Change of Plans

The way he looked at me completely disappeared. The energy of the room was back to normal, and I could focus back to our surroundings besides the features that you would have to be dumb not to admire. His features.

Carmine fell into the couch, fed up with the constant calls yet the only thing dangling in my brain was the kiss we never shared, but oh— how close we were to getting there. Close and there are very different things, they just as well be opposites.

He threw his phone against his chest when he finally decided to answer and it balanced there casually on speaker. Nothing about him was flustered or embarrassed. He might be more confident than how he usually acted around me, or it might just seem that way because I was very much flustered and embarrassed. This was work for him, but it can't be that way for me. Little things count and make so much of a difference. He did things like this everyday with Nica and didn't feel anything at all? How do those people manage?

"What is it mom? Why did you have to call three times? This better be urgent." He rolled his eyes as he talked, clearly annoyed to be interrupted. I'm about sure it's not because she interrupted us but because he was interrupted in general. When that man is in the groove of something, he never wants to stop. That's one thing that I noticed about him.

"Carms." I recognized Connie's voice. The seriousness she spoke with could give anyone chills and from the get go everything felt off. Everything was turned upside down before she said anything more.

It affected Carmine right away. He didn't know how to act and he couldn't lay so peacefully as he was. His body was straight and stiff. That was absolutely a new side of him, especially when he talked to his mom. That carefree side of him was long gone. "What's gotten into you? What's wrong? You're scaring me."

"Hear me out, Carms, okay? Did—?" She trailed off. She had trouble to present the news, and when it's that way, you know it's never good. I could tell already from when the call began, but nothing about it was getting better. Nothing about it gave me hope. Same would go for him.

"Spit it out, Mom. What's wrong?"

"Did you scan Arizona? Did you get her scan score?" She blurted it out, rapidly, it was barely understandable. If came out as one long connected word, but Carmine never failed to understand anything that came out of her mouth. That was his power when it came to her. He always understood, and it's by his expression that I was able to. It would've been way over my head otherwise, and I don't know which way would've been better or worse

"I mean, yeah I did. Why—?" He admitted. The more she said the more confused he got. He knew there was a big piece of the puzzle he was missing, but he himself was worried to ask what that piece was.

"Carmine." Connie had a habit of calling out his name whenever things were difficult to say. Maybe it was to stall time or maybe it's because she didn't want to spread her own worry like some sort of virus. I don't know what the reason is, but she does it a lot. "Our laptops are switched so the score went to the laptop I have with me. When you were back in Korea, I traded them because yours had a document on it that I needed back and I decided I could just keep it in case I needed anything else. Transferring them was too much hassle at the time."

"Oh my god, Ma, why didn't you didn't tell me? So What happened? Did someone get a hold of it?" Carmine was concerned. I couldn't help but to wonder if that concern grew in him because somewhere in him he learned to care about me, even just a little bit, or if he as usual, would give anything to please his mom. Or both. But it's not like I had the space to put myself on a pedestal.

"We had a meeting today using that laptop for a presentation. I left for break and when I came back I heard her name numerous times. What was the score? It agitated them so badly, like even worse than I could've guessed, but—."

"I know why, Ma. It would concern them. They have dumb laws and she doesn't match it. Not even a little bit." He intervened, but he didn't answer her question when he saw me standing feet from him. It was a secret he didn't want to expose. I could tell he didn't like to hear her talking if she was this stressed out and didn't try to hide it. "What should I do then? What do I do from here?"

"I know this is crazy but every time you leave the house, you have to bring her with you. You have to find a way for her to blend in a little bit and take her wherever you go."

"How could I? I'm an actor. People watch my every move and never give me privacy. I have paparazzi on my tail all the time. How could you even think it was safe to do that? She's illegal, mom. It's a dangerous world out there for her. Heck, it's dangerous out there for me and I'm a 100."

"I know, I know. It doesn't make sense, but I've worked for the government for years. They'll target me first for this. They'll search my house, but when they find nothing, they'll chase after you next. Your house might be off the grid but they'll figure things out if they want to. It's best to hide her out in the open and camouflage than to lead them right to her if she stays on your property all the time. She'll be taken and your life will change forever. Trust me this once."

"Mom." He was stern this time, and I could tell he wanted to argue but he didn't know how. He began to look me up and down, his phone balanced between his ear and shoulder. Every crevice of me that had a flaw, he noticed and those weren't hard to find. I didn't know what was going through his head, but my gut told me it couldn't be good. He looked at me and wished I would've been born like everyone else and I wouldn't have caused such a big issue. Trust me, I don't wish any different.

"Just promise me you will. I'm on duty so I have to go. If they'll catch me on this phone call I'll be in more trouble than I am already. Promise me you will okay?"

A beep chimed three times to signal the call ended and Carmine buried his face into the couch cushion. He was the most distressed I've ever seen. The flow of his voice was deadened by his hidden mouth I couldn't see, but he was loud enough to be understood. "Okay, I promise." He had said, to no one but himself; the woman on the end of the line back to the daily work she's always been put to.

Just because of him, the air was suffocating. If I could leave, I'd be out the first door I could find, but I couldn't just show myself to the world; apparently not with a face like this. If I wanted to breathe properly again, I was going to have to be the one who gradually brought us there, but with as anti-social as I am, how in the world?

