Not you too, baby.”

  * * * *

  The next morning started off like the last. Haven made breakfast, and Carmine sat off to the side, watching as usual. She’d have moments where she was herself, laughing and being playful, but as soon as Corrado came near, it all slipped away. If it weren’t so frustrating, Carmine might’ve found it fascinating. She moved around him like there was magnetic polarity, always keeping a certain amount of distance between the two.

  It reminded Carmine of his mom, that fact not helping to brighten his mood. Nostalgic, the sorrow and longing crept in, bringing him down. It wasn’t even his graduation and he felt cheated. School had always been important to his mom.

  Around one in the afternoon, Carmine took a shower. He walked back into the bedroom afterward with a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. Haven was lying across his bed on her stomach, wearing a short black dress. He smirked and sat down behind her, running his hand up the back of her thigh. “Wanna fool around, tesoro?”

  “Now?” she asked. He nodded, his hand moving further up. She gasped. “Carmine, we can’t do that now.”

  “Why? I can make it fast.”

  “But they’ll know,” she said. “Won’t they be able to tell?”

  He stared at her, contemplating her question, and smiled as she started to turn red. He ran the back of his hand along her warm cheek. “Yeah, it would be written all over your face. I’ll just get dressed then.”

  She quietly gazed at him as he stood up. He dropped the towel to the floor and started dressing, seeing her blush deepen as she watched him. “As many times as you’ve seen me naked, you think you’d be used to it by now.”

  “I’ll never get used to that,” she said, not taking her eyes off of him. “I appreciate a good work of art.”

  He laughed. “You don’t have to sweet talk me out of my clothes. I’m already naked.”

  After Carmine was dressed, he filled a flask with vodka and grabbed his things. They headed downstairs to where everyone else was gathered and set off a moment later for the high school.

  When they arrived, Carmine pulled the Mazda into the parking lot and got out as Haven nervously looked around. “Relax, hummingbird. We’re just here to help my brother bid high school farewell, and then we’ll do whatever you wanna do.”

  “I’m okay. I just don’t want to embarrass you.”

  He put his arm around her. “You’ll never embarrass me.”

  “What if I fall down the stairs in front of everyone?”

  “You won’t be walking down any stairs.”

  “Well, I don’t need stairs. What if I just fall?”

  “You won’t. I’ll hold you up.”

  “What if I take you down with me?”

  “You think you can take me down?” he asked playfully. “I guess I just fall, then. Hate to break it to you, but that won’t embarrass me.”

  She huffed. “What if I get hiccups and interrupt graduation?”

  “If that happens, I’ll probably laugh, but whatever. You still aren’t gonna embarrass me.”

  “But what if…”

  By the time Haven was done asking her questions, they were safely seated in the back of the auditorium. Everyone settled and the ceremony started, the graduating class making their way in. Haven watched with wide eyes. Carmine realized that as ridiculous as it all seemed to him, it was significant to her. She’d never gotten the chance to experience high school.

  He didn’t know what to say, so he just sat quietly and watched as Principal Rutledge blabbed about how proud he was of everyone. Usually Carmine would block out the inspirational bullshit they spewed, but Haven listened with so much passion that it made him
want to know what she was hearing.

  “I want you to take a second to imaging your future,” the Valedictorian said when she stepped up to the podium. “Imagine every aspect of your life—your job, your spouse, your kids, even your friends—but don’t imagine the future you think you’re heading for. Instead, imagine the future you desire most. Forget all the expectations everyone else has for you and concentrate on what you truly want. Visualize the road that will take you there. That’s your path. That’s where you belong in life.”

  Carmine pulled Haven to him, kissing her hair as she laid her head on his shoulder.

  “None of the truly great in this world became that way by doing what they felt they had to do. If Isaac Newton had become a farmer like his mother wanted him to, or if Elvis would’ve listened when he was told to stick to truck driving, we’d know neither man today. We know them, because they had the courage to follow the path they envisioned.”

  The speech wound down, and Haven drank in every word of it.

  The graduating class threw their caps into the air and everyone filtered out. Haven stood off to the side with Tess and Dia on the plaza as Carmine sat down on the brick wall lining the school. He watched her quietly, absorbing every smile.

  He heard someone behind him after a moment and glanced over as Dominic sat down. “Congrats,” Carmine said, pulling out his flask and taking a swig before holding it out to his brother.

  “Thanks.” Dominic took a drink and shuddered. “You know, Haven looks happy.”

  Carmine nodded, glancing back over at her. She was laughing at something, her face lit up with joy. “Yeah, she does.”

  “She’s changed a lot these past nine months. She’s not the same frightened girl that showed up the first day. She’s smart too. I’m graduating, and she corrected my vocabulary the other day. I said I felt nauseous, and she said the word I wanted was nauseated. Fucked me up, bro. Didn’t know there was a difference.”

  He smirked. “Sounds like something she’d do.”