by Lorna Lee
“How did you know?” Meri’s eyes widened.
The woman’s grin never wavered. “I know. You know. Finns are Finns no matter where we go. How about a croissant?”
“If you insist. Merci.” Meri tried to learn something about her new breakfast company. She’s not rich, but she’s got more money than I do. Her hair is styled in a modern “Flapper” look. She’s classy, I think. Her make-up is understated, and her dress is simple and demure. I like her style, especially her bright scarf. I bet it’s silk. She’s not pretty like a model, but something about her is attractive. Her personality, perhaps? She smells mildly fresh, too, not like a big bouquet of flowers shoved in my nose. I like her.
While waiting for the food, the woman began talking, “I don’t know about you but I can’t abide silence in the company of people perfectly able to carry on a conversation.” She waited. Meri kept quiet, mostly wondering what this woman would do next. The woman shrugged. “Okay…well, my name is Siri. What’s yours?”
“Meri.”
“Nice to meet you, Meri! How long have you been in Paris?”
“Four months.”
“You’ve hardly got your bearings yet, poor dear! I’ve been here forever. Three years. Don’t you love Paris?” Siri leaned into the table and the conversation.
“Paris isn’t exactly what I hoped it would be, but I’ll never go back to Finland.” Meri sat back in her chair.
“That’s a shame. What do you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Silence.
Siri nodded and patted Meri on her hand. “You’re still looking, aren’t you?” Siri waved her hand in the air. “Nothing to be ashamed of. Finding work isn’t easy, especially for immigrants.”
This woman seems to know a great deal and is fond of touching strangers.
Meri’s pride bruised, she lashed out. “How would you know? You seem to be doing perfectly well for yourself!”
“Oh dear, I upset you. Sometimes my nose is as big as an elephant’s…and just as likely to end up probing the wrong place. A hazard of the trade, I’m afraid. You see, I work for the Finnish Embassy and spend all day trying to fix problems for Finns here in Paris. It’s hard for me to leave my work behind.” She settled back in her chair and looked smaller.
Meri leaned toward the table. “You work for the Finnish Embassy? In Paris? What do you do?”
“I’m just a lowly secretary. One of my jobs is opening letters. Some of those letters are from people asking for help. I see the kinds of problems our people have in this city. My bosses are the real problem-solvers. Sometimes I get to see how they fix the problems when I type up reply letters or make phone calls.”
The food arrived and the women talked while eating. Meri told Siri her abbreviated life story. She happened to be as good at listening as talking. At the end of their breakfast, they exchanged home addresses and parted.
“I promise, if I learn of any work in either the Fashion District or for a domestic position, I’ll come to your apartment and let you know immediately.”
“Merci, Siri. I’m very happy the café was crowed today.”
“I am, too! We’ll talk soon, Meri. Before you know it, you’ll be working and Paris will start feeling like home.” Siri gave Meri a big hug. While embracing her, Siri whispered, “Keep practicing your French. Getting rid of your Finnish accent will help. You just might do it if you try hard enough.”
Meri broke the embrace, not used to such closeness from such a new acquaintance. “I hope so, Siri.”
“I know so, Meri.”
§
Not even a week had passed and Siri reappeared in Meri’s life with a rapid-fire knock at the apartment door in the early evening.
Elina answered, “Hei.”
“Hei! Is this where Meri Vaarsara lives?”
“Juu, but I’m not allowed to let strangers in.”
Siri laughed. “Well, close the door and tell Meri her friend, Siri, is waiting to give her wonderful news.”
“Oh, if you’re Meri’s friend, then you’re not a stranger, especially if you have good news for her. Meri needs good news.” Elina opened the door and let Siri in.
Meri heard the exchange at the door and was already standing to greet Siri.
“Meri, you didn’t tell me you had a daughter,” Siri whispered. Her normally smooth forehead was lined with what Meri’s Grandmamma used to call “worry-wrinkles.”
