Rosa
Rosa got off the bus on the via Nomentana. It was getting close to three and she hurried up the Via Monte Nevoso to the apartment building where the Abate family lived. One of her previous employers had recommended her to them and she had been working for them once a week for three years now. She rang the doorbell, immediately heard the familiar buzz and opened the cancello. Rosa took the lift up to the top floor. The apartment door was ajar and Rosa walked into the flat.
“Ah, there you are Rosa,” Signora Abate said as she slid into her coat. “I wish you’d come a little earlier so I wouldn’t have to be rushing off like this every time.”
“Yes, signora.” Rosa mumbled.
“Well, anyway, the laundry is in the basket as usual. I forgot to get the hangers though. Please take some from our wardrobe.” She wrapped a scarf around her neck. “My sister made some cookies. They are in a large bowl on the kitchen shelf. Help yourself if you want some with your coffee.”
“Thanks, signora.”
Signora Abate checked herself in the mirror, sighed, then took the keys. “I’ll see you next week. Bye.”
“Yes, bye.”
Rosa took off of her winter coat and hung it on one of the coat hooks in the hall. She didn’t bother with the mirror and immediately walked into the narrow kitchen. She filled the small percolator on the work top with some coffee and put it on the stove. The small radio beside the stove was already on and she turned up the volume. Rosa hardly ever listened to the constant babbling, but she didn’t like to work in silence. While the water began to gurgle through the percolator she got the ironing board out, unfolded it in the large bright living room and began to sort the clothes. She sprayed the shirts and blouses with some distilled water, put the slightly damp clothes into a large bin bag, kneaded them a little and then let them rest on the table.
Rosa returned to the kitchen, fortified herself with a cup of coffee and some of the homemade biscuits. Although Signora Abate always seemed a little short-tempered and grumpy, she nearly always had something for her to have with her coffee, and usually it was something nice like these biscuits. Signora Abate was the only one of her employers to do that.
While waiting for the iron to heat up to the perfect temperature, Rosa walked into the Abates’ bedroom and took about a dozen hangers from the wardrobe. She never liked going into her employers’ bedrooms. It seemed an unnecessary intrusion in an intimate space. The Abates’ bedroom was different, because it doubled as an office space during the day. The bed was always folded up into a sofa and there were never any clothes strewn over the room like some other places where she worked. Nor had she ever seen any lingerie. Maybe the Abates just didn’t need any. They had four children, but only the boys, Simone and Andrea, were still living at home. On her way out, Rosa noticed an orange silk tie with a floral pattern hanging over the office chair. It looked slightly out of place in the functional bedroom.
Rosa put the hangers beside the bin bag, took a small sleeve board out of a cupboard and refilled the spray bottle and the iron with some distilled water. The iron hissed at her in appreciation, signalling it was ready to start. She took out the first shirt, began by pressing the cuffs, and used the sleeve board for the sleeves. Then she worked on the collar and yoke before finishing with the body of the shirt. She draped the shirt over a wooden hanger and hung it onto the unused curtain rail before pulling the next shirt from the bag. It was only when she was on the third shirt that she noticed that these were all new ones. Signor Abate usually went for a rather conventional style. His shirts were all of high quality – he was a lawyer after all –but until now had been rather plain. These shirts were in fashionable colours, a bright green, grey with pink, and a blue one with a paisley pattern. Rosa felt uneasy as she pulled the fourth shirt out of the bag, and was relieved when she saw it was beige. She peeked into the bag. All of the remaining shirts she had ironed many times: they were white, light blue, beige, sometimes with stripes.
She worked quickly and methodically through the rest and then moved onto the blouses. Rosa had never given Signora Abate’s style much thought before. She usually only took notice when people bought poor quality clothes, because she had a much harder time ironing them then, but Signora Abate also bought good quality. In contrast to her husband, however, she hadn’t bought any new blouses recently. The collar of the blouse she was working on was beginning to fray and there were a few tiny red stains on the front. They were barely noticeable among the vivid colours of the pattern, but other women would have stopped wearing the blouse. The style and colours had gone out of fashion and the cut was on the dowdy side. Rosa looked up at the shirts on the rail and suddenly had a wild idea: What if she burnt the blouse a little? Then the signora would have to buy herself a new one, wouldn’t she? But what if she didn’t and Rosa would just have to pay for the blouse? She couldn’t afford to take such a risk. Prices had gone up again and she was just making ends meet as it was. She also didn’t want to ruin her reputation. She had never burnt anything before.
