The Foreigners - Maxine Swann [66]
Alicia dressed in beautiful, colorful clothes. On her travels around the various South American capitals, she always went to look at new designers’ collections. She’d come back with long patchwork evening dresses, necklaces made of cloth. She’d had some plastic surgery done, but tastefully, tastefully. She only went to the best doctors, the ones that foreigners used—Argentina has long been a destination, along with Brazil, for plastic surgery candidates from around the world. You can get quality work done for a very decent price. Among another class of foreigners of lesser means, it’s also a place to do complex dentistry. The families of middle-class Americans who visit them here always schedule to get their dental work done at the same time, root canals, caps. An added benefit, along with price, is that foreigners can spend a few weeks incognito, only returning to their version of civilization once their wounds have healed.
Isolde brought Alicia tea when the maid had stepped out. She made unimportant calls. Her accent worked in her favor. She looked at children’s charities on the Internet, marking ones that looked promising. She had hoped to get more involved in the art angle. Had she been too pushy here? Alicia seemed to like to deal with that side herself.
The difficulty was that Alicia was absentminded. She’d forget to tell Isolde to do something and then get angry when it wasn’t done. She was terribly disorganized. She’d go to a meeting and forget her notes. But she had power, she had money, she was seductive and able to win people over. In Alicia’s absentmindedness, Isolde saw her niche. She could help Alicia to structure her life. She began prompting Alicia to call that person or write that letter.
“This is where I feel like I can really help her,” Isolde told me. “I can make her whole life smoother in a way she can’t imagine. Soon, I’ll become indispensable to her.”
After our lunch, Isolde went back to the office. It was Monday, Alicia was in San Pablo, returning that afternoon in time for a board meeting in her office. But, as usual, Alicia was late. Luckily, Isolde was there to greet the board members as they came in. Nearly everyone in the room was much older than Isolde. But they were gracious and seemed interested in Alicia’s new protégé. They asked her questions about herself. She amped up her professional biography somewhat, not of the things she’d done here—they would surely know—but on the Austrian side. She alluded to contacts in the European art world. This was the first important meeting she’d been asked to attend and already it was going so well. At one point, everyone in the room seemed to be listening to her. Jokes were made about her youth and beauty. She felt celebrated. But when Alicia arrived, Isolde could tell right away that something was wrong. After the board meeting, Alicia asked Isolde to come into her office and told her that she was letting her go. Isolde was so shocked, she blurted out the first thing that came into her mind.
“But you can’t. You need me!”
“I’m sorry,” Alicia said. “I think the chemistry’s wrong.”
“What chemistry? You haven’t even given me a chance.”
Now Alicia just looked at her, an unswerving gaze.
Isolde turned away and burst into tears.
She didn’t even remember leaving Alicia’s. Only later that night, alone in her apartment, did it occur to her that she hadn’t been paid for the week she’d worked. Now that was really an injustice. She had to be paid. She determined to show up the next day and insist on getting the money that was her due.
The morning of the following day, Isolde rang Alicia’s bell. The maid answered over the intercom. There were several maids. This one, Belén, seemed very young, just a girl, Isolde had thought, until she’d learned one day that Belén had five children.
Ten minutes passed before Bel