Finding its way into the priest’s ears with utmost ease, Dante’s tale became Frank’s favorite in an instant. Choosing not to leave him in the room, he learned of how the man he took in found a way out of hell. His thoughts scrutinized the story bit by bit until he pieced everything together, having fully understood how Dante met his fate in prison and eventually to his house.
“But what happened to Ben?”
“I…don’t know. That guy, I hope he’s okay,” Dante got worried at the thought of his old friend who made it possible for him to be free again.
“God bless that person,” sighed Frank, “Well, don’t force yourself up too soon. I’ll have your dinner delivered in a later while.”
Never breaking his daily services to God, the priest left Dante in peace to pray the rosary.
As he heard Frank’s steps carry him away from the room, Dante endured the crunching pain and helped himself near the drawer. Pulling it open, his hands searched for his phone. Dante swiped its screen only to find that its battery was almost empty. He saw on the dusty screen some notifications.
13 missed calls.
8 from Cristoval.
5 from Sharee.
Knowing his current priorities, he dialed to call Cristoval back. The phone rang on the other line as Dante recuperated from the muscle he seems to have just pulled from attempting to move his body.
While looking at the cross hanging above the door, someone spoke.
“Dante! Where the hell are you!? I thought you died in the windmill!”
“I’m so sorry brother. I’m fine. It’ll take more than just a burning mill to kill me. How’s the father and son?”
“A wimp, as usual. Shallowlake has become a hunting ground mate, they’ve been looking everywhere for you!” exclaimed Cristoval, worried that the situation was dire.
“Try to keep them well fed. Listen, it might be long before I return. But I’ll try to make it sooner.”
“You better do. I don’t know how long I could stand this lawyer. He gets too noisy without a gag and he’s not even being appreciative that I let them take a bath,” Cristoval complained, “How about you give me the password to your computer? I need eyes outside.”
“Maria.”
“Huh?”
“I said Maria, with a capital ‘M’.”
“Got it.”
“I’m so sorry that you’re caught up in the middle of this. Thank you my friend.”
“Anytime,” assured his friend, “At least I’m not bored.”
Gently putting his phone back inside the drawer, he thought of what else he needed to do. There’s not much he could accomplish in his current condition and he’s wasting a lot of time the longer he stayed babysat. Shocked was he to have discovered that the one he mugged would be the very person to assist him when he needed help the most. Dante didn’t expect to receive such mercy from someone he took advantage of.
Picking his phone up once more, he remembered that he hadn’t only missed calls, he also had unopened messages. He read them one by one, starting from the first one, which was two days old.
6:51 P.M. <--Sharee-->
--You still coming?
Dante totally forgot about where he should’ve been before he crashed until he read the message. More messages asking where he was in the span of two days were sent by Cristoval, while Sharee ceased reaching for him a day ago. He wondered how her boyfriend fared with what he discovered, rather than how she did, for it undoubtedly must have been so deliciously complicated for her.
Did Sharee manage to tell him everything?
Though a part of him did want to expose Sharee’s secrets to her boyfriend for the sake of fairness, Dante inferred even before that it would only cause pain to both of them, and whether it did or not will reclaim Sharee back.
Heeding Frank’s advice, he discontinued pretending that he’s not hurt and closed his eyes. Even in sleep, he could think of the things that needed to be taken care of. His plans for revenge were delayed and he’s far behind his game. By now, the whole town must already be tearing the entire place up in search of two missing individuals.
They will never find them.
The question wasn’t who took them. Even for someone who didn’t get out much lately, only a total ignorant would doubt that Dante Moltisanti was involved and responsible. The real question was where he locked the lawyer and his son up.
By all means, feel free to check my home. He confidently thought to himself.
He swirled in his dreamlike state when the sound of rolling wheels against the floor woke him up. What time is it? Before he could look at the clock, the woman from before entered the room, pushing a cart with steaming food placed on top.
Breakfast in bed.
He slept the entire night.
It was morning already.
“Father told me not to wake you up last night because he thought you needed rest,” the girl said to him.
Sitting on the same stool she sat on the first time he saw her, Dante propped himself up so he could eat properly, this time, managing to do so all by himself. The girl took hold of the plate where nifty prepared slices of beef were drenched in gravy and mushroom. Appetite roused, Dante’s mouth began to water.
