The Scent Of Rosa's Oil (25 page)

T
he evening shadows were lengthening all over downtown when Isabel, who was arranging bottles on the shelf, stopped her hands in midair.

“What’s the matter?” Rosa asked. She was by the stove, dropping tea leaves into a pot of boiling water.

Wearily, Isabel shuffled to her rocking chair. “You don’t need me anymore, Tramonto,” she said, sitting down. The chair rocked gently back and forth, squeaking. “I’m ready to leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Rosa asked in a worried voice.

“I’ve been dreaming of Azul and the hill every night. I think they’re calling me. And I want to go there.”

“I’ll take you there. We’ll buy tickets with the money I made selling your oils. Remember? My dream has always been to cross the ocean.”

“There’s no time,” Isabel said. “And it doesn’t matter. Where I’ll die is only a geographical detail. I’ll always be on that hill. I’ve always been.”

“You’re not going to die,” Rosa said.

“Oh yes, I will,” Isabel said. “You will, too, one hundred years from now.”

“Then you’ll have to stay alive another one hundred years.”

“I would if I could,” Isabel sighed. “But I haven’t been feeling well these days.”

“I noticed. Let me take care of you my way.”

Upon Rosa’s request, Michele Merega came to the distillery the next day. “I don’t like to be touched by strangers,” Isabel grumbled as soon as the doctor stepped in and approached her. “And I don’t like doctors at all. Go away.”

Michele Merega, who for many years had treated prostitutes, thugs, and various other members of the Genoese underworld, was not the shy type. “I’ll go after I visit you,” he replied firmly. “I suggest we do this the easy way, madam. My hard way is something you’ll never want to see.” Isabel gave him a very hard stare.

The examination was far from easy with Isabel fencing the doctor away and mumbling and tossing and turning, but in the end he was able to come to a conclusion. “She’s weak, but not truly ill,” he told Rosa. “Give her these,” he added, holding out a bottle. “These pills should help her gain strength. And for sure she could use a breath of fresh air. This place stinks.”

Isabel made her position clear after the doctor had left. “I never took medicines, not once in my life, and I’m not going to start now.”

“You
will
take these medicines,” Rosa said firmly. “I’ll force them down your throat if I have to. And I’ll find you a different place to stay.”

“You may be able to force these pills down my throat,” Isabel stated, “but you’ll never be able to make me leave these rooms.”

“We’ll see,” Rosa said. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

She followed the doctor down the street. “Can Isabel take a trip on a boat across the ocean?” she asked him.

“Old people react to changes in unpredictable ways,” he said. “For sure the air of the sea would be better for her than the air of that booth. But being on a ship for a long time may be hard on her body. Which would be better, I can’t tell you.”

“If I brought her with me on a trip to Costa Rica, do you think I would be killing her?” Rosa asked.

“Like I told you, she’s not sick. If she should die here sometime soon, it would be because of her old age. And if you took her across the ocean, I don’t know which would be stronger, the stress of the trip or the benefits of the sea air.”

“I can’t make this decision by myself,” Rosa told Madam C later that day. They had met for lunch at the Corona, a homey
trattoria
two blocks from the Luna, busy as usual and brimming with the unmistakable odors of
pesto
and
farinata
.

“What does Isabel say?” Madam C asked, pouring white wine.

Rosa thought for a moment. “I think that part of her would like to go, part of her doesn’t care. She has said it’s irrelevant where she will die.”

“False,” Madam C stated, putting her glass down. “I think it
is
important where one dies, even more so than where one comes into the world. I wouldn’t want to die anywhere other than on the third floor of the Luna. You know why?”

Rosa shook her head.

“Because it’s the only place where I feel at home. Find out where home is to Isabel, and make sure she gets there.”

“I know where Isabel’s home is,” Rosa said. “I have no doubt.”

“Costa Rica?” Madam C guessed.

Rosa nodded.

“Then you know what to do, dear. In my opinion, dying on the way home is better than dying in a foreign place.” She turned and waved her hand. “Waiter? One more serving of
farinata
, please.”

That evening Rosa went to Vico Cinque Lampadi, where Renato was staying. She found him in his room, reading the first chapter of
Il Capitale
.

“Do you like your books?” she asked.

