The sky was bright as we stepped into Lady Liberty’s shadow that day in late February. Aria was smiling. She was just ten. She had turned ten sometime during the blurry days on sea as we travelled from Italy to America. And we finally reached the United States–we were there! Mother had made us promise to get there before she died, i was hardly fifteen but i had sworn to taste liberty. And now, a year later, we had finally made it.
I can still remember Aria’s smile that day. She practically glowed, pulling at my arm to hurry on to Ellis Island and off that ghastly ship. I’m sure everyone was happy to get off that ship, yet know one knew what lay ahead of us. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free.” was all we needed to hear to rush to America. Now that i look back, i’m not sure what i was expecting. Warm food, a glass of clean water, maybe a bed for the night. But Ellis Island; gleaming in the midday sun, holding Liberty’s torch, offered us no such hope. Stamps, health checks, glowers and glares were all it gave us. Yet Aria’s spirit could not be deflated. Even when we were shoved into the darkening night, our stomachs growling, she didn’t mutter a complain. She smiled. But i was worried.
We had been given a name of a place for young girls to stay at, somewhere along the massive New York Island, but the confusion of the city and the language that was not my own kept me from reaching the place till long after the sun disappeared. I was scared for my life, walking down those streets with little Aria. Drunken men fell across our path, factory workers covered in smoke shoved us along. And as the sky became darker my hope faltered. Though Aria still smiled.
Finally i reached the door of a shuddering building, old and whining in the city’s heart. Working Women and Young Children was stamped to the door and i knocked nervously, Aria asleep in my arms.
An old women answered, her face creased with anger, her dirty nightgown rusling against the creaking floorboards. She said something to me.
“Please.” i fumbled, offering Aria and taking a step forward. She sighed and pulled me in, mumbling incoherently though i caught “Italian’s” and “one room” and “job is neccessary”. I just nodded and allowed myself to be led to a small apartment. I didn’t dare ask for food as she closed the door tightly behind me. I let out a sigh and looked around me.
The room was dark and I could hear the familiar scampering of rats around me. The bed looked sunken and greasy in the dim light. No candle was to be found. But it was ours. And it was in America.
I placed Aria gently on the weak bed, kneeling beside her as I hummed an Italian song.
“Rosalie?” she called, her small arm wrapping around mine. “Rosalie, do you think Momma is happy? Now that we’re here?”
“Yes, but sleep, Aria. Dream of her so tomorrow will be good.”
*
The first day was the hardest. The owner of the house woke us with a jump as he came into our room screaming. I couldn’t understand her, tears were streaming from Aria and my eyes as she fumed about the room, ready to beat us. Finally a woman ran in the room, calming the woman and pointing to us until finally the owner left.
The lady knelt next to us and spoke, her italian flowing familiarly into my ears.
“Jonesworth is a hag, angry at the world.” she explained, “This is a workers boarding house and she expects all to have jobs and continue to have jobs. And when you didn’t leave this morning with the rest, she thought you were cheating your way in. I am Lessy, Alessandra really.”
“I am Rosalie and this is my sister, Aria.” I bretahed, wiping the tears from Aria’s face.
“Yes, well I suppose you just got here–to America. You’ll pick up on english soon enough, at least enough to get by. But in the meantime, you can count on me. You must ind a job though or you wont be able to stay here. I told Jonesworth that you started tomorrow. And it best be true.”
She got up to leave and i found myself close to tears again.
“Wait–Lessy!” she turned and smiled.
“What about food?”
Her nose wrinkled, “You’re on your own there. Jonesworth allows you to cook here, but she wont provide the food. And it’s 8 dollars a month. I’d pay it all at once or Jonesworth has a way of forgetting you payed a bit before.”
And then she left, and Aria crawled into my arms, sniffling. “I don’t want to work.”
“It’s alright, Aria. Momma’s watching us. I’m sure we can work together…we’ll find a way.”
