by A. Zavarelli
We start at the mountain of pastries in the center of the table. I look at Nino and then point to them in question. Nino glances at Alessio, chewing on his lip before returning a tiny nod and pointing to a cherry Danish. I retrieve the Danish for him, then move on to the fruit selection, taking time to point at each option and allow Nino to choose for himself. This time, I hand the tongs to him, giving him a choice of how much he would like. During the process, his shoulders seem to relax, and by the time we move onto the platter of eggs cooked several ways, he seems quite at ease choosing for himself.
Alessio watches the entire interaction with an odd expression on his face, but I don’t look to him for approval nearly as much as Nino does. Several minutes later, he’s settled back into his seat, eating his breakfast without a fight. Alessio watches him take the first few bites before returning his gaze to me.
In my experience, many children do better with family-style options. If they can pick and choose what they’d like, they may even surprise you.
His brows draw together, and Angelina enters the room, pausing when she sees the plate prepared for Nino shoved aside. Her venomous gaze moves to me. “You will spoil him.”
My eyes narrow on her, and for once, I’m glad I have to hold my tongue because my patience with her is already wearing thin.
Don’t worry. I type. I’ll eat it.
This idea seems to dismay her even more, and she glances at Alessio as if he should put a stop to this. He doesn’t notice her gaze on him, or if he does, he chooses not to acknowledge her. She tops up his coffee with a stiffness that betrays her anger and then leaves.
The remainder of the meal is quiet, and I’m eager for Alessio to tend to his business, whatever it may be, so I can get to know Nino. I suspect that Angelina will be a problem, and I’ll have to tread carefully. For now, I just want to spend some time with Nino and familiarize myself with our routine.
“I have a phone for you.” Alessio rises from his chair and slides an iPhone across the table. “I will check in with you occasionally through messages, and I would like a prompt answer.”
I glance at the device and frown.
I already have a phone.
“This is the phone you will use to communicate with me,” he tells me. “And should any issues arise, I expect you to reach out immediately.”
Of course.
I reach for the phone hesitantly, knowing very well he probably has some means of tracking software on here. It doesn’t matter because I’ll only use it to communicate with him.
“I will be gone for most of the day,” he says. “You have Nino’s schedule. I trust you will not deviate.”
I nod my assurance, but he lingers for another long moment. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but the intensity of his gaze makes a flush creep over my neck. I swallow, and his eyes dip to the triangle of skin between my scarf and the top button of my suit jacket. Then, before I can convince myself I didn’t imagine it, he’s gone.
I glance down quickly, checking that the buttons are done, and nothing is inappropriate or out of place, but there isn’t.
Nino peeks up at me, and I offer him a watery smile. He’s a beautiful boy with such a sweet disposition. I knew he would be.
I’m so happy to be here with you, Nino.
He listens to my message, considering it for a moment. “Why can’t you talk?”
This is how I talk, I write. But I can teach you a new way too. Would you like to learn? It can be our own secret code.
He seems intrigued by the idea, and I’m glad when he nods. I check my watch, noting we have about twenty minutes before Manuel will drive us to the school to drop him off for the day.
I hear you’re a star student. I bet you can say the alphabet in English and Italian.
He giggles quietly. “That’s easy. I learned that a long time ago. I’m in first grade now.”
Of course. I wiggle my brows at him playfully. Why don’t we try this? I’ll show you the first ten letters with my fingers, and you can copy me.
He watches me curiously as I show him an A, and it seems to take him a moment to work up the courage to try for himself, but he does. He does it well.
That’s very good. You are so smart. Should we try B?
He nods again, and I show him B. Within ten minutes, we have gone through each of the first ten letters twice, and I tell him practice makes perfect. I have no doubt he’ll learn quickly. Children pick up languages very fast, and Nino is incredibly bright.
I think we need to brush your teeth now. It’s almost time to leave.
He leads the way to his bedroom, and I follow him inside, glancing around the space with equal surprise and disappointment. It’s almost a replica of my room, right down to the adult-sized bed. The only difference is the bench at the foot, which I presume is how he must climb into it. The color scheme is the same, and the decorative pieces are too. It’s completely absent of the vibrant colors I’d expect to see in a child’s room. There’s no toy box. No superhero comforter. No Legos strewn about the floor. In fact, if I were to walk in here accidentally, I would never guess that a child lived here.
Tension seeps into my shoulders as Nino enters the bathroom and pulls out a step stool to brush his teeth. I watch him with a growing sense of sadness and injustice over the complete lack of insight on Alessio’s part. Could he really be so clueless about the needs of children? Is he that emotionally inept?
These are questions I’ll have to contend with later. Another glance at my watch confirms we need to be downstairs in two minutes. I help Nino finish up, replacing his toothbrush in the holder and quickly adjusting one side of his hair.
Are you ready?
He nods, and to my surprise, reaches for my hand. That simple gesture stabs at my heart. I can only imagine how starved for affection he is. I want to tell him that it’s all going to be okay. I want to make him promises that I’m going to be here for him, but I’ll never make a promise I’m not sure won’t be broken. I’ve learned the hard way there are no guarantees in life.
