Gilded Cage

Chapter 1

The morning after I buried Mamma, Mr. Javier dropped me off at LAX. I gripped the one-way plane ticket to Boston he had given me tightly in my hand. Mr. Javier was Mamma's lawyer. He said I was being placed under the custody of a man named Charles Hayes. I had met Mr. Hayes once before at my sixth birthday party.

Mamma told me that he was her buon amico. Good friend. She always spoke to me in a combination of Italian and her heavily-accented English. After the party, she kept nagging at me to remember his name, his phone number, and his address. I remembered feeling annoyed because I didn't like Mr. Hayes. I didn't want to remember anything about him. He hadn't even brought me a present.

Miss Ashleigh was Mamma's personal assistant. She helped me pack as much as I could into my petal pink Hello Kitty suitcases. Mamma bought the whole set for me on our last trip to Tokyo. Miss Ashleigh was a nice lady. I'll miss her.

My plane landed in Logan International Airport on a gray and drizzly afternoon. It was very different from the sunny blue skies that I was used to in California. A balding, big-bellied driver holding a sign with my name on it was waiting for me at the terminal. He helped me into a sleek silver car. We left the airport without saying much. Once we were on the road, there was nothing to do but stare out the window.

I saw rain-slicked streets lined with a mix of old red and brown brick buildings and newer-looking ones made of glass and concrete. The hustle and bustle of the city center slowly turned into rolling hills and green forests as we neared Wellesley. Mr. Javier had told me that Charles Hayes lived in Wellesley. Soon, I'd be living there, too. Big, beautiful houses came into view, and each of those properties displayed a well-kept yard that looked to be the size of a small public park.

A million thoughts raced through my head, but I felt too tired, hungry, and miserable to process them clearly. All I could think about was Mamma and how she was gone. Really gone. My last words with her continued to spin around and around my mind like the world's saddest merry-go-round.

***

Mamma pulled me into a tight embrace and kissed me on both cheeks as she prepared to leave for the airport. "Sii una brava bambina per Mamma, Caterina. I promise to bring you pretty dresses and shoes from Chanel and Gucci when I come back."

"Could you bring me some poetry books instead, mamma? I need to do a project on Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou for school."

Mamma scrunched up her nose playfully and scoffed, "But why, cuore mio? Poetry is for the dead! Fashion is for the living!"

I giggled at Mamma's silliness even while I protested, "But Mrs. Vikander says our project is due next month, and I want to get a head start on my poetry report. I need to get a better grade than Aaron Nguyen this time. Aaron thinks he's smarter than me. I want to prove him wrong!"

Mamma smiled in amusement. "Very well, my determined little scholar! If it is poetry you want, then it is poetry you shall have..."

***

There were two beautiful leather-bound copies of Emily Dickinson and Maya Angelou's poems tucked inside my Hello Kitty backpack like deadweights. They were now my most prized possessions. The police had discovered them in Mamma's suitcase after they found her body in the hotel room. The officers turned over all of her belongings to Miss Ashleigh, who, in turn, gave them to me.

I kind of knew that Mamma had been sick. Not with the cold or the flu. But with sadness and wine. She drank to feel happier. Yet, even in her final days, Mamma hadn't forgotten about my poems. Mamma always remembered everything I said to her because she loved me. Probably more than she loved herself. That thought alone broke my heart over and over again. Tears pricked my eyes. I refused to cry, though, in front of my driver.