“That’s because I don’t have a daughter. Elina is Tuula’s daughter—my friend with whom I share this apartment. Right, Elina?” She spoke French, not Finnish. “And we speak only French in this apartment.” Meri looked at Elina and winked.
The girl nodded. “Right, but you’re like my second Mamma, Meri.”
Siri let out an audible sigh and smiled.
“What’s this wonderful news, Siri?” Meri tapped her foot.
“Am I allowed to sit down and have something to drink first? I just walked from work, and I’m tired and thirsty.”
“Sorry. Elina, please get Siri some wine and whatever food we have to offer.”
While Elina was making unnecessarily loud noises in the kitchen, Meri pressed Siri for information.
“It’s not a job in the fashion industry, but it’s still a great opportunity.”
Meri kept her head nodding as if nodding would pull the information out of Siri quicker, like a pump pulls water out of a well.
“Have you heard of the brand new hotel built this year—the Hôtel Raphael? It’s close by—near the Champs-Élysées, on Avenue Kléber.”
“Oui, in all my walking I’ve seen a large construction project. Is that the hotel?”
Siri nodded. “Today I opened some correspondence about their need for maids.”
Meri frowned.
“I know this job doesn’t sound glamorous, but it’s a luxury hotel for rich people from around the world and from Paris. Perhaps you’ll find a family who wants a private au pair? You’ll be surrounded by wealthy people.”
Meri warmed to the idea. “I suppose it’s a place to start. I’m running low on money…”
“Good! I grabbed an application for you.” She pulled a piece of paper out of her handbag. “Complete and sign this form. Then bring it to the hotel manager’s office tomorrow. You’ll be one of the first. I could tell from the letter they’re just beginning the process of filling jobs.”
“Siri, won’t they find it strange that I already have an application?”
“Non. Tell them you visited the Finnish Embassy yesterday inquiring about jobs and found out about this opportunity. It’s all true except for you being at the Embassy.” Siri winked at Elina.
Elina clapped her hands in delight. Then they smiled at each other.
Meri took the application. Because it was in French, she needed both Elina and Siri to help her complete it properly.
“Put on your best face tomorrow, Meri.” Siri said, “I know this isn’t what you came to Paris to do, but think of this job as a stepping stone. You never know where you will go from here. I’ll keep looking for work in the fashion industry. Don’t give up on your dreams.”
“Merci, Siri.” Meri was grateful for the job. My savings are nearly gone. Now I can stay in Paris and still be a respectable woman. I’m used to housework, having grown up with a Mamma who treated me like “the help” while my brothers and sisters played and had fun. It’s not what I want to do, but I know how to do this type of work. I’d rather be a maid in a hotel than go back to Finland as a poor woman with only a silly, broken dream in my pocket.
“Don’t thank me yet, Meri. Thank me after they hire you.”
Meri sighed. “That’s right. I have to get the job.” She had to face the stark truth that she may not even get hired for a maid’s job. Surely these Parisians believe that Finns are capable of scrubbing floors and washing sheets. “They better hire me. I sacrificed my dream for them. They should be willing to sacrifice one menial job for me.”
The next day Meri presented he
r application to the hotel manager, Monsieur Monville. He reviewed her more closely than he did her application. “Turn around for me, s’il vous plaît,” he said.
Meri wasn’t sure she understood him. What did turning around have to do with housekeeping? Meri stood still.
Monsieur Monville sighed and made a circular motion with the index finger of his right hand. Then he nodded at Meri as if to say, go on, turn.
Meri shrugged and turned around as instructed. She stared at him with her gray eyes, which appeared to darken as flecks of green gave them the stormy-sea appearance her father described.
Rather than being put off by Meri’s passive act of defiance, the manager smiled. “I like a woman with some fire but who will take orders. Are you able to obey and not cause trouble…,” He had to look at the application for her name. “…Meri?” He pronounced it “Mary” rather than the Finnish “Ma-ree” (accent on the second syllable).
Meri understood most of what he said: he liked women and fire; obey and no trouble. She nodded and added the correct pronunciation of her name.
