“Are you sure you’ve got this?” I asked. “There would be no harm in taking a couple more days to rest.”
“I don’t want to rest anymore,” he replied. “I’ll be okay.”
I believed him when he said it. For him to still be alive after everything he’d been through, it meant that he was a resilient man worthy of surviving life’s greatest trials. When put into perspective like that, getting out of bed and taking a shower should be no problem.
“Okay, take my hand.” I leaned in towards Giorgio and opened my hand. He reached out and grabbed it and I gripped him tightly. “Be careful. Just go slow.”
Going slow wasn’t really up to Giorgio. His grip on my hand was weak and unsteady and as he started to pull himself towards the edge of the bed, he was only able to inch his way across. I held onto him, using my weight to hold him up. There was, however, a foot different in our heights. I wasn’t a large woman by any means, so though working out was one of the few things I did to occupy my time around the house, it was difficult to hold up his weight.
Finally, he made his way to the edge of the bed and started to scoot his way over the edge of the bed. He slid over and I braced to hold him up. He felt me starting to crumple beneath his weight and offered an apology, but I didn’t mind. He was on his feet, and that’s what counted.
“It’s okay,” I said. “We’re just taking it slow.”
Together, we slowly worked our way around the room. I could feel his body shaking in my arms and it made me wonder exactly how bad the torture had been. Being left on the outside of information meant I had no idea what my father had learned from brutalizing Antonio and Giorgio, but I knew that was the goal. My informants did let me know that at least Antonio had been successfully broken, but I wasn’t sure if that meant he would be tortured less or more. Angelo Cavetti was a true monster to his core. If he knew he’d broken Antonio, that might have inspired him to do more damage because then it was purely about causing pain.
But what did that mean for Giorgio?
The more steps we took, the more confident Giorgio’s movements became. It was clear he was doing his best to not lean totally on me, which was a nice consideration, but I didn’t want him to force himself.
“It’s okay to lean on me,” I said. “I can handle it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I replied, smiling up at him. “Let me help.”
Giorgio considered my face quietly for a minute and then nodded. “Okay, thank you.”
With that, Girogio’s weight settled a little heavier onto me. It still wasn’t oppressive, but it was enough to create a bit more of a challenge. I was up to the task though, even if I was wishing the large, luxurious rooms in our estate were a bit smaller. We worked our way around the bed, and towards the bathroom door. Giorgio continued to gain more and more strength with each step, and when we reached the bathroom doorway, he took his arm from around my shoulder and used the frame to keep himself up. I took a few steps back, giving him room and he worked to stand on his own, legs shaking as he did it, but he was able to stay upright.
“There you go,” I said. “Don’t push it too much.”
He laughed. “You got it, mom.”
It reminded me of his fever-induced ramblings from when I’d first found him. Deep inside the tough man just trying to regain his strength, was a son who still hadn’t properly mourned his parents and a sibling who still hadn’t mourned his brother. I was hopeful that as things started to look up, Giorgio would be able to visit with his sisters at least. I couldn’t imagine they’d let Lucia anywhere near him in the wake of Antonio’s attempted escape, but maybe he could visit with the twins at some point.
“I think I’ll be okay to stand in the shower,” he said. “Can you help me run it?”
“Yeah!” I slid past him, not a difficult task with how small I was compared to him, and walked over to the shower. I reached in and turned the faucet on, adjusting the temperature until the water felt nice and warm, then I pulled the tab to divert the water to the shower. “Can you feel it? I want to make sure it’s not too hot.”
With a hand held out just in case he toppled, Giorgio worked his way along the wall until he was at the shower’s side. He stuck a hand in and felt the water, and then nodded. “Yeah. This is good.” He turned and looked at me. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. The housekeepers always keep the dressers in here stocked with pajamas, so I’ll pull some out for you and set them on the bed, and I’ll bring some food back so that when you get out there will be something to eat. Your strength is already coming back, so just don’t overdo it and we’ll get there. I promise.”
“We’ll?” he asked and then nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
I kind of wanted to make a comment on his repeating ‘We’ll’ but I let it be. The relationship we were forging, whatever it was, was still very undefined and unclear. Pushing too much could lead to another arm around my neck, strangling me. With him up in a bedroom in the main part of the house now, doing something like that could quickly get him killed.
With a final smile, I turned around to leave the bathroom. I’d only made it a few steps out when I heard a couple of grunts and groans behind me. I turned back around and saw that Giorgio had his hands braced at the bottom of his shirt and was attempting to pull it up, but he could barely lift it from his waist.
“Um,” I said. “I don’t wanna overstep, but… want some help?”
"Yeah," he bristled, "I guess I need it."
I could understand Giorgio's frustration. Though I'd never been injured like he was before, I understood being helpless all too well.
I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and began to roll it upwards. "Together. You slowly lift your arms and I'll pull the shirt over."
He nodded. "Okay."
