2/ FIRMINA “Little journey”

IDA’S  STORIES. VIRTUAL READING & WRITING CIRCLE

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CHAPTER TWO – TELL THEM YOU ARE A WIDOW…

Written and translated from Italian by the author

 

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Voce narrante Giuliana Poleggi Quaranta 

 

The next morning, after everyone had left, the baby and I dressed as best as we could and I decided we would go out and look for work.

Shop after shop we went everywhere to ask if they needed a saleswoman, a maid, someone to wash the stairs, to assist the elderly ones, the sick, the disabled …

Everyone answered very politely, but no one needed us. Silvia was tired and hungry so I stopped and we sat on a wooden bench in a park, without going further for fear of not knowing how to go back. There were many young ladies with children and it was quite easy to strike up a conversation with one of them also because it was she who started asking me if I was “a new one”. “New? Oh yes, this is the first time I’ve come to Milan. ” “And whom are you staying with?” “With my sister.” “Yes, but whom do you work for?” “For nobody, we’ve been going around all the morning but nobody needs anything …” “And the girl?” “Eh … even the little girl, whom could I have left her with? My sister works, she starts in the morning and comes back in the evening … ” ” What! Is she your daughter? Is she yours?” “Sure! And whose if not? ” “Oh! Then it will be a lot more complicated to find work … with a daughter … in Milan … ” ” Why? Don’t they have children in Milan? I also see that you have got two… ” ” Are you crazy? They are not mine, I am their babysitter! I’m not even married, imagine … ” ” What does that mean? Whose are these children? ” “They belong to Signora Mattei, good people … rich people … I look at them, that is, I take care of them … all day long.” “And the mother? Why doesn’t she take care of them? What is she doing all day? ” “What does she do? What can I tell you? She is a lady, she can afford it and she is right. She pays and there are those who take care of her children, she pays and there are those who cook, those who clean … eh! my dear the money … the money … ” ” Couldn’t you help me? ” I had thrown it there like that, without even thinking about it too much. “With a daughter in tow? Who would take you? You could only go to assist some elderly person, someone who lives alone, you know, here almost all the young people work and the old ones remain alone in their homes …

Raphal Olbinski, A route, 2019

Who knows, you could find someone and stay there with your child too … It’s not easy, certainly it’s not easy … I don’t like taking care of the old ones, but you wouldn’t spend a single penny for room and board. ” “Do you know someone? Can you help me?…  please … I would be grateful … ” ” Give me time, let me think, let me ask around. ” “Please … I’m a guest at my sister’s, her children are coming back in a few days and I really don’t know where to go… please help me, if you can!”

The girl, who told me her name was Marcella, looked at me perplexed then called a friend of hers and they talked together, then they called another girl again and all three continued to talk while I prayed to all the saints of heaven. “My San Lanno, help me, my San Rocco, help me too …please, please!” Finally Marcella approached me and told me that there was a gentleman, the father-in-law of the lady her friend worked for, who needed assistance, she had heard. She promised me her friend would let her mistress know that I was willing to take care of him in the hope they would also accept the child’s presence. I thanked her, thanked all three girls, introduced myself and we agreed we would meet again the next day, always there, in the park at the same time. I went home, I felt like I was walking on clouds, maybe I had found a job …

``Simple but pretty clothes, no necklines, low heels, gathered hair, no makeup, spotless hands and short nails ... no nail polish.`` ``Speak as much as necessary, answer if you are questioned and don't sit down if they don't tell you.`` “Tell the little girl not to open her mouth, not to ask for anything, to be still and silent, in short, to stay still, not to move. She must not attract the attention, they must get the idea she would not cause the slightest annoyance. `` ``By the way ... say you're a widow.`` ``Widow? But I'm not a widow! ``

The day after it was raining. Nonetheless, I took an umbrella in a vase near the door, and went out anyway to go to the park. I must have been out of my mind, in that weather who could have taken the children to the park?