“I do. The more I read them, the more familiar they seem.”

“It’s a good sign.” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “There’s something I came to ask you. Something…unusual.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s about boats and dreams. You don’t remember,” she said, “but the very first time you and I made love at the shack you told me that wherever I’ll go, you’ll go.” She paused. “Would you go with me on a ship across the ocean? To take Isabel home? She wants to die there and be buried next to her grandmother, on their hill, where my oil’s magic ingredient was made.”

“Costa Rica?” Renato wondered. “I’m not quite sure where it is, but it sounds like a long way.”

Rosa nodded.

Renato pondered a moment. “You’re right. I don’t remember anything I said to you before my accident. But I can see myself saying to you that wherever you’ll go, I’ll go.” He smiled. “And I don’t want to get a reputation as someone who doesn’t keep promises,” he said jokingly. Then he spoke with a graver voice. “If you want to cross the ocean, that’s what we’ll do. I’m glad to be helping Isabel. She helped you when you were in trouble. It’s our turn to do something for her. Will she make it all the way home?”

“I don’t know,” Rosa said. “Dr. Merega doesn’t know, either. He says that the only way to know is to try.”

“Then we’ll try,” said Renato.

Rosa fidgeted with her hands, then spoke with her eyes cast down. “There’s a small…detail I need to talk to you about.”

“What?” Renato asked.

She cleared her throat. “Before your accident, you were afraid of going on boats.”

“Really?”

“Really. I mean, very afraid. You told me the best you could do was be on a moored boat when there were no waves. You also said you felt sick at the mere thought of being on water.” She examined him with curious eyes. “Are you feeling sick now? Thinking of the boat ride?”

“No.”

Rosa smiled. “Good.” She hesitated a moment, then spoke in a whisper. “Maybe we should go on a small boat before boarding a ship,” she suggested, “to make sure you’re all right.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about my fears at the shack, when I said I wanted to go on a boat ride?” Renato asked.

Rosa took a deep breath. “Crossing the ocean on a ship has been my dream since I was a child. When I fell in love with you, I thought my dream would never come true. So I was happy that you couldn’t remember your fear. Then Isabel helped me realize I can’t decide which things you should remember and which things you should forget. So I’m telling you the truth now.” She breathed deeply. “And there’s another thing you should know. You said you never wanted to leave Genoa and the longshoremen because your political battles are what gives meaning to your life.”

“I don’t remember anything about my political battles,” Renato said after a moment of reflection. “Right now, I’m reading these books and learning. I’m not concerned about leaving the longshoremen because I know it’ll be a long time before I can be helpful to them in any way. Giacomo, I hear, is doing great.” He paused. “As for my fear of being on water, we should experiment and find out.”

Rosa took his hand. “I’ll ask Giuseppe, a fisherman who buys many of my oils. He’ll let us aboard his sailboat.”

Renato nodded. “Let’s go fishing for my fears.”

Rosa didn’t waste time setting up the test. Early the next morning, shortly before dawn, she went looking for Giuseppe at the beach where he kept his fishing boat ashore on a row of dark logs. She found him by the boat in the company of other fishermen and conferred with him briefly before handing him two candles scented with Paradise Oil. He took the candles, nodded, and shook hands with Rosa. The following afternoon, after Giuseppe had returned from his daily fishing trip, Rosa and Renato met him at the beach. It was a windy day, and there were waves crashing ashore. As Giuseppe and two other fishermen held the vessel at the shoreline, Rosa jumped aboard with a radiant smile. It was her first time on a boat after thinking about it for so many years, and her joy was obvious in the sparkle of her aquamarine eyes. Renato, on the other hand, boarded cautiously, unsure as to what to expect from the experience. “Sit at the stern, next to me,” Giuseppe told him, jumping in. “You won’t feel the effect of the waves as much.” Then the two fishermen pushed the boat away from the beach, into the deep water, and Giuseppe rowed for a few minutes before lifting the sail. Off the boat went toward the more open sea as Rosa’s eyes shimmered and Renato looked curiously about. Aware of the reason for their trip, Giuseppe did the best he could with the tiller to minimize the pitching and rolling of the boat, but the choppy waves, with their crests whitened by wind, shook the hull right and left without respite. Seated at the bow, Rosa looked intently at Renato the whole time, trying to spot signs of discomfort, such as seasickness and fear.

