Page 13 of His Gilded Cage

“A few hours then . . .” Mama waved at me as if she were brushing me down the beach to say go, go, go.

The painful part of experiencing something for the last time is how mundane and ordinary life can be. My lips brushed against my mother’s cheek as if this were one of a million good-byes. I don’t remember telling her I love you. I don’t remember looking back as I walked away that day.

I found Hotel Casa Dona. It was a small beachside hotel tucked away from the noise of downtown. The lobby was paved with marble and there was a key for me at the front desk just like Carmella had promised. When I unlocked the door, Carmella stood beside an enormous king sized bed that faced the ocean and I remember feeling dizzy with desire. We spent hours in that bed.

I ignored the setting sun knowing my mother and father would be angry, telling myself that there was no price too high for pleasure. It was nightfall by the time Carmella and I said our final good-byes.

I paid a stranger at the harbor to take me to the sailboat. I climbed aboard careful not to make a sound as I made my way to my room past my parent’s bedroom and the crew quarters.

I remember falling asleep dreaming of Carmella’s naked body knowing that my mother would be angry with me for lying, telling myself it was worth it. I had no concept of regret.

It wasn’t until morning that I realized my life would never be the same.

My mother wasn’t on board when I awoke. My father and the crew were searching the boat for her and someone had already called the police. The dinghy was missing and my mother was nowhere to be found.

The next day her drowned body washed up on the beach not far from where we’d been sitting.

The police quickly ruled her death a suicide.

They said she’d slipped away in the middle of the night and jumped into the water away from the sailboat to avoid detection. She was fully clothed, wearing a thick bathrobe that absorbed water and acted as an anchor dragging her down into the water.

Waiting for Veronica ten years later, I realized that my love for Carmella had always been clouded by the need for secrecy. We had briefly been a couple in the open after my mother died, but that had been short lived. She ended it and joined my father’s staff.

“You ready?” Veronica’s voice snapped me out of my memory.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I said, standing. “Nothing will bring my mother back. I still feel guilty about that day . . .”

“That day you were a young man,” Veronica said, her voice tender. She reached out and took my hand. “I know what happened and I know the price you continue to pay for your mistakes.”

“I’m not paying a price,” I said, my chest tightening. I had never admitted how close to the surface my regret lived.

“Do you believe I know you, Marco?” Veronica said.

“Better than almost anyone.”

“Then let me tell you this truth,” she said. She didn’t let go of my hand. In fact, her grip tightened. “You are fucked up my friend.”

“Is this your version of tough love?”

“You are fucked up and I think you know deep down that something isn’t right about the explanation they gave for your mother’s death. This doubt is what drives you. This truth is at the core of your suffering.”

I felt dizzy and gripped the handrail on the stairs trying to stand tall. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Your mother was murdered, Marco,” Veronica said. “And I believe that some part of you knows it’s true.”

Veronica drove us in her red convertible. She kept the top down making it impossible to talk to each other without shouting. I could have insisted she close the roof and tell me what she knew, but a part of me craved this peace.

As the wind whipped past us along the winding coastal road through Sayulita, it occurred to me that this moment represented the last of something. I just didn’t know what else I had to lose.

Surely it wasn’t my innocence. I’d lost that years ago.

My faith? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d prayed to a higher power for guidance. I’d gotten so used to losing myself in my vices.

Then I remembered falling to my knees in my stateroom begging God to bring my mother back.

The last time I’d prayed had been the day she died.

I’d asked God for a miracle and He’d answered me with silence.

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