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When I didn’t move, one of the guards shouted, “Andiamo, non abbiamo tutto il giorno!”
I hesitantly exited.
Once I was in the hall, both guards pointed down the hallway. I started walking.
We exited my old cellblock and entered a wing I had never been in before. There were cells here, too, but they were larger than my old one – and every cell only had one occupant. Most of them were the silver-haired men who held court out on the bleachers.
Suddenly, a voice spoke up in flawless English. “Ah, good – you’re here.”
I looked over and saw Dario standing inside a cell.
One of the guards unlocked the door and pulled it open.
Dario said something to the guard in Italian, his voice calm and pleasant.
The guard said something back in a respectful tone.
Then they all stood around looking at me.
“Come on,” Dario said, motioning me inside.
I hesitantly stepped inside – and was amazed.
His cell was four times the size of mine.
Not only that, but there was furniture: a chair with cushions, a table with a lamp, and a laundry line strung across the room with a curtain on it that could be drawn back over the toilet area for privacy.
There was a bunk bed – but the mattresses were plush, unlike the ragged inch-thick pallets back in my room.
There were art prints on the wall – old paintings by Renaissance masters.
A thick rug covered most of the concrete floor.
There was also a small table with an electric hot plate for cooking. There were several pots, pans, dishes, some jars of pasta, boxes of noodles – and a bottle of wine.
“I took the liberty of having you moved to my quarters,” Dario said. “I know you have your own room, but you wouldn’t have it to yourself for long. They would give you a new cellmate sooner or later.”
“No, that’s… fine…” I said as I looked around me in shock.
Dario said something to the two guards. They shut the door, locked it, and left.
“Care for a drink?” Dario asked.
“…sure,” I said, stunned.
He poured two glasses of red wine into clear plastic goblets. “They only allow me plastic cups, unfortunately. I also have to turn in the bottle when it’s empty so it can’t be used as a weapon – but it’s a reasonable compromise. And they give me a new bottle as soon as I turn in the old one.”
He handed me a cup and held up his for a toast. “To new allies.”
He tapped his plastic goblet against mine with a dull clunk, then sipped.
I just stood there in shock.
“You don’t drink?” he asked.
“No, I do, I just…”
I stared all around me, then looked back at Dario.