I heard Jonesworth screaming down the hall at some other resident so I quickly brushed Aria off and we ran to the door and into the streets of New York. It was dirty.
The glowing light hid no detail. Dirt hung in the air, rats crawled across the streets, rummaging in holes stinking of human dung. I could feel the sweat in the air and taste the smoke and alcohol. The buildings seemed to lean into each-other, creaking with each movement. I could hear screams up and down the street, see men collapsed in the alley’s. It wasn’t the country I had imagined.
Aria was wimpering at my side, holding my hadn’t close as she looked around. Her smile was gone.
“Why did Momma want us here?” she whispered, her face crinkling.
I sighed, making sure to breathe in through my mouth so i didn’t smell the grime. “I don’t know….”
Then we walked, carefully stepping across bodies through the alley and searching for a main street. We tried many places. Groceries, schools, mills, factories. But all either kicked us out when they heard our language or threatened to place us in different area’s and at different times. Aria was too young, we were too feeble. reason after reason slammed doors in our faces. Finally i realized something had to be done. We had to lie.
“Aria, you are twelve now. You have to remember that.”
“But i’m not–i’m hardly ten!”
“No, you are twelve and if you forget it, you can be sure momma will forget you. Do you understand? In order for us to live, you must be twelve.”
Her face dropped and she nodded, stepping uncomfortably. “Momma said God would punish you if you lied.” she mumbled, not daring to look at me.
“Yes, well, it’s not a lie anymore. It’s a fact. You are twelve, understand?” I sighed as she pouted, still not ready.
“Aria, momma wants you to do this. You have to do this. God will understand. Let’s just…how about we make it a game? The winner is the oldest and you become older by…doing things that the other deems worthy of gaining a year. And i’m giving you a head start by saying you’re already twelve!”
Her face lit up, “Why? What did i do?”
“Well, you’re going to get a job, of course. And that is worth two years, don’t you think?”
She thought for a moment, her dark hair blowing in a breeze.
“Well, aren’t you getting a job, too? I don’t want you to be eighteen.”
I laughed, “Fine, it won’t count for me. Just for you. Is that good? Can you be twelve for me?”
She nodded eagerly, grabbing my hand and prancing across the street. I pulled her towards a building the last factory had told me of, The Triangle Shirtwaist factory Building. It was at the top of the horrid brown building.
My heart was pounding as I walked in, a woman looked us up and down, then nodded towards the back. I walked silently to a door and knocked. When I heard a noise, Aria and I entered.
A Fat man looked up at us from his papers. I heard him mumble “Italian’s” but kept silent.
Finally he stood and paced around us, grabbing either of us and looking at our hands, pinching our arms. Finally he sat back down. He said something to us, but i couldn’t understand. Then he yelled, “Age?”
I stuttered around the strange english language. “Sixteen and…twelve”
He huffed. Then stood again. I can remember my heartbeat. It was as fast and as painful as when momma had died.
Finally he pushed us in front of him and into a small elevator. he started speaking slowly so we could understand, though it didn’t help much.
“Sew…six dollar’s week…good…morning.”
I just nodded, not daring to ask him to repeat. We had a job!
As the elevator came to a stop we found ourselves surrounded by the hum of sewing machines and sweating girls. The windows were huge, filling the room with light and heat. Most girls sat at sewing machines, but some ran from place to place with fabric or sat, busily folding. I looked anxiously around though no one returned the stairs. Then the man stepped forward and grabbed a woman and pointed to us. Then he left, making sure that we stayed upstairs. i was already breaking into a sweat. Aria shuffled uncomfortably next to me, pulling at her collar. the the woman came up to us and the workers slowed just a bit.
Once again the voice that greeted me dripped with the familiar Italian tone.
“The new ones work with the bundlers. They’re the ones folding. And this young one…” she looked at Aria, “How old is she?” her voice raising incredolously.
“I’m twelve.” Aria spouted with a smile before i could respond.
