THE BLACK ROSE ( for now….perhaps DRIED ROSE? WITHERED ROSE?)

When they were ( had been) schoolmates( classmates) Flora had jet very black hair and a very white, milk - white complexion, her cheeks reddened with emotion or cold. Her mouth, little, almost heart - shaped, and fleshy was very red. Now that she too, like Miriam, was in her sixties, she ( Miriam) would have expected ( would expect) to see her old friend if not with white hair, as Miriam had, with hair dyed a light color than her own pitch ( deep) black. But oh, now that Flora was in front of her she could see that she had the same deep black hair as when they were very young.

 Miriam, she couldn’t say if they seemed to her dyed or rather naturally black, and she didn’t dare  to   ask F. It had been a long time since they two hadn’t seen each other, even that they didn’t know anything about each other, that it seemed to Miriam ( to her) that the Flora now standing in front of her, she was another person ( someone other) than ( of) the one she had known at the very distant time when they both were ( had been) very young. Not that even then they , Miriam and Flora, had seen each other much, except that they saw every day at school , and sometimes to do the homework( out of the school).  They hadn’t even sat side by side at the same desk all five years of high school. Only a few times they had gone to the theater together. Flora also did theater, she had played in some plays at school, and her mother had been a good theater actress.

 Yet Miriam was convinced ( was sure) that they had been friends then, at the time they had been classmates ( schoolmates). Miriam  had a clear, precise memory of how F. had behaved on occasions ( circumstances) that were rather heavy and unpleasant for her ( for Miriam). She remembered ( or she seemed to hear F.’s words again) what F. had said. Oh, F. every time had said a few words, but such to leave her ( Miriam) amazed ( astonished), so much they ( her words) hit the mark, and, besides, they had been, punctually, every time, the words that she ( Miriam) needed to hear. Even words which none of  those ( friends or familiars or…) with whom she had been talking even for a long time had said. So that Miriam every time had asked herself, full of amazement and also of gratitude ( thanks) : “ But how can F. know me so well?”

And now here she was (is)  with her dark hair, with a very white complexion, and her red lips as she had been a long time ago, as a teenager…But, wait a minute…looking at her more closely perhaps her face was no longer exactly the same as it was then. It seemed less long and more rounded, and with cheekbones more pronounced.

“ But this is a miracle! It seems that time has not passed for you!” Miriam exclaimed.

“ Ah, I must confess that I have redone my face” Flora said smiling. But as she so said, she blushed, just as it was then, so long ago.  She ( Flora) passed her hands on her cheeks, pulling the skin : “ Yeah, I have to admit that I had a facelift” she said, still smiling. “ And you? Oh, I bet you haven’t resorted to these remedies, these adjustments….yet if they are such” Flora said, taking her arm in hand. “ Why this question? Are my wrinkles so much evident?” Miriam asked, with a slightly forced smile. “ But no! Indeed I find that you carry very well your years, which are also the ones I have. Rather I meant that you have these adjustments as little tricks to which resorted those  who care very much to appear, those who care above all of the appearance and not….what is more important than appearance “ They had meanwhile sat at a small table in an outdoor café.

“ Oh, don’t make me more serious than I am “ Miriam said. “ Yes, back then, in our school days, I was really one all ready to criticize those who care above all  the appearances, but  over time I learned that even appearances matter”

“ RED ROSES for YOU I give this night/ and your heart knows WHAT I want from you…..”

Someone , passing on the street, was singing.  “ Oh, but listen….RED ROSES for you! It’s a song  from then,  when we were fifteen ….” Flora said. “Yeah RED roses is….an evergreen  “   That song “ Red roses for you” to Miriam remembered another song from the time of their early youth, a song that spoke instead of ….an EVENING ROSE, which never turns BLACK. Evening was falling. Miriam and Flora were meeting again after almost….half a century. Who knows if they would ever see each other again after that time ( after that evening).

Miriam looked at Flora, at her face remade, at her skin smoothed by the facelift ….And suddenly came in her mind that Flora, with her very black hair, like she had when she was very young, with her red mouth, Flora too was a wonderful….RED ROSE or , perhaps, a wonderful BLACK ROSE. Like the black rose, she was something very rare, precious, enigmatic. Like the time that passes inexorably and  doesn’t come back, like the youth that passes away and you don’t even realize it.

But you can smell the scent….of the time gone by in a breath, of the youth gone by forever, yes, you can smell the past time of your youth in the EVENING AIR, in the air of an evening like this.

“ RED ROSES for you I gave this evening…..” Someone kept singing . It seemed to Miriam that someone was singing that song just for Flora…..or, perhaps, who knows, instead for her. But who was Flora? Was Flora a red rose or a BLACK ROSE? And she? WHAT was she? Miriam couldn’t answer. Oh , she would ask  her,  Flora. But she didn’t dare. So she kept looking at Flora. “ Oh, but with  such eyes you are looking at me!” Flora exclaimed. “ It seemed to me …oh, that I’m appearing to you as…..as an apparition!” Flora exclaimed.