The Scent Of Rosa's Oil

by Lina Simoni

  “Me neither,” Maddalena whispered. “Come inside.”

  They sat on the bed next to each other. “Want to read me the cards?” Rosa asked after a moment.

  “I thought you didn’t want to know.”

  “I do now,” Rosa said. “Please.”

  The tarot cards were on Maddalena’s nightstand, inside a cardboard box tied with a blue silk string two centimeters wide. Deliberately, Maddalena untied the string, opened the box, and set the cards on the bedspread in front of Rosa. “Ready?” she asked.

  Rosa nodded. With quick motions, Maddalena shuffled, cut the deck, and turned up four cards.

  “It can’t be,” Rosa babbled, realizing that the four cards were the Lovers, the Ace of Cups, the World, and the Fool. “These are the same cards you turned up for me months ago, when you arrived at the Luna.”

  “They sure are,” Maddalena said thoughtfully.

  “You’re tricking me,” Rosa said, scrunching her nose.

  “No,” Maddalena said calmly. “This is your future.”

  “It can’t be,” Rosa insisted. “I remember you telling me that these cards mean that I will find love and I will go on a long trip.”

  Maddalena nodded.

  “Well,” Rosa said in a louder, screechy voice, “it’s impossible! The love of my life has disappeared, and I’m not going anywhere without him. And even if I found him,” she shouted, “I can’t go on my trip across the ocean because he’s afraid of boats!”

  “He is?” Maddalena asked, surprised.

  “Yes!” Rosa yelled. “So, you see? You must be cheating!”

  “There’s no cheating with tarot cards, my dear. You saw me turn up the cards. You’ll find love, and you’ll go on a long trip. That’s that.”

  Angrily, Rosa lay down with her back to Maddalena. Maddalena replaced the tarot cards in the box, tied the blue string, and lay down quietly next to Rosa. They remained silent a while before Rosa spoke in a soft voice. “Are there really lots of places in the world that don’t have the sea nearby?”

  “Lots,” Maddalena replied.

  Rosa rolled over to face Maddalena. “I never thought it possible,” she said. “All the books I read were about the sea. And all the people I know grew up by it. Even Isabel’s village, which is so far away from Genoa, is on the water. She came to Genoa by water. And my father was a fisherman, Madam C told me, who made his living casting nets in the water.” Her voice broke down. “How was I supposed to know?”

  “It’s all right, Rosa. You know now.”

  “It’s not all right. I noticed how you two were making fun of me earlier today. Even the coachman was laughing. I saw him.”

  “We weren’t making fun of you,” Maddalena explained. “We were surprised.”

  Rosa sat up. “How do people travel to far places when there’s no sea?” she asked.

  “By train. And now by automobile. They say there’ll be lots of automobiles in the streets very soon.”

  “Have you ever been on one?” Rosa asked.

  “I have,” Maddalena said. “One of my clients took me for a ride.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I was scared at first,” Maddalena admitted, “because we were going so fast. Twenty kilometers an hour, my client told me. Then I got used to it, and I enjoyed it.”

  “Maybe Renato and I could have an automobile some day,” Rosa said with dreamy eyes. “So we’ll be able to go far without boating.”

  “That would be nice,” a disconcerted Maddalena replied.

  Quietly, Rosa lay down again, nestling her head on the pillow next to Maddalena’s. “Do you think we’ll find Renato at the farmhouse?”

  Maddalena glanced at the open window. “We’ll know very soon,” she murmured. “Dawn is coming.”

  “Maybe he liked it in Vercelli,” Rosa said sadly. “Maybe he found out, too, that there are places that are not on the sea, where he doesn’t have to look at boats all the time and feel afraid.” She paused. “Do you think I’ll be able to convince him to come back to Genoa with me?”

  “Rosa,” Maddalena said in her sweetest voice. “We don’t even know that he is here. I wouldn’t worry about his fear of boats now.”

  “You’re right,” Rosa said disconsolately. “He may not be here. We may never find him. I may never see him again. Why?”

