Useless Apology

Carmine wouldn't say anything. He withholds because he thinks if he spoke about it, it lessens the bravery and the courage that he had to hold on to, and that it lessens what it's worth. In his head, it moved him to do something useless if he mentioned it, because words are empty, but all that he would remember. That he did something to get someone's gratitude, and that was it, when that's not what he cared about. He knew it was much more than that.

He doesn't expect me to pay him back for making him throw his image under, for threatening his reputation and for having to take a risk for both of us while he very much could. He doesn't expect anything in return, not even a thank you. That's how he appears, but it made him unreachable. It reminded me of the person he is. Someone that thousands of people are infatuated with. Someone much higher than me.

He had an image to begin with. A good day is when he couldn't remind me of that. Today was far from good.

"Shouldn't we talk about it?" I murmured. He had been left down to two choices. Either he let my identity be exposed, let me die, and watch his career collapse or let me live, and make up a lie that will destroy the promoting of his current series that needed publicity with Nica that in turn, ruins his career in a different way. He chose the latter, and he took the fall by himself. It's a strained excuse that tied the two of us together.

She's my girlfriend.

She's my girlfriend.

She's my girlfriend.

Two voices of his flavors rattled in my head with the same words. One mocked me, teased me, and buried me six feet deep for wanting to believe it was real, and the other was pulling me in, embracing me how fires warmed hands that skimmed snow moments before so I can take it as the truth when it was far from.

But the evil emanation is what clawed most my awareness, just how you notice the spill in a clean room, the scar on perfect skin and the one dash outside of the lines in a coloring book. Imperfections are enticing in every bad way. It's easier to see what you don't want to see.

"There's nothing to talk about." He shrugged, starting the car back up after we barely made our escape. The building looked daunting and haunted when we came out, but so welcoming when we went in. That's how people change things.

Carmine tried to act the least concerned as he could, but sometimes an actor can't hide what he wishes to. I didn't take that in before, but proof of that was right in front of me. "It's barely getting dark so it might still be unsafe to go home. Are you hungry?"

I pretended not to notice his attempt to change the topic. Nice try, fella, but you can't get past me using my strategies. "What do you mean there's nothing to talk about? You told the whole world that some unknown nobody is your girlfriend and now you can't stand to look at that nobody. But there's nothing to talk about, yeah, sure! You're out of your mind. You're not even gonna yell at me when you so badly want to?"

"Are you freaking hungry or not?" He raised his voice, but his obtrusive huff expressed his feelings more than anything did. He regretted it right after, but he was the kind of person that when he went too far and he knew it, had a hard time to admit it.

I understand his attitude. It's not like I want to be angry at him. Carmine is one of the most unproblematic actors on the planet, and if there is life outside of it, probably out of every galaxy that's out there. So many celebrities have gotten as far as they are by being stubborn and dramatic, but he's arrived there solely on hard work and dedication. It can crumble by making choices that aren't agreeable, even when those choices aren't anyone's to make.

He doesn't want me to thank him because he doesn't want to remember. He doesn't want to face what went down.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." I gave up, simply giving in to what he used to direct our words elsewhere. Fighting with him didn't have any purpose. We were both stubborn, but he overpowered me in that criteria. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but that's the way it is.

Silence made its attack. Not the kind that was sugary or coated with honey, which wasn't expected, but the kind that had the same feeling in the moment you knew you were drowning and didn't have the strength to continue fighting cold, reckless waves. When life was gradually being sucked out of you.

A flat tire. A deflated balloon. A withering flower. The spirit of those was within me and it clung to the deepest parts of my insides.

"We can't go in. If we keep appearing everywhere with how paparazzi are showing up the police will realize that you're the 'criminal' they're searching for. So fast food it is." I nodded when he finally spoke, and merged into the right lane to make a turn. What he wanted to say was 'then it's as if I did this for nothing'. He didn't, of course he wouldn't, but he thought it, most definitely, and that was enough. Enough to know that he deserved the gratitude and apology that he didn't want from me. "Tell the dang machine what you want."

I gulped. Palms sweaty and oddly nervous, I began to shake my head no. I couldn't bring myself to order. "C-can you do it?" I asked. I dropped every inch of my pride to say that, but it was worth it. Going through with it was heavier than my ego.

"Okay. Sure. What do you wan-?" Carmine agreed without a second thought, still sounding grumpy, but he stopped in his tracks. The tiniest smile played at his lips as a thought sat in his head, but he tried to hide his random happiness. The whole atmosphere changed because of him. "Are you scared of a fast food crew? Trust me, as a person who worked fast food before, they're more scared of you than you should be of them."