As she fed him with the first serving, he savored it first before having said what the early spoon stopped him from saying.
“Umm, hey, listen. Somehow I think I don’t deserve to be forgiven, but I’m sorry. I really am,” Dante’s major activity as of yesterday has been to apologize, this time, to the girl, “Please forgive me for what I did to him.”
She didn’t look at him as he spoke, as if denying him what forgiveness he thought she could possibly grant. Instead, she kept her attention towards leveling the spoon with the delicious food. Dante didn’t expect to hear anything either.
“I will try. But I’m not promising anything,” the girl said as she placed another in his mouth.
Good start.
His throat burned with every swallow but he chose not to quit for the food was very good. Dante wondered whether the girl had excellent culinary skills or the dish was ordered at a five-star restaurant.
His taste buds rejoiced with every bite.
“I can eat on my own,” said Dante before the girl brought the spoon up.
Hearing that, she gently put the spoon down and handed the plate to Dante. She didn’t do it because she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, she let him feed himself because she thought she made him feel helpless, “Will you be needing anything else?” asked the girl as she pushed the cart within his reach.
“What’s your name?” Dante asked all of a sudden.
Social etiquette stated that it’s a woman’s right to decline or give a positive response to a handshake, and that it was the polite thing to do for men to wait until the woman initiates a handshake. However, women nowadays are said to not mind being invited into a handshake first before they even feel doing so.
Unfortunately, Dante didn’t even offer his hand before the girl left him, her name remaining a secret. Leaving Dante alone to finish his meal, she stepped out of the room, taking with her her light footsteps that were gracefully spaced in between each succession. He didn’t know whether to feel delighted with the sumptuous food or to feel bad that he was an unwanted guest in someone’s house.
Feeling nourished after being done with his breakfast, he drank some water. To sulk in bed was his first thought, but he chose not to and managed to get on his feet. He wanted to be useful in the least.
Putting the utensils back on the cart, he saw no leftovers. Wanting to take the eating tools to the sink and be courteous enough to wash them himself, he put on a white shirt he pulled out from the drawer and made his first step towards the door.
Every step he made felt like his bones on his legs would tear out of his heels. It hurt a lot.
He had no slippers, which caused him to be barefooted. After walking through the already open door, he found himself standing on a wooden floor, bars of planks pieced together alternately so that one’s edge didn’t coincide with that of the one next to it. The walls were painted with dirty white color while the frames hanged on it added to the already stylish feel. A brown line of paint separated the floor from the wall, running all throughout the entire bottom.
Simplicity was beauty.
Dante didn’t know which way to go. Both sides were a blind turn. He let fate pick his destination, although he was really the one who decided to take the narrow corridor on his left. As he pushed the cart towards unknown parts of what bore a striking resemblance to a maze passageway, he finally saw some sunlight peeking through what he guessed to be windows. As he progressed towards the bright room, Dante started to hear the sound of a knife hitting the chopping board as it sliced through probably vegetables. Stepping further brought him to a light-blue tiled kitchen floor. Dante could smell the aroma of the broth by the fire while the girl from earlier stopped from dicing carrots up as she saw him heading for the sink.
“Let me take that,” the girl offered.
“It’s fine I can do this.”
“You should be in bed,” she refused to let go of the plate they were holding onto.
“That’s kind of you-
“No,” the girl pulled the plate with force enough for her to grab it off his clutch, “I want you to get well because I want you out of this house as soon as possible.”
Hurt by her words, Dante just turned around and left her to take care of the dishwashing. “I was only trying to help,” he said without looking back.
Just as he was about to disappear from her sight, his feet gave up and he stumbled to his knees. He’s muscle pulled hard like last time and he couldn’t manage to stay upright this time.
“That’s what happens when you think you’re okay even if you know you’re not,” the girl said as she helped him up.
She served as his legs when she carried his sorry weight back to the room. She pushed his foot towards him when he got to the bed to relieve him from the cramp, “Please don’t try to get up again. I’ll be bringing your lunch in a while.”
“Where’s Frank?
“Father’s on duty today. He’ll be back by night probably.”
Their guest niftily tucked in bed, she returned to the kitchen. He had to admit to himself that he was really hurt bad and ample rest was the only way to recover. He’s in no condition to leave.
Whether he liked it or not, he’s stuck.