  Maddalena patted her cheek. “See if you can sleep for a while.”

  At six in the morning, with a low fog hiding the hay and dewdrops shining on the grass blades, the hostel door opened with a squeak, and Madam C, Maddalena, and Rosa stepped outside. Behind them, the innkeeper and his wife set their luggage on the gravel. Maddalena thanked them, and the two went back inside. “Where’s the coachman?” asked Rosa.

  “Good question,” Madam C said.

  “Do you really believe he’s going to show up?” asked Maddalena.

  “I paid him,” Madam C shrugged. “He seemed a bit of an ass, but not dishonest.”

  “He’d better show up,” Maddalena mumbled, “or we’ll be stranded in this place for the rest of our lives.”

  Time passed. Seated on her suitcase, Madam C grew more infuriated with every minute that went by. “I hate it when people don’t do what they’re supposed to do,” she grinned, stomping a foot on the gravel. As for Rosa, she acted more like a caged tiger than a young lady waiting for her ride: she kept walking up to the main road and looking right and left, only to return to the hostel door and open her arms wide to signal that the coachman wasn’t in sight. “He’s not coming,” she said despairingly. She tugged at Maddalena’s sleeve. “What shall we do?”

  “There’s nothing we can do till eight,” Madam C replied dryly. “That’s when the innkeeper said we can get a different ride. If worst comes to worst, we’ll be at the farmhouse a little later.” She looked sternly at Rosa. “I suggest you calm down.”

  Rosa turned away. She mumbled, “All she can do is order people around.”

  “What did you say?” Madam C said with indignation.

  Shrugging, Rosa walked back to the road. It was close to seven when she heard the rhythmic thumps of horse’s hooves. “There he is!” she shouted, pointing to her right.

  “An hour late,” Madam C spit out from between her teeth. “If he thinks he’s getting more money from me, he’s crazy.”

  In front of the hostel door, the coachman pulled on the reins. “Morning, ladies,” he said with a mocking smile. “Ready for another wild-goose chase?”

  Madam C took the innkeeper’s drawing out of her purse and placed it under the coachman’s nose. He gave it a distracted look. “What’s that supposed to be?” he asked.

  Madam C gave him her best victory smile. “A map to the amphora tree,” she hissed. “Take our luggage and drive.”

  Soon everyone was aboard, and the foursome resumed the search for the farmhouse based on the innkeeper’s map, following a maze of quiet country roads dipped in a misty, yellow fog. It was a little past eight when Maddalena screamed, “There it is!”

  “That way,” Madam C told the coachman, pointing at a small dirt road that cut into the fields next to the amphora tree.

  “I’ll be damned,” the coachman said, smacking a hand on his forehead. “I thought this tree was a fantasy of three crazy women, but here it is.”

  He guided the horse to a right turn, and the carriage eased onto the dirt road. For some time they crossed only fields and occasional groves of aspens and weeping willows. Then the farmhouse appeared, set in a large, dry meadow studded with horse chestnut trees. An archway led the carriage into a graveled courtyard, around which stood the two-story house, the stable, the hayloft, and the chicken coops. In the middle of the courtyard, the horse came to a halt. Madam C, Maddalena, and Rosa stepped down. “We appreciate your help,” Madam C told the coachman with a smile. She dipped her hand into her purse.

  “You already paid me,” the coachman said, grinning. From his post up on the carriage, he spit tobacco onto the gravel. Then he click
ed at the horse and soon became a shadow in the mist of the morning fog.

  Shortly, a man came out of the house. Rosa spoke first. “Good morning,” she said. “We’re looking for Giacomo. Is he here?”

  The man took a step back. He said, “I don’t know anybody by that name.”

  “We are his friends,” Rosa reassured him. “We know he came here with Renato.”

  The man became thoughtful, but didn’t speak.

  “Show Giacomo this,” Rosa said, handing the man the blue stone. “He’ll know who we are.”

  With ill-concealed interest, the man took the stone and went back inside. He returned with Giacomo two minutes later. “Rosa?” Giacomo said. “What are you doing here?” He pointed at Madam C and Maddalena. “Who are they?”