“Something tells me I shouldn’t hire you, but I’m going to anyway. What’s a job without a little fun? You start tomorrow, Meri.” He exaggerated the name to May-ree.
“I have job?” She asked, just to be clear.
“For now, oui, you do.”
Hearing the word “oui,” she smiled and thanked him. I have my first job in Paris! It’s not in a fashion house, but I’m employed. Papa, I’ll make you proud. Mamma, you were wrong about me. I’m someone special. I’m finally working in Paris.
“Will that be all, Monsieur?”
He nodded ever so slightly. “Report for work on Monday at 7 a.m.”
Meri curtsied, turned, and walked out of his office suddenly realizing she did not know how much money she would be earning.
Monsieur Monville watched the sway of Meri’s hips as she left. He smiled and thanked himself.
Chapter 6: The Dark Side of the City of Lights
“What is defeat? Nothing but education; nothing but the first step to something better.”
Wendell Phillips
For the next several months, well into the winter, Meri’s days were predictable. She found her routine both comforting and frustrating.
Her shift at the Hôtel Raphael began at 6:00 a.m. and ended at 4:00 p.m. This meant she had to begin her day at 4:00 a.m. to give her time to eat, wash up, get dressed in her uniform, and walk the six kilometers from the apartment to the hotel. Always punctual, she arrived fifteen minutes before her shift began.
Most of her coworkers were foreigners. Like Meri, they attempted to “be” French by adopting the language and mannerisms of their new country. Assimilation was the only path to success. Even then, would any foreigner ever be considered worthy enough to work beside real Parisians no matter how well we master French and hide our accents? Meri noticed only Parisian workers dealt directly with the wealthy clientele. They served the patrons at the reception desk, the gift shop, the restaurant, and the cabaret. In many of these jobs, the Parisian workers received tips in addition to their wages. Meri never got tips—only left over food or drinks from wasteful, sloppy, upper classes who occupied the rooms she cleaned.
To bide their time or have fun, many of the other maids and some of the handymen liked to gossip. Meri didn’t believe in gossip. “What you do to others will grow in your garden,” Meri remembered her Papa telling her. Bad rumors about me might get back to Monsieur Monville. I don’t want to give him an excuse to get rid of me. Monsieur Monville seemed to enjoy his job as a supervisor, strolling the long, broad halls of the hotel regularly while he checked on his staff. He likes to hear the sounds of work, not our mouths. As a result, Meri didn’t make any friends at her job. Her coworkers did not dislike her, they simply did not include her in after hour parties or communal lunches after she declined enough times. “Some people are just loners,” Meri overheard one maid say to another as Meri walked by. They could not see Meri’s wry smile. She was happy to be a “loner.” She made sure she only had to worry about herself.
The work was monotonous, backbreaking, and degrading. In order to get through the day, Meri devised ways to keep her mind active. While changing sheets and wiping surfaces, she made up stories about the occupants of the rooms and the outrageous hijinks (or romantic interludes) the room’s occupants’ engaged in. She often peeked at the wardrobes of the guests to examine the fashions and fabrics. She pretended she had been hired as a fashion consultant. Her head danced with ideas of the gowns she could make for these denizens of high society if only given a chance. These fantasies kept her mind stimulated in her tedious, spiritless job.
Her shift completed, she walked an hour back to the apartment, often stopping to buy something to contribute to supper and breakfast the next morning. Elina and Tuula were always home in the late afternoon, so together they would prepare their evening meal. Then Tuula would excuse herself from cleaning up after supper to get ready for her job—one that took her away until the dawn. Elina and Meri spent most evenings inside the apartment, cleaning or each helping the other with their studies. Meri helped Elina with her numbers, and Elina continued as Meri’s French instructor.
