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1990
Literary Art
Visual Art
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A Fallen Angel
Piri Piroska Bodnar
When I graduated from junior high at the age of 14, I became an apprentice in a furrier's salon. I disliked my vocation from the very beginning, but it promised (so I was told) a decent future. As an apprentice, I didn't receive a salary or any kind of benefits.
Mrs. Layos, my employer, was a widow in her late fifties. She was a big woman, six foot tall, with flaming red hair and piercing dark brown eyes — a shrewd business woman with a hot temper and sharp tongue.
She had two sons, Arpad and Atti. Arpad, the oldest, was a science professor in a small college. He was only thirty-five but looked like fifty; a timid, sickly-looking, quiet man with a keen interest in politics. Atti, the youngest son, was in his late twenties and the co-owner of the shop. Atti was an easy-going, friendly fellow with a great passion for women. He had a love affair with a prostitute from a nearby brothel. Erica was a gorgeous, twenty-year-old girl with long, golden hair and almond-shaped, hazel eyes. Her face was like alabaster, her teeth like a string of pearls. She was five foot five with a stunning figure. Erica loved expensive presents, especially furs, jewelry and money. Many times when Atti was short of cash, I took a fur coat or jacket to the pawnbroker to get a few dollars. I served as an intermediary between the lovers and became a frequent visitor in the brothel. Atti trusted me with his deepest secrets and I never betrayed him. I became familiar with the life in the brothel and the girls treated me with love and respect. They always gave me some delicacies, chocolates, figs, cookies and oranges. It wasn't surprising that I was anxious to be sent there.
The brothel was a two-story brick building with a white, wrought-iron fence and gate. On the long balcony, red, pink and purple geraniums blossomed from early spring until the autumn. A doorman in a dark blue uniform guarded the entrance into the brothel and was paid twenty cents by each guest. In the well-lit entry hall, the madam welcomed the clientele. She was in her fifties, but was still attractive and had a pleasant personality. The entry hall led into the elegantly furnished salon. The easy chairs were of light blue velvet and cherrywood with matching tables. Heavy blue and cream colored drapes hung from the windows. The walls were decorated with landscapes and seascapes painted by unknown but talented artists. An imitation Oriental rug covered the polished parquet. In the dimly lit room the girls and their guests sat and negotiated the fees for the night or for the hours. The spacious ballroom was lit by a crystal chandelier and glistened like a magical palace. Couples danced to the enchanting tune of saxaphone and accordion. The girls wore long evening gowns made of silk, stainy lace and velvet. Their hair was beautifully coiffured and their make-up was tastefully applied. They were excellent conversationalists with cheerful dispositions, but above all they were superb actresses. There were between thirty-five and forty girls in the "Pleasure Palace". Some were well-educated and from good families, others came from broken homes and abusive parents. Many joined the establishment to escape from poverty. The easy money, carefree living, and glamorous lifestyle lured them into the world's oldest profession. Each girl had her own bedroom and bathroom. The rooms were simply furnished with a double bed, nightstand, drawer, closet and a full-length mirror.
The customers came from a variety of backgrounds, ranging from professional men to business men to craftsmen. The majority of them were single or widowed. Young, old and lonely men frequented the bordello. The music, the glitter and the liquor created a festive atmosphere and everyone had a marvelous time. For a few hours, worries, troubles and the pressures of daily life were left behind.
I often wondered what had happened to the beautiful harlots when they had lost their charm, youth and looks. The type of life they led changed their physical appearance quickly. Dark lines appeared under their eyes before they reached thirty-five and a certain sadness replaced the once sparkling eyes.
I have heard that when they were no longer profitable to the madam they were turned out from the brothel. The majority of "The Ladies of the Nights" found themselves on dimly-lit street corners and in dark alleys where they tried (often in vain) to sell their wasted, undernourished bodies.
Erica suffered the same fate when, at the age of twenty-four, she became ill with consumption and was dismissed from the brothel. Within a few months her life savings were gone and she began to roam the city streets. Hunger is a powerful force which conquers pride and dignity. For lack of money, she searched the garbage cans for discarded foods and slept under the open sky. Occasionally, she found refuge in abandoned, rat-infested buildings where she competed with the rodents for morsels of food. The harsh elements and lack of proper nutrition took its toll. Her condition rapidly deteriorated and when she collapsed on the street she was taken to a hospital.
Her frail body lay quietly under the coarse, torn, faded blanket. The once alabaster face was pale and sunken, the sad hazel eyes were burning with fever. Her golden hair, tangled and soaked with perspiration stuck to her forehead.
It was a splendid day in the middle of October. The last rays of the setting sun illuminated the charity ward's gray walls and danced upon the cold cement floor. Erica, with the help of an aide, dragged herself to the half-open window and beheld the splendor of nature. Outside, the withered autumn leaves began to fall. The ground was covered with a mass of orange, red, gold and brown leaves and she could hear their moaning, rustling sounds. Her eyes were filled with tears as she recalled the days, long, long ago, when, as a child, she used to play among the fallen leaves.
The glorious sunset turned into a starry night. From her bed she saw the silver moon smiling down on her. Suddenly the fragile body was shaken by a violent cough. Her breathing became labored and shallow. The gentle heart was giving up and soon it ceased to beat.
Her journey on Earth came to an end when the glittering stars faded from the sky.
At the age of twenty-five a "Fallen Angel" had finally found peace in Heaven.
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