ROSITA HAPPENED
TO Mimi the way things happen when you are nineteen with all your tomorrows
ahead and all you have to do is just be. And they became friends.
In the Yaraví, a fellow passenger
had spoken of a friend and told Mimi: when
you get to San Francisco call him he knows a lot of people. She called him.
Yes. I know a famiIy you can rent a room from, he said.
The rented flat at Pacific and
Kearny was then occupied by Mimi, Lorena and Teddy, Rosita and her husband, and
John. John, who didn’t talk to anyone but Rosita. Ever. If you passed him in
the hallway would look down at the floor and go silently on his way. Below
their home a bakery opened its huge metal doors at three in the morning. And
the fog horns could be heard all night long.
Life at Rosita’s was less
restricted than at Mimi’s parents. Mimi. In fact she must have put in a good
word for her to her husband a morose, taciturn man who was seen around the
house but hardly heard. He didn’t have to. He just muttered his wishes to his
wife of thirty years and they were done. But Rosita didn’t ordered, she
suggested.
He has a car? ¡Oh niña! that is not so good. No. Cars are dangerous to young
people. You find yourselves in odd positions. Mimi didn’t understand. Didn’t
ask. She felt uncomfortable. Threatened. How would Rosita know? She had never
owned one.
THE NIGHT OF
Mimi’s date the plump, moonfaced, kind Rosita, hair freshly braided, cheeks red
bright apples forgot to be assertive. Four feet tall she smiled up at Etienne
with that mix of coquetry and shyness learned from the women in her family. To
Etienne she gave her own brand of welcoming, bright stars shining in her eyes,
hands nervously twisting the edge of her apron, voice suddenly low and
pleading. Good thing he spoke Spanish she had never learned English.
Pero una tacita de café antes de irse, Señor…sólo una tacita ¿sí?
Please, call me Etienne, his smile radiated appreciation.
Etienne. She savored the name like it was candy and smiling looked
at him sideways before walking back to the stove.
It was Mimi’s first date. Her
father would never have allowed it. She
is only nineteen, Mimi could hear him say.
BIMB0’S 365 WAS
elegant, polished, beautiful. Famous for its GIRL IN THE FISH BOWL and the
excellent artists it presented.
Yes. It was a sensation. The
beautiful blonde, curvy girl shaped as a mermaid. How was it done? Mimi always wondered. A beautiful live mermaid in
a fishbowl. It was the main attraction.
Bimbo’s 365 dining rooms had
mirrored walls, high ceilings, red tablecloths, candlelight reflecting on the
dark wood paneling. That night the nineteen year old learned to dance.
Yes. Just follow me. Of course you can. See? Etienne said. As Time Goes By was their song. He asked
the orchestra to play it for them over and over.
They were a great looking couple.
The flash bulb from the Club photographer’s camera shined on their smiles
capturing the moment in a black and white photo that became the cover of a book
of matches. The reverse carried the logo of Bimbo’s 365.
Mimi next to her date. The camera
loved her. The girl looking straight ahead, smiling, radiant, self assured. He
wears coat and tie. Elegant. Her dress has ranglan short sleeves, a boatneck
with folds that drape softly to her waist. The shiny material defines it as
evening wear. A necklace of many strands shows very dark, matching an earring
the other one is hidden by his face that in posing leans on hers. A fur jacket is
draped on the back of the chair she sits on. His right arm is around her
shoulders. The girl’s hands are demurely clasped in front of her. In the
fore-front his left hand holds a cigarette.
Everything she wore that night
was loaned to her. Rosita and Lorena dressed her up. Mimi had nothing to wear
for an evening date. That was Lorena’s dress, her jewelry. That was her fur
jacket. Oh yes! Every girl dreamed of having one. Rosita put the make-up on
her. And when Mimi started to protest, pero,
es mucho maquillage. Rosita said ¡Ayyy! ¡Ayyy! ¡Ayyy! Pero es como para de noche, mi niña.
Mimi always wondered, how did she
know? what kind of make-up was for night time? She never went any place,
movies, theaters, clubs, restaurants, bars. Never saw the inside of one. Years
later when she died she still had never seen one. So how did she know? Must
have been those magazines, she spent hours leafing through, all in Spanish.
