Black Peach

"A Chance Encounter in the Mountains"

Emma woke up as usual with the soft morning light filtering through the windows of her small top-floor apartment. The sun, already high above the houses of Varallo, reflected on her dark skin, which glowed as if it had just been polished. The young girl stretched slowly, her large 4c afro hair tousled from the night, creating a rebellious wave that reflected her untamed spirit. Emma didn't need elaborate makeup to look lively: her face, always slightly flushed, and her glossy, inviting lips were already a testament to natural beauty.

She wasn't tall, but her presence was striking. Her long and agile legs, combined with a sturdy and harmonious physique, made her appear elegant and confident. Every step, every movement, was highlighted by the innate grace of someone who knows they possess an inner strength and determination that go beyond physical appearance. Her eyes, large and deep, resembled those of a cat, full of lively curiosity and sharp intelligence.

Her apartment, located above the old tobacco shop in the neighborhood, was small but charming, furnished with her mother's love and taste. The walls were adorned with colorful paintings and vibrant fabrics, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The bed, with a bedspread that was a kaleidoscope of African patterns, was near the living room window, from which Emma could observe the village church and listen to the bells ringing at 8 a.m. From the bedroom window, which overlooked the back, the sound of the river flowing near the village filled the air with a calm and soothing melody.

As Emma got ready for the day, her mother entered the kitchen, carrying a tray with breakfast: toast with grapefruit jam and a glass of orange and grapefruit juice. The woman, who spoke with a French accent typical of her Haitian origin, looked at her with a caring gaze.

"Are you nervous about the new job?" her mother asked, with a hint of concern in her voice.

Emma, with a gentle smile, replied, "Don't worry, mom, it's nothing special. Just a bit of nerves because I've never worked in a hotel before."

Her mother nodded, a look of regret appearing on her face. "I'm so sorry I can't contribute financially to your university. I hope you don't feel too burdened."

Emma quietly served her, reflecting on the complicated affection she felt for her. Although her mother was a very reserved and sometimes cold woman, Emma knew that, in her own way, she cared for her. The woman worked at the fruit shop near the village's ice cream parlor and was very skilled with customers, despite the initial difficulties with the local women, who eyed her with suspicion due to prejudices related to her background.

In mid-June, with school finished and she being the first to graduate, Emma had the whole summer ahead of her. She wondered what her mother had been like as a young woman, whether she was like her, and looked around, trying to imagine the past of a woman who had faced so many obstacles.

After breakfast, Emma went down the stairs and got on a red bicycle, a gift from Mrs. Maria, the owner of the antique shop across from their house. The bike was old but charming, and when Emma mounted it, she realized it had been a mistake to wear a yellow polka-dot dress, knee-length and with a V-neck. The wind and the curves of the bike made the dress less practical than she had imagined. However, there was no time to lose; it was already late, and she had to head to the hotel, which was a bit outside the town center.

As she pedaled through the narrow stone streets of the village, Emma felt both excited and nervous. Upon arriving at the hotel, she was greeted by Mrs. Pina, the owner and sometimes cook of the place. Mrs. Pina, short and a bit stocky, had short but well-groomed hair, and her face showed signs of a beauty that must have been evident even in her youth, reminiscent of Botticelli's Venus. Despite the rumors circulating in the village that considered her a bit eccentric, Emma found her fascinating.