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The madhouse.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The afternoon sun heated the cell, the air stifling. The humidity intensified a stench that Lucia could never get used to, though Dante had. They’d finished a lunch of the prickly pears she brought and they sat side-by-side, holding hands with her head on his shoulder. She knew she’d get lice sooner or later, but she could no longer ignore the heavy manacle around Dante’s ankle, his skin rubbed raw.
Lucia squeezed his hand. “You know, I’ve been trying to think of a way to get you out of here, and I’ve come up with one.”
“What?” Dante shifted, looking over. “You mean, escape?”
“Of course. Don’t you think about it?”
“Not anymore.”
Lucia had sensed as much, but he didn’t have to accept this awful fate. “Did you ever try?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Look.” Lucia picked up his chain, its metal rough and scratchy. “This is iron, and there are blacksmiths in Palermo. They have plenty of tools.”
“What’s a blacksmith?”
“Someone who makes shoes for horses.”
“Horses wear shoes?”
Lucia smiled, since most of their conversations went this way. “Yes, fancy horses have iron shoes hammered into the bottom of their hooves, and blacksmiths make the shoes. They have saws, rasps, files, pincers, all kind of tools. I could steal some tools and I bet one of them would cut your chain off.”
Dante’s face fell. “You mean I’d go? Leave the madhouse?”
“Yes.” Lucia could see it made him nervous, that he’d grown too accustomed to this awful place. She squeezed his hand. “Dante, you can’t really want to stay here. You’re just used to it.”
“But I’m mad, and it’s a madhouse.” Dante frowned, his confusion obvious. “I belong here.”
“No, you don’t. I don’t think you’re mad.”
“I’m here, so I must be, and I have delusions.”
“Have you had one recently?”
Dante thought a minute. “Not since you.”
Lucia smiled. “So there. You were lonely, and your mind was trying to keep you company. I think you’re sane, and you can’t live in this awful place for the rest of your life. We have to get you out.”
“I don’t know where I would go. I don’t have a house, I don’t know who my parents are, I don’t even know my own last name. I don’t know who I am.”
Lucia’s heart went out to him. “You’re Dante, and you can start a new life, with me. We would go together, anywhere we wanted to.”
“But, where?”
“Wherever we wanted,” Lucia repeated, with a grin. “We’d be free, together. Forever and ever. Tonight, I’ll go into Palermo and get us some tools.”
“You, in Palermo? Is it safe for you?”
“Yes, I’ll be careful. Palermo is big, but I’ve been before.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, not for me. Not for anything.”
Lucia smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave before dawn.”
