IN & OUT OF LIFE - Chapter 122 - Finnia (Maria)
The life of Maria has been moderately documented on a few occasions. To recap: She and her little brother were orphaned at a young age. She worked as a prostitute in a brothel and later as a stripper in the circus. She died in her early forties from what appears to have been an ailment of the urinary tract.
It's very noisy. Children are running around among the crowd of people. I see a girl (L) who looks about twelve years old, perhaps a bit too tall for her age as she seems to act a bit immaturely in comparison to her size. She's running after someone, calling out in a teasing manner, singing "lalala". I feel the wind on my face and in my hair, which is done up in a bun. A man dressed in black with a hat comes and greets me from the left behind me. Oh, it's him - I think, disappointed and rather wanting to get rid of him. Nevertheless, I engage myself in a little talk with him, not facing him. We're all looking in one direction at a playground where the acrobats are training and showing off their skills. Many of them are children. I don't think I have the physique for that sort of activity myself. 'So, how is your wife?' I ask the man, turning my head now to look him in the face. He has a very pale complexion and wavy, black hair. I must have put him on the spot with my question. I bet he didn't expect me to be this bold. He stays quiet and then licks his lips - an obvious sign of him being uncomfortable. He looks down and chuckles. He then answers in French and looks up at me with a daring look, his lips pressed as if set on taking revenge. 'I'm sorry' I say, turning my gaze away from him, 'I didn't know it was this bad.' I know her, his wife. She's a friend of mine. She has children now and just had a miscarriage. He grabs my hand and I want to pull it away, but he squeezes tightly. 'I desire you' he says. I throw my head back, casting my gaze up and then down again. 'Let go of me' I sternly say. He lets go, and I walk away through the crowd.
Q: What's your history with this man?
Maria: He came into my dressing room one day, asking me for a special favor: to suck my nipples… that sort of thing. That was before he married my friend Esmeralda. That's her stage name, by the way. I told him it would cost him money.
I'll continue to describe the incident in the present tense.
He starts flirting like a slimy dog. I don't have time for that nonsense. To me, this is business - I don't want to stay undressed for any longer than I need to. He pulls out a tin box (like a cigar box) and shows me what he has - not money, but some kind of trinket. I take it and examine it, then look up at him and ask him what it's worth. It looks like copper. He seems to honestly contemplate the question. He then says that it could get him seventeen from someone he knows. 'Tell me when you want to sell it' he says. 'Sell it? It's yours!' I say. Then, in a flirtatious manner, I add 'still' and turn away, smiling. He then comes closer, approaching me from behind, and puts his hands gently on my upper arms. I feel his warm breath on my skin. 'Don't you know I want you?' he says. I start to feel aroused. 'It's very beautiful' I say, still holding the trinket with the tips of my fingers. 'You can have it of you want' he says. He seems about thirty years old - too old for me, I think. He then leaves my room. Who was this man? I feel that he has been watching me for some time. And if his eyes have touched my skin… perhaps he thinks we are more intimate than I could have been aware of.
One day, I hear sounds in the room next to me. It's Esmeralda. I open the door and find her sitting reclined with her bare legs opened, a man in a suit in between them. At first it seems to me that she has been taken by force, but I get a different impression when I see her reaction upon seeing me. She seems shy now and has stopped her loud squealing. The man gets up and half turns around to see me. 'Oh… girl' he says, apparently failing to remember my name - if he even knows my name, that is. 'It's Finnia' I say, holding my knuckles in my waist. Finnia is my stage name, also known as 'The naked lady'. 'Oh' he says, and nods, then grabs whatever items of clothing or accessories belong to him, and leaves. 'And YOU Catharina… mädchen' I say, feigning sternness. We both burst out in laughter. 'Was it good?' I ask. She moves her head left and right, making a facial expression as if to say: he could do better. I'm glad she had a bit of fun. I sit down by her and we talk about something else, something food-related.
