The Scent Of Rosa's Oil

by Lina Simoni

  “I want you, Rosa,” Cesare Cortimiglia moaned, almost in tears. He walked up to her and caressed her neck, breasts, and buttocks before pulling her into a long, furious embrace.

  Mute with stupefaction, Rosa stood still the whole time, feeling his skin rub against hers and the strange thing he had in the front press against her belly and move up and down like a worm gone mad. She hardly realized that he had lifted her. They dropped on the bed, still entangled in the embrace.

  “Touch me,” begged the mayor, out of his mind.

  Rosa thought that was fair. If he was allowed to touch her as part of the game, then she should touch him in order to have a chance to win. As he lay on his back, she placed a hand on his stomach and the other hand on his cheek. Slowly, he pushed her hand down from his stomach to his hard penis, and she instinctively grabbed it and looked at it with curiosity and only a trace of well-disguised fear. It was the strangest body part she had ever seen. In a rapture, Cesare closed his eyes and moved Rosa’s hand rhythmically up and down. Suddenly he let out a howl and his belly twisted and his legs extended as Rosa felt his organ became suddenly harder and bigger and saw a white fountain come out of its tip and spray him and her and the clean batiste sheets. What a weird game, Rosa thought, as the mayor continued to howl.

  He didn’t open his eyes for over a minute. When he did, he stared at Rosa, still naked on the bed with him, still holding his now shrunk, wrinkled penis. “I love you,” he said with humid eyes, then smiled at her and fell gradually and happily asleep. He had never fallen asleep after an orgasm, as he had never tossed his clothes carelessly on the floor. Months later, searching for the rationale for his odd behavior, he’d conclude that a combination of factors had come into play that night: the emotion of returning to the brothel, the strength of the orgasm, the red wine, his older age, and the scent of Rosa’s oil.

  Bewildered, Rosa watched him breathe regularly in his sleep. She slipped on her petticoat and dress and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her. She had been gone less than ten minutes. In the parlor, Margherita was standing on a chair, holding her book of poetry and calling for everyone’s attention. She saw Rosa in a corner and said, “This is for you, Princess Rosa,” then she cleared her throat. Rosa walked up to her and clapped her hands, causing the guests to turn their attention to Margherita. “It’s a love poem,” Margherita said, “called ‘A Silvia.’”

  “‘Silvia, rimembri ancora

  quel tempo della tua vita mortale,

  quando belta’ splendea

  negli occhi tuoi ridenti e fuggitivi,

  e tu, lieta e pensosa, il limitare

  di gioventu’ salivi?

  “‘Sonavan le quiete

  stanze, e le via dintorno,

  al tuo perpetuo canto,

  allor che all’opre femminili intenta

  sedevi, assai contenta

  di quel vago avvenir che in mente avevi.

  Era il maggio odoroso e tu solevi

  cosi’ menare il giorno.

  “‘Io gli studi leggiadri

  talor lasciando e le sudate carte,

  ove il tempo mio primo

  e di me si spendea la migliore parte,

  d’in su i veroni del paterno ostello

  porgea gli orecchi al suon della tua voce,

  ed alla man veloce che percorrea la faticosa tela.

  Mirava il ciel sereno,

  le vie dorate e gli orti,

  e quinci il mar da lungi, e quindi il monte.

  Lingua mortal non dice

  quell ch’io sentivo in seno.’”

  Margherita stopped reading as the guests remained silent a while longer. “I think it’s enough,” she said, closing the book. Everyone applauded. Rosa helped her down from the chair and kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “That was wonderful. I don’t know why, but when you read aloud, the poems sound so much more beautiful than on paper.”

  “You’re welcome, Princess Rosa,” Margherita said with a big smile. “Happy Birthday.”

  “Where’s Cesare?” Madam C asked, looking around.

  Rosa shrugged.

  “Did you see him?” Madam C asked Margherita.

  “No.”

  Madam C turned to the other girls. “Did you?”

  A few girls shook their heads, others said no.

  Madam C put on her angry face. “I bet he left when Margherita started to read that silly poem.”