On occasion Meri’s daily routine was interrupted with a letter from Finland. Letters to and from Kaija or Jani troubled her. They reminded her of the life she left behind—of the only people who ever loved her and the people she erased from her life. She savored the letters for making her feel loved and loathed them for the same reason. They were an unpleasant and unnecessary reminder of her failure as a famous Parisian fashion designer. I can’t tell them the truth about my situation. They believe I’m living my dream, no matter how misguided and impossible it is. They must continue to believe that I’m a success and leaving Finland has changed my life for the best. Otherwise, they’ll think I’m a fool and a failure. Meri wrote terse letters to Kaija, still unable to forgive her for abandoning her on their adventure. Perhaps if she had come with me, together we would’ve been successful in the fashion industry. Meri could not let go of this hopeless idea. Her correspondence with Jani, like Kajia, was seldom and brief. She found brevity her ally in her duplicity. In her letters, she always teetered on the ledge of truth, knowing a whisper of a breeze would knock her words over into the abyss of her lies.
Dearest Jani,
I’m working among the most rich and famous people in all of Paris. My French is improving. Soon, no one will know I wasn’t born in this beautiful city. My wages are low because I am new in my position, so no, visiting is not possible now. You must take care of our home and family in Raisio.
Be well, my strong brother.
You are always in my heart,
Meri
§
Occasionally, Meri and Elina ventured outside in the evenings. Strolling around the neighborhood or feeding stale bread to birds at a nearby park was all they could afford to do. Elina’s energy for the outings surpassed Meri’s, who had already walked twelve kilometers for work and had been cleaning people’s rooms for ten hours. Elina’s enthusiasm was contagious enough to give Meri the stamina she needed to keep Elina entertained.
Every evening, Meri insisted on an early bedtime, much to Elina’s dismay. The little girl wanted to stay up and listen to radio shows like a big girl. Meri needed to sleep to prepare her body and mind for another day of work. She only had every other Sunday off from work to rest and have some semblance of privacy.
On those days, she slept until 6:00 a.m.—a luxury for her. She ate a leisurely breakfast, usually at the café on the corner where she first met Siri, and made plans to spend at least some portion of the day with her friend from the Finnish Embassy. They would go to museums, parks, or a walk around the opulent Paris Meri had dreamed of while living in Finland. Siri never had news of fashion district work, but that did not stop Meri from asking.
“Is the work so bad?” Siri asked.
“It is. I pick up other people’s garbage and
clean their messes. Rich people don’t care about being neat because they know someone like me will pick up after them.”
“At least it’s steady work, Meri, and you’re earning money.”
“Perhaps enough money to pay my rent and food. I don’t earn enough to have any fun or buy nice things. Saving for the future? Ha! There’s no money left for such a luxury.”
Siri stopped walking and turned to Meri. She grabbed both of Meri’s hands and focused on her gray eyes. “I understand. I had a job like yours when I first came here and I hated it, too. Do like I did. Try to find the opportunities around you. The hotel is full of people who might be your next employer or who could give you a promotion.”
Meri raised an eyebrow but kept silent.
Siri continued as if Meri had just said, Go on, tell me more! “Patrons of the hotel might notice you if you visit their rooms at just the right time. Have a nice smile for them. Offer to do something extra. They’ll remember you if they need someone for their personal household. They might recommend you to your supervisor as an excellent maid. Being extra nice to your boss won’t hurt either. If there are jobs in other parts of the hotel, he will favor the employees he likes. Be one of those employees. Opportunities are out there, Meri. Sometimes you must pull them in your direction.”
Meri thought about her supervisor. She knew he kept a close eye on her. “My superior, Monsieur Monville, watches me carefully and smiles at me. Do you think I should talk to him?”
“No, Meri! Don’t be too bold. You can smile back, maybe. Or ask if there’s anything you can do to improve your job performance.”
“Is that what you did to get out of your awful job?”
“I was lucky and a patron noticed me—one who worked at the Embassy. He liked me. Not just my looks, but my attitude. Men like women who are eager and happy to work for them.”
The two women continued their walk in silence. Meri considered Siri’s advice. I will approach work with a friendlier attitude tomorrow and smile more at Monsieur Monville.
Meri’s days (and nights) were soon to become much less predictable.