“They’re all thieves.”
“It’s so difficult to find a good one!”
“And when you do, it’s so difficult to keep her!”
“So true. They’re so proud that the littlest thing offends them.”
“I’ve had good luck hiring evangelicals and Adventists. Although, of course, they won’t lift a finger on Saturdays.”
“Even the saintliest ones bring men into the house.”
“And if she doesn’t steal from you, then the men she brings in do.”
“If I were to tell you . . .”
“And my God, how they eat!”
“The bad part about the ones that stay with you for a long time is that, bit by bit, they gain your trust and then they start to ask for favors and raises and loans. . . . I trade them all in for new ones at the end of each year.”
“I had one that would try on my clothes. I discovered it purely by chance. Obviously, I had to burn everything in the closet. That same day I went to Miami to go shopping. You know how it is, one calamity after another.”
“Oh, but I had one who tried to steal my husband. She’d make herself up every morning. Braided her hair, makeup, nails, tight little dress, like she was going to a party. And with that man, who’s a tiger. . . . I said to him: No, in my house, the prettiest one is me. I sent her packing right then and there.”
“I had one that started every day drunk.”
“I walked in on one masturbating.”
“My God in heaven! Where?”
“In her room—but tell me, is it, or is it not, my house?”
“Some of them stink.”
“Well, to me they all stink.”
“And what about the flood of children?”
“They have their first ones at thirteen or fourteen. . . .”
“Such ignorance!”
“I had one who couldn’t even write her numbers.”
“But, darling, I had one who signed her name with an X.”
“And those names they have. . . .”
“So stupid.”
“So ridiculous.”
“Sugeidy.”
Laughter.
“Primores.”
Laughter.
“Leididí.”
More laughter.
“Gracieusse!” said Adeline, giving a firm, curt clap. Her friends started laughing, buoyed along by the mood of the moment, but suddenly their laughter turned into shrieks of terror. Several dropped their glasses, which shattered as they hit the floor. The unanticipated screams served as prologue to an aghast silence.
We couldn’t see what had happened from where we were sitting, so we got up and peeped in. We couldn’t immediately identify the cause of the terror. We were entranced by the panicked ladies: petrified in various postures of fright, some covering their mouths with both hands.
But then we saw what they had seen.
It was a Congo so dark her skin glinted bluely. Her hair was a disaster, spiky and unkempt, as if she’d just had the restraints from an electroshock session removed. She was very short, with long arms and an abject face. She was barefoot and covered her nakedness with a scant yellow skirt and an old pink blouse. Both were far too small for her, as though a little girl had transformed into a woman overnight—as though she had never taken off the outfit someone had once dressed her in as a child. But the most terrible thing about her appearance was her eyes: blanched orbs that rolled in perpetual circles inside lidless sockets.
“Ladies,” said Adeline, “allow me to introduce Gracieusse.”
It was clear that some of the ladies were about to bolt. If they were unable to do so just at that moment it was because they were unsure as to which route to the door they could take without tripping over Adeline and Gracieusse.
“Your reaction is perfectly normal,” Adeline continued, undaunted. “I’ve invited you all to my home under a suspicion, which I’ve been able to confirm this evening listening to you talk: not a single one of you is satisfied with your domestic help, nor do you harbor any hope that the situation might improve in the future. I can solve your problem.”
The authority with which Adeline made her appeal relaxed the mood, although just slightly. Even the most cowardly among them considered staying to listen to what possible explanation Adeline might offer for having placed them in such a terrifying situation. Those who’d covered their mouths with their hands had not yet removed them.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” said Adeline in a serious tone accompanied by two concise claps of her hands, which had the effect of bringing Gracieusse instantly to her side. “Gracieusse doesn’t eat or sleep. It’s a good idea, however, to give her a bit of water now and then, once or twice per week, along with a handful of unsalted nuts. It’s important that she never taste salt.”
On the majority of faces the grimaces of consternation disappeared and were replaced by expressions of curiosity. Hands guarding mouths were withdrawn.
“Gracieusse does exactly as she’s told,” continued Adeline, “to the letter, even if the order she’s been given jeopardizes her own . . . existence. She doesn’t know how to differentiate. Of course, one must take precautions. After all, the smartest thing to do is to protect one’s investment.”
Cuesta Hermosa raised her glass of wine and took a sip. Piantini, Bella Vista, and Arroyo Hondo spread pâté on slices of bread. Los Ríos ate a grape. All eyes were on Adeline. No one dared ignore her presentation.
“Gracieusse has no sex drive. She has no idea what money is, and it doesn’t interest her. Gracieusse, in fact, doesn’t want anything, doesn’t know anything, doesn’t feel anything. Her sole purpose in life is to do what she’s told.”
Evaristo Morales, among those who’d screamed the loudest, stood up and approached Gracieusse, who, absently and acquiescently, allowed herself to be inspected.
“Boys and girls like Gracieusse come with their ears sealed with wax and a blindfold over their eyes. When they’re delivered these seals are broken. The voice of the first person who speaks in their presence will be, henceforth, like the voice of God. Their face, the face of their lord and master.”
“Do they come any taller?” asked Arroyo Hondo. “My ceilings are so high.”
“I can get them in any size you want.”
“Can their hair be done up?” asked Evaristo Morales. “Can they be dressed in other clothes?”
“Of course. I keep Gracieusse like this because she works in the washhouse out in the courtyard. It would be a waste of time and money to fix her up.”
“How much?” said Piantini, who’d taken out her checkbook and awaited an answer, pen aloft.
It was difficult to understand what was said in the chaos of the ensuing hour and a half. Adeline registered the orders of her friends (who continually interrupted one another with childish desperation) in a notebook and stored their payments in a shoebox. She made out an invoice and receipt for each transaction. That night Adeline collected several hundred thousand dollars, issued in cash and check. Bella Vista asked twice if she could pay by credit card. The response was in the negative both times. One of the ladies had the nerve to ask where she got them. Adeline replied that her husband and his associates were in charge of that—that the less she knew about it, the better. Before