“Huh.” said the woman, “Well, she’ll probably stay there till she grows a bit, but eventually you’ll become a sewer and maybe a runner one day. But today you’ll work with Geneva. She’s the small italian by the window. You’ll get a dollar a dollar a day each, unless old Grayson is foul. He’s the machine operator; the boss. He gave you the job. And he’ll take it as quickly if he finds out you’re not working. So get to it. Oh–and I’m Sofia.”
“I’m Ros–”
“Don’t care.” she interrupted, “I don’t want to know. Just get to work or we’ll both lose our jobs.”
I stuttered for a moment, surprised at her sudden change in voice. She had seemed friendly, but her outburst had proved that wrong.
I pulled Aria along, to Geneva. She smiled up at us.
“So, you must be new–from Italy?”
We nodded.
“Oh, do tell me about it! I miss it so. Not that i rightly remember it. I was three when we came over. say, how old are you? can’t be more than eleven!”
“I’m twelve.” she said, nodding at me. “Twelve.”
“Hm.” she said, “Well don’t that make me feel old! I just turned thirteen and you look so…young. Oh, well don’t mind Sofia, she just tries to be tough. Doesn’t want to make friends because she’s bitter. Don’t ask me about what. But that’s not like me–here, start folding; just like this–i love people! And italians are best. My parents, if we were rich, would invite you to supper and it’d be a decent Italian meal. But we’re not, not yeat at leats. One day, says papa. And i hope so. Working here is tiring. i don’t know how some the girls do it and manage to live a life. See Rebbeca over there, on the machine. her parent’s are from Lithuania; isn’t that fun to say? Well she just got engaged to an american. They say it’s because she has lighter skin then most of us. Because i’m sure you know…well, maybe you’ll come to know that immigrants aren’t liked much by the white american’s. last week papa saw a smart man excluded from a rightful job just because he said he’s from europe. they don’t like us. But the chinese are worse, i heard. I don’t know any. Jiana–she’s a runner–says it’s because they’re all killed if they’re seen, so they hide during the day. i don’t rightfully believe that. it seems oddly fascinating though. imagine, if it were true i mean, not going out in the day. Not that we get out much in the day. Stuck in here till late noon time.”
I was surprised to see such a flow of words. She didn’t seem to breathe as i watched her. Aria would constantly look at me nervously, almost as if she expected Geneva to blow. but she didn’t. And soon the never-ending hum of her voice caused the work to go faster. Folding became rythmic as her voice flowed with her movements and we followed silently along.
But finally, the end came. A bitter bell rang through the building and, like bee’s to honey, all work stopped and the women stood a walked in a flood toward the doors. And, as if a weight had been lifted, they all started talking at once. Hundreds of voices, different languages and pitches, reverberated throughout the room. Geneva eagerly stood, grabbing our hands and pulling us into the sea of women.
“See, the doors are locked till the finish bell. been like that since a strike a few years ago. it was monstrous. i wasn’t here; i started just a year ago. But the older girls said it was huge. Lasted for four months and didn’t get them anything. Except locked doors.”
The lock unlatching silenced Geneva’s rambling as the girls all started to flood out down the stairs. The fresh air was enough to keep her silent as everyone just soaked it in. It was still hot, but it was like a cleansing, salty sea breeze compared to that ninth-level room. And then we hit the streets. Groups of girls parted or ran across streets together. They flooded out in different directions, most heading to wherever they called home and all seeming to run away from that hot, brown building.
Geneva waved goodbye after saying a few more sentences and we were left alone, Aria and I.
We didn’t say a word as we looked around, both silenced by the day we had spent. Finally I looked at Aria.
“Ready to go home?”
“To Italy?” she asked, her eyes brightening. My heart broke.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
And then we walked back to the boarding house.