In fact, there was no one. I went back to the apartment. I cleaned the whole house, made something for dinner and waited for the rain to stop. Not at all, it rained all day and all night that I spent awake. The next morning, it was sunny. The night before I had told everything to Iole who had been happy for me even though she had told me not to have many illusions because of the child.

We arrived at the park well in advance. Standing next to the bench I looked at all the entering girls finally I saw Marcella and one of her friends arriving with the children.

We said goodbye and Marcella’s friend told me she had talked about me to her mistress and that she was willing to have an interview. An interview? Yes, she wanted to talk to me in the afternoon at half past three at her house, I should have brought Silvia too. I thanked both of them again and asked them for some advice.

“Simple but pretty clothes, no necklines, low heels, gathered hair, no makeup, spotless hands and short nails … no nail polish.” “Speak as much as necessary, answer if you are questioned and don’t sit down if they don’t tell you.” “Tell the little girl not to open her mouth, not to ask for anything, to be still and silent, in short, to stay still, not to move. She must not attract the attention, they must get the idea she would not cause the slightest annoyance. ” “By the way … say you’re a widow.” “Widow? But I’m not a widow! ” They explained to me that if I had been married they would not have hired me because they would have thought I would have had family obligations that could have distracted me from my commitment, if I had been a single mother they would not have hired me because the family was very formal and they would have judged me a not serious girl. But I was married! I was neither a widow nor a single mother! I explained to the girls that I was married, to a wretch, but married and that I was not good at lying! They told me to do as I thought, to act at the moment. They gave me the address and wished me well.

On the way home I explained to Silvia, who had already understood everything, that perhaps I had found a job, that we were going to have an interview in the afternoon, that she should come too and that above all she had to be good, but really good. The little girl said nothing, she walked quickly beside me.

At three o’clock we left the house. I had put on the party dress which, although five years old, was the only decent one I had. A simple dress, with small white flowers on a blue background, long sleeves, a flared skirt that reached below the knee and a round neckline. A dress that I had had made to measure for the wedding of Maria, my niece and that I had then reused only and exclusively for all subsequent ceremonies. It had not been easy to get the money for the fabric and the seamstress: after my husband’s repeated refusals, I had begun to steal some change from him, a few coins at a time, the money he put on the dresser by taking off his pants in the evening when he came back from card games at the bar. Money! It is money that gives you freedom, that makes you independent and he knew this well: I was not the owner of a penny, I did not work, I did not earn, I did not have the money, I had to ask for everything and nothing was allowed to me. In the end, given that the small change was not enough and that a couple of times, suspicious, he had asked me if I had touched his coins on the dresser, I found another solution: I began to secretly sell a few bottles of olive oil to some lady, some kilo of hazelnuts a few chickens, a few rabbits and, when we killed the pig, a few kilos of sausages.

Silvia too was wearing her best dress and I had made her two braids to arrange her hair. When I passed in front of a small bar on the other side of the street one of the young men seated at the table, let out a long whistle of admiration.

I continued walking straight and stiff, a little embarrassed and a little gratified by that expression of genuine male admiration. The taxi left us exactly in front of the house number I had communicated to the driver. It was twenty past three, we should have waited ten minutes so we looked at some shop windows.

I rang the bell on the main door and waited. A voice asked me: “Who is it?” I looked up to see which window the question was coming from. I didn’t see anyone looking out. The voice repeated: “Who is it?” I realized that the sound was coming from a small metal grid under the list of names and I replied: “I’m Firmina” “Go up, fourth floor”. The door clicked and we entered. There was an elevator but we went up the stairs because I didn’t know how to use the elevator and I was afraid of causing some trouble. A waitress stood at the door waiting for us: “Why didn’t you take the elevator?” I didn’t know what to answer, I just said: “Good morning lady!”