About which candidly told Mimi, But what
can I do, mi niña, I never learned me, that’s why I can’t read.
But that night Rosita knew
exactly what to do. Those women enjoyed themselves, dressing her, making her
up.
And Etienne being of the same
mind, anticipating the evening called her to say, I’m on my way, and dialed her number that started with TU for
TUXEDO. His house number started with EV for EVERGREEN. To call the Yellow Cab
Co to take them to and from the club he dialed one that started with MA for
MARKET. Yes. The prefix of the telephone numbers were letters. Just like in a
Humphrey Bogart movie.
The taxi drivers wore uniforms
with caps that said Yellow Cab Co in black letters when hey pull up their flat.
ETIENNE
INTRODUCED MIMI to his friends. They saw a lot of Juan, the young vice–consul,
and Elsa, his wife, their baby, their maid-nanny. Also of the Porters who
invited Mimi to dinner often.
Mr. Porter liked her. Mrs. Porter had concerns. A practical woman, she
thought Etienne should meet other girls also. But gave up after an evening when
... he didn’t even stay to express his appreciation, she reported to Mimi. He
couldn’t wait. Left the table the moment dinner was over. To go see you, I
suppose. Mr. Porter smiled. No other girl was ever invited to dinner again.
Years later she remembered him
“going to see her.” Rosita preferred Mimi didn’t go out week nights. To get
around that, Etienne and Mimi worked out a plan. He would whistle from the
street, Come. My Heart is Calling You, from
the sidewalk in front of her house. She,
having been waiting, listening, would go out quietly to join him. Then would
come back in, the same way. Quietly.
I went back to the street of my
nineteen years and your twenty-four.
I went back to the street of my
dark brown hair, big eyes, bright smile, moist-carmine-sensuous lips.
Your fiery red hair, golden
mustache, athletic body and elastic step.
I went back to the street that
heard you whistle.
Siempre estás en mi corazón…
No. It wasn’t: Siempre estás en mi corazón.
You are always in my heart.
It was: Ven. Mi corazón te llama.
Come. My heart is calling you.
I went back to the street of my
nineteen years and your twenty-four.
Mimi silently went out, careful to leave the front door unlocked. He
was on the sidewalk looking up at the house. In a flash came up the stairs.
Took her by the hand away from the porch light. His arms held her tight, his
tongue for the first time tasted hers. Mimi closed her eyes. He lifted her
arms, pressed them against the wall. His hands caressed her pelvis, her breasts
over and over. Mimi felt dazed, lightheaded. She opened her eyes, his breath
was on her face. His body pressed against hers. The palms of his hands burned
hers.
CHANGING THE
CONVERSATION Mr. Porter continued, our
children grown, in homes of their own it’s good to share the house with nice
people. By the way, have you taken Mimi around Chinatown? To the Arboretum? And
did you know? there is a lake, right here in San Francisco, Lake Merced?
Lake Merced became one of their
favorite spots. The June-July weather was mild. Evenings, they drove to it in
Etienne’s two-seater. No police patrolling there like at the Great Highway.
They steamed up the windows necking. The radio always on. One evening, his arms
around her, red hair shining with the last rays of the setting sun when As Time Goes By was announced. Etienne
listened. Tenderness in his voice murmured in her ear an offering, a gift, This is our song. It will always be our song...and as two lovers wooo....they still
say...I Iooove yooou.
The lake turned liquid siIver. The full moon shone among the trees. The
night their accomplice. Love songs on the radio. Windows fogged up. Their flesh
hot, moist, their clothes stained.
They saw each other every day.
Weekdays he walked from the Consulate on Montgomery St. down to Seventh and
Market and met her at Foster’s.
MIMI, BILLY AND
Willy were inexperienced, optimistic. The guys, in their twenties, would work
at anything, they said. Full of bravado, dreamed of earning their way through
college. Mimi, could count on her father’s help, he is going to send me forty dollars every month, more when he can afford
it. You know... exchanging soles to
dollars...you lose a lot in the exchange.
Her friends were worried, It won’ t be enough. You’ll have to work.
O f course, she said.
