feelings.
Pia said he was chaste, and that was why he was not
interested in women. Never once did I see a woman in his suite, except for Pia cleaning. Her husband beat her so badly she went deaf in one ear; her left eyelid drooped from when he flicked it half off with a knife tip.
Women could not tempt Tesla, she said.
One time Pia came in to work after a bad night and Tesla asked if she would go out and feed the pigeons with him. She was limping from a kick to the knee. Marco was handsome and slept with girls he met in bars; sometimes he brought one home and made Pia sleep on the couch while he took the girl into their bedroom. Then Pia would have to listen to them. I was very fond of Pia, but no one would have called her a good-looking woman. Mostly it was the harelip, since otherwise she was fine, warm brown eyes and a nice figure. I think thatâs why Marco picked her, because he knew she would feel lucky to have a man at all and he figured he needed someone who would work for her keep and would never leave him.
Tesla seemed to believe her stories, how she fell down the stairs, etc. One time she claimed her nose was broken by a childrenâs ball that burst through her kitchen window. I heard her tell him this because we were doing his rooms together. He nodded politely. But I happened to know her kitchen had no windows.
Tesla had close women friends, though none were his girlfriends. He believed women were as smart as men and that one day they would be just as educated and maybe even more so. Back then, in 1943, it was rare to hear anyone say such a thing. He also said that one day people would all carry little telephones in their pockets, telephones without wires.
Anyway, the morning Pia was limping, Tesla invited her to go feed the pigeons with him. She said she couldnât leave work. He said he knew a way she could sneak out if she wanted to meet him in the park. He said, âPlease, Mees,â and looked at her solemnly.
I was scrubbing the inside of his windows with balled-up newspaper. I said, âGo, go,â and promised I would cover for her. Pia never got to walk in the park. At least for me, on my way home to my apartment, I could take my time if it was still daylight, I could wait to get on the bus until the park was behind me, with its cool greenness and its shade in the summer, or its sloping fields of light snow in the winter. Then I dreamed as the bus carried me, dreamed as I was carried along in the warmth above the cold road below. I read cheap novels and I dreamed, but Pia did not know how to read.
She and Tesla went out and were gone for a couple of
hours. I scrubbed hard, tore around trying to do twice as much as I could so that I seemed like two women. It wasnât hard to get fired back then and I didnât want it to happen to Pia.
When they got back she looked happy. At the time I thought it was the fresh air that did it, having the sun on her face when she was almost always inside. I asked her how it had been and she half smiled, which she hardly ever did because it called attention. But she didnât say much.
It was three days later that I knocked on Teslaâs door with his new bags of birdseed on a handcart. The different seeds had to be mixed according to his recipe. There was a Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the doorknob, and it had been there too long and was alarming me, so when he didnât come to the door I went in with my key.
He was lying facing the wall, pigeons clucking around him. It was so cold in his room, I could see my breath. A small mourning dove strutted back and forth on his arm and I heard the faint sound of traffic; when he didnât notice the dove walking on him I knew he had gone away.
He had been gone for two days, they said when the doctor left. He was eighty-six, after all, and chest pains
had bothered him. Sometimes he fainted. Before I knew it the body had been removed. Later I found out someone made a death mask of his
Pia said he was chaste, and that was why he was not
interested in women. Never once did I see a woman in his suite, except for Pia cleaning. Her husband beat her so badly she went deaf in one ear; her left eyelid drooped from when he flicked it half off with a knife tip.
Women could not tempt Tesla, she said.
One time Pia came in to work after a bad night and Tesla asked if she would go out and feed the pigeons with him. She was limping from a kick to the knee. Marco was handsome and slept with girls he met in bars; sometimes he brought one home and made Pia sleep on the couch while he took the girl into their bedroom. Then Pia would have to listen to them. I was very fond of Pia, but no one would have called her a good-looking woman. Mostly it was the harelip, since otherwise she was fine, warm brown eyes and a nice figure. I think thatâs why Marco picked her, because he knew she would feel lucky to have a man at all and he figured he needed someone who would work for her keep and would never leave him.
Tesla seemed to believe her stories, how she fell down the stairs, etc. One time she claimed her nose was broken by a childrenâs ball that burst through her kitchen window. I heard her tell him this because we were doing his rooms together. He nodded politely. But I happened to know her kitchen had no windows.
Tesla had close women friends, though none were his girlfriends. He believed women were as smart as men and that one day they would be just as educated and maybe even more so. Back then, in 1943, it was rare to hear anyone say such a thing. He also said that one day people would all carry little telephones in their pockets, telephones without wires.
Anyway, the morning Pia was limping, Tesla invited her to go feed the pigeons with him. She said she couldnât leave work. He said he knew a way she could sneak out if she wanted to meet him in the park. He said, âPlease, Mees,â and looked at her solemnly.
I was scrubbing the inside of his windows with balled-up newspaper. I said, âGo, go,â and promised I would cover for her. Pia never got to walk in the park. At least for me, on my way home to my apartment, I could take my time if it was still daylight, I could wait to get on the bus until the park was behind me, with its cool greenness and its shade in the summer, or its sloping fields of light snow in the winter. Then I dreamed as the bus carried me, dreamed as I was carried along in the warmth above the cold road below. I read cheap novels and I dreamed, but Pia did not know how to read.
She and Tesla went out and were gone for a couple of
hours. I scrubbed hard, tore around trying to do twice as much as I could so that I seemed like two women. It wasnât hard to get fired back then and I didnât want it to happen to Pia.
When they got back she looked happy. At the time I thought it was the fresh air that did it, having the sun on her face when she was almost always inside. I asked her how it had been and she half smiled, which she hardly ever did because it called attention. But she didnât say much.
It was three days later that I knocked on Teslaâs door with his new bags of birdseed on a handcart. The different seeds had to be mixed according to his recipe. There was a Do Not Disturb sign hanging on the doorknob, and it had been there too long and was alarming me, so when he didnât come to the door I went in with my key.
He was lying facing the wall, pigeons clucking around him. It was so cold in his room, I could see my breath. A small mourning dove strutted back and forth on his arm and I heard the faint sound of traffic; when he didnât notice the dove walking on him I knew he had gone away.
He had been gone for two days, they said when the doctor left. He was eighty-six, after all, and chest pains
had bothered him. Sometimes he fainted. Before I knew it the body had been removed. Later I found out someone made a death mask of his
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