  “Friends,” Rosa explained, “who came here with me to help me find Renato. Is he with you?”

  Giacomo seemed surprised. “No,” he said. “He left over a week ago, as soon as we got here.”

  Rosa took Maddalena’s hand. “I was hoping so much he’d be here…”

  “We need to talk,” Madam C said. “Can we come inside?”

  The conversation between Rosa, Madam C, Maddalena, Giacomo, and Anna and Berto Valle, Gabriele’s parents, took place in the kitchen, at a round oak table. Anna served strong, hot coffee, for which everyone was grateful.

  “What’s going on?” Giacomo asked. “All this time,” he said, looking at Rosa, “I thought Renato was back in Genoa with you.”

  Rosa shook her head slowly.

  “Is it possible that he decided to go somewhere else?” Madam C wondered.

  “I doubt that very strongly,” Giacomo said. “On the train he spoke only of Rosa and how much he missed her and how he couldn’t wait to be with her. He even said”—he smiled—“that he could smell her odor even when she was far away.”

  “I insisted he spend the night here,” said Anna, “but he was in a hurry to catch the night train, and I couldn’t change his mind.”

  “How did he get back to the station?” Maddalena asked.

  “With Geraldo Bassi, a neighbor who was here that evening and was headed that way,” Berto explained.

  “Could we talk to him?” Madam C asked. “At least we’ll know if Renato made it back to the station.”

  “Sure,” Berto said. “I’ll hitch the horse to the wagon. The neighbor in question is only a short ride from here.”

  “Of course I dropped him at the station,” Geraldo Bassi said when they found him cutting hay in the field behind his house. “Then I went my way.”

  “At least,” Madam C pointed out as they all headed back to the Valles’ farmhouse, “we know that whatever happened to Renato happened at the Vercelli station or on the train.”

  “But they told you there were no train accidents this past week,” Rosa whined.

  Giacomo said, “It’s very strange.”

  “My brother works at the station,” Anna said. “I’ll ask him to talk to people there. Maybe someone will remember Renato.”

  Her husband added, “And I’ll talk to the women who sell produce at the market. They know everything about everybody. If Renato didn’t leave Vercelli, they may know where he is. And we should also check the hospital and the jail.”

  “You can all stay in our home as long as you want,” Anna told Madam C. “We have space. We’ll do anything we can to help you find Renato. He and this man”—she pointed at Giacomo—“saved our only son’s life.”

  Thankful for the invitation, Madam C, Rosa, and Maddalena settled in two rooms on the top floor, a larger one Madam C and Maddalena shared, and a smaller one for Rosa. “Rosa needs privacy,” Maddalena had told Madam C earlier, when the two of them had discussed the logistic situation. “She’s very upset, and it’s hard to share space with others in that kind of state.” She paused. “Have you two talked yet?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t believe it!” Maddalena blurted out, throwing her hands up in the air. “What are you waiting for?”

  Madam C said nothing as she opened her suitcase.

  Later that afternoon, while Maddalena was helping Anna with dinner and Giacomo and Berto were at the market asking questions about Renato, Madam C knocked on Rosa’s door. There was no answer for a while, but the door finally opened as Madam C had begun to walk away. Barefooted, in a white vest that hardly covered her knees, Rosa stood in the doorway with dark, swollen eyes. “Did I wake you?” Madam C asked.

  Rosa shook her head. She whispered, “I haven’t been able to sleep in quite a while.”

  “Can I come in?”

  Slowly, Rosa moved aside.

  They stood in front of each other in the middle of the room. “How are you feeling?” Madam C asked.

  Rosa shrugged.

  “Look,” Madam C said. “We’ll be spending the next several days under the same roof, so I thought that perhaps we should stop beating around the bush.”

  For the first time, Rosa looked Madam C straight in the eyes. “You hurt me.”

  “And you hurt me.”

  “How?” Rosa asked. “You’re the one who threw me out of my home.”

  “Rosa, I’m trying.”

