03 - The Girl in the Mirror

Three weeks later….

No thanks to the little things around her that reminded her of her childhood, Rosy started to grow doubtful of her memories. She wasn't even sure anymore if her identity was still hers.

First, it was her old Peter Pan nightie she wore as a kid back at the orphanage. She had discovered it tucked in an ancient-looking wardrobe in her room. Next had been the bracelet she vaguely remembered her foster mom gave her when she clocked eighteen years. Obviously, it was something that had also being with her when they found her on the orphanage stairs.

The most shocking of all was when the chef on seeing her, burst into tears and hugged her tightly, rambling in a language Rosy wasn’t the least bit familiar with.

Obviously, the rotund woman knew her though Rosy couldn’t have claimed to know her. Worst still, she had gone ahead to prepare Rosy’s favorite dish ever since she was a kid.

Rosy frowned at her reflection in the mirror. How had she known what I liked as a child?

Having a lot of questions in her mind, she hurried down the stairs to the kitchen, determined to get the answers to at least some of the questions if not all.

The note she had discovered was still fresh in her head and she was curious to know what was implied and if in fact, it was really addressed to her to begin with.

If Sergio wasn't going to give her what she wanted even though he had decided to ruin her life, then she would find other ways to get it.

The rich smell of apple pie filled the kitchen and Rosy’s stomach rumbled in response.

“I was about sending a maid up to you, miss.” The chef commented, catching sight of her at the doorway.

“I’m not hungry.” Rosy lied halfheartedly but her stomach chose that moment to betray her, drawing a knowing smile from the old woman bustling with activity.

“Well, your stomach says otherwise…” she stated, stirring something in a pot. “Same as when you were a little girl.”

Rosy’s head snapped up, her eyes locking on the chef on hearing the reference to her childhood. There it was again, a hint that the old woman knew her.

The chef gave Rosy a stool and dropped a plate in front of her, leaving no room for argument.

Rosy sat down gladly, already enticed by the smell wafting out from the pot.

“Here, munch on this while I finish cooking.” She instructed Rosy, dumping two succulent drumsticks, red sauce dripping from them before Rosy.

Rosy hesitated, eying the food suspiciously.

“Oh come on, eat up while its still warm. It's not poisoned. Look.” The chef urged Rosy, tearing off a large piece and popping it into her mouth.

Rosy needed no second urging, pouncing on the drumsticks before her like a ravenous lion.

She slowed down when she noticed the woman smiling fondly at her, suddenly becoming extremely self-conscious.

“Do I have something on my face?” she asked anxiously, reaching for the kitchen napkin.

The old lady shook her head, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“No. I just remembered something. I see you have still got a large appetite as when you were still a little one.” the woman explained patiently, tears beaming in her eyes.

Rosy gently set down her knife and fork, remembering why she had come to the kitchen at all.

She fixed her gaze on the woman’s face, munching softly on the bit of flesh from her last bite still in her mouth.

“You knew me as a child.” Rosy said, deciding to be straight forward and the older lady nodded.

“Of course I do.” She agreed. “It was right where you sitting. You would always run up to kitchen before dinner time to eat whatever I had to give you personally.”

Rosy’s heart beat rapidly, almost painfully in her chest.

I can talk to her, she decided.

“Go on.” She encouraged the lady.

“You see, back then you were__” the chef started to say, but just then, Sergio stepped into the kitchen, his expression hard and forgiving as he glared at the old woman whom he had known all his life.

“I’m sorry, Sergio.” She apologised sheepishly, bowing her head in submission.

Sergio glared at her some more then sighed resignedly.

“It’s ok. I guess there was no way to avoid it.” He said to her, his expression softening.

“What are you talking about?” Rosy demanded, but Sergio spun on his heels and walked out the kitchen door.

“Follow me.” He ordered Rosy.

She snatched up a drumstick and found him waiting for her outside the kitchen.

“Meet Bianca and Giulia,” he said without feeling, referring to two young ladies in maid attire. “Giulia is your personal maid while Bianca is my sister but she will also be assisting you."

“Nice to meet you.” Rosy greeted them both, her shrewd eyes already assessing their appearance. One was dressed simply all in black while the other was overdressed. It was easy to see which was his sister.

The one she guessed Bianca only nodded stiffly in response to Rosy’s greeting, but Giulia was the more enthusiastic one.

She rushed up to Rosy after her curtsy, grabbing her hand and pumping it up and down and smiling broadly.

“I will serve you well.” She vowed.

Rosy couldn’t help but be drawn in by the young maid’s cheerful disposition.

“Have you prepared what I asked for?” Sergio demanded, addressing the Giulia but it was Bianca who responded.

“Yes. The trunk is upstairs.” She informed him.

“Both of you stay here. Giulia, I will ring for you if I need you.” He instructed the maid, already heading towards the stairs. “You, come with me. I want to show you something.”

Rosy followed him into a room adjacent hers, elegant but musty feeling. There was a trunk at the foot of the bed.

“Here, have this. I think you will recognise it.” He said to her within the room, offering her a necklace with a heart-shaped locket attached to it.

She did recognize it immediately.

It belonged to her mom though how she knew, she couldn't say. All she knew was the blurry image of a woman holding her tiny hand suddenly flashed before her eyes. She had the necklace on.

She took it gingerly from him and examined it. She was sure of it. She had definitely seen it somewhere.

“This was my mum's, right?” she asked Sergio.

“There’s more in there.” He said instead of replying to her question, he pointed at the trunk. “Do whatever you want with it.”

Rosy opened the lid and reverently went through the contents. There was no doubt in her mind now, these belonged to woman that she sometimes dreamt of, but she had no idea how Sergio came to be in possession of them.

Memories that she never knew were in her head began resurfacing as the surveyed the contents of the chest one by one.

Mom.

Hot tears stung her eyes as she remembered each and every single item until she could take no more.

Sergio quietly left her, leaving the door slightly ajar.

She picked up the necklace again and flipped the locket over, expecting to see Marcello inscribed behind it, but instead, there was something else.

De Luca.

Whose name is that? She asked.

She turned around to ask Sergio, but he had already left.

The reality of things finally hitting her, she lay her head against the trunk and sobbed quietly.

Why was her life messed up? She couldn't even recall the face of her birth mother even though she had been big enough to remember when she started staying at the orphanage.

Giulia came in quietly and rubbed her back soothingly, murmuring words of comfort.

“Who am I, really? It seems I don’t even know myself.” Rosy lamented, not knowing if she was ever going to get answers she desperately needed.

Giulia's hand stopped rubbing her back, and Rosy instantly craved its warmth.

“Who am I?” she asked again, fresh stream of tears running out of her eyes.

She looked up at Giulia to find the young maid looking at her with pity but there was also something else in her eyes.

Fear.

“It’s better if you don’t remember anything. You aren’t supposed to know who you are.”