The Secret To Immortality
Achille received a message from Officer Mario Lombardo that his daughter, Rosalia, only two years old, had died of pneumonia early yesterday morning. He was not surprised Officer Lombardo wanted his Uncle Salafia to embalm his little girl, he was the best. He remembered seeing her once before, she had probably only been a little younger than when she had died, but she had been a very beautiful little girl. His Uncle’s work was renowned, the best here in Italy and America, if not the world. His Uncle was Doctor Alfredo Salafia, the creator of “Salafia Perfection Fluid” and the manager of “The Salafia Permanent Embalming Method” in America. Achille had a very good feeling that his Uncle would be very interested in Lombardo’s request with embalming his little girl. He had nearly taken off his Uncle’s new door when he burst in through the cold night air.
“Uncle we have a new request! Mr. Lombardo wants his sweet little Rosalia mummified. She was the cutest thing too.” He sat down and helped himself to his tea his Uncle always seemed to have out for him. It was always warm. Sometimes he thought his Uncle psychic.
“Is that so? He knows the cost correct?” His Uncle’s low and controlled voice showed no emotion as he sat across from him. He sipped his tea slowly and looked straight at Achille. His cool brown gaze seemed to sweep through his soul making Achille shiver slightly. Achille knew the cost was the same here as it was in America: $350.00 for the formula, his older cousin Oreste Maggio ran the company for his Uncle from New York. Oreste just like Achille did not know the ingredients to their Uncle’s secret formula.
“Yes, yes. I told him $350, but he wanted something more and he said he would pay whatever the cost. He said he wanted his daughter to be your greatest master piece, Uncle, Sal.” Achille grinned at him from across the table the cobblestone fire place burning behind his back. Maybe he would be able to get a rise out of his Uncle tonight.
Achille knew his Uncle Sal had always had a certain soft spot for him. His dad, Uncle Sal’s younger brother, had told Achille himself that Alfredo had never shown anyone any affection before him even their parents. So Achille took it upon himself to keep his Uncle company. Achille studied his Uncle carefully over the rim of his slowly steamin tea of which had burnt his tongue earlier and lost all sense of taste, what a waste he thought. His Uncle had dark brown hair with spots of now gray sprinkling his head especially near his big ears. He had rather shorter hair compared to his own of which almost reached his shirt collar, but Achille also had blue eyes, which was not so common in their family genes. His Uncle had hard features probably due to the no smiling policy he seemed to set for himself even Achille had only seen him smile a handful of times before and it wasn’t at anyone who was breathing. He had rather high cheekbones with a wide set mouth almost identical to his own except deep lines of age had set in around his Uncle’s face. He did look rather similar to his Uncle he realized. Oreste shared the same features as Achille except for his 5’8 height and being more heavy set around the middle compared to him and his Uncle who both kept in shape. No, he thought his Uncle didn’t work out it was just he never ate enough to put the weight on.
“Do not call me Sal, Achille you are not five anymore. What does Lombardo have in mind?” He could admit his was interested. He had done many famous people before earlier in his embalming career, but he did not feel they were his greatest and he didn’t know why.
“He said he wants her in a tomb, but in a way that everyone can always see her, view her like royalty. I do not know how we will do that, but he was serious in saying he would pay anything. You should have seen Rosa, Rosalia’s mother, man I have never heard someone cry like that Sal, never.” Achille looked down at his tea watching the steam rise from the cup cradled between his large tanned hands.
He smiled. Death was never an easy thing to deal with. One minute someone is with you and the next they aren’t there. He couldn’t help but find death and life intriguing how people move on after mourning, even with people being embalmed the family members only come to visit after a period of time and then they disappear. Maybe they to, had died he did not know. Once the people were done mourning or didn’t return he would take the bodies off display in the Catacombs and place them under the ground so there bodies will still be preserved for eternity. Achille still had a lot to learn about death.
“People die Achille it’s a way of life we are born so naturally we must die.”
“Yes, but she was so young.”
