The painful realization that it wasn’t the divorce, but the country, which has ruined her life, makes me sad and angry and I write her long letters describing my experiences and giving her hope for the future. She answers congratulating me for making so much progress in such little time and begging me to be careful. She has heard that crime is rampant in America and wants me to know that she prays for me all the time, but I’m not afraid, certain that nothing can happen to me in the city I adore.
~~~
Little Ricky is a eighteen months old now and he is becoming more independent, letting me go about my business without demanding my attention all the time. The power struggle between my uncle and Felicia continues unabated, however, and I begin to see that a good marriage is indeed a lottery, like mother says, and that very few people are lucky enough to make it.
To get away from the turmoil at home, I start spending every weekend with Aunt Clarissa, ignoring the mocking vibes from Felicia and my uncle because there is no place I would rather be than in her cozy apartment in Rego Park. Her sincere affection and encouragement has become a drug that I crave more and more. In a short time, she has become the most important, most influential person in my life. I love the smells that emanate from her little kitchen, the peace and serenity I always feel in her presence.
On rare occasions, when my uncle wakes up in a good mood and isn’t fighting with Felicia and ruining the whole day, he takes us to Central Park for long walks and a picnic by the lake. Walking through that legendary park, seeing the enormous buildings rising in the background, I experience a feeling of freedom and joy such as I have never known before. I also find myself mysteriously in vogue, attracting admiring looks and whistles nearly everywhere I go.
I can’t get over the change in men towards me. I’m still the same awkward person, never really paying much attention to my appearance and preferring the natural, well scrubbed look with my long hair parted to the side, no lipstick or make up, but men have become aware of me all of a sudden, making me feel like a glamorous object of desire. I had always been too skinny for my country where they preferred well-rounded women like my cousin Ana, but here I am being treated like a celebrity.
Men flirt outrageously with me in front of my uncle; impertinent truck drivers stick their heads out and shout endearments at me through their windows. I have to admit that I love the attention and want it to last forever. It feels like having lots of arms embracing me, making me feel beautiful and desired. I want to have romances and thrilling adventures; I want to be a sophisticated woman of the world and travel all over the world with a different beau in tow. Indulging myself in all these fantasies I wake up every morning with a glow in my cheeks in anticipation.
The attention I’m getting is riveting, intoxicating and I can’t get over the fact that it’s happening to me. Felicia accuses me of flirting with everyone but I just think it’s a propitious time to be skinny, because the national obsession in the country seems to be on losing weight, and the ideal object of worship is the ultra thin, ultra stylish, English model with huge eyelashes and big blue round eyes, called “Twiggy.”
The irony of it all is that I still have an enormous appetite that gives no signs of abating, and can put away enormous quantities of food without gaining a pound, a blessing that isn’t lost on Ana who can gain weight merely by looking at food. I was shocked at the sight of her when I finally got to visit her in the apartment she shares with her best friend, Marta, in Forest Hills. She opened the door wearing a caftan to hide the fact that she had ballooned up to a size eighteen dress. Her pretty face was lost among layers and layers of fat and double chins, and she seemed overly sensitive to people’s reaction to her girth.
Ana had once been so lovely that I couldn’t believe she had let herself go in this manner. I heard she had suffered many disappointments in love, and unable to beat a life long habit, had turned to food for comfort. The fact that she lives in a society that worships thinness, only makes her weight problem all the more poignant and mortifying to her. This affable, generous young woman, who had loved to dance and had been such a graceful dancer, is now so self conscious and embarrassed about her weight that she has stopped dancing and avoids most social functions all together.
“I can’t believe the change in her,” I remark to my uncle, coming back from her apartment. “What the hell happened?”
“She and Marta took a contest of who could eat more and Ana won.”
“You mean Marta is fat too?”
“Like a pig but Ana is worse, she looks like an elephant.”
“Oh, Uncle Jorge,” I say remembering how stuck on him she had once been, and those innocent times at the Tennis Club that now seemed so distant, so unreal. I couldn’t reconcile the old Ana with the person she had become, morose, suspicious, deeply unhappy.
~~~
Aunt Clarissa’s younger sister, Olga, religiously picks up her mother on Friday nights for the weekend, giving her a much needed respite, but instead of celebrating her freedom, Aunt Clarissa works part time in a wig factory in Manhattan on Saturdays. Noticing that I’m always strapped for cash, she has kindly spoken to the owner about me, and I’m very excited at the thought of having my own job. The prospects of finally making some money of my own make me very happy and I wait impatiently for positive news which doesn’t take long to come.
Knowing that Aunt Clarissa has put herself on the line for me, I start tackling the work with enthusiasm and responsibility. My job consists of applying glue to strands of hair and lining them up neatly in the trays provided. I do this over and over till we hear the closing bell. We are allowed two short breaks and half an hour for lunch. We have a punch clock and have to be accurate to the minute. Aunt Clarissa won’t even start lining up to clock out till it is past six o’clock.
“We mustn’t give the impression that we can’t wait to get out of here like the others,” she whispers to me. “These are the little details employers really notice.”
