Give the Sun to You

Living in a small town had many flaws; everybody knew everybody so there was no privacy, and chances were unless you traveled you'd never meet any new people. The monotony of everyday life couldn't hold a candle to the bright lights of the city, but the candle was warm. Growing up in a small town was like growing up with a large family, and family enjoyed spending time together. When holidays rolled around the community would spend them huddled together in church or partying on Main Street.

The town was in for a treat. Fourth of July was Mount Pleasant's favorite holiday and as always the celebration was a spectacle. There was a barbecue held on Main Street where there would be fireworks, food, football, beer, and music. Normally Demetria and her sister Charlotte would be stuck trailing after their parents and doing their best to keep their dresses clean but that year their mother volunteered them to help Miss Margot cater the event. Demetria didn't mind working, she'd been cooking since she was a child and Miss Margot was sweeter than the pies she made, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment. She'd been hoping that her parents would be too busy drinking with their friends that they wouldn't notice her slip away to find Sal.

It had been three long weeks since he had crashed into her life, much like he crashed onto the floor, and she hadn't seen him at all since then. Much to Demetria's displeasure it was proving to be incredibly difficult to spot the Grillo's outside of the shop. The family kept to themselves. They were either holed up at garage or in their home. It wasn't like she could just go the shop any day of the week either. Her parents tracked her every move and if they found out she was planning on meeting a boy they would be livid. She prayed they would come to the firework show, but seeing as how the Grillo's hadn't come to the church gathering for Easter celebration she wasn't going to hold her breath. Just thinking about it brought on a fresh wave of defeat. Would she ever see him again?

A tap on the shoulder pulled Demetria out of her train of thought and back to reality. She startled at first when she saw the beautiful face staring down at her then realized it was her sister and not her mother. The two looked so similar that she often got them mixed up. But where Lou Ann was all sharp edges with acidic words and harsh punishments, Charlotte was soft reassurances and kind smiles.

"Demetria, is something wrong?" Charlotte asked patiently.

The younger girl shook her head, "'Course not. What makes you think that?"

Charlotte hummed and motioned to the cutting board in front of her sister, "You've been hacking away at that melon like it spit in your tea."

Demetria looked down at the table and groaned quietly. Chunks of watermelon were spilled all over the board and gushing onto the table cloth. She grabbed a towel and tried to mop up the mess.

Charlotte watched her sister with a barely concealed smile.

"Your head's been missing all day, darling. What's this about?" She narrowed her eyes playfully and scooted closer to whisper, "It's that boy, isn't it?"

Warmth rushed to Demetria's face and turned it a pretty shade of pink. She avoided her sister's knowing gaze and grabbed a different watermelon to cut up.

"Maybe I'm worried that Carol Ann is gonna make the coleslaw again," she insisted defensively. "Not everything is about boys, Char."

Charlotte laughed at her sister's weak rebuttal. The younger girl could try to avoid the question as long as she wanted but when it came to her sister she would eventually give in. It was only a matter of time.

"He must really be something," the older girl mused.

The corners of Demetria's mouth turned up just the slightest bit. She remembered the warmth that spread throughout her body when he smiled at her. She wanted to see that smile again, wanted to hear his deep voice say her name one more time.

"He really is," she agreed wistfully.

The street was empty except for the volunteers then in the blink of an eye it was packed to the brim leaving no time to dwell on dark haired boys with the reflexes of a three-legged blind cat. Families and friends filled the roads. No matter where you turned there was a person there. Music had started playing and with it the party truly started.

Parents were gathered in groups and watched with smiles on their faces as kids chased each other up and down the block with sparklers in their hands. Some of the older teens started an impromptu game of football in the streets, people had to duck and dodge to avoid getting hit, but they all laughed it off. There was no use in scolding them for having fun. It was a time to celebrate, not to punish. A couple times during the night the younger teens would try to distract the Whitaker sisters and steal the cooler full of beer. Unfortunately for them the girls had a sixth sense for knowing when someone was up to no good and shooed them away.

Even with all the fun and excitement of the day there was still disappointment settling in Demetria's gut and it was getting worse. She could see her mother moving through the crowd with the grace of a dancer. Her eyes searched through the sidelines to find her daughters. They were the color of freshly bloomed bellflowers, soft and beautifully blue, but at that moment they were sharp as steel.

Charlotte looked up from the glasses of lemonade she was pouring and visibly stiffened. Her grip on the pitcher tightened.

Lou Ann approached the table and smiled at them. It may have appeared friendly to others, maybe even loving, but the girls knew better.

"Charlotte, Demetria," she acknowledged.

"Hi, momma," they said in unison.

Their mother cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at her youngest daughter, "Are you wearing my lipstick?"

Demetria's wanted to touch her lips but her arms were frozen in place. She hadn't thought about what her mother's reaction would be to her wearing makeup.

Charlotte was quick to come to her sister's defense, "I did that, momma, I thought-"

Lou Ann cut her off before she could finish.

"Do you know what they call girls your age that paint themselves up like you're doing?" Her face hardened as she spoke, "Easy. Tramp. Harlot. Names I will not have associated with either of my girls."

