In the Room the Women Come and Go

Abstract

Most times there was only laughter coming from the room. Raucous, joyous laughter mingled with shouts, cheers, and long gasps for breath. Some clapped hands and slapped their sides, others attempted restraint by holding their mouths in a muffle of politeness, and a few stoked the mirth by strutting exaggerated imitations or by mugging outrageous faces. The laughter was infectious; it provoked everyone into the rollick? ing atmosphere. Tables and chairs slid across the floor as room was cleared for someone's performance, and then quickly replaced again for coffee and more joking. Glasses giddily chased bottles of wine, huge slabs of cheese were sliced and devoured, and wrinkled hankies swabbed at eyes and dusted powdered sugar from the outstretched corners of smiling mouths. Old Francesca was holding court, and when the queen daily opened her doors, the kitchen dissolved into a whirling, exciting world of color, bodies and faces, dancing, song, and utter, delirious enchantment. At other times the room was quiet except for soft, earnest talk, sobs and cries, and of the queen gently consoling one of her guests. Sometimes there was a halting monologue punctuated by long pauses, tears, and tragic wails of grief. Painful reminiscences, memories traded back and forth while wrinkled hankies swabbed at different tears, and years of hardship trotted out their scars in graceless torment. Sometimes the quiet was wretching as a pendulum clicked noisily, or coffee gurgled into a china cup, or a scratchy throat cleared before another story was hesitantly begun. While encouraging a reluctant speaker to continue, the queen would lift the top off a crystal decanter and offer Strega to her