Rosa put the iron on the metal rest, went back into the kitchen and poured herself another coffee. Nibbling a biscuit, she stared out of the kitchen window and wondered if there was anything she could do. She couldn’t afford to lose a good employer like Signora Abate. They usually didn’t require her services anymore once they split up. She knew that from bitter experience. Rosa went back to the ironing board and worked her way through the remaining garments. Once the bag was empty, she returned the shirts and blouses to the respective wardrobes, and put the boys’ clothes onto their beds. Before leaving, Rosa wrapped three large biscuits in some kitchen paper and put them into her handbag. On her way home, she walked past her cousin’s flower shop, gave her small amount of money and the biscuits, and asked her to deliver a big bunch of flowers to Signora Abate.
“You want to send her a bouquet? Why not take her some flowers the next time you see her?” asked her cousin.
“They are not supposed to be from me. Tell her somebody ordered them through Fleurop, and that you don’t remember the name. Say, they didn’t send a message.”
“But we don’t do Fleurop,” the cousin said.
Rosa hid her impatience. “I know, but the Abates don’t, do they?”
The cousin shook her head. “You really come up with the weirdest ideas.”
“Please do this for me. The important thing is that she doesn’t know the flowers are from me. I’ll help you out some other time. I promise.”
In the course of the next few weeks, Signora Abate received a bunch of pink roses, a small box of Quetzalcoatl chocolates and a beautiful cashmere scarf. She claimed he shad no idea wh it was from, but she got herself a new hairdo, wore lipstick again and bought herself an expensive suit. Her husband was rather startled and became so absorbed in observing the change in his wife, he gradually lost interest in his own affair.
Rosa was almost envious when she met her employer during the following months. Signora Abate had lost weight, looked younger and was far more upbeat now. One thing hadn't changed though: She was still considerate towards Rosa and even gave her some extra money for Christmas for the first time. Rosa used the money to take her cousin and two friends to dinner. She kept working for the Abates until the boys left home.
“Ah, there you are Rosa,” Signora Abate said as she slid into her coat. “I wish you’d come a little earlier so I wouldn’t have to be rushing off like this every time.”
“Yes, signora.” Rosa mumbled.
“Well, anyway, the laundry is in the basket as usual. I forgot to get the hangers though. Please take some from our wardrobe.” She wrapped a scarf around her neck. “My sister made some cookies. They are in a large bowl on the kitchen shelf. Help yourself if you want some with your coffee.”
“Thanks, signora.”
Signora Abate checked herself in the mirror, sighed, then took the keys. “I’ll see you next week. Bye.”
“Yes, bye.”
Rosa took off of her winter coat and hung it on one of the coat hooks in the hall. She didn’t bother with the mirror and immediately walked into the narrow kitchen. She filled the small percolator on the work top with some coffee and put it on the stove. The small radio beside the stove was already on and she turned up the volume. Rosa hardly ever listened to the constant babbling, but she didn’t like to work in silence. While the water began to gurgle through the percolator she got the ironing board out, unfolded it in the large bright living room and began to sort the clothes. She sprayed the shirts and blouses with some distilled water, put the slightly damp clothes into a large bin bag, kneaded them a little and then let them rest on the table.
Rosa returned to the kitchen, fortified herself with a cup of coffee and some of the homemade biscuits. Although Signora Abate always seemed a little short-tempered and grumpy, she nearly always had something for her to have with her coffee, and usually it was something nice like these biscuits. Signora Abate was the only one of her employers to do that.
While waiting for the iron to heat up to the perfect temperature, Rosa walked into the Abates’ bedroom and took about a dozen hangers from the wardrobe. She never liked going into her employers’ bedrooms. It seemed an unnecessary intrusion in an intimate space. The Abates’ bedroom was different, because it doubled as an office space during the day. The bed was always folded up into a sofa and there were never any clothes strewn over the room like some other places where she worked. Nor had she ever seen any lingerie. Maybe the Abates just didn’t need any. They had four children, but only the boys, Simone and Andrea, were still living at home. On her way out, Rosa noticed an orange silk tie with a floral pattern hanging over the office chair. It looked slightly out of place in the functional bedroom.