“Young or old death does not wait for anyone, not even you.” He knew he was being hard on him, but it was late and he did not want to get into the meaning of life with his nephew. “Go home Achille and I will think on what to do with little Rosalia. Your wife will be mad if you are not home soon.” Achille’s chair scraped back making the most annoying sound; he rubbed his eyes trying to ignore the oncoming headache.
“Yeah your right. Oreste sent a letter the other day. He said things were slowing down and that maybe we should cut down the prices.” Achille grabbed his brown very used coat from the rack that he had left there from earlier that morning and pushed his arms through the sleeves.
“We will discuss it tomorrow for now go home.” Achille left closing the door. He saw him run across the way and up the little hill to the town across the way.
“That boy will be the death of me.” Salafia rubbed his hand against his chest trying to dispel the light pain that had been bothering him all day.
He picked up his nephews cup and placed it on his kitchen counter. He would go out and clean it tomorrow along with the rest of his dishes in the well. His house was small since only he lived there. It was comfortable and was stable unlike some recent houses of which were falling apart due to bad construction. The silence was something he loved. He did not like the noise people created but he did like to observe their habits as if he himself were not one. It was probably why he never decided to get married, women were very beautiful to look at but he did not find them interesting enough to want to live with one for the rest of his life. Why would he drag a women into his living style anyway he thought. He dealt with death on a daily basis and he enjoyed what he did. He sighed.
So Mario Lombardo wanted him to make his daughter a living, not mummified legend. He wondered if he could do that. He went to his room where his plain white bed pressed up against the wall with a beautifully carved headboard a woman had made him when he embalmed her husband for her almost ten years before after his return from America
He smiled as he saw his diary, the written tale of his life. This was everything he had ever worked to achieve, in this tiny book held the secret to immortality. He read the title “New special method for the preservation of the entire human cadaver in the state of permanent freshness.” Such a wonderful title, he thought. He wrote about his new patient of the dead and some ideas in which he could try. He looked through research soon becoming engulfed in it.
He forgot about the time, as the sun began to peak in the distance shooting out pink and orange rays of light illuminating the sky and his bedroom, he did not notice. His lantern had already died, but the sunshine replaced it. A rooster wailed in the distance piercing through his sensitive ears and equally sensitive mind. He glanced up his eyes rimmed with red from too much reading and thought. He yawned and glanced down at his work. He smiled satisfied that he had discovered his greatest idea yet. He closed his diary after signing his name and the now new date and placed his diary gently into the drawer and locked it, safe. He checked the handle, satisfied that it was locked and he fell into bed as he placed the key over his heart. Instantly he was asleep.
He heard the commotion down the short hallway and woke with a start. He was still in his clothes from the other day. He heard Achille’s voice as he sung a little tune. He slowly got out of bed feeling every bone in his body ache with a dull throb. He was going to murder his nephew for making so much noise this early in the… He glanced at his watch and saw it was almost noon, he must have overslept. Then he remembered his idea. He felt his body regenerate with energy and he headed down the hall to see his nephew with Mario Lombardo sitting at his table. He was caught off guard and he had to recheck himself. He glared at his nephew who smiled as he looked at his Uncle’s appearance.
“Good morning, Dr. Salafia. I hope I’m not intruding your nephew said it would be okay if I cam over. If you want I can leave.” Mario stood up; he was taller than them by about three inches and had softer features with golden hair like his daughter. His eyes were brown, but had no life in them.
“It is alright Mario sit.” He saw the small figure in the corner propped up on a chair wrapped in a cream sheet. He knew what it was without having to ask Mario or his nephew. There sat the one day old dead Rosalia Lombardo, Mario’s precious and only child.
“Thank you. I have heard about your work and many people have recommended you, but that didn’t sway me. My wife grew up next door to you and knew your family well, but you were already in college then. She trusts you with our daughter and I trust you because of her Alfredo. Don’t make me regret my decision.” Mario stared at him trying to intimidate him. It didn’t work you can only intimidate someone who was afraid to die, he wasn’t.
“Is that a threat officer?” He walked around the table to Rosalia and picked her up gently, she weighed almost nothing. He heard Mario’s sharp intake of breath as he laid her on the able and started unwrapping her like a sacred present.
