ROSE-GOLD LADIES WATCH
“Angela, would you please come back to my office for a minute? I need your help again,” bellowed Mr. Jerry D, the owner of the watch and clock repair shop.
Joanie, the part-time bookkeeper at the other desk, glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder at Angela then guiltily turned back to her ledger. Her tight perm, dyed a certain Hollywood maroon, was the only touch of glamour in Joanie’s world. Otherwise she was just a working mom in an era of stay at home mothers. When Angela started working that summer of ’66, she was introduced to Joanie as Mrs. Hartzell. But things got less formal once they started smoking together during their 10 minute coffee /donut break. Joanie liked her menthols but Angela was a modern Marlboro teen.
“Angela, where are you for Chris’sake?” Jerry barked.
Angela slowly slid off her counter stool and straightened her Mod skirt as she walked past Joanie’s desk towards Jerry’s office. Really there were only two rooms in the back of the watch shop. Jerry’s so-called office was just a messy desk next to a couple of old metal filing cabinets and the safe. The only separation between his office and Joanie’s and Angela’s was a flimsy hospital-like green partition. No surprise, the women had to walk into his office to get to the dinky bathroom/broom closet.
Angela stepped behind the partition. Jerry wasted no time in pulling her down to sit on his lap. He groped under her blouse, he smelled of too much coffee and a pack of Pall Malls as he forced his tongue into her mouth. The more she tried to wriggle out of it, the more he pressed on. Angela could hear Joanie puffing away on a ciggy the other side of the partition. Joanie cleared her throat loudly a few times, but Jerry was not to be deterred. Angela always escaped just as she could see the lump in his trousers.
Looking back, Angela thought that Mr. Jerry D. was probably sizing her up the minute she walked in the door for the job interview. She, a pleasingly plump and well-developed 16, he, the lecherous owner of the jewelry and watch repair shop around the corner from the high school. She dreaded those days when Joanie had to go home to make lunch for her ne’er-do-well husband. Jerry always made Angela go to the Kentucky Fried Chicken up the street to bring back lunch. Fried chicken legs and the mini pecan pie made her feel better temporarily. Then on to a Marlboro and an Orange Crush soda. Since Jerry was a chain smoker himself he didn’t care if Angela smoked while she was recording the repair tickets for broken pocket watches, new crystals, and leather band replacements.
Years later Angela understood that she was the victim of incessant sexual harassment. She never told her parents because of the shame. The shame of succumbing to his dirty old man needs. The shame of allowing him to overpower her. She was embarrassed that she needed the job. But, the thing she was most ashamed about was not warning the girl who took over her job once she finally quit. That girl, a high school acquaintance named Sharon, even asked Angela point-blank about rumors of Jerry’s behavior. Angela lied. She said, “Oh no, he never did that with me.” It turns out that Angela was just one in a long line of summer and after-school girls with long pretty hair whom Mr. Jerry D took advantage of.
On her last day of work Angela spied a little metal box of vintage odds and ends. Angela took a broken rose-gold ladies watch for herself. She figured she deserved it for all the times she squirmed in Mr. Jerry D’s greasy grip.
Elisa Lanzi is an artist and writer working at the intersection of printmaking and book arts.
arts. An ardent traveler, she draws inspiration from sojourns to the Mediterranean. Elisa
had an earlier career in libraries and museums, fueling her deep engagement with
literature and art. Her writing has appeared in Ovunque Siamo and her artwork is
exhibited nationally and internationally. Outside of the studio she enjoys herb gardening
and cooking with friends and family. Elisa grew up in an Italian-American family in
Rochester, NY and lives in western Massachusetts.
OVUNQUE SIAMO 