Rosa (standard:drama, 2851 words)
Author: Giovanni	Added: Apr 13 2001	Views/Reads: 4003/2345	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Rosa, is still homeless but she has just gone back to work after a long layoff. She is worried about her daughter roaming the city all alone. She takes some donations for homeless children from a can that she places on her drugstore counter. Carl a jaded,

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acorn shaped hat and his hands no longer covered his pinkish cheeks; 
his face was shiny. Robin was just as cute and probably cuter the 
unabashed motherly pride of Rosa reflected. It was three years now 
since her son died of pneumonia. That was truly the most difficult time 
in her life. Her husband was at the height of his abusiveness back then 
and she no longer had Robin to cling to. Rosa wanted to run away, but 
didn't know where to go. She wished her husband would walk out on her, 
tired of mending broken dishes she feared his return all day long. What 
was home if to her if she lived in it with relentless fear? One day 
after her husband knocked her to the floor and threatened her with a 
hammer, grabbing the back of her head forcing her to kiss the floor 
because she didn't scrub it that day she couldn't take it any longer. 
She swallowed a jar of aspirin, but she was fortunate to have a nosy 
next door neighbor who kicked in her door after he heard a thud from 
her apartment. Her stomach was pumped at the emergency room of the 
hospital that she would visit the very next week when she would learn 
she was pregnant again, but this time with a girl, Malena, Rosa named 
her. Malena was angel, a gift from God and Rosa was thankful to have 
her, especially since her husband, not long after he found out about 
her pregnancy, left her. 

Rosa felt her son's toy disc by her hip. She smiled at the little boy,
handing his nanny the receipt and felt great relief when they left 
without making a donation. Guilt forced Rosa to hide the tin can. With 
a job now she probably wouldn't need the extra money, but she was so 
used to begging; it had become a habit. 

Carl the pockmarked nineteen-year- old stock boy shuddered when he heard
the tin can rattling with change. He dropped an armload of paper towels 
that he was stacking; Carl looked at them rolling and heard the 
clinkity clanking sound of nickels and dimes rattling in his head. He 
studied Rosa's timid requests for donations earlier, but for some 
reason or another did not notice the rattling change before. Just then 
he saw her putting the tin can away. He approached her immediately 
dragging his heavy scuffed boots toward her. Rosa winced. 

"I noticed you had a can out before," the stock boy said. "Oh yes. I was
just cleaning the counter top." Rosa felt her heart beat faster. Carl 
leaned closer, breathing onions and garlic in her face. Rosa grabbed 
the can and turned her face so that she wouldn't stare at the cigar 
shaped scar above his brow. Carl read the label that Rosa's finger was 
partially covering. FOOD FOR HOMELESS CHILDREN CAMPAIGN he repeated to 
himself. His nostrils flared. 

"Do you work for them?" 

"Oh no, I mean not anymore. I'm volunteering." 

"That's nice of you. Because you know there are a lot of FRAUDS out
there who make money by SCAMS." Carl snorted. He grew up in a shelter, 
homeless for the greater part of his life the way Rosa was now. Pent up 
emotions stirred inside him and some horrific memories, which he 
couldn't remember clearly since he struggled to block them out his 
whole life, had begun to unravel as Rosa nervously rattled the tin can. 
It aggravated him that so many people took advantage of the homeless: 
using them as a means for donations. He was proud and bitter. He hated 
begging as much as Rosa and he preferred snatching things instead, 
especially when the shop owner found him repulsive. Carl took things 
now from the store for the hell of it. 

The next day Rosa avoided making eye contact with Carl at all costs
letting her oily hair hang below her eyes. Rosa worked diligently 
reminding herself that she would shower at the YWCA when she finished 
work. That morning the store was so busy that Carl couldn't pester her. 
When Rosa finally took her lunch break, letting Shannon cover the 
register in her place, she quickly tiptoed out. Shannon saw the tin can 
that Rosa had left behind the counter yesterday and placed it next to 
the register. 

Twenty minutes later Rosa returned and nearly choked on a cold french
fry when she saw that there were a couple of bills jutting out of the 
tin can's top. Who put it back up there? By the counter she shook the 
can. Change rattled against the tin: ping caching. Rosa carefully shook 
the coins out of the can and pulled out the dollars. Someone had even 
donated a five. How did so many people give so much in only - I was 
only gone for twenty minutes Rosa puzzled? Rosa could put the money in 
the register but she didn't want the manager to think that she 
overcharged people. It was only her second day but she couldn't start 
off poorly. Grasping onto the coins and cash she decided to destroy the 
can, but keep the last few dollars. This time it was an innocent 
mistake. She would pick up a treat for her daughter after she took her 
shower. Malena was so good yesterday staying inside the library all day 
- she deserves something Rosa thought. Rosa was pleased that she would 
be able to give Malena something nice for a change. Rosa's aching hands 
could hardly ring up the register and had to count and recount change 
for customers she was so excited thinking about whether her daughter 
would prefer a brownie or a slice of chocolate cake. Perhaps she'd like 
a little toy instead; she next worried that she might hand back too 
little change or worse give back too much change. Then she'd have to 
return the money. 

