Dante's Day Off

by S. L. Wallace

  “You’re talking about actions that have become so commonplace with an individual, that they’re almost instinctive.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Dante said.

  “We already know that nerve signals move at an extraordinary rate along synaptic pathways. Little things called dendrites actively pass messages from one to the next until the brain receives the information or until the muscle receiving direction from the brain, does as it’s instructed.”

  Natalia nodded. “Yes, it’s starting to come back to me. I know I’ve learned this. So just as dendrites can wither and die if they’re never used, they can also be strengthened, much like a muscle.”

  “You’ve got it!” Dante put his arm around her. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”

  She playfully pushed him away.

  Pietro grinned. “On that note, weren’t you jotting down a bunch of them? Writing a song for my cousin, you said.”

  Natalia groaned at the pun.

  Dante looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “It’s not quite finished yet. Give me a few minutes? I think I’ve been inspired to write the ending.”

  “Sure. Natalia, I’ll help you clean up while Romeo here finishes that piece.”

  Dante took the staff paper and a pencil up to the rooftop terrace. He scanned Trastevere Square for a moment before looking down at the paper and completing the song. The first half was what he gave all the girls, but his feelings for Natalia had changed during the course of one dinner. He now felt ashamed about the first part of the piece, but he pushed that thought away as he realized that part of the song was about who he had been. This new part, the part he had just written, was about who he wanted to be now that she was in his life. He took the music back to his living room where Natalia and Pietro were sipping tea.

  They watched silently as he picked up his violin and bow. Dante glanced at the sheet music before handing it to Natalia. Then he walked over to the window, closed his eyes and began to play from memory. The familiar and sweet melody filled the room. When he was done, he returned to his surroundings, slowly lowering the instrument to his side and opening his eyes. Natalia stood up slowly, went to him and kissed him gently on the lips, while Pietro broke into applause.

  “Wow! Natalia didn’t tell me I was in the presence of greatness. That was truly amazing, Dante.”

  Dante smiled and bowed to Pietro.

  ***

  A few weeks later, Dante woke in the early morning hours. He glanced at the glowing numerals of the clock on the nightstand — 02:38. He reached for Natalia and snuggled up against her. After what felt like an eternity, he looked at the clock — 02:43. Closing his eyes he tried again — 02:55. It was no use. Carefully, he climbed out of bed so as not to wake her, got a cool drink of water in the kitchen, then went to the living room where he removed his violin and bow from their case. He sought the solitude of the rooftop and began to play in the cool night air. As notes soared, Dante’s mind finally relaxed.

  The soft sound of the stairwell door opening caught the far reaches of his mind. He continued to play, but now, for an audience. As the horsehair thrummed against the strings, the notes climbed higher, and then fell, cascading against each other, tumbling over and over again. Eventually, the music calmed, and slowed, and stopped.

  Dante opened his eyes. Natalia was leaning against the wall near the edge of the roof, looking out at the stars. When she turned, he saw tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

  “That was—haunting, I guess. Disturbing even, yet beautiful. What’s going through your head, I wonder?” She stepped closer and ran one hand through his hair, then cupped his cheek. He leaned against her warmth, closing his eyes once again, but opening them when she spoke. “Really, I’d like to know. What were you thinking about?”

  Dante paused, trying to decide how to respond. She already knew he was in love with her. She practically lived here now, but the phone calls, the angry glares he received on the street…had she noticed? He’d hoped the others would just fade away, but some of them were taking his distance and silence harder than he’d expected. He settled on a safer topic. “I’m just wondering why I haven’t heard anything from Pietro in the past couple of weeks. Have you seen him at work? Talked to him?”

  “No, we work in separate buildings, and from the news I’ve been reading online, I expect he’s been busy. I told you about the rabbit, didn’t I?”

  Dante nodded.

  “So why are you worried? Pietro has everything he needs from you. And the work they’re doing is in preparation for an actual human head transplant. By the time it really happens, they’ll have had numerous trials with other mammals, and that’s the way it should be. Remember what you said about medical students needing to practice on cadavers before doing their first operation?”

  “Yes, I know this is much the same. I just—. Sometimes I wonder about destiny. I have this feeling that I’m supposed to be involved somehow.”

  “And you are! You’re in the database, but—.” She looked at him for a moment, pondering. “You don’t have to be the first, you know. It would be better if you weren’t. Let them practice and perfect their skills so when your time comes, hopefully a long time from now, doctors will be ready to help you live longer.”

  He stared off into the distance.

  “Dante, you’re only in the database as a precaution against death, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Although that line of discussion had effectively steered Natalia away from what was really on Dante’s mind, his thoughts were once again a mess of silly string.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” she said.

  He allowed Natalia to take his hand and lead him back to the warm, dark bedroom. She snuggled up against him and quickly fell asleep while his mind continued to wander.