“What are you doing?” Mario stood up and was coming quickly around the table with big strides Achille stepped in between him and Mario blocking his path.
“Calm down, Mr. Lombardo he just doing what you wanted him to do remember?” Achille always had a way with people that he himself had never had. That’s why he kept his nephew around even though he tended to mess up a lot.
“Fine. Fine. It is just hard to admit yet. Rosa already cried and is still not stopping. I need to be strong for her, but I do no think I have admitted it yet. That my little Rosalia is gone.” Mario sat down abruptly and put a hand over his face scrubbing hard. Achille put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed giving comfort. He looked away uncomfortable at the touching scene of human emotion.
Finally she was unwrapped and his heart did a little quick beat. His hands shook as the little girl even in death looked beautiful, a wonderful specimen to embalm. He noticed Mario didn’t even glance at her, he suspected it was too painful. Unlike Mario, he found fascination in death and how even when one dies they look as if they are just sleeping as Rosalia did now. Her body was cold as he touched his warmer hand against her forehead her skin so soft like a babies. She was just a baby really. He pushed open her eyelids and peered closely, they were blank with a clear almost cloudy sheen over them indicating death besides no heart beating within the tiny body.
“Uncle. Uncle Sal?” He heard his name and glanced up at Achille giving him a curious look.
“What Achille.” He dropped her eyelid and forced it closed since he knew it wouldn’t on its own anymore.
“Did you come up with a plan for Rosalia?”
“Yes. Last night I sat up contemplating and planning on what we could do. It will definitely cost more than average probably double the amount. Are you still willing to pay Lombardo?” Salafia didn’t want to tell Mario the truth in which he would have taken her for the original price because he too wanted her to become ‘The One’ he had discussed in his diary; ‘The One’ who would frame all his greatest works into the one perfect specimen. Rosalia was going to be the greatest if it was the last thing he ever did.
“Anything you want I can pay for. Nothing is too much for my daughter. She was my wife’s life Salafia and when she died a part of her died to. I cannot bring my daughter back but I can make her immortal with your help. We saved up money for her education that I made working in Palermo
“My plan is to create a coffin but it would be rectangular and by the size of her I would say the box would have to be 2 ½ feet in width and 4 feet in height. We can incase her in two layers of glass but we will need to line the inside of her tomb with wax and lead foil to seal the air in and let none out. That way when we embalm her she should stay like she is now, but I could be wrong. Do you have any requests for her to be buried with?” He talked methodically as if he was teaching a class explaining his idea and reasons for he knew Mario would not understand.
“It should work. What if you are wrong, Salafia?” Mario questioned him and he saw Achille glance down knowing he didn’t like someone contradicting him.
“If it does not work and she starts to disintegrate or decompose you will receive your money back in full. I do not lie and I do not keep money I do not earn Officer Lombardo.” He went to the kitchen and saw the cups were clean, how long did his nephew let him sleep while he was down here waiting for him?
“Mr. Lombardo my uncle is telling you the truth and if not you can come hunt me down first to find him if he runs.” Achille was joking with Mario another feat he had never been very talented at. Maybe his nephew had gotten all his humanity.
“I am giving you my daughter Salafia my life. Please make me correct on my decision to trust you.” Mario left closing the door quietly behind him.
He had given Achille the list of supplies to order for what he needed for Rosalia’s tomb he had also told him to ask the Lombardo’s if they wanted anything in the tomb with their daughter as mementos or things she loved during her short life. He knew there were some things he could not allow because they could throw off the balance of the embalming process. Such as food, food contained grease and could decay and then make the body decay along with it when the mold settled in.
Achille’s wife was making them dinner as he sat and contemplated Rosalia’s body on the table. He could have sworn when she walked in only a few short hours ago and looked at the body on the table she nearly fainted on his doorstep. She didn’t like bodies or what Achille did for a living which was help him with embalming, but she loved her husband and for some reason seemed to like him even in his most inhuman moments. She was petite like most Sicilian woman; she had short brown chestnut hair that grazed her slender neck. She was young only twenty one if he remembered correctly and her body was ripe with young age nothing sagging and no lines etched into her skin. She always smiled at him, which was uncommon for people to do around him. They usually cried or frowned. She was a nice girl.
