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He and I were both quiet, introspective. Seeing my dad had been jarring, and I was still trying to process it. And going through all my things, including every photo and memento from my childhood, was hard to take. I remembered how I’d broken down and cried when I first discovered all this stuff, and how Dante had held me and comforted me. God I missed him.
I took a break after a while and got a beer, and offered one to Christopher, which he declined. Instead, he got a packet of his crackers and ate them one by one as we sat on the couch, leaning against each other. Eventually he said, “Ok.”
“Ok?”
“If you were serious about me moving in here as your roommate, then I accept.”
“Of course I was serious.”
“I think it’d be really good to live with you,” Christopher said. “I’ll take the living room, though. You keep the bedroom.”
“We’ll flip a coin for it,” I said.
He put his head on my shoulder. “It’s going to be really nice to move out of that residence motel.”
“We can go get your stuff tomorrow, after I work the lunch shift.”
He looked up at me. “You want me to move in that soon?”
“Yeah. I don’t want you spending even one more night in that other place. Besides,” I added with a grin, “we’re never going to figure out the trick to these cuffs, so we’ll be living together permanently anyway.” I took another look at them, and was baffled as ever.
Christopher’s phone beeped and he pulled it out of his pocket to read the text, then sent a quick reply and set it on the end table.
“Not to be incredibly nosy, but was that Dante?” I asked.
“It was. Still checking up on you.” He smiled happily.
“He didn’t actually tell you how to open these manacles, did he?”
“Nope.”
“Has he found Natori yet?”
“No. He’s beginning to wonder if they’re on a wild goose chase. They’ve been driving all over Sicily following leads, but he hasn’t turned up.”
“It scares me to death, this thing he’s doing. I’m so afraid he won’t come back.”
“You have to think positive, believe he’s going to survive this,” he told me emphatically, and I nodded in agreement.
“I can’t really begin to process the whole mafia thing, even though I understand why he feels he has to do what he’s doing right now. But as for the rest of it, I just don’t even have a frame of reference for it, apart from the movies. And I kind of doubt The Godfather was meant to be taken as a totally factual documentary.” I glanced at Christopher. “Do you know what he’s involved in?”
“I only know a little about what he does, but none of the illegal stuff. I know he owns some restaurants, a couple nightclubs, a few shops. He owns a whole strip mall on the peninsula. I’ve gotten the impression,” Christopher said, “that he’s been slowly moving his family from criminal activity to legitimate sources of revenue. But I really don’t know that for sure.”
After a while I sighed and said, “Ok, I’m going to keep sorting through the wreckage of my former life. I’ll drag a bag over here to the couch so we can be comfortable while I bum myself out.”
That night, after taking turns in the shower and trying our best to respect each other’s privacy while using the restroom (awkward!), Christopher and I lay facing each other in bed, our joined hands between us. Christopher was holding my bound hand between both of his, his eyelids lowered.
There was something in that gesture, something in the way he held on to me that made me want to protect him, take care of him. He put on a good show, acted like he took everything in stride. But Christopher was a lot more vulnerable than he let on. I wondered, remembering him talking about the fact that he didn’t date, if he was lonely.
After a while I asked, “Are you named for the character in the children’s books?” It was a random question. I just wanted to get him talking.
He grinned a little and looked up at me through his thick, dark lashes, still holding my hand in both of his. “Yeah. My mom loved those books. She read them to me over and over when I was little.”
I just had to ask. “Does she know what you do for a living?”
“She killed herself when I was five.” He said it quietly, but kept his voice steady.
“Oh God. I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” He let go of my hand, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.
“I can be so insensitive. I apologize for prying into your personal business.”
He turned his head to look at me, and offered me a little smile. “You didn’t. My past is full of landmines like that one, it’s sometimes hard to avoid them.”