"I got cold feet or something. That's all." I couldn't come up with any valid excuses to something that was seemingly such a little deal, and it was a joke to try. It didn't stop me from making the attempt anyway though. I whispered my order under my breath so that only he could hear it, and not the person on the other side of the box. Carmine found it funny. Crazy how a persons mood can flip a switch.

He repeated my order and gave his, before we pulled up to the window. We were handed our food rather quickly. I thanked the worker awkwardly. She came back with drinks. I thanked her again.

"You know one thank you is enough." I searched the bag of its contents so I wouldn't have to acknowledge Carmine watch me be socially unacceptable, but I had anyway though I tried to avoid it. He had to mention it. He'd probably die if he didn't, that idiot.

"Bish. There's no ketchup. Can you ask for-."

He let out a snicker. I would complain about it but it feels like such a long time since I last saw it. His bad mood would come back because it's not like it was solved, but a laid back Carmine Jung is the best Carmine Jung.

"You're something else, Indiana."

********

Tables overturned. Books sprawled across the floor. Shattered glasses, cups, mugs. Picture frames cracked and it's photos bent yards from where they were intended to belong. People were here alright, and they left their mark. I'm glad I missed them. If they were capable of demolishing a house as big as his and to this extent, it's not debatable that I'd be long gone. They'd take my life without a care.

"That's not terrifying at all." My mouth was open agape to find the mess when we stepped inside, and I was genuinely spooked. I was hoping being sarcastic would help. It didn't.

The sky was pitch black and I wanted to collapse right into bed after the whirl of today, but the view in front of me was forcing me to wake up my senses, at least a little bit. My eyes itched to shut but I fought it without a choice. It was the biggest competitor I've had in history.

"Do you think they found something they can use against you?" I started out reluctant, but I let the words free. He was expecting them after I said three of them. "Do you think they'll find me because I left evidence I didn't even realize?"

"No. I think you covered your tracks well. That doesn't mean that being careful would hurt." Carmine patted at his carpet from his hands and knees until he found a hook that lifted up a section of his floor. Underneath was a stairwell that lead into a room I didn't know he had. His house is full of surprises, it's bigger than I could estimate.

It looked cold and empty in there, but it was clean and kept up, especially compared to what the rest of his house became. That settled well with me, because it meant that nobody found it yet. It was safe. Or safer than any place else could be. "Sleep in the basement tonight. The small hidden one. Just for security sake. I'm on the couch if you need anything."

I followed the stairs into the hidden room as Carmine had suggested. The cemented floor was freezing to my bare feet, which made me even more desperate to lay into the mattress and bundle myself up in it. It's pathetic, but I kind of liked it. It reminded me of when my parents were still alive, and I had the opportunity to reflect on good memories instead of bad ones. The earlier ones, instead of the ones that contributed to their endings that were far from happily ever after.

How they would always end up in our tiny space to sing a lullaby until I fell asleep. How they'd muffle their laughter and breathing when telling idiotic jokes because they heard someone near the river nearby, and how they'd laugh even harder when they knew they were gone. How they would celebrate their anniversaries even if all they had to do it was half of a corn on the cob and an apple that they'd end up giving to me because I was a "growing girl".

They found joy in being alive in the littlest of things, and while cooped up in the hole by the river, I didn't have any longing for more. I was content, and always satisfied with the routine we had that I never left from where I was instructed.

Until one day when there was a slight tweak to the schedule and I got too curious.

A chill went down my spine when recalling how the better times went down hill. It always would, because that's how the story ends, and that's what turning pages are for after all. Reaching the ending.

Every step that Carmine made on the higher floor I could hear, and the moment he sat on the carpet above me, I could hear that too. The more my flesh crawled due to the past, the more I started to long to get back out. I slowly felt buried; like those memories had a resurrected heart beat.

"Mom? Do you have time to talk?" I was making my way back up, covered in a cold sweat when I heard Carmine's voice after a dial. I sat on the top stair, shy to intrude with what he began. He obviously waited to be alone so I couldn't bring myself to. I debated going back down, but let's just say it wasn't necessarily calling out to me.

"Carms, why are you up so late?" The static from the speaker phone was evident. Connie was on the other end.

"I'm always up late. I'm reading."

"No you're not. You're my son, Carmine. I know you. You're always up early in the morning. You're not up late 'reading' unless something's troubling you. What's up? Is it because of the news? About me? Or was it the mall incident? If that's what it is-."

He sighed, a thud to the ground. I would guess he had a book in his hands so he could convince himself he wasn't lying, before he brought himself up to lie, but it didn't work out for him. "No, Ma. It's not like that." I could tell he changed his position. Maybe he was laying down on the carpet. "Hear me out, please. I need to understand how you went through all that you did."

I bit my lip so I wouldn't make any thoughts, no longer only thoughts. I wondered what he meant. Who wouldn't?

"What exactly do you mean, Carms?"