*
Days passed in a blur as we struggled to become used to the horrid sweatshop. Geneva kept us entertained and we did meet a few new people. We finally received our pay and fed ourselves. We got used to rats scurrying across our feet at night and hearing the waking bell that Jonesworth rang every morning to get her tenants to work. We learned to handle the sweatshop and became the best folders, according to geneva. Sofia did learn our names and yelled at us a few times but i began to see that geneva was right; she must be tired. The days were fast when we learned to ignore the dates and rather just walk through each one. Soon going to the bathroom in the streets and never bathing became normal, as did the smell. Angered calls as we walked down the streets morning and night became normal. We got used to things being thrown at us and Aria gained a few years; she pleaded for some every time something happened but she promised to stay twelve in public since it was our secret game. It was the only thing that kept her going. When she made it through the day without talking about Italy, “Do I get a year?” would be her plea. It made her smile to wake up and say “I’m almost as old as you!” or “You better do something good today, because i might beat you!” She became strong and did grow as the days passed. We both made friends, among all ranks and ages at the Triangle Factory. I began to sew within a week and Aria learned to enjoy Geneva’s constant chatter. And it seemed to catch on, for Aria began to chatter nonstop as we walked home. And that was life.
Sometimes we’d manage to get enough to go out or spend a night with some of the girls. We eventually each got a new dress and even some real italian food. Church was not an option though; we found ourselves constantly at work. But Aria got used to it and we learned to turn to God on our own. Momma was constantly Aria’s only light. She’d pray to her and speak of her. It seemed her only form of closure in the dark world we were living in. So I let her.
One morning, as usual as the rest, Lessy knocked on our door and then quickly invited herself in.
She helped Aria tie up her dress and shoes and then turned to me, “Remember, rent is due today and Jonesoworth shows no mercy.”
I smiled sadly, “I know, and I have it all. I’ll pay her when we get back. today. but than you, for the reminder, I nearly forgot it was the end of the month.”
“That happens at first; one must get into the flow of things. That’s why i came. It is the twenty-fifth.”
“Of march!” Aria piped in with a smile.
Lessy returned the smile along with a hug, “Yes, it is, Aria! The twenty-fifth of march.”
“Of 1911!” I added, laughing as Aria’s nose wrinkled at the tease.
“Very good, Rosalie!” Lessy said, hugging me with a laugh and then turning back to Aria who stood, her arms folded as she tried to hold back a smile.
“But i don’t think Aria agree’s.” Lessy said, as she stared down at the acting Aria.
“No. I’m just trying to be older–do I get another year, Rosalie?”
Lessy laughed, confused.
“It’s just a game,” I explained to Lessy, “And no, being obnoxious doesn’t get you a year.” I said, pulling Aria into my arms.
“Obnoxious! I’m not obnoxious!” She said, poking at me.
“Yes, well you both are going to be late if you don’t get a move on. It’s nearly seven.”
“On March twenty-fifth!” I said, laughing as i put Aria down.
“In 1911.” she spouted defiantly. Then she took my hand and pulled me along, waving a quick goodbye to Lessy.
“You know,” she said as we stepped onto the street, “I’m always pulling you along. Doesn’t that deserve a few years?”
“Pulling me?” I laughed. “No, it does not! because you do not! You’d be in bed if it wasn’t for me!”
“Well, doesn’t matter, I’m only a year behind you now. I’ll probably be older by the end of the day.”
I scoffed as she pranced ahead of me. “Maybe snobbier!” I teased.
And it went on like that till we got to the factory. Then we put on a straight face as we walked up the nine flights. I gave her a slobbery kiss on the cheek as i header towards my sewing machine and she ran towards geneva.
The day got hotter; i almost forgot it was still wintery outside. The girls next to me were too tired to talk. So i made faces at Aria as she folded.
Finally I turned to Zola, the girl who shared my machine, and asked about her Beau.
“He proposed.” she exclaimed, her face turning rosy as she spoke of it.
The time flew by as we laughed about the romance and her happy, blushful state. Soon the afternoon began to take appearance and I knew the bell would ring in a couple short hours. I was going to take Aria out to eat with Lessy after work. But then it happened.
