Solace And Rosanna Ch 16

2000: “Aren’t you ready yet, Sol?” called Rosanna impatiently from Solace’s living room. She glanced again at her watch, noting they had less than an hour to get to the rehearsal in time. They would have to take a taxi. Katrina would give them the evil eye. Rosanna could not understand why Solace found it so difficult to get herself together each time. She seemed to be organized only half the time and the other she spent in a hopeless state of confusion. Rosanna huffed in agitation. Suddenly, her nostrils were assailed by a wonderful floral fragrance. She smiled in spite of her annoyance. Solace was such a girl sometimes—wearing skirts, hose, heels, and makeup, perfume. Secretly, Rosanna found this side of Solace quite appealing and alluring. At other times, Rosanna was unable to persuade Solace to wear anything but her worn jeans, a tee-shirt and her favorite pair of multi-colored sneakers.

“What are you doing in there?” Rosanna stormed from corner to corner, gathering up Solace’s cane, coat, music, knapsack, (she made sure that Solace’s wallet was in the front pocket of the sack where it could easily be reached). She placed the items neatly by the front door. Rosanna wondered how long it would take for Solace to locate her things. Of course, she would have to tell her if it looked like she would never put her hands on them. Rosanna would mold Solace into organization, no matter how aggravating and/or lengthy the process might be. Ironically, Solace was an absolute model of efficiency in the kitchen and woe be unto anyone who re-arranged her spices and utensils. However, this seemed to be the only evidence that she had a clue about living in an orderly fashion.

Rosanna would usher Solace out of the apartment as she emerged from the bathroom. She was halted in her efforts by a distress call.

“Sanna! Help! My hair’s rebelling!” Solace whined. “I can’t get these damned combs to stay in. I think I’m pulling my hair out. I’m going to have bald patches.”

“If you can’t get them in, nobody can, Sol. Now hurry up! We’re already late. We should have left at least an hour ago.” Rosanna said as she jammed an arm into the sleeve of her suit jacket. She wore a black tailor-made pantsuit with a cream-colored silk blouse and highly polished black boots. The diamond studs in her ears sparkled as they caught the light and she wore diamond cufflinks at her wrists, of course, her ensemble was made complete by her signature fragrance, Sensuale.

“Please, Sanna! I promise. That’s all I’ll ask you to do, and I’ll be ready in two minutes.” Solace cooed, knowing this would have an effect on Rosanna who hated to see her in peril, no matter how slight.

”Sure,” Rosanna replied, growling slightly as she straightened her buttons and marched towards Solace’s distress call. As she neared the doorway, she stopped short, her breath catching in her throat. She gazed at the vision before her. Solace stood there, positively stunning, in a dress of midnight-blue silk and black pumps, her wavy hair cascaded down her back. The dress accented Solace’s curvaceous form and Rosanna enjoyed both the view from behind as well as Solace’s beautifully made-up reflection in the mirror. Solace turned to Rosanna and thrust two ornamental combs at her. Rosanna took the combs from Solace’s trembling hands, but instead of attempting to arrange them artfully in the mass of waves, she laid them on the counter near the sink.

“Leave your hair down, Sol. You look lovely,” she said huskily, pulling Solace towards her and burying her face in her neck. She found Solace’s entire appearance intoxicating and had forgotten why she had entered the room in the first place.

“Sanna! Stop that! We’ll be even later than we are.” Solace sighed as her pulse quickened, which might send her over the edge as she was already feeling that nervous twinge in her stomach, which she always experienced prior to performing. Rosanna’s touch inflamed her, though, no matter where they were or what they were doing. This power was both a blessing and a curse.

“Look who’s talking,” Rosanna murmured through kisses that were becoming ever more fervent and lower on Solace’s body. She wrapped her arms around Solace’s waste and crushed her close, her hands gliding seductively over Solace’s smooth hips, the silky dress offering no friction. Rosanna moaned as her tongue neared the top of Solace’s breast. She had been driven to distraction by the sight and scent of this woman. The rehearsal might as well have been next year instead of in the next hour. She began to slide the thin straps of the dress down, but was thwarted in her efforts.