A lump the size of a baseball lodged itself in Demetria's throat. Under the table she grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed it tightly. The two young girls didn't dare open their mouths.

"Run off now and clean yourself up."

Her eyes narrowed when neither of the girls moved.

"Now, Demetria, before I do it myself," she threatened.

The aforementioned girl dropped her sister's hand like it was a hot coal and took off to find a restroom. Lou Ann turned to go but stopped mid step. She looked over her shoulder at Charlotte.

"I'm letting you know now, baby, if you ever try to lie to me again it will be the last thing you do," she warned dangerously.

Charlotte set the pitcher down on the table and toyed with with her earring nervously, a habit she'd had since she was a child. Lou Ann was the kind of woman to put her children on a pedestal and be the first one to knock them down. She was strict, a woman of her word, if she made a threat like that she was going to follow through with it. The older girl wanted to go find her little sister and make sure she was okay but she knew she couldn't leave her station. If Miss Margot told her mother she left her spot unattended then both of the sisters would be in real trouble.

Demetria moved through the bodies of people as quickly as she could. Her mother's words haunted her. The cross on her neck burned like a flame. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision, she bumped into people left and right and could only get out a weak apology. She tried her hardest to blink the wetness away. She couldn't cry here, not in front of all these people. If anyone saw her crying it'd become the juicy gossip of the night. Something for the bored housewives to sink their teeth into.

There was a voice behind her calling her name that she tried to ignore. The last thing she needed was someone seeing her in this state. She just wanted to wipe off the cursed lipstick and get the night over with.

She heard the voice call her name again, it was deep and raspy, almost familiar. She stopped to listen. Hope bloomed in her chest like magnolias in spring.

Demetria turned around and was greeted to the sight of Sal nearly crashing into the boys playing football in his haste to reach her. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen him sooner. Among all the flannel and preppy shirts he stood out like a sore thumb. He was sporting a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was properly slicked back this time with the exception of one stray curl falling into his eyes. He looked suave with the cigarette dangling from his lips, until he nearly tripped over a stray beer bottle on the ground.

"Demetria! Hey!" Sal put his cigarette out and grinned excitedly at her. "I was hoping I'd see you here."

"You were?" She questioned.

"Well, yeah," he said sheepishly, "you're the only reason I came to this bash."

She smiled fondly and ducked her head. Her mother's rotten words were temporarily forgotten.

"I was hoping I'd see you too," she confessed.

Sal's jaw dropped in shock, "Really?" He asked disbelievingly. "You're not just saying that so I'll trip over myself, are you?"

Demetria laughed, bright and cheerful, and shook her head.

"Apparently I can get you to do that without saying a word," she mused playfully.

He laughed nervously and lifted a hand to touch the thin red scar that he acquired from their last encounter, "Sono caduto per voi," he said softly.

Demetria's breath caught in her throat. He was staring at her with his black eyes so openly, so raw, the combination of his heavy gaze and his gravelly voice reciting the foreign words sent shivers down her spine. She could feel her cheeks burning.

"I don't know what that means but I hope it's nice," she replied, her voice breathy. She cleared her throat and smoothed down her dress.

"Did your cheek heal up nicely?" She asked curiously.

She took a brave step forward and stood on her toes to get a better look at the mark. This close she could smell smoke lingering on the collar of his leather jacket. It made her heart hammer hard in her chest. She lightly traced the scar with the tip of her finger.

"Does it still hurt?" She asked quietly.

He sucked in a sharp breath and faintly shook his head, "It's not hurting now."

The rays from the setting sun cast a warm orange glow over Demetria's fair face. She reminded him of the angels in the stained glass windows back in the Cathedrals in Italy. His gaze darted back and forth between her large green eyes and her rose colored lips. He was itching to take her hand in his own.

"Go long!" Called out a voice behind him.

Sal didn't bother looking in the direction of the voice, but he should have. The impromptu game of football had moved closer to the pair without them knowing. One of the boys threw the ball too hard and sent it soaring through the sky. Three of the players darted after it without a second thought. One of them raised his arms, eager to catch it, then crashed right into Sal and Demetria and knocked the two of them down onto the ground. The pair landed on the concrete with a hard thud.

Demetria groaned in pain underneath Sal. He cursed and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

"Are you okay?" He pushed her hair out of her face, his dark eyes checking for damage.

She was frozen solid underneath him. She could feel the weight of his body covering her own. His hand, rough and calloused from years of working on cars, was warm on her skin.

"Just fine," she squeaked.

The boy that crashed into them stood and dusted himself off. He looked down and laughed loudly, "Moving a little fast, eh, Whitaker?" He taunted.

His words reminded Demetria of what her mother had said to her. Her face burned with shame. With a newfound strength she shoved Sal off of her and marched past the laughing footballer. By the time Sal got on his feet she had already disappeared into the crowd.

"Demetria? Demetria!" He looked around but couldn't see her anywhere. "Merda!"

A whistling noise filled the air followed by a loud crack. He looked up in time to see bright colors fill the darkening sky. The firework show had started. More people filled the street in hopes of getting a better view. He realized with a frown that there was no way he was going to find Demetria that night and even if he did she might not want to see to him.

"Stupid American football," he grumbled. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started his long walk home.