Q: Show me another scene.
I see brown leather purses with embroidered flowers in different colors. I'm guiding a group of children on a little field trip. It's a preparation for what might one day be an actual trip. I'm teaching them the concept of traveling together as a group with luggage. The children are mostly still toddlers and new to the "family", the family that will give them a new life. My friend looks on with a professional eye, screening them for what they might be fit to do in the circus. Those that don't really qualify (have poor balance, for example) will probably be put to work to clean and run errands. They may also be sent out to spread the word in taverns and such, telling people about the circus before it arrives in town. This is to prepare people and give them a chance to spread the word among themselves. A couple of days later we'd arrive and, by then, people would be more interested, looking on even as we're still pitching the tent - anticipation makes people more eager. I coach the children to carry their bags and walk as a group. Since they have no parents here, we must take extra care that they don't get lost. And little children easily get lost if they don't know whom they belong to. I feel like a mother duck with ducklings. The children have to learn how to take care of their personal belongings. Each purse contains a few basic items like a spoon and cup. They also have a blanket, which they're taught how to carry with them: folded and tucked into their belt. Every five years or so, we get a new group of children.
Q: Where did you get these children from?
Maria: Someone, a guy who works in the circus as an accountant, brought them from an orphanage. He himself ran away from home when he was young and ended up with us after working as a blacksmith's apprentice. The orphanage takes care of them till they can find employment. This… is employment. People love to see little children perform. Some of them even pass as dwarfs, but they're not dwarfs. It's extremely hard to find real dwarfs! A boy that is a little bit stocky, for example, can be taught how to act and move as a dwarf. There's a risk involved, of course, as some people might notice that they're not real dwarfs and point it out in the middle of a performance. That might provoke quite a bit of an outrage from the audience. Generally, they're disguised and at a distance where people can't see their faces clearly.
Q: Show me another scene.
I'm twenty seven or almost twenty eight. I'm quite tall and I have a sturdy figure. I'm wearing a decorated red thong with gold-colored knots in the strings. It's not comfortable to wear, and I more or less try to keep it from slipping off by clasping one thigh over the other. I have to hold my hands on the back of my head and turn my torso. It's chilly and it makes me feel stiff, even in my face. I'm wearing glasses without hinges. You can squeeze the middle part to fixate it on your nose. This is supposedly part of the attire, making me look more mysterious and interesting.
Q: Do they make a difference in vision?
Maria: Up close, yes! They are very good for reading.
Q: And do you read?
Maria: I pretend sometimes. I know a few words here and there.
Q: But these do not correct your vision in the distance?
Maria: What's wrong with my vision in the distance? I don't need to see the buttons on people's clothes or the teeth in their mouth!
Q: Is there anything else you want to show me?
Maria: See that man over there? It's H: H1 + part of H2. He's of medium height, if not less, stocky, and blond-haired. He's wearing a little hat (like Robin Hood) and a belt over his vest. He's looking through the crowd at a race. He's rather shy. He always sends another guy to talk to me on his behalf, and then this guy (not shy at all himself) adds his own improvisations to the story. I wish he would just come talk to me in person. The other guy is nice, but he gives me the creeps. He's the type that's "too nice" you know? Very animated, he is. And I can't stand those brown curls of his, somehow. He's slim and not that tall - the size of a teenage girl, I'd say. But he talks and talks, making each visit a social call where he talks to me and asks questions, acting like he's my brother. Well, just cause I pose in the nude doesn't mean I don't mind him spending time in my private room when I'm preparing my makeup and outfit. He then even wants to wait until I come back after my nighttime performance. He's just too curious, you know? Very friendly, but no boundaries. Anyway, he gets on my nerves. The other guy (the shy one) is a relative of mine, we found out. But he's too shy to come talk to me in person. Also, I think he's afraid of the circus boss, that he'd seduce him into working for him like me. His name is Arthur.
Comments
Post a Comment