Sempre: Redemption

33

Haven fidgeted, peeking through the thick white curtains that hung in her living room. It was early afternoon on Sunday, and the Manhattan neighborhood was as hectic as ever. Tourists wandered the streets, mingling with the locals and the busy street vendors. Usually watching the flurry of activity put Haven at ease, but today every movement just made her more edgy.

“Relax,” Kelsey said, plopping down on Haven’s couch with the remote control. “You’re stressing for no reason.”

Haven shook her head. “He’ll be here soon.”

“So? It’s a Sunday. It’s not like it’s a real date.”

Not a real date. Haven tried to tell herself that, but it had yet to work. It certainly felt real to her.

“What is it then?” she asked.

“It’s just two people getting together to do whatever it is you people do,” she said. “Personally, unless it involves sex or bacon, I see no reason to do anything on Sundays.”

“Well, we won’t be doing that,” Haven muttered.

“No bacon? He isn’t vegan, is he? I don’t trust a guy that won’t chow down on a steak.”

Haven felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “I meant the sex.”

She could hardly get the word past her lips.

Kelsey laughed. “What a shame. I had hope for you.”

Shaking her head, Haven peered back out the window. She saw him right away, halfway down the block, walking through the crowd. He was dressed impeccably, wearing black slacks and a white shirt. His dress shoes shone under the afternoon sunlight, a dark pinstriped tie hanging loosely around his neck. He walked with confidence, comfortable in his skin.

Watching him made her dizzy.

“I don’t get why you’re freaking out over this,” Kelsey continued. “You see this boy all the time.”

It was different, but Haven knew her friend wouldn’t understand. Kelsey dated all the time, meeting new guys every week, but that wasn’t Haven. She had no interest in dating at all. The afternoon walks after her painting class and the friendly banter she shared with Gavin were innocent. But this . . . this was planned. This was contrived. And to her, that was the difference between being friends and something more.

That thought alone—the thought of someone wanting something more with her—made her stomach clench with severe angst.

She dropped the curtain back into place, smoothing her clothes when Gavin knocked. She felt underdressed in her jeans and pink blouse. What did people wear on a possibly-but-maybe-not real date?

“Have fun,” Kelsey said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Don’t worry,” Haven mumbled. “I won’t do half of what you would.”

Haven opened the door, smiling sheepishly when she came face-to-face with Gavin. “Hi.”

“Hey there,” he said. “You ready?”

“Uh, yes.” She took a tentative step outside. “I look okay, though, don’t I?”

His eyes quickly raked down her body at that question. Her skin prickled at the attention. “Yeah. Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I just saw you were dressed up and . . .”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I’m a little overdressed,” he said, looking down at himself as he rocked on his heels. “You look fine for what we’re doing.”

Haven shut the door, taking another step toward him. “What are we doing?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he stepped off the porch, motioning for her to follow him. “I thought we’d take a walk or something.”

“But that’s what we do every day.”

“True.” He laughed. “It works for us, right? We can just see where we end up. I mean, unless you’d rather—”

“Oh no.” She cut him off, her anxiety lessening. “Walking is great.”

Maybe it wasn’t a date.

The two of them set off through the streets. Gavin struck up conversation, their usual friendly banter returning as he led her down to the subway on Twenty-third Street.

Haven froze on the platform after he grabbed their passes, her eyes scanning the others waiting. A white tile wall loomed behind her, while trash littered the grimy concrete ground. Bells and whistles sounded, a crackling loudspeaker drowning out the chatter of the crowd. People pushed, others yelled, as the whoosh of trains rushing past stirred up the musty odor of dirt and rank urine. Electricity buzzed and lights flashed as doors clattered, noisily opening and closing before the trains sped away.

It was contradictory—loud and chaotic, yet orderly at the same time, like an assembly line in an overworked factory. It felt robotic, almost inhuman, as people packed the vessels, methodically moving on and off like clockwork. It was an entirely different world underground, one Haven never realized existed beneath her feet.

Haven’s wide eyes scanned the scene, taking it all in with stunned silence. Gavin noticed her expression, scrunching his nose. “I know, it’s disgusting down here.”

“No, it’s, uh . . . I’ve just never taken the subway before.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “Never.”

“How can you live in New York and not take the subway?” he asked. “How do you get to the other side of the city?”

“I don’t. I’ve never been.”

He stared at her. “Never?”

“Never.”

“Madison Square Garden?”

She shook her head.

“Times Square?”

“No.”

“Broadway?”

“Nope.”

A train pulled up to the platform, the silver doors creaking open. People moved toward it and Gavin pressed his hand to Haven’s back, guiding her into a graffiti-ridden car. He muscled his way through the crowd, acting as a shield between her and the others. She slid into the last empty spot on a hard plastic bench, her small frame squeezed between a teenage boy humming and an overweight bald man with body odor, slumped over and snoring.