  “It’s not a silly poem,” Rosa said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Maybe,” Madam C mumbled, “but it sent Cesare away. I wanted him to stay a little longer. Who knows when I’ll get to see him again.”

  “Watch out,” Stella whispered in Maddalena’s ear. “She’s in a really bad mood now.”

  “What happened between her and the mayor in the past? Do you know?” Maddalena whispered back.

  “Nothing,” Stella replied, “other than paid sex. The gossip has it that she would have liked for something more to happen.”

  Soon the party crowd began to thin out. At the door, Madam C and Rosa bid the guests good-bye. When everyone was gone, Madam C gazed about the parlor. “What a mess,” she sighed, pointing at the dirty dishes, glasses, ashtrays, empty bottles, and half-empty food plates. Then she yawned. “Let’s clean up some. We’ll do the rest tomorrow.”

  It was past midnight when everyone left the parlor and went to sleep. Gingerly, Rosa opened the door of her room and peeked in. The mayor was still asleep, curled up in a fetal position, his breathing calm, on his face a half smile. On tiptoes, she opened a closet and took out the pillows Madam C had lined her bed with when she had been born. Set on the floor, they made a perfect bed for the night. Still in her white dress, Rosa lay down on the pillows and fell fast asleep.

  At eight-thirty in the morning the sounds of pots and pans and Santina’s high-pitched voice woke her up. It took her a moment to remember why she was on the floor. When she did remember, she glanced worriedly at the mayor, who was still sleeping. He hadn’t changed positions since midnight. As if nothing had happened, Rosa stepped into the kitchen and said, “Hi.”

  “Good morning,” Santina said with a big smile. “How does it feel to be sixteen?”

  “The usual,” Rosa replied with a yawn.

  Margherita, who was helping Santina with the dishes, noticed that Rosa was still wearing the white birthday dress. She said, “I’m glad to see you liked our present.”

  “Did you have a good time last night?” Madam C asked, coming in from the parlor.

  “I did,” Rosa said. “Thank you for the party.” She approached the sink and began rinsing plates.

  “Let’s make sure it’s all clean by this afternoon,” Madam C said. “We’ve got business coming.” She turned to Margherita. “Two Portuguese ships anchored last night. We’ll have plenty of visitors by four o’clock.”

  Santina, Margherita, and Rosa continued to rinse and dry for a while, while Madam C in the parlor emptied ashtrays into a paper bag. Shortly after nine o’clock there were frantic knocks on the door.

  “Your Portuguese sailors are in for an early treatment?” Margherita scoffed, joining Madam C in the parlor. The two of them opened the door. It was Roberto Passalacqua.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so early,” he said nervously. “Have you seen the mayor?”

  Madam C and Margherita stared at each other with surprise. “The mayor?” Madam C said. “He was here last night.”

  “Where is he now?” Roberto asked.

  “I have no idea,” Madam C said. “Why?”

  “I can’t find him anywhere,” the young man moaned, almost in tears. “He had a meeting with Theodore Roosevelt this morning at nine and didn’t show up. I’ve been looking for him all over. His wife says he didn’t come home last night, so I thought I’d see if he”—he stopped to take a breath—“stayed here.”

  Margherita shook her head.

  “Believe me,” Madam C said, “if he had spent the night at the Luna”—
she pointed a finger at her own chest—“I would know.”

  “This is terrible,” Roberto whined. “The American delegation is at City Hall, waiting. What am I going to do?”

  The three stared at each other for a moment. Then someone coughed behind Madam C. It was Rosa. “I think…I know where he is,” she said hesitantly.

  “You do?” Madam C said.

  Rosa nodded. “I’ll show you.”

  They followed her through the parlor and the kitchen to her bedroom door. “Don’t get mad at me,” she said before opening the door. “It wasn’t my fault. He fell asleep, and I didn’t know what to do.”

  “What are you talking about?” Margherita asked.

  Rosa opened the door with a sigh.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was on the lips of every man and woman in town: the mayor had ditched Theodore Roosevelt in order to spend the night in a brothel. On top of that, he had shown up at City Hall at nine forty-five in the morning, when the American delegation was leaving, in crumpled and disheveled clothes, without his glasses, hungover, and still reeking of the prostitutes’ odor. The gossip didn’t stop for days, fueled by the fact that a number of people had actually seen the mayor rush out of the Luna that morning:

  “What a disgrace!”

