Exiled from Luxury
Alex D’Argento thought he had it all. A huge mansion, went to a fancy private catholic school, a rich dad. Like any rich 15-year-old, he was arrogant, cocky. All that came crashing down when his dad was cheating on his mom and decided to move his mistress into the mansion. Unfortunately, this meant Alex and his mom had to leave with nothing but what they could carry. The whole thing went by in a blur; he had just come from the last day of school before summer break. One moment, his parents were yelling at each other, the next thing Alex knew, they were on a plane. Alex had fallen asleep on the plane, assuming they were going to Italy to live with some relatives. 4 hours later, Alex’s mom, Rosaria, was nudging him awake.
“Alessandro, wake up,” she softly said. Alex groaned, rubbing his green eyes to wake himself. His once neatly styled honey-brown hair now a mess. He could hear the pilot through the intercom, announcing they had just landed in a place called Tzel.
“Huh? Tzel?” He repeated, confused. His olive skin looked paler than usual under the harsh airport lights.
“It’s the country we’re living in from now on,” Rosaria explained, already unbuckling herself. Alex followed, looking out the window, then at his mom. His exhaustion exacerbated his confusion.
“I thought we were going to Italy,” he said, a bit disappointed he wouldn’t get to see his family. Then again, after what happened, a part of him didn’t want to see them. It was his paternal family, and they always sided with his dad. They saw his mom, a poor girl from Sicily, as unworthy of their golden boy. Always giving Rosaria backhanded compliments or insulting her when she wasn’t in the room. He never met his maternal family, and Rosaria only talked about her grandma, who passed away when she was 12.
“No, this place is better. They’ll help us,” Rosaria reassured. As they stepped out, Rosaria seemed in awe of the place, stopping to look at the various statues of the Archangels. Her honey-brown curls bounced with every step, her soft features lit with awe despite everything they’d lost. Alex was too depressed to care. It seemed like forever until they arrived at the immigration office, Rosaria talking to the clerk in her usual cheery voice. As if they hadn’t lost everything moments ago. Alex sat on a hard plastic chair in the waiting area, staring off into nothingness. He hunched his tall, athletic frame as he could somehow shrink out of sight. He kept replaying the very moment his life fell apart. Walking in and seeing his dad’s new mistress, already wearing luxury designer brands, with her hand on her stomach. His mom arguing that Alex just finished his first year of high school, the way his dad already had their things packed. Not everything, just whatever could fit into their suitcases. Alex always idolized his dad. Lorenzo D’Argento: a rich, successful politician. A U.S congressman in New Jersey. Always preached about family values, only for him to kick out his very family. It was ironic. Alex would feel so proud seeing his dad’s face plastered on billboards, their last name propped up on people’s yards. That pride felt bitter in his mouth, turning into hatred the longer he thought about it.
“Alessandro!” His mom called out again. Her green eyes were bright with excitement.
“We got in, our apartment is in Nazareth,” She explained.
“Nazareth? Isn’t that the place Jesus was born?” Alex asked.
“Si, the city here is named after that,” Rosaria explained. Alex was starting to see why his devout catholic mom chose this place, a whole Christian-coded society to live in.
The trip to Nazareth was also quick, unfortunately for Alex, who just wanted to sleep. He expected it to look like some typical American city. Boring, gray skyscrapers, billboards with other lying politicians. Instead, the roads were made of stones, the archangel statues once again everywhere, but so were the decorations of Jesus. The architectural style was Gothic, but with flatter roofs. There were also a lot of street vendors, some food trucks, and other stalls. It all went through Alex’s head. Once they arrived at the apartment, Alex found one of the bedrooms, already furnished, and just collapsed. He was exhausted, emotionally, but it affected him physically.
“Tired?” Rosaria asked, lingering at his doorway.
“Yeah...” Alex grumbled into the pillow.
“Are you hungry? I can make Lasagna, your favorite,” Rosaria offered, trying to give Alex a new sense of normalcy.
“I’m not hungry, Ma,” he replied. Rosaria felt her heart sink. She knew this was a tough time for Alex, his whole life, everything he knew and loved, uprooted because of his selfish dad.
“That’s fine. I saw a lot of restaurants on the strip. We could go there later, if you want,” She then offered. Alex was quiet before saying. “Nah.” Rosaria sighed, unable to bear to see her son in this state. However, she couldn’t force him out of it so easily.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know,” she told him, gently closing the door but not all the way.
Rosaria decided to cook anyway in case Alex changed his mind. Her soft olive hands covered in pasta as she rolled out the dough. Suddenly, a loud knock was heard.
