Let me first say that I am a seventy-one year old widower, though you'd think I'm much younger by my appearance. Cancer took my wife, Annie, twenty-five years ago and I have been alone since. My health is not good. I have survived prostate cancer, a serious heart attack and I have C.O.P.D. Sex has not been a part of my life for many years, though I still think about it often with fond memories of the thirteen different casual and serious affairs in my history.
My health deteriorated to the point where I needed some help with the home that Annie and I had shared. I called a service and arranged for two cleaners to come in to do a long-needed deep cleaning of the entire place and once the small house was back in order, I asked them to send someone weekly to keep the place up.
The woman they sent was a young African woman named Mareme. Mareme was Senegalese. Over several weeks I learned she had been in the country for six years, coming with her family when she was 14 years old. When she arrived in the U.S. Mareme spoke no English, though her English is excellent now, but with a thick accent. Physically, Mareme is 5', 4", with a petite frame and flawless skin the color of dark chocolate. She is a lovely young woman both physically and personality wise.
For six months Mareme came once a week, spending three or four hours doing light cleaning, laundry and other household chores I either couldn't or didn't want to do for myself. It was a pleasure to watch her work, which she did cheerfully, often humming unfamiliar music from her homeland. Her smile was broad and engaging. As she worked diligently, we conversed about my life and hers. She had many stories about her family and her home country to share. I learned that Mareme was saving money to get an education. She had graduated from high school but went immediately to work to help support her family. She was enrolled in a community college and was attending night classes so she could continue to work during the day. She had ambition and she was clearly an intelligent woman, expressing admiration for my shelves and shelves of books, often taking them down and glancing in them while she was dusting. I invited her to take any that she liked because I had no one to leave them to and they'd just be going to a thrift shop after I was gone. Though none of were exactly on today's best sellers list, Mareme would occasionally take one she was curious about but she insisted on returning it.
One day I asked Mareme if she could drive. I had an idea that I wanted to increase her hours so that she could also run errands and do some of my shopping. She told me that she did not have a license, though it was something she wanted to do when she could afford driving lessons. I told her what I had in mind and offered to pay for a private driving school so that I wouldn't have to hire someone else. She agreed so I made the arrangements and six weeks later she proudly showed me her brand new license. She expressed her gratitude with a hug, one that left me longing for more.
I committed to paying Mareme for a full day's work every week and to have her be "on call" if I ever needed her for a critical errand on short notice as long as she could accommodate me without conflicting with her other work or classes.
On one of her usual Wednesdays, Mareme had finished in the bedroom, so I went to lay down while she did laundry and finished cleaning the kitchen and bathroom. I left the bedroom door open and was listening to her work while humming some of her favorite melodies. Mareme came into the bedroom with an armload and laundry to put away. She asked if it was okay to come in. I told her it was okay, that I wasn't sleeping.
Mareme paused in the middle of her work. She had noticed my wife's jewelry box on the bureau where she was putting laundry away. I had been looking at it earlier and had left the lid open. "Did this belong to your Mrs?"
"Yes," I said. "Annie didn't actually wear jewelry very often. She was more of a collector. None of what's there is precious, no diamonds, emeralds or rubies, but some of the costume pieces are quite valuable, at least according to Annie. There are a lot collectible art deco designs. She was especially fond of bracelets and arm bands. Now that she's gone, I like to look at them sometimes."
"This one is beautiful," Mareme said, holding up a bronze metal bracelet set with deep red jasper stones.
"One of Annie's favorites," I told Mareme. "She bought that at an estate sale for almost nothing. She said it was worth quite a bit. Go ahead, try it on."
"Oh, I couldn't do that, Mr. Martin. This is something special to you."
"Please. You'd be doing me a favor. I'd like to see it on a beautiful woman again."
If Mareme could have blushed, I think she would have. She tried on the bracelet and held her arm out to show me. I swung my feet off the bed and sat up. "It's lovely on you, Mareme. Would you like to have it?"
"That, I cannot do," she said. "I could get fired from my job."
"I understand," I told her. "How about if you wear it for me when you come to work. Same goes for anything else you admire. Go ahead and try on some other things. Model for me."
Mareme smiled her broad smile, white teeth lighting up the room. She picked out a couple of bracelets and put them on her wrists and an armlet on her upper arm. Mareme was transforming herself into one of most exotic beauties I had ever seen. She took out an elaborate looking necklace, silver, set with large pieces of green malachite. She held it up to her elegant neck.