  “He embarrassed us in front of the whole world.”

  “Can you imagine? Explaining to an American president that the mayor was asleep in a brothel?”

  “I told you men can’t give up that habit.”

  “They say his wife left him.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Maria Elena Cerutti had indeed left town two days after the incident and moved to Tuscany, where her family owned a country estate. Immediately, the city council met behind closed doors, led by the vice-mayor. Concurrently, the president of the Liberal Party called an emergency meeting. Both the city and the party asked unanimously that Cesare Cortimiglia resign and he complied. Roberto Passalacqua cleaned out his former employer’s office at City Hall and brought everything to Cesare’s home. He found the man seated on the floor of his living room, hands wrapped around his stomach, shirt wet from his tears. Roberto thought he looked a hundred years old.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” Roberto said, patting Cesare’s shoulder to console him. “There are other things you can do besides being mayor. And all your wife needs is time to get over this mess. She’ll forgive you, I’m sure.”

  Cesare looked at him with spent eyes. “That’s not why I’m crying.”

  “Then why?” Roberto asked.

  Cesare sobbed, “I’m in love with Rosa.”

  At the Luna the atmosphere wasn’t great, either. When Madam C had walked into Rosa’s room and seen Cesare Cortimiglia naked and asleep, she had turned to Rosa in disbelief. “What is he doing here?” she had asked in a loud, angry voice. Her words woke up the mayor. He rubbed his eyes and stared inquisitively at Margherita, Madam C, Rosa, and Roberto, who stood around his bed and stared back at him, as stunned as he was.

  “I’m s-sorry,” Rosa stuttered. “I…played the game.”

  “You played the game?” Madam C screamed. “Are you insane?”

  “Mayor,” Roberto said in a worried tone. “Theodore Roosevelt is at City Hall waiting for you. If we get out of here in a hurry, we can still catch him. Come on,” he said, shaking the mayor’s arm. “We need to go!”

  Without talking, Cesare sat up, pivoted to his left, and came wobbling to his feet. He gave a long look at his clothes, spread like stains all over the floor. “I’m coming,” he said in a rasping voice. Slowly, he picked up his wear, got dressed, and glanced at Roberto, Madam C, and Margherita. Then, his foggy eyes stopped for a long moment on Rosa.

  “Let’s go!” Roberto urged, pushing him out of the bedroom and toward the front door of the Luna. They spoke no words as they rushed out into the street.

  Meanwhile the silence in Rosa’s room was glacial. Margherita, Madam C, and Rosa stood by the empty bed looking at each other, still as marble statues. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Madam C saw on the nightstand Cesare’s briar pipe. She snatched it, then grabbed Rosa by the arm and dragged her through the kitchen and the parlor door. “What have you done, you little slut?” she screamed.

  Rosa broke into tears. “I just wanted to show you I’m old enough to play the game,” she said between sobs. “You’re hurting me. Let me go!” Freeing herself from Madam C’s hand, she ran upstairs and locked herself in Margherita’s room.

  “Come back down here!” Madam C shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Calm down,” Margherita told Madam C. “Let me go up there and find out exactly what happened in that room.”

  By then all the Luna girls were out of their quarters. “I knew it wasn’t a good day for Rosa’s birthday party,” Stella said once she found out the cause of the commotion. “Fire and hatred. Hatred and fire.”

  “Open up,” Margherita said, knocking on the door of her own room.

  “I don’t want to see Madam C ever again,” Rosa said, sobbing, on the other side of the door.

  “It’s just me,” Margherita said softly. “We need to talk.”

  Still in tears, Rosa unlocked the door. “Let’s have a seat,” Margherita said. “Tell me. What happened last night?”

  “I played the game with the mayor,” Rosa explained, taking Margherita’s hand. “I took off my clothes, and he took off his.”

  “Now,” Margherita said, looking Rosa in the eyes. “Think carefully. Did he put his penis inside you?” She pointed to Rosa’s vagina. “In here?”