Gavin stood in front of Haven, leaning against a metal pole as the doors closed. They jolted as they took off, shoving her into the sleeping man, but he hardly stirred. The floor beneath her feet vibrated as they sped along the old tracks, metal grinding as the lights inside the cramped car flickered.

Haven’s heart thumped wildly in her chest, a mixture of exhilaration and alarm, and blush stained her cheeks when she noticed Gavin’s eyes fixed squarely on her, watching with curiosity. She looked away from him, her gaze timidly dipping to the floor. He stood so close their knees almost bumped, the tips of their shoes touching—his: shiny, new, and black; hers: old, scuffed, and dirty.

She slid her foot back impulsively, away from his, before chancing a peek at him again. He, too, stared at their shoes, his eyes darting back to hers as if he could sense her gaze. His curious expression held questions, but he asked none of them.

After a few minutes, the air brakes whistled loudly like fireworks about to explode. Haven clung to the seat, careful not to bump anyone as the train came to a screeching halt. The doors opened and Gavin led her onto another platform, COLUMBUS CIRCLE written in mosaic tile along a wall.

“Where are we?” Haven asked as he led her through the crowd. The fact that she was in a part of the city she had never been to before both unnerved her and excited her.

“You’ll see in a minute,” he said.

She followed him out of the subway station and onto the street above. The moment she stepped out, something inside her twisted. She saw it then, just as he had said she would. Trees spanned as far as her eyes could see, a forest tucked into the heart of the bustling city.

“Central Park,” Gavin said. “Ever been?”

“Not yet,” she whispered. “I’ve always wanted to, though.”

“Well, come on, then.” Gavin motioned with his head, a smirk highlighting his face. “Nothing stopping you now.”

Nothing stopping you now.

Haven followed Gavin across the street, passing the massive statue and into the park. The two of them strolled side by side in peaceful silence as Haven admired the trees towering over them like oversize green umbrellas. Sunlight spilled through the branches in spots, patches of light scattered along the path of cool shade, warmth forcing its way into the shadows. Haven reveled in it, stepping into the glow when they came upon it and glancing up into the sky with a smile on her lips.

Heaven, she thought. It felt like Heaven streaming down on her.

“So what do you want to do?” Gavin asked.

Haven’s brow furrowed. “Aren’t we doing it?”

“Well, we can just walk around if you want, but there’s more to do here.”

“Really? I thought it was just, you know . . .” She motioned all around them. “. . . trees.”

He laughed. “Not at all. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Statues, bridges, trails, wildlife . . . hours passed as Haven took it all in. They watched a puppet show and she swung on the playground swings before exploring the zoo and feeding the ducks on the lake. Gavin taught her how to play checkers and blatantly let her win, even buying her ice cream when they passed a vendor. There was music and games, laughter and excitement. She hummed along to the musical tower clock as they watched people toss a Frisbee and plant new trees.

Everywhere she looked there was something else, something new, something more, and little by little a part of her guard crumbled. The hurt she carried with her took a hit, hope and happiness resonating inside her again. The strong-willed girl, restrained and suspicious, didn’t even notice as her vulnerability showed, bits of the real Haven Antonelli shining through for once.

“Let’s get some food,” Gavin suggested. It was growing late, already close to dusk. “We haven’t eaten all day.”

“I had ice cream, remember?”

He laughed. “That doesn’t count. I know a nice place. We can grab some dinner and get you home, since you have school in the morning.”

“And you have work,” she said. “Do you have to get up super early?”

“No, I get up when I get up,” he said. “I make my own hours. Remember?”

“That’s right. Is your dad in construction, too?”

“Sort of,” he said, frowning as he looked at his watch. “My father’s got his hands in a bit of everything.”

They headed out of Central Park, catching the subway back to Twenty-third Street. Gavin sat beside her on the bench this time because there were far fewer riders at that hour than in the afternoon. They got off at their destination, walking about a block to a small restaurant. Long windows overtook the front of the brick building, and Haven could see quite a few tables inside.

They were seated along the side of the dining room at a table with two wooden chairs. Gavin ordered vegetable curry with spicy noodles without looking at the menu, while Haven picked a cheeseburger with fries. They were both quiet as they waited, sipping their drinks and resting their feet from walking so much.

It took ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before their food arrived. Within a matter of seconds, Gavin cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she said, popping a fry into her mouth.

“What’s your deal?”

She stopped chewing. “What?”

“It’s just that, you know, you’re not like the usual people I deal with. There’s something different about you.”

And just like that, Haven’s guard crept right back up, the wall of disconnect rebuilding. Different wasn’t blending in. Different wasn’t staying out of the limelight. Different wasn’t a part of the plan. “How am I different?”

He shrugged. “You live in New York but you haven’t seen much. You’ve gone nowhere and done nothing.”

Haven had no idea how to respond. She swallowed harshly, her appetite gone. “I was born in a really small town and never got to go anywhere. There wasn’t really anywhere to go, anyway, even if I could. I only had my mama growing up, and she couldn’t take me places. My father . . . I never really had one of those, and then I lost my mama, and well . . . here I am, I guess.”