“Mr. Salafia when do you think Achille is going to be coming back? Dinner is almost done.” She had a sing song voice that didn’t hurt his ears so he could tolerate her and she never asked too many questions she was the exact opposite of her husband.
“He is probably lost once again and has probably fallen into a ditch somewhere.” He heard the stirring spoon clatter to the floor. How come know one ever laughed at his humor, they always laughed at Achille no matter what he said. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you, Lena .”
“It is okay. I just worry about him sometimes. Do we want to eat at the table or someplace else?” She came into the kitchen doorway and stared in suppressed horror at the body still lying on the table.
Her scent drifted to him through the help of the open window. She smelled always of fresh bread of life. He looked at Rosalia and slowly rewrapped her. “Don’t worry I’ll move her.”
Achille entered as he placed Rosalia on the chair in the corner where he had first saw her. He was out of breath and sweating through his white t-shirt. He walked over to his wife and kissed her fully on the mouth wrapping his arms around her. He must have not seen me, Salafia thought. He coughed loudly and Achille pulled away from her red as an apple and she too was blushing but a light pink color.
“Uncle I thought you were sleeping.” He smiled over at him in his boyish way.
“No I wasn’t help Lena set up for dinner.” He went down the hall to his room and sat on his bed to give the two love birds some privacy incase they started up again. Affectionate moments like that always made him feel awkward. His parents never did any of those things to each other or him. He thought that was normal, apparently not.
They ate dinner as Achille recounted his expedition as if it were a life and death mission he was sent on. He found all the supplies that they needed and ticked off the price of all the items.
“The wood was the biggest chunk of money I had to spend because the Lombardo’s wanted the prettiest for Rosalia. They wanted Autumn Oak wood.” He knew that oak was very nice when polished. The Lombardo’s were lucky they didn’t have a daughter who was twenty one or they would be bankrupt.
“Did you tell them the price before you came over?”
“No I was planning to head over right after dinner unless you need me to stay and help with the injection.” He saw Lena ’s eyes drop to her food that was almost untouched.
“No I have everything prepared already Achille you go home with Lena we will work tomorrow.” Lena ’s eyes sparkled back to life and she took a bite of her food.
“I’ll just leave the stuff they wanted to entomb with her here to.” He brought out a brown sack and pulled out a little doll similar to features of Rosalia and a small picture of the Virgin Mary. “They also want her to be wrapped in that blanket it was Rosalia’s.” He pointed to Rosalia.
“Okay they should all be doable.”
Soon Achille and Lena left. Achille wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close kissing the top of her head. He quickly looked away from the scene.
“It seems like it is just you and me ‘Sleeping Beauty.’” He had already nicknamed her since she was special to him. She was no longer a living being who had emotions to get in the way neither a heart to be broken. He envied her those things as he did with all of his mummies. He recently visited his past works seeing there conditions and asking them questions he knew were never answered. He brought out the syringe with his secret formula which consisted of; Formalin, zinc salts, alcohol, salicylic acid, and glycerin. Only he and his diary knew this and that is how it will always be.
Achille wanted to know and he expected to soon know the ingredients, but Salafia was never going to tell him. Once he died he will hide his diary away from all prying eyes. The formula’s that his nephew Oreste is selling in America will dwindle to nothing and will go out of business and Oreste will return or maybe stay in New York
Note
For “The Secret To Immortality,” which was inspired by a National Geographic segment in the published issue called “What Darwin Didn’t Know” (2009) of which a group of researchers traveled to Sicily, Italy in Palermo to research the Catacombs and found mass graves. They found Rosalia Lombardo, who died in 1920 of pneumonia, entombed in this wooden casket covered with glass perfectly preserved. They did extensive research on Alfredo Salafia the famous embalmer in the United States and Italy
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