Emma waters her houseplants
with vegetable broth and always wants the fullest leaves growing toward her.
Would you be a dear and turn the jungle in that direction?’ she asks.
Certainly,’ you say. And in exchange for your
trouble, she’ll provide you with a tiny truth that will set you straight once
you finish bending. Never buy skirts cut on a bias,’ she’ll suggest. That one
was a mistake.’
In response, you just smile and nod. The Italian eye
easily sees through to the skeleton of a dress, and fashion counseling from an
89-year-old woman is unsurprising. Emma, however, does have a special knack for
it. For her, fashion and dignity go hand in hand, and-bedridden or not-the day
must always be welcomed fully clothed.
The first time I met my landlady, she had her
care-giver, Sofia, take me next door to see the flat for rent. When I returned
to tell her I’d take it, she looked me up and down the way only Italian women
can and asked me why I was not yet married.
My future husband is arriving on foot,’ I answered.
Emma nodded, Mine is arriving by walker.’ I
smiled and she saw that I meant it, which made her suddenly serious. Listen,’
she told me, moving closer with her voice, if not her body. I will rent you
the house, but you have to make me a promise.’
What’s that?’ I asked, not feeling at all eager.
Pledges made to octogenarians carry more weight than I wanted to lift. Emergency
pharmacy trips and quick-stop grocery runs ran through my mind at breakneck
speed.
While you live in my house,’ Emma started, I’d
ask that you visit one art exhibition a month. And then, for you to come and
tell me about it.’
Accepting her proposal turned out to be as easy
as promising Santa Claus that you’ll be a good girl the whole year through.
And, probably, it was just as fulfilling. In fact, the feeling that had
suddenly taken hold of my heartstrings felt pretty close to Christmas morning.
It’s a deal,’ I told her.
Since I’ve moved in, we’ve walked through’ three
exhibitions, and early next month, I’ve promised to bring her Art Deco. As
usual, I’ll provide the catalogue, she’ll supply the knowledge.
Sometimes-but nowhere near often enough, I stop by to
see her between culture chats. Never once have I found her without ruby
lipstick and a string of beads that look just as shiny. They come from places
whose names decorate classroom globes but never quite find a space in people’s
homes. At thirty-five, Emma chose her first patchwork of foreign countries to
visit. I held my head high enough and kept my views wide enough to make men
assume I was not the marrying kind,’ she confided. So I set off to find out if
my suitors were right. And while I was at it, I saw the world.’
And were they right?’ I asked, almost holding my
breath.
Her own breath came out as a sigh, Oh, I don’t
know.’ But then she waited for me to look her straight in the eye. I’ll find
out on my next big trip, I’m sure.’ Then she winked and it squelched any desire
to scold her. Emma loves to be cheeky like that.
Do you want to come over to eat on Saturday,’
she asked when I stepped in for a hello, earlier this week.
Sure, I’d love to,’ I accepted. Do you want me to
come at 12:30 or 1?’
No-I mean for dinner,’ she corrected. I’m
having a few people over.’
Dinner?’ I repeated, late in hiding my surprise.
As far as I knew, bedridden 89-year-olds are not usually prone to throwing
shindigs on Saturday nights.
Emma downplayed my ignorance. I’ve told the others to
come around eight,’ she said.
Great,’ I nodded. I’ll be there.
Then that makes four of us. Sofia’s leaving
everything ready before she goes. And you, Amy and Stefano put together are
only slightly older than me,’ Emma grinned, as if this pointed calculation
provided additional proof of her innate naughtiness.
Amy, she explained, was also American and she
apprenticed with Luigi Mazzega. But he is her master and not her lover. She’s
serious, that one. Unfortunately, her engraving hand is not as strong as her
will power and she’s been waiting for months for permission to etch poppies.’
Stefano, her great nephew, would be coming too.
He is much more bald than he should be at his age,’ she tsked. And he has not
yet overcome his mother’s hopes for him. That said, he’s not ever going to be a
lawyer. The day he can say it while pounding his fist triumphantly on the
table, he will become a man.’
I listened to Emma’s nutshell descriptions and
wondered what big or small secret she’d seen flitting in and out of my own
eyes.
What would you tell them about me?’ I wanted
to know.
She shrugged. I’d say that you need to wear more
jewelry.’
Two days away from the soiree, I stepped out of
my front door to find a plastic grocery bag tied around its handle. Inside, was
an African band of ivory wrapped in a teatowel. It gave me a chill as I slid
the bracelet over my wrist, utterly taken with the smooth, solid click of its
clasp.
Wear it a week, return it in two,’ her note read.
Wow. The woman, it seems, will never quite tire of
living and giving. Emma’s legs don’t have the strength to face two flights of stairs,
but that doesn’t mean she’s unaware of how many places there are still left to
see. Perhaps she even knows the way to most of them.
I, for one, am game to go. And I hope she leads us to
a place we can more fully become fine, fist-pounding, gem-clad folk who revel
in etching delightful and difficult flowers. If Emma has her way-and we’re
lucky, it’s all going to happen by week’s end, come eight o’clock, Saturday
night.
