Mrs. Rotondo was everything but rotondo..round. She was a woman of angles, sharp edges and pointy. A shriveled up little creature with a long thin nose and boney hands. Two little black dots served as eyes and thin lips twitched spasmodically every now and then. Blotches of dark patches covered her face and her short grey hair sat straight up on her square head. Her cheeks were caved in due to the lack of dentures that were never used for the mere fact that they were once taken out for cleaning and then were never replaced. This made her already thin face seem skull like with no flesh.
"Good morning Mam" Antonella's voice echoed in the dark room. She open the shutters and the rays of sunlight flooded the stuffy room. Mrs. Rotondo opened her eyes adjusting her eye lids to the sudden light that had invaded them.
Antonella worked quickly, slipping on a pair of blue rubber gloves. Warm water, sponge, powder, cream and diapers were all gathered and she washed, creamed and powdered Mrs. Rotondo's rigid body.
After breakfast which consisted of a bowl of warm milk and coffee, lots of sugar and some biscuits, Antonella washed Mrs. Rotondo's hands and face and carefully creamed the crackling skin.
During this time together, Mrs. Rotondo would tell her about when she was young, the war and how life was yes, hard but good to her. Antonella encouraged her by asking questions: was the young soldier from Florence really handsome? How did you meet Mr.Rotondo? ..anything to keep her in this world. She knew that Mrs. Rotondo's alertness wouldn't last long but she would make her talk until the "nothingness" took over. On real good days Antonella would get out the old photo album and flip through it with Mrs. Rotondo.
"Oh look here, how young we were!" Her dim eyes would light up with pleasure.
"Oh, and see him?" Pointing to a face yellowed by time "what's his name? He married ....oh what is her name again?"
The light never lasted long but Antonella was happy. Her little old lady had seen faces of that past that had been yes, hard but good to her. Faces of those she couldn't remember anymore. Yellowed by time and forgotten.
The next few hours were passed cleaning the bathroom, bedroom a small living room and kitchen. A light lunch was prepared and at 11:30 Nunzia, who took care of her in the afternoon, rang the bell.
"Ciao Anto"she said as she shuffled into the house.
"Ciao Nunzia" Antonella closed the heavy door. "How are you?"
Even before the words were out of her mouth she knew that it had been a mistake. She would remind herself everyday not to ask this question which really for her wasn't a question to be answered, but in spite of her efforts, those words just tumbled out each and every morning.
"How am I?!? Do you really want to know how I am?"
Antonella wanted to scream NOOOOOO!
"Well let me tell you...between my husband, that good for nothing, the landlord, bills, blah blah, blah....."
Antonella had stopped listening on the "how am I?" Practically from the beginning.
Nunzia was known as being a complainer. She complained about everything and everyone. If the day was sunny she would complain that the sun was to bright. If the day was rainy, cool, breezy or whatever she would find something to complain about. Nothing was sacred and everything was just not right. Her favorite topic though was her husband. She would call him pelandrone..good for nothing. Antonella had never heard Nunzia pronounce his name.
She had seen him a couple of times, a small, insignificant man. Greasy thinning hair plastered over a round head. He would drive Nunzia every day to Mrs. Rotondo's even though Nunzia lived two blocks away. The few times that Antonella was able to get a word in edge wise she had asked Nunzia why he drove her when she lived so close, emphasizing the fact that the walk would probably do her good being that she was no light weight either.
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