  ***

  Natalia strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee from the steaming pot. After adding a little sugar, she carried it up to the patio where she found Dante sitting in one of the wrought iron chairs. She sat across from him and took a sip of coffee.

  “I thought I might find you up here. How long have you been awake?” She glanced at the early morning sky. Gray clouds hung over the city.

  “I’m not sure. What time is it?” Dark circles ringed his eyes.

  “Just after five o’clock.”

  The phone calls had become more frequent in the past few days, and Dante had begun to lose sleep. ‘Bill collectors,’ he’d told Natalia, ‘sales calls, wrong numbers.’

  You have too much on your mind,” Natalia said. She winked at him. “And I have just the remedy for that.” She was a vision, even with her hair all mussed from a good night’s sleep.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think I have enough energy right now.”

  “I know, and that’s not what I meant.”

  “What then?”

  “I’ll call in sick, and we’ll go back to bed for the morning. You need to sleep.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

  “You’ll rest then. I insist,” she said before he could argue further. “And after lunch, we’ll go to the Vatican, look at the artwork, take a tour, just walk. You need a day to relax and get away from your worries.” Before returning to the bedroom, Natalia made Dante hand over his phone, and she turned it off.

  Throughout the morning, Dante dozed while Natalia curled up beside him and read a novel. Early that afternoon, they rode a crowded bus to the Vatican. “I think we should take a cab home,” Dante whispered to Natalia.

  “What? And miss all the friendly people?” she whispered back.

  They shifted further away from a guy who sorely needed some deodorant, but it did little good. Dante grinned at her. “Exactly!”

  Michelangelo’s paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel calmed Dante’s soul, but the people crowding around them grated on his nerves. “Let’s go to the gardens,” he suggested quietly. The mazes of low hedges soothed his
frayed nerves some, and the fountains helped even more. For quite some time, they sat and just listened to the falling water.

  When Dante felt better, they began to stroll. They were on a secluded path between one garden and the next when a voice from behind said, “Dante? Dante Marando?”

  As one, they stopped and turned. Protectively, Dante put his arm around Natalia’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Who wants to know?”

  “So you’re the one?” The man shook his head. “You? What could she possibly see in you?”

  “I’m afraid you have the wrong man. I don’t know who you’re talking...”

  The man cut him off. “Carmela was mine, but you took her away from me. I dealt with it, moved on, but then I got a call. No—.” The man shook his head. “Now she calls me at all hours of the day and night, in tears. You completely ruined her. And for what? Her?” He jabbed his finger at Natalia then reached behind his back and pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans.

  “What are…?” Dante began.

  “Shut up!”

  “Who is Carmela?” Natalia whispered.

  But Dante was completely focused on the man. He unwrapped his arm from around Natalia and held out his hands in a ‘stop’ motion. “I agree. Carmela is yours. She’s all yours. Please put the gun down.”

  “No.” The man shook his head sadly, the gun held loosely his hand. “I can’t do that. Just look at you. You’re pathetic. Who’d you steal this one from?” He pointed the gun at Natalia.

  “No one!” Dante shook his head vehemently.

  Natalia gulped, then said, “He didn’t steal me from anyone. And he’s all mine, not Carmela’s.”

  But the man had already returned his attention to Dante. “You’re one of those, aren’t you?” he asked, in a plaintive voice. “You’re just gonna keep doing this to people. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. Not anymore. It stops now.” He lifted the gun and aimed between Dante’s wide brown eyes.

  Before Dante could blink, a blast shattered the air.

  Natalia screamed and fell to her knees, covered in Dante’s blood. Bits of his skull clung to her hair. Shaking uncontrollably, her brain went on autopilot, as another part of her, a deeper part, took control. She pulled out her phone and hit the third number on speed dial.

  “Pietro,” she said in a flat voice. “Something has happened, and…” she gagged. “He’s here. He’s ready for you. Get over here and help me. Please, save Dante, if you can.”

  ***

  Pietro snipped the last thread and stepped back. “Well, that's it. Now we wait.” He glanced at the observation window where his beautiful raven haired cousin, Natalia, stood watching.

  A grueling 36 hours after they had begun, the surgery was complete. Sergio’s heartbeat was strong and his breathing regular, but his eyes remained closed.

  Pietro’s team remained in their last positions. Some leaned against counters, while a few sat right on the hard tile floor, watching and waiting.

  Twenty minutes later, Sergio’s eyes opened for just a moment. “Did it work?” he asked, before falling back asleep.

  During the weeks leading to a full recovery, many people came to visit Sergio. Some wanted to question him, others wanted to test him or see the miracle for themselves. One young woman simply came to keep him company. Natalia told him she worked in the engineering department as a research assistant. It was her cousin who had been one of the leading doctors on his case.

  Out of everyone, even beyond that of his family who had never believed he would walk again, hers were the visits he cherished the most. He’d come to trust her, to open up to her.

