Flour #Wattys2016

CHAPTER 5 - FLOUR

Antonella's days usually started around five thirty A.M., during the summer months even earlier. The air was cool from the nights breath and the world outside laid dormant. She lazily dragged herself out of bed and headed towards the bathroom.

She washed meticulously, making sure she got every crack and cranny, every fold of skin. One thing was being fat another was being dirty and smelly.

She hated smelly. When she was a child in the old town she remembered Teresa. The daughter of Mr. And Mrs Pasquale. She was maybe sixteen. Short black hair, cut way to short, made her head seem huge and to carry that head was a pear shaped body that was even bigger. Antonella would watch her wobble in and out of her house. Teresa always had  rings of dirt in the crevasses of her neck but what she remembered most was the smell of Teresa, a mix of dry pee and sweat. It was an acrid smell and the few times that Antonella found herself near her she would try to hold her breath as long as she could for fear of throwing up. She was so glad that her mother made her scrub up. She loved the smell of clean and as she grew she realized the need to wash several times a day. Carrying a bulk like hers was hard work. Sweat and dirt would find refuge under every flap of skin and if not eliminated would soon invest not only her body but the air around her with stink. Eau di Toilette Teresa.

She filled the bidet and washed her feet. Lifting them was not an easy task considering that the bathroom was small and she was huge. She patted them dry and powdered. The smell of Felce Azzura filled the room. She unplugged the stopper in the bidet and as the water drained she brushed her teeth, flossed and rinsed with mouthwash at the sink. She filled the bidet again and washed her privates, lathering up the Marseilles soap into a white creamy foam. After a thorough rinse she patted dry and powered. She squeezed out some Cera di Cupra out of a pale pink tube and applied it to her face. She always left her hair for last. She pulled out the elastic that was holding the mass in what you might call a somewhat reasonable up do. As soon as the elastic was gone the mass sprung loose. Overwhelming. She tugged and pulled and finally was able to drag the comb through. She braided it into one long lock and twisted it into a bun . Bobby pins here and there and she was done.

Stepping out into the street she automatically sucked in her stomach...like it really made a difference. It was just a habit at this point. When she was younger her mother always made her stand up straight, shoulders back and stomach in. She made sure Antonella never dragged her feet and that her chin was properly lifted. After years and years of practice it was now part of Antonella. It was like breathing it just happened. Antonella was fat but she had wonderful posture. She would walk straight as a board, shoulders hiked back and chin up. Her steps were as light as her weight permitted and carefully placed. She carried herself as though she hadn't a care in the world.

When she was younger and thinner the effects of all this effort seemed to fall into place...now, the posture was there but everything else was just a bit out of sorts.

At seven a.m. the heat had already begun clawing at the day but it was still cool enough to enjoy the short walk to the bus stop. Passing by Michele's bakery she breathed in the warmth that fresh baked bread gives off. The bakery was already open and she hesitated in front of the bakery window. Focaccia, sweet bread, and tons of other baked goods could be seen. She was so tempted to just duck in and grab some focaccia, its holes filled with olive oil and salt, crispy on the boarder and soft on the inside. Her mouth watered.

"No,no,no" she repeated to herself shaking her head back and forth. She caught Michele's glance, embarrassed that he had caught her fighting with herself she nodded a hello and sped off...his glance was enough to send her spinning.

She had first met Michele when she and her mother left their small southern village for a better life up north. They had been fortunate to have found an apartment which even though was not modern in any way shape or form, had everything they needed. The landlord had rented it as furnished which was a blessing in itself being that they didn't have even the basic furniture...such as a bed.

The two bedrooms were small but each had its own single bed with matching armoire. The kitchen had a working stove, fridge and enough cabinets to place the few things they did have. Four chairs were placed randomly in the living room and a small credenza covered one of the walls. Once settled in which didn't take long being that everything they owned was contained in an old wooden trunk with the addition of the round oak table, they headed off to investigate the shops.

At that time Michele's father owned the bakery and Michele helped him so that he could learn the tricks of the trade. Antonella and her mom had entered making a small bell over the door ring loudly. Mr. Ragusso
Sr. lifted his head and greeted them with a smile that was no less than perfect.

"Buon giorno belle donne....good morning beautiful ladies....ahh what can I do for you two lovely ladies?" he knew that they were new in the neighborhood, he knew all the women who lived in the area and these two were a welcomed addition to the regulars that had seen better days. He planted both hands firmly on the counter which made him look like an oversized English Bulldog, but instead of a spiked collar he had a white kerchief knotted around his neck.

"Good morning" My mother's reply was as crisp as a freshly starched shirt. The nudge Antonella felt indicated that she was to greet and she did so, ever so quietly. Her mother got straight to business and eyed all the different types of bread available asking millions of questions concerning the flour used, levitation, freshness and so forth.

Antonella had unglued her hand from her mother's and sat on a nearby wooden bench taking in the techniques of two masters at work. From the back room a boy came out. He was a robust, boxy type with dark curly hair. He seemed to be the bite size version of the older man.

"Michele, get me five rosette and three libretti , quick...the ones just out of the oven" bellowed Mr. Ragusso.

The boy disappeared into the back and seconds later came out with a brown bag that held the order placed by his father.

"Signora, here is the freshest bread of the day! Just smell the aroma...made with the best flour, I assure you. He grabbed the bag from the boy's hands.

Michele watched his father work this woman in the same way that Antonella watched her mother work this man. At a certain point their eyes met and a split second later Antonella dropped hers to the floor. She felt her cheeks burn and her scalp prickle. She kept her eyes on the speckled marble floor counting the brown spots, then white, then....

"Lets go Anto." Her mother's voice caught her by surprise and she literally jumped off the bench.

"Good day and we'll see you soon." Mr. Ragusso sang out.

Antonella looked over her shoulder and gave a short wave with her free hand as she was led by her mother out into the busy street. She saw the boy standing next to his father lift his hand quickly as though he wanted to respond to her wave...or was he just swooshing away a fly?

She was thirteen. Nineteen years and just over 55,000 panini later, her cheeks still burned and her scalp still prickled whenever she saw him.