“Sanna,” Solace breathed. “We can’t. We have a rehearsal to do.” With an effort rivaling any feat undertaken by Xena, Warrior Princess, Solace extricated herself from Rosanna’s fevered embrace and kisses. She placed her hands on Rosanna’s chest, pushing her back towards the wall. “Wait till we get back, lover, okay?” Solace kissed her quickly and darted out before she could be caught up in activity neither of them could resist. Solace ran into her living room, searching frantically for her belongings. Rosanna waited for her breathing to calm and then followed. Seeing Solace fly around the room like a headless chicken, she stood there with an evil grin on her face.

“Where is my stuff? I can’t find anything,” Solace shouted. “We really are gonna be late, Sanna. Help!” Taking pity on her near-hysterical friend and feeling a pang of guilt, Rosanna took the bewildered woman by the hand and led her to the tidy pile by the door.

“You are one evil woman, Sanna Romero. Why didn’t you just tell me my stuff was by the door?” Solace huffed.

“Sol, you need to be more organized. You’re always looking for something. If you would put your—“ Rosanna did not have a chance to finish.

“I am organized, in my own way. Who says people have to put things where you think they should put them, Sanna?” Solace’s face was turning red as she yanked on her coat and attempted to put her right arm in the left sleeve, muttering in protest. “You just think everybody should be as fastidious as you are. Well, we don’t all go that way, Ms. Romero. Some of us target our organizational efforts in other directions.”

Rosanna’s laughter bubbled up from her stomach to her throat, but she resisted the urge to let it out. Finally, she reached out, pushed down Solace’s arms, slid the coat off, stood behind Solace and waited for her to calm down. As Rosanna eased the coat over Solace’s shoulders, she kissed her on the cheek.

“Don’t patronize me, Sanna,” came Solace’s irritated reply. Rosanna threw her hands up in mock surrender.

“All right, Sol. I’m sorry. Let’s just go.” She gave Solace her cane and knapsack, and they exited the apartment.

Rosanna hailed a taxi. She bundled Solace inside, slammed the door, and rattled off the address to the driver. Rosanna twined her warm fingers into Solace’s frigid digits..

“Sol, I am sorry. I just think you might be able to find things if you—“ Solace interrupted her.

“Sanna, do I tell you how to run your business?”

“Well, no, but—“ Rosanna answered.

“Well, don’t worry about how I run my life. If you don’t want to help me find stuff, don’t. I’ll find it eventually. Why should it freak you out so much? I don’t care how neat you are. Why should it matter?” Solace finished.

Rosanna blew out an exasperated breath. “I know if shouldn’t matter, but I’m just trying to help you.”

“You don’t have to help me, Sanna. Just be my friend, okay?” Solace gave Rosanna a quick peck on the cheek. At that moment, the cab swerved and sent Solace and Rosanna slamming into each other.

“Hey!” Solace shrieked. “Watch out!”

Rosanna placed a protective arm about Solace’s waist.

“Calm down, Sol. He was just trying to avoid a biker.”

“Damn bikers. I hate them!” Solace mumbled.

“Okay,” Rosanna said in what she hoped was a soothing tone.

Solace dropped her head onto the back of the seat. It was so warm in the cab, but her hands felt like ice cubes. She was so nervous about the performance. She had a key solo and had practiced so fervently that her fingers became numb with fatigue from going over the Braille score. She did not feel comfortable without her music. She suddenly leaned forward.

“My music!” She cried.

“It’s in your bag. See, you didn’t even remember until now,” Rosanna chided. She could feel Solace’s tension mounting, though, and knew that she was in for a near complete meltdown. Solace was such an excellent performer but she became totally neurotic and unglued before each performance, often regurgitating at the last moment. She would wretch until there was nothing but dry heaves and then proceed to sing, dance or act as if she had had a relaxing yoga session beforehand. Rosanna hated seeing her friend go through such torture. She wished there were a magic, non-addictive, side-effect free pill available for severe stage fright. She would buy stock in the company or at least have her mother keep the wonder drug in stock for these occasions.

“Sanna, why did you let me eat lunch? My stomach feels like it’s going to revolt.” Solace hung her head as if it weighed a hundred pounds. “Can we stop somewhere? I—“ She clutched at her middle.

“No throwing up in my cab, please!” The cab driver caught Rosanna’s eye in the mirror.

“Oh, God, no. Sol. Please! Not here. Not now! Wait till we get to the hall at least.” Rosanna pleaded. She looked up. They were driving through Central Park and there was no way they could jump out to allow Solace to empty her nervous stomach.

“Is she drunk?” asked the cabbie.

“No. She’s just got stage fright.” Rosanna replied as she stroked Solace’s back.