We walk downstairs together, and Manuel seems surprised to see Nino holding my hand already. His eyes focus on that connection for a long moment before he turns abruptly to open the door. He doesn’t say much, but I find that I’m okay with that. Once Nino and I are comfortably secured in the backseat of the car, we resume our practice of the letters, repeating them all the way to the school.
“We’re here,” Manuel tells me. “We can walk him inside together.”
I want to tell him that’s not necessary, that I can do it myself, but I know it’s probably a non-negotiable point. He said he would accompany us anywhere we go, and it’s clear he means it. So together, all three of us walk inside, and Manuel watches as I say goodbye to Nino with a promise to see him after school before his piano lessons. He nods and takes his seat in the classroom, and then I force myself to turn and walk back to the car.
As we return to the house, I consider what I’m supposed to do all day while he’s in school. Normally, I would plan for some after-school activities, but his schedule is already so packed he’ll scarcely have time for dinner, let alone anything else. It bothers me, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep my mouth shut, but I decide I should observe him for a week or so before I make any snap judgments. Perhaps he really does enjoy all these activities.
Manuel drops me off at the house, and I opt to spend the morning sitting down by the water, memorizing the landscape. I wonder about the boat docked inside the boathouse. I’ve never driven a boat, but surely, it can’t be too difficult to figure out, right? I decide it’s something I should research, just in case I need a quick escape, but I’m not certain I should be doing that even on my own phone. Perhaps tomorrow, I can spend some time at the library and use one of their computers.
The time passes slowly, and I find myself wondering what Nino is doing in school. If he likes his teachers. What his favorite subjects are. These are all things I want to ask. I also find myself wonde
ring about Alessio. Why is he so cold? Why is he so oblivious to the needs of a child? There are so many lingering questions about him, and deep down, I know I don’t need the answers to them to successfully do what I came here to do. I would be lying to myself if I said there wasn’t a part of me that was curious though.
Stuffing those ideas down and locking them away, I decide to eat some lunch. When I walk into the house, I’m hoping to avoid Angelina, but I’m not so lucky this time. As soon as I enter the kitchen and open the fridge, I hear the telltale clip of her heels on the floor. It’s too late to sneak away, so I reach for a salad and shut the door to find her staring at me, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“What you did this morning isn’t going to fly,” she snaps.
Calmly, I set the salad aside and retrieve my phone from my pocket.
If you have an issue, perhaps you should take it up with Alessio. He’s the one who hired me to work with Nino, and he’s the one I answer to.
Her eyes are practically spitting flames as she takes a step closer, trying to intimidate me. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, but I do. I can see it clearly, and I can tell you right now, you won’t last a month here.”
I refuse to acknowledge her with any outward emotion, but inside I’m shaking. I want to tell her I don’t care because I have no intentions of staying that long. Instead, I play dumb, even though I’m well aware of her issue with me. She’s threatened because she wants Alessio for herself. That was evident the moment I walked in the door.
What I’m doing is providing a service. Performing my job duties. Same as you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to eat my lunch.
Her gaze follows me, and I can sense she’s not done. I’m right.
“I’m watching you,” she calls after me. “One mistake and you’re gone.”
I roll my eyes and keep moving, climbing the stairs and opting for the privacy of my bedroom. Eating my salad alone by the window, I contemplate my plans, and doubt starts to creep in. What if Angelina does get me fired? I don’t know how much power she holds with Alessio, but she’s been in his employment longer, so reason dictates that it’s more than I have, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. I’ve seen it myself. From what I can tell, he seems to be aware of her, but they aren't close. At least, not that I can see. It could just be a farce. For all I know, she makes personal visits to the third level. The thought of it makes me irrationally annoyed, and I’m not sure why.
The one thing I do know is that Alessio seems to value his privacy. He hired me to do a job, and I had no intentions of getting to know him on a deeper level. But if I’m going to maintain my position here for the time being, perhaps I need to. Perhaps I need to form an alliance with him, and I can only hope that bringing my concerns about Nino to him will be the way. Though, it could also blow up in my face. He obviously thinks everything is fine the way it is. Maybe he was raised in a similarly sterile environment, and his mindset is that he survived, so Nino will too. There’s only one way to find out, so I decide to test the waters.
Retrieving the phone he gave me, I pull up his name and type out a message, rewording it several times before I think it sounds okay.
I couldn’t help but notice Nino doesn’t have any children’s decorations in his room. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it might be nice if I bought him a gift as a way to break the ice. Would it be okay if I gave him a new bed set, maybe?
Anxiously, I press send, and I’m still staring at the screen when I see that it’s been delivered and read. My heartbeat quickens as I wait for him to reply, but he doesn’t.
I spend the next few hours convinced I made a mistake, but I can’t dwell on it. All I can do is focus on the here and now. Manuel and I return to pick up Nino in the afternoon, and he greets me with a shy smile, informing me he’s been practicing his letters all day. I tell him what a good job he’s doing, and then we practice on the next ten as Manuel whisks us off to his piano lessons. A few minutes before we arrive, I realize there was nothing in the schedule about a snack.