  “What are you trying?”

  “To help you. And to reach you.”

  Rosa spoke with a thread of voice. “What am I supposed to say?”

  “I don’t know,” Madam C replied. “Is there something you’d like to say?”

  Rosa straightened her slumping shoulders and spoke with defiance. “As a matter-of-fact, yes. There is something I’d like to say. I don’t understand why you had to toss me and my things out the door. What got into you? I grew up thinking you loved me. Were you faking?”

  Madam C took a step toward Rosa. “How dare you think that my love for you was fake,” she said, giving Rosa an icy cold glare.

  Rosa raised her voice. “Then what did I do that night that was so bad!”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” Madam C said, raising her voice as well. “You”—she pointed a finger at Rosa—“took from me the only man I ever cared for. Do you know what that means?” She shouted, “Do you?” She stared into Rosa’s eyes as her lips trembled. “I spent a lifetime giving my body to drunks, vagabonds, and rich men who not once looked past my buttocks and the size of my breasts. And then there was Cesare. He was different. And you took him!” She screamed, “You ruined everything!”

  Rosa looked at Madam C in silence. She spoke after a long moment. “They say that mothers are supposed to love their children no matter what. It’s one thing to get angry; it’s another thing to throw your daughter in the street.”

  Madam C took a deep breath. “I realize I hurt you,” she said in a calmer voice, “and it breaks my heart because, trust me, you are the last person on earth I would want to see in pain. But I couldn’t help it. If I could go back, I know I would do the same thing all over again.”

  “Why?” Rosa asked.

  Slowly, Madam C said, “You obviously care for Renato a lot. How would you feel if the person you love more than anything in the world took him from you?” Her voice broke down. “What would you do?”

  Rosa’s eyes softened. “I had no idea you loved Cesare so much.”

  “Now you know,” Madam C whispered as she turned around and headed for the bedroom door.

  “Does he feel the same way?” Rosa asked in a soft whisper.

  Madam C froze in her tracks. She stood still a long moment, then walked on, slamming the door behind her.

  After dinner, Giacomo found Rosa on the back porch, staring at the fields. In the distance, invisible crickets sang their night melodies to the moon. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Rosa turned to him. “Why is everything so difficult?”

  “I don’t know,” Giacomo replied. “But I believe there’s a reason things happen the way they do.”

  “I can see no reason for how my life has turned out in the past months.”

  “Years from now,” Giaco
mo said, “you’ll look back and understand what today seems absurd.”

  They stood quietly next to each other as a light breeze brought aromas of fruit trees and hay to them. “Tell me,” Rosa said, breaking the silence, “how’s your wound?”

  Giacomo opened his shirt. “It healed, but I have this ugly red swollen mark on my shoulder.”

  “It’ll get better,” Rosa said. “Isabel said so.”

  Giacomo smiled. “How is she?”

  “Fine.”

  “I miss her, you know. I find myself thinking of her for some reason.”

  “She’s special,” Rosa said. “In more than one way.”

  Giacomo nodded. “Anna and Berto have been wonderful to me,” he said, “but I can’t stay here much longer. I miss Genoa—the water, the longshoremen, my job at the warehouse. And I’m sick of fog and mosquitoes and steaming heat. I was thinking today that after we find Renato I want to go back to Genoa with you all.”

  “They will arrest you!” said Rosa.

  “It’s like I’m already in jail here. Now that some time has gone by, I can explain to the police what happened. I was defending myself from that crazy sword-swallower.”

  “And I know for a fact that Camila is no innocent girl,” Rosa added.

  “Is the circus still in Genoa?” Giacomo asked.

  “I’m not sure. I haven’t been paying much attention to anything in the past days.”

  “We’ll find Renato, I promise,” Giacomo said. “He can’t have vanished from the face of the earth.”

  “Did he ever say anything to you about wanting to live in a different place?” Rosa asked.

  “No.”

  “He never mentioned wanting to be…away from the water?”

  “Rosa? What in the world are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Rosa sobbed. “What if….”