The house was beautiful: paintings on the walls, carpets covering the floor, curtains, chandeliers, furniture and knick-knacks, silver and crystal… I did not know where to look. Silvia seemed a fool: with her mouth open she looked to the right and then to the left and then again to the right and again to the left, entranced by so much beauty, so much wealth and opulence.

The maid let us into the doctor’s office, so she said. A beautiful room with a large carpet on the floor, the walls entirely covered with dark wood and shelves of books. A large desk full of paperwork, an armchair with armrests upholstered in black leather on one side and, opposite, two smaller dark red armchairs, again of the type but without the armrests. On the side, a very high French window with heavy curtains felling to the ground. On the back wall, the one that any visitors would have found themselves in front of, there were hung pictures of titles and honors.

On a small table in one corner there were liqueurs of all kinds bottles and, next to a vase with beautiful and delicate white flowers, a tray with overturned goblets.

The lady was tall, very thin, her blonde hair tied up. She could have been from thirty to forty years old: beautiful, very beautiful, very well groomed, very sophisticated.

She wore a long, clear, simple dress and flat shoes.

The lady looked at me carefully. It seemed to me time never passed. Then she asked me: “And why did your husband beat you? What did you do?” “No lady, I didn’t do anything but he found fault with everything, he didn’t like anything, just blows.” “Did you have a lover?” “For God’s sake! No.” “Okay Firmina, let’s not talk about this anymore, instead tell me,

She looked at us, greeted us with a simple “good afternoon” and made a gesture with her hand to make us sit down, but, for fear of making a mistake, I did not dare to sit down until she told me explicitly: “Sit down my dear. What’s your name?” “My name is Firmina and she is my daughter Silvia.” “Well Firmina, let’s get straight to the point, I know you’re looking for a job. ” “Yes Madam.” “Where are you from? Why are you here in Milan? What have you done up to now? ” “I come from Vasanello, a small village in the province of Viterbo. I came to Milan to work and because my two sisters live here. I didn’t do anything in my village. ” “Nothing?” I realized and explained: “I went to the countryside, raised animals, did the housework, and then my daughters … my husband… I took care of them…” “Well, so you’re married …” “Yes, … but …” “What? Are you separated, divorced? “My Saint Lanno help me! And now? What am I saying? What do I do?” I was scared, I did not know what to answer, I was sure I was wrong saying I was married but by now … “No, my lady, I’m not separated or divorced but since my husband beat me every day I decided to go away and to come to my sister in Milan. Now I’m looking for a job. ” Okay, I said so, it went as it should have gone.

The lady looked at me carefully. It seemed to me time never passed. Then she asked me: “And why did your husband beat you? What did you do?” “No lady, I didn’t do anything but he found fault with everything, he didn’t like anything, just blows.” “Did you have a lover?” “For God’s sake! No.” “Okay Firmina, let’s not talk about this anymore, instead tell me, have you ever taken care of elderly people? ”   “Sure lady, I looked after my parents in-law, both of them … ” ” And the little girl? Do you have a house? Someone to leave her with? ” “No, lady, I have neither a house to stay nor someone to leave my child with…” “You mean you would come to work with your daughter? And how do we do it my dear? And your husband? Where is he? Could be possible he to come and make a scene or something like that …? ” “He is in the village, I left without telling him anything. Surely he can imagine I came up to Milan to my sister but I really don’t think he would take the train and come up here to look for me … he has never moved from the village … he would not even be able to take a train … ” The lady continued to look at me remaining silent while I thought to myself: “She will not take me, she will not take me …” “Well Firmina,” the lady spoke in a very calm and almost subdued tone “… it was certainly not in our plans to hire a caregiver with a daughter … I am honest … I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all … on the other hand, however, we need a person to take care of my father-in-law, and since it is his father, I would like my husband to make the decision.” She called the maid and ordered her to ask the gentleman to come to the study.

The door opened and a man entered. The completely white hair would have made one think of an elderly man but the features of the well-groomed face revealed he could have been in his fifties. He too was dressed very simply but had an elegance and refinement that undoubtedly denoted his social class. He was tall and of very fair complexion, he was a handsome man with calm blue eyes, a cold look, as if absent.