  “No. I…touched it. And held it in my hand. And then he fell asleep.” She broke into tears again. “What’s the big deal? Don’t all you girls do that night after night?”

  “We do, darling. We do.”

  In the parlor, Madam C could not calm down. “Where is she?” she kept screaming.

  “In my room,” Margherita said, coming down the stairs, “and very upset. Nothing happened last night, other than petting. So don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Don’t make a big deal?” Madam C screamed. “She seduced the mayor and had sex with him!”

  “So what?” Maddalena questioned her. “We all agree that she’s not a child anymore. Maybe she needed to explore.”

  “Why don’t you get mad at him?” Stella said. “He’s the one who took advantage of her.”

  “I will, you can be sure.”

  “So why are you so angry at Rosa?” Maddalena asked.

  “Because!” Madam C yelled.

  Rosa appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “There she is,” Maddalena said, walking up to her. “Come down here, Rosa. It’s all right.”

  “It’s not all right!” Madam C shouted, turning to Rosa with burning eyes. “What did you think you were doing?”

  Rosa remained silent.

  “I told you that the libeccio drives everyone crazy,” Maddalena whispered in Stella’s ear.

  “It’s not the libeccio, dear,” Stella replied. “It’s jealousy. Of the worst kind.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Madam C groaned.

  “Nothing,” Stella said.

  “Get back to your witchcraft and let me take care of my business!” Madam C screamed in a shaky voice. “And you,” she ordered, looking at Rosa, “come upstairs with me. Now!”

  On the third floor of the Luna, in the sitting room, Madam C swallowed a blue pill with water. It was a tranquilizer she took when her stomach felt tight, and it felt like a block of iron at that moment. Her ears were ringing, and her hands trembled like gelatina. The pangs of jealousy were clutching her for the first time. She had never objected to Cesare sleeping with other prostitutes, because she knew that he did that for physical pleasure; and she hadn’t cared when he had announced that he was going to take a wife, because she knew that he married to boost his political career. But when she had seen the mayor asleep and naked, and then looking at Rosa with those
sweet eyes, and then picking up without objection his wrinkled clothes from all over the floor, it had taken her only one second to understand that what the mayor felt for Rosa was love.

  From the doorway, Rosa watched Madam C with her fists tight. “Sit down,” Madam C ordered. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” she hissed. “You disgraced the Luna’s name! The town will be talking about this for years!”

  Rosa lifted her head high. “I don’t have to listen to anything you say.”

  “I’m your mother,” Madam C yelled. “You’ll listen as long as I tell you to!”

  “You’re not my mother!” Rosa yelled back. “Angela is!”

  “Angela’s dead, you spoiled little brat! I’m the one who raised you!”

  “I wish you were dead,” Rosa said in a cold voice. “So I wouldn’t have to put up with your bossy ways.”

  “You…ungrateful bastard. I’m bossy because you’re rebellious.”

  “I’m rebellious because you’re bossy.”

  “I swear to God,” Madam C said, “I’ll take my scissors and cut your hair one centimeter short!”

  “You do that,” Rosa screamed, “and I’ll take everything that’s on your fireplace and break it into a thousand pieces.” She took the hand-painted vase and held it in front of her, ready to drop it. “Starting with this vase!”

  “Put it back, you…Put it back, or I’ll kill you!”

  “What’s your problem?” Rosa yelled, putting the vase back on the fireplace. “Are you mad because the mayor doesn’t want to play with you anymore?”

  Madam C grabbed Rosa by the hair and pulled down till Rosa’s neck couldn’t bend anymore. “I should have killed you when you were born. I should have drowned you in the harbor like a sewer rat! Get out of here! Get out!”

  Rosa ran out of Madam C’s sitting room and down the stairs. She dashed through the parlor where all the girls were, then through the kitchen, where Antonia watched her whiz by. “God help us,” Antonia said, making the sign of the cross twice.

  In her room, Rosa sat on the bed, crying. A moment later, Maddalena, Stella, and Margherita arrived. After them, entered a composed and cold-faced Madam C.