  About a month after the surgery, Natalia gently rapped on the door.

  Sergio’s physical therapist opened it and smiled down at her. “You’ve got my schedule timed down to the second, haven’t you?”

  She blushed. “I think it’s probably the time of day he could use the most encouragement. Don’t you? After all, you are pretty hard on him.”

  “It’s my job and will lead to a quicker recovery. Still, you’re right about the encouragement. He needs that too.”

  “I heard that!” Sergio called.

  Natalia hurried into the room and found Sergio sitting at a small round table in the corner. His face was flushed. She sat in the chair across from him. “Was it a hard workout?”

  “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “I’m sure it’s not.”

  “It’s not any more difficult than…have I told you about the time I biked up a mountain trail?”

  She grinned. “You mean that time you biked up and then down the mountain?”

  “Oh, you mean the time I almost got hit by a car because my chain fell off, and I couldn’t stop at the bottom? No, that was a different time.”

  Natalia laughed. “I love your stories, but I hope you’ll be more careful now.”

  His smile disappeared. “Yes, I will. I only hope I can convince you to go hiking with me when I get out of here.”

  “I think that can be arranged,” she said.

  The next day, she was back again. Natalia smiled at Sergio as he walked across the room to greet her. “That’s good. Where’s your physical therapist?”

  “Not coming. Your cousin said I should begin practicing on my own, daily. He was firm about that last part. The physical therapist will be checking in on a weekly basis as long as I continue to make progress.”

  “Would you like to try going farther today? Take a short walk in the hall?”

  “Sure.” He huffed as he lowered himself into a chair. “Just give me a few minutes.”

  Natalia sighed and looked out the window. She kept looking for signs of Dante in Sergio, but so far had seen nothing to indicate he was there. Her gaze returned to Sergio’s dark eyes. ‘Dante? Are you in there somewhere?’ She shook her head. Of course he wasn’t, because what had occurred wasn’t really a head transplant, it was a full body transplant. Sergio had needed a healthy body, and now he had one. The soul clearly resided in the brain, she decided, thinking back to Pietro’s and Dante’s dinner conversation.

  Then her thoughts drifted completely to Dante. The truth was, Natalia couldn’t get certain thoughts out of her mind. What had the man with the gun meant? Who was Carmela? Had Dante been cheating on her? Maybe that’s what all of those phone calls had been about. What about Angela? Natalia hadn’t had the nerve to go to the box office and ask her straight out. She wondered if Angela even knew what had happened to Dante.

  “Hey. Hey!”

  Natalia turned away from the window and focused on Sergio.

  “There you go again, drifting away. Are you all right? Is there anything I can help you with?”

  Natalia shook her head. “Nothing time can’t heal,” she said softly.

  “Sometimes it can help to talk.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Maybe someday, but not yet.”

  “When you’re ready then.”

  She nodded.

  “I get to go home tomorrow,” Sergio announced.

  “Really? That’s fantastic!”

  Sergio lifted himself out of the chair and took a few steps toward her. When he reached her side, he handed her a slip of paper. “That’s my address and my phone number. I hope you’ll continue to visit.”

  She nodded. “I would like that.”

  “So, are you going to play for me?” he asked.

  “What?”

  Sergio indicated the violin case at her feet.

  “Oh,” Natalia glanced down. She’d almost forgotten she had brought that along. It was Dante’s favorite possession. Somehow, it only seemed right that it should go to Sergio. “It’s for you. A gift.” She lifted the case and handed it to him.

  Sergio set it on the windowsill and opened the lid. “Thank you, but I don’t play. Haven’t had the opportunity to learn.” He plucked at the strings and picked up the bow. Twisting the little knob at the end seemed natural to him as he tightened the horsehairs. “Is it in tune?
”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She smiled. “I don’t play either.”

  “Well, let me give it a try.” He lifted the instrument to his chin, amazed at how natural it felt, and began to play. A sweet melody filled the room.

  Natalia gulped. It was as if Dante had returned from the great beyond, but that wasn’t possible unless—. Again, she recalled his discussion with Pietro. “Muscle memory,” she whispered too softly for Sergio to hear. Suddenly, the song was cut short, and she looked up in surprise. “Why did you stop?” she asked. “You were just getting to the best part.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “That’s all I can seem to remember, but it’s so strange. It’s not really a memory, it can’t be, but it feels like one.” He looked down at his hands, clutching the violin and bow. “I know I’ve never heard that song before. It’s just, playing it felt, right.”

  S.L. Wallace is an upper elementary Montessori teacher and lifelong writer who is a descendant of the famous William Wallace. Like him, she believes in freedom and independence. Unlike him, she fights her battles with the pen.

  Other books by S.L. Wallace:

  Reliance on Citizens trilogy:

  Price of a Bounty

  Canvas Skies

  Heart of Humanity

  Retrospection

  Connect with S.L. Wallace at her official Author Website, slwallace.com.