“What’s up?” he asked his wife. “Angelo, my dear, the lady is here for the caregiver position, I would like you to decide what to do …” “What is there to be decided? We need a caregiver, if the lady wants to be a caregiver I don’t see what there is to be decided … ” ” The problem is that the lady has got a daughter… ” “So what? What’s so strange about the lady having a daughter? ” “The fact is that she would like to come and to work with her child, here present, because she has no one to leave her with … What do we have to do?” I think the man hadn’t even seen me before even though I got up when he entered the room and Silvia did the same.

He turned to me, gave me a quick glance and turned to his wife: “Honey, you too know that it’s not possible … at least I don’t think it’s possible to take care of an old man with a little girl in tow … Why are you asking my opinion? You also know it is not good … I repeat it is not possible … if something happens to the child? In our house? Come on!…”

We were standing there, without saying a word, without even looking up, we were just waiting … “I’m sorry Firmina …” His wife turned to me “… I think you have understood the problem … and then … my husband is right: if something happens to the child… we don’t want to have problems of this kind… I’m sure you understand… you’ll find something else, I’m sure…” What could I answer? I had no words. “You’re right madam … but … my Silvia is a good child … she wouldn’t do anything… on the contrary… at home she helps me so much … you saw, she hasn’t moved a step since we arrived …” Meanwhile, her husband had gone out without saying anything other than “Good morning”. I had just had the courage to whisper: “Good morning, goodbye!” but I do not think he had heard me.

It almost seemed to me that the lady felt embarrassed. She asked me if I wanted a cup of tea… a cup of coffee and, when I refused, she said: “Goodbye Firmina, I’m sure you will find something … anyway if we change our mind we will let you know … Leave me your telephone number, one never knows …” Telephone number? I replied that I did not have a phone but that she could contact me through her babysitter whom I had met at the public park. We said goodbye and the waitress walked us to the door.

We found ourselves on the road. I was stunned, disappointed, a deep sense of helplessness had extinguished all the enthusiasm with which I had left home. Silvia was trotting next to me. Poor little one, she had not opened her mouth anymore. Surely she understood everything and, poor innocent, she felt guilty!

“What do you say? What are we going to do?” I asked her just to break her silence. “Let’s go for a nice walk, will you?” She did not answer, she just nodded with the gesture of her little head. I felt my soul melt, the little girl felt responsible … I took her in my arms, hugged her tightly to me and kissed her. She burst into tears. That pouring, inconsolable weeping tore my soul apart. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry with her but I kept kissing her and saying, trying to look cheerful: “Well? What is it now? Why are you crying? What’s happening to you? Don’t you like Milan anymore? Look at what beautiful houses, how many cars, how many people … Come on, come on … Why are you crying? Are you tired? Do you want to go home? ” “No, no, I don’t want to go home anymore, I don’t want to go back to the village …”

Eh! Yes, the village … who knows what people were saying about us in the village, who knows how much talk … Of course it was not everyday occurrence to leave like this, all of a sudden, without telling anyone, without anyone knowing anything about anything, just conjectures, only guesses, of course all negative towards the unfortunate woman who had dared to abandon “the family”, that sacred institution within which the most atrocious injustices are perpetrated …

Of course, those pious women, false and hypocrites like whitewashed sepulchres, would never be in solidarity with one of them who had dared to demonstrate, not to say much, but a crumb of courage that they would never have had. “Eh! She has always been a crazy head …” “She may  have run away with her lover … ” “Poor Christ! She left him with a creature …” “Go to understand where she has gone”.

It was as I if saw those vipers: ugly and evil, all of them agreeing in stigmatizing a behavior only to please those husbands they would have gladly abandoned only if they had not been so submissive and condescending, apart from cheating them secretly, but everything as long as, it was not known, because the problem is not so much the fact itself, but the chatter of the country where the important thing is the facade, the reputation, where a beautiful woman is quickly considered a whore only because all the ugly women envy her and men cannot get her.