“Stage fright. What is stage fright?” insisted the driver. “Why would she be afraid of a stage? What can it do to her?”

“No, it’s not that. She’s a performer and—“ Rosanna realized that she did not owe the driver any explanations. She closed her mouth, vaguely noticing that her own nerves were showing themselves through her accent, which was becoming progressively thicker. It must have been all those years spent with her Abuelita Carmen, who had taught her Spanish. “Just drive, please.”

“Sanna?” Solace whimpered.

“Yes, Sol.”

“I’m not gonna make it.” Solace could feel her throat muscles working and her stomach lurch. She put her hands over her mouth, tears beginning to run down her cheeks, smearing her makeup.

Thinking quickly, Rosanna grabbed Solace’s knapsack, emptied its contents and held it under Solace’s weaving head.

“Don’t throw up in my cab!” yelled the driver.

“She’s not going to, you jerk!” Rosanna screamed as Solace abruptly released the contents of her stomach into the awaiting backpack. The smell that filled the car was overwhelming, and the driver quickly rolled down all four windows to let in a chilly blast of March air.

“I hope you are having napkins, Miss. I still have to pick up customers and they will not be happy to sit in my cab with a mess on the seat,” barked the driver as he pulled to the curb and stopped the car.

“You know, a woman just got sick in your cab and all you can think of is your damned next fare. You don’t even give a crap whether she’s all right or not.” Rosanna was beginning to feel a surge of anger as she hunted in her own bag for a tissue, a napkin, anything that Solace could use to wipe her mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” Solace said weakly, wrinkling her nose at the awful taste in her mouth.

“I don’t care what you do, just get something. My cab is now smelling like a drunk was in here. I am going to lose a lot of money tonight,” whined the driver, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest.

“You know. You’re really starting to get me upset,” Rosanna snarled as she handed Solace a silk handkerchief. “I said we would clean your damned cab and I will. But could you just wait a minute?”

“Sanna? Okay. Calm down. Remember, we still have to get to the hall.” Solace placed a restraining hand on Rosanna’s shoulder. She could hear the rage rising in Rosanna’s voice and knew that injury to the cabbie might be imminent. To her relief, she found that she felt a bit better.

“All right,” came Rosanna’s soft but menacing reply, her eyes never leaving those of the driver. The two remained locked in a glaring contest.

Solace released her grip on Rosanna’s arm. She zipped up her now ruined knapsack, thanking the heavens that it had been relatively inexpensive. She could barely stand to hold it, but she placed it carefully on the floor. Thank god, Rosanna had been such a quick thinker or who knew what a mess there might have been. When they got out, she would toss it in the nearest trash bin. She then began searching for her things, which Rosanna had seemingly flung to the four corners of the back seat.

“I see a convenience store. I’m going to run over and get some air freshener. You stay here, Sol.” Rosanna commanded. She snatched up the knapsack, threw open the door and leapt out. Once outside, she held the bag at a safe distance and gingerly rummaged through the pockets, making sure that Solace would not be throwing away any items she might need. She found a garbage basket and tossed it in. She looked up, noticed she had the light and dashed across the street and into the store.

“You’re a very beautiful woman. It’s too bad you don’t know how to hold your liquor. But would you be interested in helping a poor man obtain citizenship into this fine and prosperous country?”

Solace was so shocked by this man’s bold statements, she hardly knew how to respond.

“First of all, I am not a drunk. I just have terrible stage fright.” Her voice still sounded slightly shaky in her ears. She would have to do some serious warming up to get it in shape for the performance. “And secondly, I am certainly not interested in marrying a total stranger, no matter how great he thinks our country is,” she finished with a final blast of rancid air, which caused her stomach to lurch in revolt. No, not again. Please. Without thinking, she lunged through the open door, stepped a few paces, leaned over the curb and surrendered to her stomach’s demand for purging itself. As she stood up, she weaved a bit and reached out to steady herself against a solid object. The object turned out to be Rosanna, who had come racing back across the street, saw Solace heaving what could only be air at this point, tossed the bag into the cab and ran to take her outstretched arm. I do need a drink, Rosanna thought vaguely as she leaned Solace against a mailbox and began to gather up their things. She crammed as much of Solace’s items into her own shoulder bag as possible and jammed the rest into any available pocket in Solace’s coat as well as her own leather jacket. As the knapsack had been the willing recipient, there was very little to clean up. Rosanna removed the can of air freshener from the brown paper bag and sprayed it liberally into the car. For good measure she aimed the can into the driver’s area and sprayed furiously, not missing his mirror, the dashboard, the front window and the seat.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?” screamed the driver as he got a head full of ode de rose. Rosanna did not answer. She simply slammed the door and turned to Solace. The cab screeched away.