I don’t know who smelt the smoke first. I thought it was just the smell of he room. But it got stronger. And then the screaming started. I can never forget those screams. At first it was just of fear and then, of pain. I watched, unable to move as piles of fabric caught flame and seared those near to it. Flames burst from the floor beneath us and the roaring monster took an undeafeatable life aas the girls ran to the door. I was swept up by Zora and we pushed toward the door, fighting against the charred and the screaming. Then i heard Aria.
“Rosalie!” she screamed, setting panic in my heart. i could imagine her dress in flames, her body ashes and my heart nearly stopped. The thrashing girls at the door were a blur as I thrust through them towards the windows. And there she was. Aria was on the table, Geneva no where to be seen. I grabbed my Aria, hugging her and racing to the door. The girls pounded at its frozen, locked state. I looked towards the crowds of girls across the room as Aria screamed in my ear. I didn’t know most of them. But i would never forget those faces. As the locked door became hopeless and girls collapsed under the pressing smoke, many ran to other escapes. The flames became huge, eating at the tons of fabric. Tears were impossible in the hot haze, but I blocked Aria’s eyes as i watched, desperate for an exit. I ran towards the fire escape, where dozens were pressing, But the sound of screeching metal and screaming girls stopped my approach. And as the girls came racing back, screams raining non-stop from their open mouths, i realized that it was broken. and we were blocked.
Girls ran into the door, trying to break it down but I think everyone knew it was useless. The minutes seemed to pass like hours, hot oil seemed to run down my back as the sweat broke out. The sirens and shocked yells were hardly heard outside. I ran back to the window, pushing the fabric piles away from us and singing in Italian to Aria. And to me. The smell of burning flesh and hair filled the air, choking the screams from burning corpses. Girls started to jump from the windows, the nine stories of a drop not a fear in their desprate eyes. I saw Geneva crying in a corner, choking on the smoke and withering in convulsions. Sofia was at the door, her face pressed with more anger than fear. I could hear the names of loved ones being screamed and i could almost feel the pain of every girl. I watched in horror as Zora grabbed the hands of three others and jumped out the window.
“Rosalie!” choked Aria.
I rubbed her back gently, rocking on the balls of my feet as i fell to the steaming floor. I wouldn’t uncover her eyes. The bodies were piling and, worse, the screams were quieting. I could feel my sides melting to my dress and i didn’t dare look at Aria’s face.
“Roslaie, I want to go home.” she whispered calmly.
I swallowed a scream against the suffocating smoke. “I know, Aria, I know. Just a few more minutes, i promise.”
She cried. I could feel the boiling tears on my hand.
And as i watched more girls pile up against the door I knew we had to get out.
“Can you be brave for me, Aria?”
I felt her face nod on my burning shoulder and i smiled as the familiar question fell from her lips. “Do i get another year?”
“Yes! yes, beautiful, sweet, Aria! You get ten! You can have 20 if you want!”
I crawled to a window, gripping the searing metal and broken glass.
“Are you ready? Just think of Momma and home. Don’t ever forget to think of momma and home!” I whispered, pulling her close as i stood.
“yes, Rosalie. I don’t. And you–i never forget you!”
I just smiled, not daring to look below me onto the streets.
“And Rosalie…I’m older than you.”
I choked on a sob, letting the smoke blind me and destroy my tears. “Yes, darling, Aria, you are! So much so!
“Remember, don’t forget!”
“Oh! Rosalie, it hurts!”
“I know–just a few more seconds, Aria. Just a few more seconds and then we’ll be home. Home with momma.”
I could feel the heat coming closer, and I looked back for a second, watching the monster consume the building with yellow flames that danced angrily along the familiar machines and tables. Bodies lay, strewn like the fabric had been just minutes before. people still pressed at the door, yet a serene silence filled the place and i knew we were the last standing.
“Just think of home.” I whispered again, hugging Aria tighter.
“Just take me home, Rosalie! Take me home!”
“I am, Aria. I promised.”
And then I Jumped.
