Part 15.
Meanwhile, Dada hovered over her wounded friend,
preparing his meals and feeding him with her own hands. Whenever Ugo, with a
smile and gentle pleas, would insist he could eat no more, she would pout,
refusing to relent until he had finished every last bite.
Ugo watched his caretaker with a look of pure happiness,
though from time to time, a flicker of sadness would cloud his eyes. He
carefully hid it, determined that Dada should never notice. The girl had grown
deeply attached to her patient. She no longer wanted to return to her own room
to sleep; she would say goodnight only when forced, and she lived for the dawn,
eager to return and fuss over Ugo once again.
As much as Ugo felt joy and happiness, he was equally
consumed by a gnawing fear, terrified by how deeply Dada was becoming attached
to him. Sometimes, he tried to appear cold and indifferent, but the harder he
tried, the more he found himself growing attached to the girl—and that weighed
heavily on his soul.
Sometimes,
when he gazed far away through the window, the touch of Dada's gentle fingers
on his furrowed, sorrowful brow would snap him out of his thoughts. With her
eyes, the girl would ask, "How can I help you? How can I comfort
you?" Ugo would offer a sad smile, look away, and as time passed, he grew
more and more melancholic. Dada worried in her own way, no longer knowing how
to console him; she attributed her friend's mood to his health, thinking that
his wound must still be troubling him, which was why he was so despondent.
Ugo, meanwhile, was constantly thinking about how to
escape this situation. There was no way out in sight; due to his severe wound,
he could barely get out of bed with the help of others, a vein throbbing at his
temple from the pain, his eyes turning cold as ice. He endured the pain in
silence as much as he could, refusing medication and trying to take as few
painkillers as possible to remain alert.
The Padrone visited the patient every day, though he no
longer asked any questions, convinced he would not get a straight answer
anyway; with his daily visits, he was simply reminding him,
"I am vigilant, and nothing will slip past
me!"
He conveyed this silently with a single glance, and the
gardener would respond with his eyes as well, indicating that everything was
understood.
The caregivers were amazed at how the patient endured
such terrible pain while categorically refusing medication; only the Padrone
understood why the gardener was acting this way. Deep down, he even felt a
sense of sympathy for him because of his resilience. Dada’s life was, at least
in part, in the gardener’s hands. "Whoever he may be, he seems like a
brave man; perhaps he will truly spare the girl and do her no harm," the
Padrone thought. He pondered a thousand things and observed the gardener in a
thousand ways. The gardener, for his part, was trying to ensure that Dada
entered the room promptly, wanting to remain face-to-face with the Padrone as
little as possible.
Dada’s arrival felt like the coming of spring; she
brought joy, warmth, and kindness, softening even the Padrone’s expression,
while the gardener’s tension would simply vanish. The Padrone would offer the
girl her favorite treats, though now in larger quantities, as Dada would not
take a single bite without sharing it with the gardener, even splitting her
chocolate with him.
- From the day she saw you, she has been sharing her
food. She hovers over you like a mother hen caring for her chick. - the Padrone
joked with the gardener. It was a joke, but also a hint to protect the girl—a
subtext that only the Padrone and Ugo understood.
- I do look like a helpless chick right now. - the
gardener replied.
The Padrone added:
- Right now, yes, but...
Dada could not grasp the ambiguity in their conversation;
she understood it literally and smiled happily at both of them. She was truly
delighted by their "friendship."
Time passed, and the winter dragged on. Sitting on the
bed, the gardener watched the blanket of snow covering the tree branches
through the window; the place was truly beautiful. From time to time, he would
glance at Dada, who was sketching the gardener gazing out the window; when he
looked her way, she would smile and signal with her hand, "Look over here,
you see, I am drawing you." The gardener would respond with a smile,
obeying the artist.
Ugo gradually managed to stand up on his own, though
walking was still difficult; he could barely take a step. As soon as Dada saw
him stand, she would immediately rush to assist him, trying to take a step
alongside him.
The weather showed no signs of improvement. It snowed and
snowed incessantly; spring would soon be here, but the weather showed no hint
of it.
The Padrone was deeply puzzled. Neither Zeki nor anyone
else had appeared. Throughout this time, he had not noticed anything
suspicious; no strangers had arrived, nor had any guest appeared who might have
asked even the slightest question about the gardener or the servants.
"Perhaps they think they managed to kill him? And
that I, wanting to avoid gossip, hid the body? That is also good if that is
truly what they think. At this stage, it suits me as well."
The Padrone thought, turning everything over in his mind
a thousand different ways.
The truth is, the gardener's situation was kept a secret;
only a very small number of servants knew that one of the rooms in the house
had been turned into a hospital ward. The other servants had no idea what was
happening in the master's home. They only knew that a distant relative had
visited the master and was not going out due to the bad weather. When the
gardener was inquired about, everyone was told that he had fallen ill with
pneumonia in that miserable hut and had been taken to the hospital. He might
not even return until spring, as there was no work for him to do anyway. Later,
he was soon forgotten; many did not even remember him. Only a few maids
mentioned him once or twice, and even then, they exchanged piercing, suspicious
glances and immediately fell silent, for no one wanted to be exposed for having
a secret connection with the gardener.
Meanwhile, the gardener felt perfectly fine; the Padrone
denied him nothing. Any other servant in his place would have felt like the
happiest man alive, but the gardener was consumed by anxiety and could see no
way out. He had to escape this golden cage in time.
It was also terribly hard for him to leave Dada. Grief
was eating away at his heart. He felt he had been caught in a trap—a terrible
trap he had found himself in.
On one side, the Padrone was boring into his brain with
his piercing gaze; on the other, thoughts of Dada gave him no rest and robbed
him of sleep.
LEX, February 27, 2016, Saturday
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