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Dr. DeMarco left, and those words ran through Haven’s mind as she wandered the empty house. She ended up in the family room after a while, standing in front of the white telephone again.
Picking it up, she turned it on like Dr. DeMarco had shown her. She hit the 9 button before pressing the number 1, her finger hovering over the 1 again. She stood there, her heart pounding rapidly, before pressing the button to turn off the phone.
She did it three more times before placing the phone into its cradle and leaving the room, too frightened to press the last number.
* * *
The sun was setting when Haven ended up in the library. She came across some paper and swiped a few pieces, finding a pencil before eagerly running to her room. She lay down in bed and sketched, her mama’s face emerging on the paper. With no pictures, Haven was desperately afraid she would forget what her mama looked like, afraid her memory would fade with time.
Drawing came naturally to Haven. When she was little, around the age of seven, her first mistress, Monica, gave her paper and crayons. It was the first time she’d given her anything, and it turned out to be the last, but Haven cherished the gift until the last shred of crayon disappeared.
As she grew older, she’d sneak supplies from the ranch house, but afterward destroyed all evidence so no one would find out. She usually folded the sketches and stuck them in her pocket, burying the papers the first chance she got.
Haven lost track of time as she immersed herself in the drawing of her mama, and it was nearing midnight when the sound of music captured her attention. It was earlier than the other nights. Curious, she set the drawing aside and crept to the door to peek out.
o;I can’t,” he said. “I have football.”
“You don’t tell me what you can’t do. I tell you!”
Carmine clenched his hands into fists. “So you’re gonna take football from me?”
“You brought this upon yourself.”
Carmine narrowed his eyes as his father moved from the desk to the dresser. “I’m just living the life you gave me!”
“You can’t blame me for this,” Vincent said, opening the top dresser drawer. Carmine groaned as he pulled out his set of keys. “Your brother turned out fine.”
“My brother didn’t go through what I went through! But you know what? I don’t care. Go ahead and take football. You might as well. I’ve lost everything else because of you!”
There was a moment, when those contemptuous words hung in the air between them, that it seemed like time stopped. It was a low blow, and Carmine almost felt guilty when he saw the hurt in his father’s eyes. “You’ll always blame me.”
“You’re damn right I will,” Carmine said. “Give me my keys back.”
“No.”
Every ounce of sensibility Carmine had slipped away when his father turned his back to him. “If you don’t give me my keys, I’ll call the police.”
Vincent turned back around so fast the movement startled Carmine. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
“You’d risk everything over a car?”
“Yes,” he said. “You would, too, if it was all you had left.”
That flicker of hurt returned but faded as fast as before. Vincent threw the keys at Carmine, hitting him in the chest with them. “Keep the car, and go play your precious football, but the credit card’s mine.”
“I don’t care. I don’t need your money.”
Vincent laughed dryly. “We’ll see about that.”
* * *
A dozen overflowing shopping bags littered the bedroom floor, splashes of brilliant color against the dreary carpet. Dr. DeMarco had brought them in, saying they were necessities, but Haven had gone her whole life without so much stuff. “All of this is for me?”
“Yes.” Dr. DeMarco stood in the doorway behind her, rocking on his heels. He was irate, though she wasn’t sure why. “If you find there’s something missing, let me know.”
Haven mumbled her thanks as he left, leaving her alone with her new belongings. She unpacked carefully, hanging the clothes in the closet and putting the bathroom items away. Used to having a bar of white soap, she had no idea what things like bath salts and pumice stones were for. She found a brush, though, and ran it through her hair, cringing as she snagged on the massive knots.
