Sempre (Sempre 1)

She dragged the empty hamper up to Carmine’s room and found him sprawled out on his stomach on the bed. She stared at his back, mesmerized by his sculpted muscles and the way his tattoos stood out prominently on his skin. He shifted around to look at her and smiled lazily. “I forfeit. This shit’s hard.”

All he’d done was sort clothes, and he’d done a pretty bad job of it, at that. “It’s easy to me.”

He rolled his eyes as she gathered the second load of laundry.

He put a few CDs away as she stripped his bed.

He took a break. She fetched fresh linens.

He put on some music. She made his bed.

He plopped down at his desk as she walked around the room, grabbing random things and putting them where she assumed they went. Carmine watched her closely, the attention making her hyperaware of every movement. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t much help, considering she’d do a better job on her own, but his gaze made her nervous. Occasionally, he’d grind his teeth, trying to contain his irritation when she touched certain things.

The floor was cleared before long, all except for the edge of a book sticking out from under his bed. She got on her knees, surprised by how cluttered it was under there. She pulled out books and magazines, as well as some movies. A few shoeboxes were stored under there, but she didn’t touch them. She put the comforter back down and glanced at her pile, gasping when she saw the naked woman on the front of one of the DVD cases. She covered it up, but she wasn’t quick enough—Carmine had already spotted it.

“Knew you’d find the porn.” He laughed, grabbing it. “Wanna watch it?”

There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. She vehemently shook her head, and he tossed the DVD into a drawer in his desk as she picked up a packet of pictures. Carmine pointed toward a drawer to show her where they went. “You can look at them if you want. I’m pretty sure everyone has clothes on, but no promises.”

He winked playfully as she pulled out the pictures. She flipped through them and smiled at the familiar faces, surprised to see Nicholas in a few of them. They all looked young and happy, but in most of them something was off about Carmine. His eyes were dull, the spark she was used to missing. He’d clearly been broken back then, the pictures telling a story no words could do justice.

She opened the drawer he had said they went in and froze. Sitting on top of everything was a tiny doll made out of tan string, no more than a few inches tall. It had short hair made from yarn, felt clothes glued to the body of what was clearly a little boy. She wondered why Carmine would have such a thing as she picked up the tiny doll, careful not to harm it.

Her chest ached as she gazed at it, remembering a time long ago when she had seen a similar one. She had been young, five or six years old, as she ran through the yard of the Antonelli ranch. Her bare feet kicked up dust as her laughter rang out, loud and blissful like the faint church bells they could hear on Sunday mornings. The tiny doll was clutched tightly in her hand, the long brown yarn flowing in the wind as Haven raced to the stables.

“Mama!” she yelled. “Look, Mama!”

Her mama sighed as she turned around, her face soaked with sweat. “I’m busy, Haven.”

“Look, Mama,” she said again, stopping outside the stall her mama stood in with the horse. Haven held up the doll, laughing wholeheartedly. She had never felt so overjoyed in her life. “It’s me!”

Her mama’s eyes widened with panic at the sight of the toy. “Where did you get that? You have to give it back.”

“No, Mama.”

Her mama stepped out of the stall and tried to take the doll. “Give it to me. You know better.”

“No.”

“Haven Isadora, give it to me right now!”

She held it behind her, shaking her head wildly. She wasn’t overjoyed anymore. Now she was heated. She had never had a toy before, and no one was taking this one from her—not even her mama. “No, it’s mine! Mine! She gave it to me! Not you!”

“Who gave it to you?”

“My angel, Mama. She gave me a present!”

Her angel. Haven had dreamed of her for years, the beautiful woman in white that glowed under the hot desert sun. She strained to conjure up the image of her again when a throat cleared nearby, ripping Haven from her thoughts. She glanced up, seeing Carmine right beside her.

She set the doll down and shut the drawer. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

He was quiet as her nervousness grew. She chewed on her bottom lip, afraid of his reaction. His hand shot out toward her abruptly. She flinched, but he merely brushed his fingertips across her mouth, pulling her lip from between her teeth.

“You’re gonna make yourself bleed if you keep that shit up,” he said as he reopened the drawer. “My mom used to make these dolls for the kids who came to the center she worked at. Most of them moved around a lot, so they didn’t have a lot. She said the dolls were easy to keep up with since they’re small.”

Easy to hide, too. Haven had kept the doll concealed for years without her master knowing.

“She always thought personal was best.”