Raphal Olbinski, 

It is easy to denigrate and the worst thing is when all this degradation comes from the women themselves who are never friends each other, even when they go out together, even when you see them greeting, warmly kissing and hugging like sisters. Either you are like them, homologated to the common standard of ignorance and flatness or they are against you: you against all of them, you against all. You the black sheep of the herd! You cannot be more beautiful or different from them, less than ever, smarter, or at least you never have to prove it unless you come from a wealthy family by birth, the so-called “respectable people” as if beauty and intelligence are prerogative of the rich ones… and whether or not being “a good person” is established on the basis of economic possibilities … as if money alone can cleanse any evil or filth.

Silvia had calmed down, she was no longer crying but she was sad: she too laughed with me, but hers was a forced laugh, like mine. Poor innocent creature!

She was pretty, tall and thin, with light eyes like her father, dark hair like mine and a serious expression, like an adult child. I never heard her laughing like other children, she was always clinging to my skirts shaking like a leaf when her father raised his voice … and his hands …

My other daughter, Stefania, was still a little child and I often took her to my mother, who, although preferring Silvia’s company, kept her with her especially when I went to work in the fields.

Even so little, she was different from the other girls who lived their childhood in a carefree way, she was quite calm, she cried only when I went away but then, the slightest thing was enough to distract her and she played quietly, without toys: a spoon of wood, an old saucepan that would have been thrown away, small scraps of fabric that I kept to make patches …

She lived in a fantastic reality of her own where she took refuge by completely estranging herself and we heard her speaking to herself and representing from time to time all the characters of her unreal world: she interpreted at the same time the mother, the father, the daughter, and so on, all the imaginary protagonists of her games.

She played little with the other children also because we lived on the outskirts of the town and I did not have time to take her to play in the park like did all the other mothers who, especially in the afternoon, after having done the housework and having prepared something for dinner, accompanied their creatures and let them run around the meadows playing freely and in their peers company.

Actually, sometimes, I had brought them too but my husband who, staying at that time in the countryside, had learned about it from someone who, knowing how jealous and abusive he was, had certainly not missed the opportunity to fan the flames, went on a rampage: “Where have you been? They saw you in the park … I know… ” “And then?  What’s up? What did I do wrong? All the mothers go there, they all take their children to play on the lawn, why can’t I go there? ” “Whores, all whores! I forbid you to go there! ” “But what’s wrong with that? Our daughters are always at home, always alone, they have no friends like other girls … we go out just to take a breath of fresh air … ” “So what? Let them play at home, let them play out here…  What is different about the air of the lawn? I know! All bitches, all bitches! Eh! Yes, let’s teach them to be whores ahead of time …” My countering to his screams was no a justification because there was nothing to justify, it was just a mere attempt to make him thinking before he raised his hands. All useless … bad words came out of his mouth and I had to be quick to get away to avoid some kick or punch that he used so much to reinforce his concept.

We took a taxi to go home. Silvia squeezed my hand. Sometimes she looked up to me looking for safety and I smiled at her trying to appear happy.

When we got home, Iole and her husband had already returned from work. They quickly realized that I had not solved anything and we sat down at the table in silence.

I got up to take a handkerchief from my purse and I came across the ticket the gentleman on the train, the journalist, had given me. I went back to the kitchen and told Iole and her husband I had met this person in the compartment and that he had left his name and promised me help.

I felt my soul melt, the little girl felt responsible … I took her in my arms, hugged her tightly to me and kissed her. She burst into tears. That pouring, inconsolable weeping tore my soul apart. I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry with her but I kept kissing her and saying, trying to look cheerful: “Well? What is it now? Why are you crying? What’s happening to you?

