The Priest by Monica La Porta Read Free Book Online

new face who had replaced the one the Priestess had
rebuked publicly, didn’t beat him—Priestess’ orders—but managed to
let half of his lunch fall on the floor of his cell.
    I won’t give you the pleasure to see me
on all fours, scooping my meal off the ground. He slowly ate
what was left on the plate; then he looked at the guard in
defiance. His stomach was aching with hunger, but he sat on the bed
and let the food go bad before his eyes. His dinner portion was
even smaller than lunch. Mauricio didn’t say anything. As a slave,
he could only control the way he accepted the adversities dealt
him.
    The square of light moved on the floor of
Mauricio’s cell and his heart started pounding. When the air became
colder and the night bugs started chirping and clicking, he could
barely stand still. He stood up and sat down dozens of times.
Finally, the first shades of the night obscured the cell’s walls.
Mauricio forced his body to stay still. Seconds, minutes, hours,
all passed in a painful silence, but he refused to admit that he
was going to spend the night alone again. Hours later, hungry and
tired, he laid his head on the bed and started singing softly to
lessen his pain. The following day was a replay of the first one.
He didn’t fill the transparent cup. The tall guard was annoyed. His
stomach paid the consequences.
    The third night came and Mauricio lay on his
bed and closed his eyes tightly. When the square of light passed on
his face and then disappeared beyond the wall, he felt the ache
rise in his chest. He was also lightheaded. He had eaten close to
nothing in the last two days and the pain devouring his stomach was
growing stronger. Mauricio started singing, as he had the night
before, and he lost himself in the act.
    “You have a beautiful voice,” the girl said
from outside.
    At first Mauricio thought he was imagining
things. Hunger did that to him sometimes. He was also very tired
and his eyes didn’t want to open. He turned to one side of the bed
and resumed singing.
    “Where did you learn how to sing so well?”
the girl asked.
    Mauricio fought to open his eyes and sat on
the bed. His head swayed one way and the other.
    “You are a slave,” the girl said.
    Mauricio thought that it was the stupidest
thing to say. I have a man’s voice. What else can I be, if not a
slave?
    “I'm not going to report you, if you talk to
me.” The girl sounded cheerful.
    Mauricio couldn’t believe this conversation
was happening, but he could hear his heart beating in his throat
already.
    “I really like your voice. I wouldn’t do
anything to put you in any trouble,” the girl said, seriously
now.
    “I like your voice, too,” Mauricio managed
to say in a whisper.
    “What did you say?” the girl asked and her
voice sounded closer. She was probably standing right under the
wall of Mauricio’s cell.
    “I like to hear you sing,” Mauricio said
slightly louder.
    “When did you hear me?”
    “Every night you sing… except for the last
two nights.” Mauricio hoped he hadn’t said too much.
    “I was sick,” she explained.
    “Oh… I hope you're better now.” What can
I say to you? He had never had a conversation with a woman
before. I don’t even know how to speak to another man, for
Heavens' sake. The only person he had exchanged words with
regularly had been his father, and he had loved him and protected
him. But his heart was beating faster and he really hoped that she
would keep talking to him.
    “I am, thank you. What were you singing?”
she asked after a long pause, as if she was deciding what to say to
him.
    “A song my father taught me when I was a
boy.”
    “What does it say?”
    “It’s a kid’s song.” He was surprised by her
question.
    “I don’t know the language of the song.”
    “It’s about a man talking to his little
kid.” Mauricio had never thought until that moment that women
wouldn't understand his father’s language. Maybe he shouldn’t have
said anything. A long