“Ya hmar, they have a doorbell!” a muffled voice behind the door scolded. Then the doorbell rang.
“Coming!” Rosaria shouted, wiping her hands on her dress. She quickly opened the door, finding a small crowd of people holding casserole dishes covered in foil; others had desserts such as cheesecake, pies, and a box of cookies.
“Hi! Welcome to the neighborhood!” they said in unison.
“We heard you were coming, so we brought food,” One of the women said, holding up the casserole dish.
“Oh, Grazie,” Rosaria took the casserole dish.
“Why don’t you come in?” She offered.
“Ja, of course!” They nodded, helping themselves in, taking off their shoes at the door, and neatly setting them aside. They set the various desserts and gifts on the kitchen counter. One guy got a bottle of sparkling grape juice and wine glasses, setting them on the coffee table and pouring a glass for everyone.
“I’m Damien, by the way,” a man with fair skin, gray eyes, and messy black hair bowed slightly, handing Rosaria a wine glass of sparkling grape juice.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Rosaria,” she smiled, taking the wine glass.
“So what brings you here?” Damien asked, sitting down on the white linen sofa.
“Oh uh...” Rosaria panicked, unsure if she should tell the truth or give a more sanitized version.
“My son and I moved here from New Jersey,” She told a half-truth, hoping they wouldn’t ask about her husband. Although she couldn’t help but feel uneasy about hiding the truth.
“New Jersey? Is that in America?” A woman with long black hair sitting next to Damien asked.
“Si, America. I’m originally from Sicily, but I moved to New Jersey, and now I’m in Tzel,” Rosaria explained, a bit nervous.
“No need to be nervous, you’re not the first to come here after immigrating to America, my parents did,” Another man reassured her, taking a sip. He was pale, asian with neat black hair. Wore glasses, a black turtleneck with dress pants.
“I’m Yeong-li, a pediatric cardiologist at the St. Raphael hospital here,” he explained.
Alex could hear his mom chatting with the neighbors, the topic changing before he could even comprehend it. His mom’s half-truths about their life back in Jersey, everyone else’s experience, and his mom raving about the food. Then the topic switched to him. Rosaria called out to him, suggesting he come and meet the neighbors. He didn’t respond.
“My son hasn’t been coping well with the move,” Rosaria awkwardly explained, not wanting to seem like the woman with a difficult teenage son.
“He’s upset about leaving behind his friends,” She added, downplaying it. That annoyed Alex; it wasn’t just his friends. His status, reputation, belongings, school, and basketball team. All gone in an instant. He would have to rebuild from scratch, but he didn’t even start from scratch. Before, he just had to say his dad was in Congress, and everyone came to him like moths to a light.
“It’s a huge adjustment for him,” Yeong-li said in an understanding tone.
“You should send him to Camp Braveheart, it’s where we’re sending my little sister this summer to make friends,” Yeong-li’s wife, Raven, an elegant woman with alabaster skin, long black hair, and dark purple eyes, mentioned.
“She probably won’t, she’s more introverted. Alex might,” She added, chuckling lightheartedly. That caught Alex’s attention. Camp Braveheart sounded cheesy, but it could be a chance to regain what he once had. Even if he only made a few friends.
“Oh? Tell me more,” Rosaria leaned in, interested.
“It starts next month in July, so Alex will have plenty of time to get settled in, and it lasts until mid-August.” Raven clarified, handing Rosaria a pamphlet. It was for teenagers, 13-19, located not far from Nazareth. It looked like a summer camp, with wood cabins, a playground, a fireplace, an obstacle course, everything you’d expect from a summer camp.
“I think I’ll check it out. I’m sure Alessandro would like to make new friends,” Rosaria said as she continued reading the pamphlet. Her interest grew the more she read through it. She excused herself, entering Alex’s room. He was still sleeping, so she gently put the pamphlet by the nightstand and left the room. Once again, she closed the door halfway; Alex could hear their conversation and smell the food. He heard bits and pieces. Rosaria somehow finally spilled the truth. He could hear the sympathy and them comforting his mother, but it wasn’t performative like in America. Raven insisted Rosaria fight back, said her dad’s a lawyer, and she’ll give a call. Alex couldn’t help but scoff. A lawyer? Lorenzo has lawyers, too. The best ones money could buy. They twist the situation, say Rosaria ran off with Alex. Anything but the truth. Alex reached out, grabbing the pamphlet to read through it.
“Tch, this looks like a place for kids, not teenagers,” he scoffed as he saw the playground. Inside, a part of him couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, it’d be worth a try.