Rosa had no idea that Carl was observing her putting the money into her
pocket. He fumed. His neck, his traps and his shoulder blades grew 
tense; he knocked a few boxes off the top of the shelf he was 
straightening. Rosa winced. She banged her knee on the counter. 
Seething Carl knew that Rosa was a fake. He hated people that acted 
sweet on the outside, but were sour, rotten and shameless on the 
inside. Intermittently hearing nickels, dimes and pennies rattling in 
his head he started to recall as a young boy that there was a man who 
took him around on the subway asking for donations telling people that 
Carl was his son and that they hadn't eaten in days. The image was 
feint but not altogether new. He had a front tooth missing and his 
breath stunk of booze. Carl could feel his strong hairy hand clutching 
his tiny hand. That sonofabitch crack addict- Carl started breathing 
heavy and heavier, the man's face was blurry, but the smell of beer and 
sweat was pungent. Rosa dropped the can onto the floor and change 
rolled all over the place. The tinny sound rung in Carl's head he then 
saw a frightened little boy dropping nickels and dimes onto the floor 
and a hulking figure above him with a giant fist bashing his head. Carl 
covered his ears as the sound grew larger, but so did the images in his 
head. The giant fist grew gigantic and struck him again and again. He 
then felt the man's naked flesh pummeling against his naked body until 
he bleed. I'll pluck the bastard's eyes. Carl's heart, head and stomach 
pounded, his eyes bulging furiously, but stood still and remained 
silent that afternoon: contemplating revenge; that rotten bitch 
stealing from poor innocent children, she must pay- Carl winced seeing 
the hulking body's shadow, face to giant fist. Unbridled devious 
thoughts roared in his head that afternoon. 

At five o'clock he hid behind the toy aisle, the leg of giant stuffed
rhinoceros covered his face. Rosa briefly considered buying Malena a 
toy and headed toward the giant stuffed rhinoceros. Carl flattened his 
back to the shelf. Rosa petted the rhinoceros's leg unaware that Carl 
hid behind it then impetuously turned around deciding instead to buy 
her daughter the biggest piece of chocolate cake that she could afford. 
Rosa left the store walking off into the poorly lit street. Six o'clock 
and everything around her was dark; the streets were nearly barren. 
Carl waited till she was across the street before following her. Carl 
ducked into a phone both while she went into a bakery. Rosa then took a 
short cut to the YWCA. Carl was now only a few quick strides away from 
her; he pulled his hat over his eyes. 

Rosa heard someone behind her, but was too afraid to look back. Carl
darted after her. Rosa ran but was too slow. Carl jumped on her and her 
right shoe fell off. He dragged her into an alleyway. He threw her to 
the floor. Rosa screamed. Carl grabbed her mouth. She bit his hand. 
Carl pulled off his hat and shoved it into her face muffling her cries. 
He struggled with her and finally ripped off her dress, but underneath 
there was a girdle and he couldn't undo it. Finally able to squirm 
around but Carl turned his scarred brow away. 

"Turn your face bitch or I'll kill you." 

"Please, please don't hurt me." Carl walloped her. He pulled out a knife
and forced her onto her stomach. Rosa trembled on the cold pavement. 
Her teary swollen eye twitched as Carl sliced off her girdle. She shook 
so much that his blade pierced her skin. He undid his pants shoving his 
hat back into her mouth then mounted her from behind. After he came and 
he zipped his pants up, he felt the shadow of the hulking man with the 
giant fist disappear. He then picked up the cardboard box with Rosa's 
chocolate cake and proudly walked off. 

Utterly terrified Rosa quivered on her belly. Blood dripped down her leg
as she found the courage to stand. She felt completely ashamed. She 
puked blood and green chunks then wiped her mouth. Random thoughts ran 
through her head. Where do I go now? I have to get Malena a treat. 
Where am? Suicide, the thought that intermittently plagued her was not 
as strong as it once had been. She then felt underneath her shirtsleeve 
at the scars on her wrist and then an odd but keen insight dawned on 
her. She lived through an abusive marriage she got over the death of 
her baby boy and now her body, her mind and her soul had all been 
violated; the homeless woman hobbled down the street with one shoe. 
There is nothing else they can take from me Rosa concluded. Rosa then 
noticed the cake was gone. Her throat swelled up like she had swallowed 
a peach whole. Poor Malena, she deserves so much and I give her 
nothing. Rosa kicked off her other shoe and walked back barefoot. The 
cold air blew in her face and she listened carefully to her uneven, 
uncertain steps as they occasionally snapped a twig. Was her rapist 
still following her? She had to get Malena a cake. Her thoughts were 
scattered like her uneven steps. When she arrived back at the bakery 
she walked in Rosa kept her eyes down and pointed to the same chocolate 
cake that she bought before, having just enough for the cake and 
nothing left for her shower or bus fare to get to her daughter at the 
library. 

Late that night on a rusty park bench, covered by a filthy green blanket
Rosa licked her napkin and wiped the chocolate frosting off of her 
daughter's mouth. Malena massaging her mommy's sore hands kept asking 
what happened, but Rosa refused to scare her daughter. At first she 
thought about telling her that it was only a mugging, perhaps to warn 
her of the hazards of living on the streets. Rosa stroked Malena's hair 
as she nested her head on her mommy's lap; she told her daughter that 
she slipped into a thorn bush. Malena finally dozed off. Her warm head 
buried underneath the green blanket resting on her mommy's lap finally 
settled Rosa's stomach for the first time that day. 


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