She stumbled over her words, cringing at her explanation. While true, technically, it was a lie by omission. A half-truth. It was all, she realized, she could ever give him.

“You have other family, right? Aunts? Uncles? Cousins?”

The question spurred an image in Haven’s mind of her last Christmas in Durante. Dominic. Tess. Dia. Celia and Corrado. Dr. DeMarco. Carmine. While technically not her relatives, they were the only other family she had ever known. “Yes, but I don’t talk to them much.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” That time, it was one hundred percent truth. “They all live far away.”

“So why are you here then?”

Haven started to reply, looking up from her plate, but her words trailed off when her gaze drifted past Gavin. Her eyes were drawn to the back of the restaurant, out of the glass wall and onto the patio, where a row of potted palm trees aligned the railing. “Palm trees.”

“Palm trees?” he asked, Haven’s attention returned to him when he spoke. “That’s why you came here?”

“No, well, uh . . .” She let out a sudden laugh, tears prickling her eyes. “I didn’t think there were any in New York.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, yeah, they imported them. You know, for ambiance. A bit tacky, but whatever.”

Gavin pried no more after that, but the damage had been done. Haven was distracted, her thoughts lodged in the distant past as her eyes continually drifted back to the patio, her food remaining untouched. She missed them all, more than she had wanted to admit, but she missed him most of all.

She tried not to dwell on Carmine, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Sometimes something small rubbed against the wound, reopening it, reminding her of what she tried to forget—not him, never him, but the ending. The devastation. The good-bye.

Or lack of one, really. The lack of closure. Without it, the wound could never properly heal. It would linger forever, fueled by the ideology of what could have been.

What could have been? It could have been Carmine there with her, exploring Central Park, traveling around New York. It could have been Carmine sitting across from her, not asking questions because he already knew the truth. He knew her past. He knew where she came from. He understood what she had gone through.

But it wasn’t him, and as she sat there, she allowed herself to feel that void again.

Gavin paid when they finished. They left the restaurant, neither speaking on the walk to her apartment. He reached over and took her hand halfway there, his fingers loosely linking with hers. She didn’t pull away, didn’t fight it. Her emotions were all over the place, up and down, a roller coaster of twisted thoughts and confusion.

“Thanks for today,” Gavin said, pausing in front of the brownstone.

“No, thank you. It was nice.”

“Nice.” He repeated the word, eyeing her peculiarly. “Nothing more?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I had a wonderful time, and I do like you.”

“But?”

“But I just . . .”

“Nothing more,” he repeated.

“Right.” She sighed. “It’s nothing you did. It’s just me, I guess.”

He let out a sudden, abrupt laugh that startled her. “Are you giving me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line?”

“No. Well, yes. It’s true, though. You’re really nice, and you have a great personality, but—”

“That’s what they say about ugly people,” he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. “No, it isn’t. It’s true. And you’re not ugly. You’re handsome.” She felt the blush rise to her cheeks at the admission. “Very handsome.”

“So what is it?”

She glanced down at their still connected hands. “There’s no spark. No electricity. No lightning.”

Something flickered in his eyes then, his face softening as he let go of her hand. “Ah.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be,” he said. “No harm done.”

“Are you sure?”

He smiled genuinely. “Absolutely.”

“I did have fun, though,” she said. “I’m glad I went.”

“Me, too,” he said, taking a step back as he shoved his hands in his pocket. “I should be going. Have a good one.”

He walked away without another word, jogging across the street and disappearing into the darkness.

Monday came. Haven stepped out of her art building at precisely one o’clock and looked up to see Gavin leaning against the wall. They shared warm smiles and he strolled beside her to the library like usual, conversation flowing easy.

Wednesday he was there again, as he was on Friday. But the following week, when she walked out of her painting class, the sidewalk was vacant. For the first time in weeks . . . months . . . Gavin wasn’t there.

She waited for a few minutes, lingering along the side of the building, before making the journey alone.

Days passed, then weeks, with no sign of Gavin. What started as confusion quickly grew into frustration before finally morphing into concern. Had something happened to him? Was he okay?

One Friday afternoon, instead of heading to the library, she made the trek to the construction site. She stopped near the corner when she reached it, remaining on the old cracked sidewalk, her eyes scanning the property. They had made little progress from what she could tell, a few more levels of metal beams erected, but it was still no more than a fractured shell. Workers swarmed the grounds, a sea of yellow hard hats in the distance, bobbing and moving like rubber ducks in the water.

Her attention shifted to the trailer as the door flew open and Gavin appeared in the doorway. A group of guys greeted him when he stepped outside. He joined them, sipping on a bottle of water as he sat on the trailer steps, laughing.

Relief washed through her instantly before a tinge of hurt bubbled up. He appeared to be more than okay. Happy, even.

Haven stood there for a minute before turning away. She knew it then, could feel it in her gut, the concern and frustration fading right back to utter confusion. Their friendship was no more, tossed away haphazardly like it no longer meant anything . . . if it ever even did.