“Are you afraid I’m afraid?” Renato asked jokingly at a certain point.

She didn’t answer.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Enjoy the ride.”

They followed the coastline east of the harbor for an hour before Giuseppe turned the boat around. “My boat is no ship,” he told Renato, “and it’s hard to tell for sure how you will feel when you’ll board a large transatlantic steamer, but it seems to me that you have no fears. With this sea, if you had any you’d be screaming by now.”

They disembarked safely on a pier. “You’re not afraid!” Rosa rejoiced, jumping up and down as soon as she set foot ashore. She hugged Renato tightly. “Our trip to Costa Rica will be the best trip ever.”

“I had no idea one could get so excited over a boat ride,” Renato said, hugging her back.

“I told you it’s the dream of my life,” Rosa said. “I hope you’ll be happy with it. It wouldn’t be such a good dream after all if you had to be hurt by it somehow.”

“Doesn’t look like that will happen,” Renato said. He added, “I’m glad you told me that I used to be afraid. I know more and more about myself every day.”

They headed for the distillery hand in hand. Inside, they found Madam C, Maddalena, and Stella in the process of trying to convince Isabel to leave the booth. “You need a place to stay while you get ready for this trip,” Madam C was saying.

“My distillery is fine,” Isabel said in a determined voice.

“No,” Madam C said. “We should sell this place for you before you leave. Let’s go.”

“I said no.”

Madam C exchanged looks with Maddalena and Stella, then the three of them lifted Isabel off the floor and took her outside. “You’ll live at the Luna for a couple of weeks,” Madam C said in her peremptory tone, “and that’s that.”

“I decide where I live,” Isabel disagreed. “I hardly know you. I can’t live with strangers.”

“I’m Rosa’s mother,” Madam C said. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

“No.”

“You’ll have to make do, sweetheart,” Maddalena said. “Madam C doesn’t take no for an answer.”

No one could argue with that. As Isabel’s resistance wound down, Maddalena and Stella crossed their arms and grabbed each other’s wrists. They lowered their forearms below Isabel’s buttocks and, gently, Madam C pushed Isabel onto the improvised seat. Before Isabel realized what was happening, Maddalena and Stella lifted her and began to walk.

Isabel was mute with stupefaction. As the group, headed by Madam C, turned the street corner and headed for the Luna, the neighbors crossed themselves at the sight of the witch being carried away in the arms of the prostitutes.

“What kind of witchcraft is this?” one said.

“Everyone look away, or you’ll turn to dust,” another hollered.

Despite her protests, Isabel found herself inside the Luna around six in the evening, as Antonia was leaving for the day. “Men, old women. What’s with this place,” Antonia mumbled as she closed the Luna door behind her.

Madam C settled Isabel in Rosa’s room. “It’s quiet, it’s cozy, it’s close to the kitchen,” she said once she and Isabel were there alone. “This bed has been Rosa’s since the day she was born.”

Isabel gave her a look of mistrust.

“Try it,” Madam C said.

Isabel pushed on the mattress with her right hand. “For today only,” she said, then laid her frail body on the white sheets. Madam C left the room without talking. When she returned ten minutes later, Isabel was sound asleep, her face softened by a peaceful smile.

Over the next days, the girls pampered Isabel, as their predecessors had once pampered little Rosa. They helped her take a warm bath in the lacquered tub on the third floor and washed the jungle of her hair twice with jasmine-perfumed soap. They were surprised to find no lice at all. “So you know, I never had lice once in my life,” Isabel scolded them when they asked, “not even when I was two months on Francesco’s miserable boat.” Combing her hair was another story. After ten minutes of pulling and fighting years-old knots, Stella said aloud what all the girls thought all along: “I give up. This is a job for Madam C.”

Madam C took out of her drawer the wide-tooth comb she had used for years on Rosa’s red curls. “It’s a curse,” she said, dipping the comb into Isabel’s stubborn locks. “I must have done something bad in my previous life and now have been condemned to untangle crazy hair till the day I die.”

Stella gave her a naughty smile. “Oh, stop it,” she said. “We all know that you love taking care of people.”