Rosa put the hangers beside the bin bag, took a small sleeve board out of a cupboard and refilled the spray bottle and the iron with some distilled water. The iron hissed at her in appreciation, signalling it was ready to start. She took out the first shirt, began by pressing the cuffs, and used the sleeve board for the sleeves. Then she worked on the collar and yoke before finishing with the body of the shirt. She draped the shirt over a wooden hanger and hung it onto the unused curtain rail before pulling the next shirt from the bag. It was only when she was on the third shirt that she noticed that these were all new ones. Signor Abate usually went for a rather conventional style. His shirts were all of high quality – he was a lawyer after all –but until now had been rather plain. These shirts were in fashionable colours, a bright green, grey with pink, and a blue one with a paisley pattern. Rosa felt uneasy as she pulled the fourth shirt out of the bag, and was relieved when she saw it was beige. She peeked into the bag. All of the remaining shirts she had ironed many times: they were white, light blue, beige, sometimes with stripes.
She worked quickly and methodically through the rest and then moved onto the blouses. Rosa had never given Signora Abate’s style much thought before. She usually only took notice when people bought poor quality clothes, because she had a much harder time ironing them then, but Signora Abate also bought good quality. In contrast to her husband, however, she hadn’t bought any new blouses recently. The collar of the blouse she was working on was beginning to fray and there were a few tiny red stains on the front. They were barely noticeable among the vivid colours of the pattern, but other women would have stopped wearing the blouse. The style and colours had gone out of fashion and the cut was on the dowdy side. Rosa looked up at the shirts on the rail and suddenly had a wild idea: What if she burnt the blouse a little? Then the signora would have to buy herself a new one, wouldn’t she? But what if she didn’t and Rosa would just have to pay for the blouse? She couldn’t afford to take such a risk. Prices had gone up again and she was just making ends meet as it was. She also didn’t want to ruin her reputation. She had never burnt anything before.
Rosa put the iron on the metal rest, went back into the kitchen and poured herself another coffee. Nibbling a biscuit, she stared out of the kitchen window and wondered if there was anything she could do. She couldn’t afford to lose a good employer like Signora Abate. They usually didn’t require her services anymore once they split up. She knew that from bitter experience. Rosa went back to the ironing board and worked her way through the remaining garments. Once the bag was empty, she returned the shirts and blouses to the respective wardrobes, and put the boys’ clothes onto their beds. Before leaving, Rosa wrapped three large biscuits in some kitchen paper and put them into her handbag. On her way home, she walked past her cousin’s flower shop, gave her small amount of money and the biscuits, and asked her to deliver a big bunch of flowers to Signora Abate.
“You want to send her a bouquet? Why not take her some flowers the next time you see her?” asked her cousin.
“They are not supposed to be from me. Tell her somebody ordered them through Fleurop, and that you don’t remember the name. Say, they didn’t send a message.”
“But we don’t do Fleurop,” the cousin said.
Rosa hid her impatience. “I know, but the Abates don’t, do they?”
The cousin shook her head. “You really come up with the weirdest ideas.”
“Please do this for me. The important thing is that she doesn’t know the flowers are from me. I’ll help you out some other time. I promise.”
In the course of the next few weeks, Signora Abate received a bunch of pink roses, a small box of Quetzalcoatl chocolates and a beautiful cashmere scarf. She claimed he shad no idea wh it was from, but she got herself a new hairdo, wore lipstick again and bought herself an expensive suit. Her husband was rather startled and became so absorbed in observing the change in his wife, he gradually lost interest in his own affair.
Rosa was almost envious when she met her employer during the following months. Signora Abate had lost weight, looked younger and was far more upbeat now. One thing hadn't changed though: She was still considerate towards Rosa and even gave her some extra money for Christmas for the first time. Rosa used the money to take her cousin and two friends to dinner. She kept working for the Abates until the boys left home.