“Are you feeling better, Sol?”

“I think so. Thanks. Where are we?”

“Well, we’re on the west side anyway. We just have to walk a few blocks. Do you think you can handle that? Here. Have some water. You can rinse with it.” Rosanna unscrewed the top of a small bottled water and handed it to Solace, who proceeded to do as advised. Once done, she turned to face Rosanna and felt a stick of gum being pressed into her hand which she also took with gratitude.

“Is there nothing you don’t think of, woman?” Solace asked incredulously.

“I try to cover all the bases.” Rosanna answered with a slight smirk. Come on. Take my arm. Are those shoes good for walking?”

“I certainly hope so.” Solace said, unfolding her cane, but also taking Rosanna’s arm.

“You don’t need—“ Rosanna began but stopped herself.

“You’re learning, Sanna.” Solace squeezed Rosanna’s arm and they made the short jaunt uptown.

When they entered the hall, they ran straight for the nearest ladies’ room where Solace gazed into the large mirror to assess her appearance. Aside from her makeup needing repair, she had sustained no major damage to her beautiful dress. After washing her face, rinsing again, and running a brush through her hair, she asked Rosanna for another piece of gum and, in her most woebegone voice, if she had any makeup.

“You know I leave the femme stuff up to you, Sol.” Rosanna responded, shrugging her shoulders. “Don’t you walk with extra?”

“I for—“ Solace had begun to say the word forgot, but she thought better of it. Instead she said, “Okay. You’re right.” She picked up her cane, which she had dropped on the counter. She flung open the door and headed toward the recital hall auditorium. Rosanna followed closely on her heels. Solace ran into the hall where the women of the ensemble were assembled. She called out as she practically flew down the aisle, “Does anyone have any makeup for a leche con café complexion?” Peels of laughter could be heard throughout the space as the women recognized the approaching woman. This was not the first time Solace had needed last-minute assistance. As their laughter died down, some women could be heard grumbling, others could be heard snickering and talking to their neighbors, and still others jumped to their feet and ran to retrieve their bags, peering inside to see if they had a shade that would work for Solace.

“You don’t need any makeup, Solace. Now get your ass up here!” came the abrupt tones of a woman many of the women called Gruff Gretchen, a no-nonsense second alto.

“All right, ladies.” Interrupted the smooth voice of Katrina, their conductor. “Solace and Rosanna, why are you so late? Never mind. Tell me later. I think I might have an idea already. Solace, do you at least have your music?” Katrina sighed in exasperation as she started for her own briefcase. She had forced Solace, under pain of death, to provide her with several copies of her Braille music as she had become accustomed to Solace’s knack for losing and/or forgetting her music in her nervousness. The performances were too important to leave anything to this brilliant, yet hopelessly scatterbrained young woman.

“Rosanna has it somewhere,” came Solace’s sweet reply as she traipsed daintily down the carpet, Rosanna trailing behind like her maid servant, laden with coats and bags.

Katrina ran to take Solace’s arm and led her up the short flight of steps. At the top, Solace was met by Sasha, who dusted her cheeks with blush and her lips with a light lipstick.

“That looks great. You’re a lucky woman, Solace,” said Katrina as she stood waiting patiently for the job to be completed.

“Thank you,” Solace said to both women as she took her seat. Rosanna stood, shaking her head. You would have thought Solace were a queen and these women her royal minions. Well, actually, she was as beautiful, if not more so, than any queen and Rosanna would have walked on hot coals for her. But that was a thought for another time. She placed bag and baggage in a seat and took her place in the second alto section next to Gruff Gretchen.

“Solace looks good enough to eat. You’re a lucky woman, Rosanna,” whispered Gretchen.

“Thank you. But that is a thought that is best left unspoken, Gretchen,” Rosanna replied through gritted teeth. It was no secret that Gretchen had her eye on Solace and this caused Rosanna’s blood to boil.

“I’m just paying you a compliment, Hon,” smirked Gretchen lewdly.

Rosanna did not answer, but opened her music in preparation for the two-hour rehearsal.