Are you hungry? I write.
Nino considers it, then nods. “A little.”
I reach into my purse and retrieve a granola bar, offering it to him. He unwraps it, and Manuel glances at me in the mirror as if I’ve broken some sacred rule about eating in the Rolls Royce. I suppose I should have asked him first, but I don’t really care. Nino needs to eat.
By the time we arrive, he’s finished, and I’ve stowed the wrapper in my purse and used a wet wipe to wash his hands. His piano lessons are at a residence, but not the type I would expect. It’s in a gated community, and upon entry, I can see that it’s another upscale home.
Manuel pulls up into the circular drive and glances at me in the mirror before he turns off the car. “You’ll have to stay here.”
My scalp prickles, and I already know why. This is one of Alessio’s associates. Someone else shrouded in secrecy and wealth. Someone else I’m quite certain must be involved in his criminal network too.
Anxiety settles into my chest as I glance at Nino. I know I can’t tell him not to go, but that’s exactly what I want to do. He’s so small, and I don’t know how well he knows these people. Quickly, while Manuel is getting out of the driver’s seat, I write him a note.
Do you feel safe here?
Nino’s brows pinch together, and he nods before his brown eyes meet mine. “It’s okay. I come here all the time.”
With that assurance, he retreats from the car a moment later, and I’m left to sit there and watch them walk away. I try to imagine who’s behind the door, the face of the person giving him the lessons. I can’t. And I decide I will have to ask him later when we have some privacy.
Manuel returns a few minutes later and sits in the driver’s seat but doesn’t start the car. “I wait here for him,” he tells me. “Next time, you might want to bring a book or something. There’s a lot of waiting in the afternoons.”
I nod, but I don’t need a book. My thoughts are more than enough to occupy my time, and they do for the entirety of the next forty-five minutes. When Nino returns, I am relieved to see that he doesn’t appear to have been put in any danger, but he is noticeably tired. From there, Manuel drives us back to the house just in time to meet with the private instructor who gives him his swimming lessons. By the time we finish that activity, he’s exhausted, and when I prepare him his dinner, he doesn’t appear to want to eat very much. And still, the day is not over. After dinner, he has a lesson with a tutor for Italian, and then it’s time for homework. We complete the task together, and I can’t help noticing his bedtime is slowly creeping up, but Alessio still has not made an appearance. I opt to get Nino ready for bed myself, ensuring he changes into his pajamas and brushes his teeth. When I tuck him in, I ask him if he would like to read a story with me, but he shakes his head, yawning.
“Can we do the rest of the letters?”
I smile at his eagerness. We have time to practice one round. But then you need to get to sleep.
He nods, and we go through the motions, his hands mirroring mine as I show him each letter. It’s amazing how fast he picks it up, even exhausted as he is. I think by the end of the week, he will have them all memorized, and we can build on that foundation. Spelling out letters will fill in the gaps as I teach him a beginner vocabulary.
Alright, little one. It’s bedtime. I reach down and stroke his soft hair aside, feeling a rush of emotion as I stare into his innocent eyes. Over the last five years, I have worked with several children, and I have cared for them all. Nino, however, is unique and special. I only hope he can feel it too.
“Miss Cabrera?” He peeks up at me as I stand up.
I nod to indicate I’m listening, and he snuggles deeper into the bed.
“Thank you for coming to live with us. I hope you can teach me all the sign words.”
My heart melts as I consider how fast he’s warming to me. Me too, Nino. Goodnight, little prince.
6
Alessio
After a long day of driving, I meet Manuel in my office for a debriefing, where he goes over the day’s events, giving me a rundown of his observations. He tells me about Nino’s day. The hand-holding. The granola bar incident. Then he leans back with an expression I know all too well.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” He rubs his jaw. “There’s just something about her. She seems guarded, yet skittish at the same time. She flinches when a door shuts, and she’s hyper-aware of her surroundings. I think maybe she observes … too much.”
I can’t say that I disagree with him, but I won’t admit my suspicions about her are the same. I don’t need to add him to the growing pile of people who dislike this situation. Particularly when Gwen has been breathing down my neck all day to visit Nino when I know all she really wants to do is see Natalia for herself.
“Just watch her,” I tell Manuel. “And keep me updated.”
“Will do.” He rises, understanding that he’s dismissed for the evening. When he’s gone, I glance at my watch. It’s late, after midnight, and I still need to take a shower to wash the gasoline fumes from my hair. Instead, curiosity has me turning to my computer monitor to pull up the security system. Without logic or reason, I watch Natalia’s movements throughout the day, replaying the scene from breakfast. I study the video of her and Nino walking down the stairs together, hand in hand, and my shoulders stiffen at the confirmation of his affection for her. It doesn’t make sense. Not when he only ever looks at me with fear and uncertainty. She’s been here one day, and already, she has won him over.
I pull up the cameras from her room. The ones she looked for but couldn’t find. They are discreet and unobservable to even a well-trained eye. She wouldn’t have any idea that almost every inch of this house is under surveillance except for the third floor and the bathrooms.