Raphal Olbinski,Warsaw – Łazienki, Palace on the Isle, 2020

My brother-in-law took the card, read the name and the address “Tomorrow we can go and see … I can accompany you … I’ll finish sooner … there is little work for us now …” “But … really he told me to wait a couple of days because he would have been out… ” ” So what? That’s right … two days have passed, tomorrow we go there … better to go now, those are people who travel the world, who know so many people… as he gave you his name, he could also have given it to someone else … the sooner you go there the better… if there is any opportunity better not to miss it. Am I right? What do you think?” “What can I say? It’s okay, if you think it’s better to go there now … the important thing for me is to find a job, the sooner I find something the better. “

The next day, at five in the afternoon, we were in front of the newspaper gate where a blue-clad porter approached and as soon as he saw us and asked us whom we were looking for. My brother-in-law took out the piece of paper on which the name was written and told him it. Without saying a word, the man operated the mechanism to open the gate and let us into the gatehouse, picked up the phone and called someone saying two people with a child were looking for Dr. Cerretti. Then he turned to us and asked us: “Why are you looking for him? ” I replied that I had met him on the train and that he had promised to help me finding a job. The doorman looked me up and down, looked also carefully at Silvia we had brought with us, then at my brother-in-law then picked up the phone again and told the person on the other end of the line the reason of our visit.

Speaking into the handset he had moved a little away from us and had lowered the tone of his voice. “The doctor is out of office, he’s not come back yet.” “And when should he come back?” “I don’t know, lady… but what kind of job are you looking for? Here, as far as I know, they don’t need anyone … ” ” But … I would adapt to do everything, cleaning, assistance for old people, children … whatever there is to be done … ”

”Madam, here they are not looking for personnel of any kind … the cleaning is entrusted to a cooperative, there are no old people and children … ” ” But the doctor promised me … ” ” A job … yes I have understood, you’ve already told me … listen to me, there is no work here, at least not the kind you are looking for… ” To this point intervened my brother-in-law: “Excuse me… if we could speak directly with the doctor, when he comes back …” “You can do what you want … but I repeat, listen to me, there is no work for the lady here… understand, don’t make me repeat it… the doctor isn’t here and I don’t know when he will come back… believe me it’s better…”

We went out into the open air. I was agitated, disheartened and disappointed. We had gone too early, that gentleman had not returned yet, who knows … maybe it would have been the case to come back later, who knows … While we were walking along the avenue, for no reason, as if guided by a sixth sense, I turned around and it seemed to me to see the doorman talking to someone, but yes, it was him, the man I had met on the train. When he saw I had recognized him, he turned his back and walked into the gatehouse. I did not understand anything, on the contrary, I suddenly understood everything, maybe I should have thanked the concierge-man for that not found job … for that searching look that, to tell the truth, before, had irritated me a little … I was not the person for the kind of the promised job …

The following days I often left the house. I got in the shops, especially where I saw women and proposed myself for all kinds of jobs, especially house cleaning, babysitting and elderly assistance but when they felt I was in Milan with a little girl everyone turned up their noses making me clearly understand that it would not be easy, not at all …

One afternoon, passing by chance in a secondary street, we found ourselves almost overwhelmed by a group of people coming out of a kind of warehouse. Intrigued, I peeked inside. A gentleman in his sixties looked at us questioningly. I was really embarrassed and could only say, “Excuse me, I’ve seen people go out in such a hurry that…” “Eh, yeah! Have you seen? What a rubbish! At five o’clock … everybody gets immediately out … employees … ” Silvia and I had stopped at the entrance and I did not know what to say …” Excuse me, do you know someone who can give us a job? We adapt to everything … I really need to work … “

So it was that we began to work there: a small factory where sandpaper sheets were produced, the one used above all to clean the cast iron worktop of wood-burning economic kitchen stoves. Antonio and his wife, the owners, were good people, they agreed to take Silvia with me.

All in all it was not too bad, the other workers were young girls and talked all day about their boyfriends.

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