I do everything she wants because I’m thrilled to be working, and the money they pay me off the books in a little yellow envelope, goes straight to mother in an American Express check. Aunt Clarissa has started at the bottom like me and she is now doing full heads, which is a lot more interesting, and less toxic and monotonous.
The wig factory is located in Thirty Fourth Street and Second Avenue, and as we go home together discussing the day’s events and trying to forget the penetrating smell of glue, I wonder how people do this job day after day and year after year without going insane. For Aunt Clarissa and me, it is temporary work and we appreciate the extra money, but how do the other workers survive the drudgery permanently? I feel sorry for them but also realize that what makes America great is the wide array of working opportunities, no matter how menial or monotonous that work can be. Most people in the factory don’t speak a word of English and are all illegal, but still manage to make a living. I think of mother killing herself over her knitting machine for a pittance, begging for advances on her work and I become enraged. She would have been so happy with steady employment like this at a factory.
~~~
To improve my English, I start attending school at night, and it isn’t long before I have lots of dates which creates new problems with my uncle who forbids me to go out one night and tell me it is fine the next. He consents to my smoking at times and ridicules me at others, even though he is a heavy smoker himself. I have not really acquired the habit, but thinking that it makes me look older and more sophisticated I take it up temporarily, forgetting the dizziness and sickness I experienced the first time I inhale.
Felicia and my uncle also feel I am dating too soon, and disapprove of my choice of men. She thinks I am picking up men strictly based on their looks and that I will live to regret it. I have a handsome new boyfriend, Nick Valente, who is tall and dark and he has become her friend and calls her to complain about my behavior from time to time because a few times I have stood him up unwittingly, and I’m always late for our da
tes. He wants an exclusive relationship and can’t understand why I want to date different men.
He has a good job as a mechanic, owns a nice car and is a soft spoken, personable young man, but his intensity scares me. He wanted me to meet his brother, Sergio, who had brought him to America from Perugia, and had hidden him in the back of his red mustang when I refused to see him.
Nick showers me with expensive diners, gifts and flowers, but our dates always end in the same old argument, he wants to get engaged and I won’t hear of it. He is ten years older than me and says he is ready to get married. He says he has never felt that way about anyone and that I should be honored, and when I tell him I don’t feel that way, he says marriage will change my feelings and I’ll grow to love him because he will treat me like a princess. He is very good to me, but I am having too much fun seeing other people, and I don’t like the limitations of a steady relationship. At last, unable to withstand his jealousy and possessiveness, I break up with him and he takes it hard, accusing me of wanting a frivolous life and following me around for weeks afterwards.
~~~
Three months later, when I take out the baby for a walk I see Nick parked in front of my house, and my heart gives a funny little jump. He smiles at me and I approach him hesitantly. Seeing him again makes me realize that I have missed him. I have missed the attention and the strange passion I seem to have elicited in him.
“I wanted to see you before I left,” he says, tersely. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’m glad you came, Nick. I need to return the ankle bracelet, anyway, it doesn’t seem right to…”
He interrupts me. “Keep it, it’s yours. I don’t want it.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going back to Perugia for a while. My uncle, who was like a father to me, is very sick and I’m taking a leave of absence to be with him. He wants to see me before he dies, he made me promise.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He’s been begging me to come for months but with the business and a whole lot of things I didn’t want to take the time.”
“You must go.”
“I know. He did a lot for me. I owe him at least that much.”
His eyes are sad and I want to put my arms around him, but I can’t. I have nothing to offer him. There is nothing wrong with him, he is a good man, but there is something wrong with me because the thought of marriage and children scares me to death. I am sick of a life full of responsibilities and burdens, I don’t want the tyranny of emotions; all I want is to be free. I hate the fact that I am making him suffer but also think it would be crueler to give him false hope. I don’t want to change. I want to know who I am and what I want to do with my life before making the big commitment.
I pour my heart out to Aunt Clarissa and she reassures me that I did the right thing. “He came into your life too soon,” she says. “Ten years from now, he would be ideal, but you’ve got a lot of living to do yet, don’t get involved with the first guy you meet.”
“Then why do I feel so bad?”
“Because you had feelings for him but not the kind he wanted. You enjoyed his company but he took it too far. He was pressuring you and instinctively you defended yourself by going out with other men, there is nothing wrong with that.”
“Oh, Aunt Clarissa,” I said, hugging her. “You are the only person I can talk to, the only person who understands.”
“Hey, I’ve been there and I did the same thing because I wasn’t ready, but don’t choose too much or you’ll end up alone like me. Now let it go, add it to the book of experiences in your life and move on.”
But it’s not so easy to let it go, and whenever I have trouble at home, I keep remembering that Nick only wanted to love me and take care of me. He wanted to take me to Perugia and introduce me to the rest of his family. He said the city lied in the heart of Italy near the Tiber River and was famous for its beautiful purple mountains, art and nature. He would complain that Americans only think of the famous chocolate when they talk about his city, when there are so many treasures to be found in Perugia. Nick was crazy about jazz and he would talk to me about the Umbria Jazz Festival, which he said was the most important event in Europe.