"So," I tried to think of somewhere I could go with it, but I couldn't find anything. My foot tapped unconsciously against the carpet, and it shook my entire body. Because of that "dance" I appeared more and more nervous. It was sinking in what this meant for me; that the plans I had originally to hide out and pretend I didn't exist wouldn't work anymore. If anyone should be freaking out, it should be me.

"Come with me." Carmine commanded. He grabbed tightly to my hand and dragged me along to follow his lead. He was up so quickly and so gracefully I couldn't tell he was much nearer than an arms-length away when he forced me to go with him. I didn't fight his grasp though. Our bond probably wasn't the best one in the world, and we have some form of like-hate relationship, but he wouldn't do anything wrong to me. I didn't feel the need to hold myself back.

"Where are you bringing me?" I asked. I could do that much. I could ask questions.

"To the bathroom."

"Why the hec—?"

"For a make over. Even if my mom didn't just go off on a rant about how we're all gonna die otherwise, don't you wanna be able to go out peacefully? Aren't there things you want to do? A life you want to live that you haven't had the chance to? If you're gonna ask me a bunch of questions, answer those. You dang interviewer." His words were so strong and full of conviction like he could see right through me; whether I told him the truth or not. I'm sure everyone has dreams. Everyone has a bucket list, and there's several people that aren't lucky enough to experience it. I'm one of them. Minor wishes were impossible for me.

We arrived into the restroom, and by the mirror he opened a drawer full of loads of make up in every form I could possibly imagine. I could hear every single of them's commercials play at once inside of my head that it didn't even make sense. There was a stool propped out in the center area that he dragged there to gesture me to sit, and then here I was with Carmine Jung, studying my every expression.

How my lips were the slightest bit asymmetrical, and how my eyes weren't captivating enough to want to stare into them like everyone else's who drew you in the more you looked. How my nose didn't add any definition to my face, but was there for the sole reason to allow me to smell and nothing more. How my skin texture was rough and unsatisfying and how my hair was basically withering away. He stored every piece of information in his head and the question in it? How are we going to fix it? Like I'm a broken piece of machinery.

I didn't want to think about it. It was late to answer his rant of questions, but I brought it up again for the heck of it. "Who doesn't have something they want to do with their life? Even if they completed all of their dreams there's going to be something else they'll always add. Someone can say 'been there, done that' and that's why they want to be and do something else. I'm sure I want something too. But because I knew I couldn't have it, I didn't want to dream. It's a dangerous thing to do for a girl like me. At this point, I don't know what that 'want' inside of me is."

Carmine skimmed his index finger beneath my chin. He nodded as he listened intently to what I said, but I couldn't tell what he thought of it. "Utah, close your eyes." was all he spoke, and I didn't hesitate to listen.

I felt the brush slid across my eyelids, dotting it's extravagance to it and I liked the feeling; the feeling of at least being able to say to myself that my fight isn't over. It hurts to have to be fixed, but knowing that you can be is something. At least there's that. There hasn't been for several years, and thinking that something good was allowed to happen to me felt wrong to accept. Thinking positive hasn't been this troublesome, but I wanted to try, if there is at least a slimmer of hope.

If. If. If. Life balances on such a word.

"Then you should start small. Think of a quality that you wouldn't mind applying to yourself. Maybe that's freedom, being carefree, and wanderlust. Or maybe that's living life smelling the roses and being appreciative of whatever comes along. You've been caged all your life, girly. Be yourself. Try to live your life for once instead of drag through it."

"That sounds dangerous." I responded. He dropped his hands down onto my shoulders, which were now both empty, and it urged me to open my eyes. When I caught sight of my reflection, for the first time ever, I wanted to look at it. The natural colors of the look blended with a sweet glittery violet that made it electrifying. Never before have I wanted to look into myself like this, because it would only remind me that my eyes were bland and boring.

This time, they weren't just any ordinary brown. I thought of melted chocolate with a honey drizzle, of the color of coke when the sun shines through it just right. I thought of the price of gold and why it must be as worthy as it is, and this was all coming out of me? How could it be?

"Life is dangerous. That's how it is. Worse for some than others." He shrugged, brushing off specks of lint from his shirt. "I'm responsible for you right now so you can blame me for whatever happens. Don't you think you should take the chance? Tomorrow I'll give you this look again. You're waking up early and coming with me on set. Wear a mask, so your eyes being exotic are the first thing people see. You'll blend in with the staff and visitors that way anyway. It's the best place for you to start. Okay?"

"Where did you learn how to do make up?" I changed the topic. I was looking forward to what he had in mind, but it was a lot for someone who never had that type of chance.

"That's not what I asked." The disappointment in his face made me laugh. It was kinda cute. It made him look innocent, naive, and not too far from planet earth. "But if you have to know, when you're on set for four years you pick things up from your stylist. With my skills lacking, it's only going to work because your skin is clearing up a little."

My detour worked, but if I responded with what was really wanted to tell him, I would've said, "thank you for experiencing my life's danger at my side".

Because if it's out of his own heart or not, no one has ever done something that extreme for me before. Nobody's done anything for me for 14 years.