Time passes and I start rebelling against the constrictions of my life by disobeying ridiculous curfews my uncle keeps imposing on me, and the ensuing friction makes my life at the house unbearable. I am eighteen years old now but he keeps treating me like a child.
The realization that in coming here, I have only exchanged one prison for another gnaws at me and makes me miserable. I discuss the situation with Aunt Clarissa, and she offers to take me in, getting an extra cot for me to share in her tiny bedroom. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m delighted to get away from my uncle because every time I break the rules by returning even five minutes late from a date, he threatens to send me back to Bolivia, once going as far as calling the airline and booking a seat. Things get uglier when he slaps me during an argument and I hit him on the head with a frying pan. He tells Felicia I tried to kill him and that I’m a dangerous person who shouldn’t be around his child.
Despite the uproar that follows, I refuse to be contrite and feel rather proud for standing up for myself. I don’t know where I got the nerve to do what I did but they are both acting like I belong in an insane asylum and have very little to do with me. Felicia rehires Grandma Helen right away, and I’m pretty much left to my own devices.
Days later, unable to bear the strain, I pack my belongings and leave them a farewell letter. Suspecting that I went to Aunt Clarissa’s house, my uncle comes to get me two days later, but I refuse to budge. Irate and red faced, he threatens to carry me back by force but Aunt Clarissa reminds him that in this country I’m already old enough to live on my own, and that he can not violate my rights.
He glares at us and says not to expect any help from him because as of this moment, I stop being his niece. Aunt Clarissa and I look at each other in disbelief. We can’t get over his bulging eyes full of fury, and the veins popping on his thick neck that make him look so menacing.
Weeks pass without incident and I feel like a big weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m free! I’m finally, finally free! It is fall and New York is dressed in bright new colors and I want to dance with my arms outstretched to the world. It’s a new beginning for me and I’m ecstatic.
Living with Aunt Clarissa is like swimming in a quiet lake after being rocked by violent waves. She gets me a full time job at the factory and has a warm dinner ready for me when I come home at night. I feel such tenderness and contentment in her presence, that I stop going out, realizing in hindsight that my compulsive dating was only an attempt to get away from the turmoil of my life. I was seeking refuge in loud music and different men, but with Aunt Clarissa I didn’t have to, with her life invited calm, reflection and solitude.
~~~
Sophia Minotti is the owner of the factory where I work during the week and on occasional Saturdays. She has emigrated from Italy decades ago and started her own business with only a few dollars in the bank. She is a good looking woman in her forties, who is tall, robust and hard working. She has short, curly reddish hair and anxious brown eyes full of make up. She wears high heels all the time and chain smokes. A cloud of smoke follows her everywhere she goes, and she likes to work at all the sites of her small factory to supervise her workers. She employs twenty people and some of them have been with her for decades. She is nervous and unhappy and seems highly suspicious of me, having given me the full time job only out of deference to Aunt Clarissa, whom she really loves and frequently invites to Sunday brunches at her West Side apartment, occasionally including me.
Her place is tastefully decorated and she has a nice view of the river. She has pictures of her dead husband and her twin daughters, who are married and live in different parts of the country. She owns two white, bewitching Persian cats that I adore. Their eyes hypnotize me and I could spend hours gazing at the
ir regal beauty. Never been able to resist the magic of cats, I love going there so I can hold them, pet them, and when Sophia isn’t looking, kiss them to my heart’s content. Realizing the hypnotic hold they have on me, the pampered creatures purr at me and move sinuously. I don’t envy her apartment or comfortable life style, but I do envy her for those cats. I would love to come home and see them - two soft, precious ornaments, whose only mission in life seems to be in looking exquisite.
Aunt Clarissa says Sophia’s husband died of a heart attack a few years ago, and she has never gotten over it. He was only fifty years old and had been her partner and best friend for twenty six years. She feels she can still communicate with her husband from the beyond and attends several séances a month. I tell Aunt Clarissa that she is really weird and she corrects me gently.
“Never criticize something you don’t understand. People cope with death in different ways. I don’t believe in séances either but if it gives comfort, who are we to make fun of it?”
Conscious of the fact that Sophia doesn’t feel comfortable with me, Aunt Clarissa pushes me hard, anxious for me to make a good impression, but it’s a losing battle because I hate the job and the smell of glue is making me sick. I pay her very little for my room and board and the rest goes to mother, so I can’t leave till I find another job which is not easy to do when I’m working at the factory all the time.
The money I’m earning is already making a difference in mother’s life and for that I’m immensely grateful. She’s been able to buy herself a new radio and a warmer coat. She writes me long, loving letters thanking me for the sacrifice I’m making. I don’t feel it’s a sacrifice, I feel that what I’m getting in return is a thousand times more than what I’m giving. Now the only thing that worries me is resolving my illegal status in the country since I know my uncle brought me here as a student and never sent me to school, breaking the law from the beginning.
Beyond the Snows of the Andes Page 37