The German Wife(62)

“Where else would I leave it?” I needed a man to come to the bank to sign for me to open an account, which Henry offered to do, but I worked such long hours that we just hadn’t found the time.

“I don’t know, Lizzie!” he exclaimed. “This place isn’t much better than the homeless camp. I’m so sick of the noise and the smell of cabbage from the damned kitchen and waiting to use the bathroom!”

“But...it’s all we can afford,” I said, stunned. He scrubbed a hand down his face, drew a few ragged breaths, then gave me a miserable look.

“I’m sorry. I never thought it would be like this.”

“I know,” I said uneasily. “Something will come up...”

“Maybe we should try to go somewhere else. I’ve heard there’s more work in California—farmwork, even. We could take some of your wages and buy bus tickets. Try our luck there.”

“Henry, no,” I said, startled. Farmwork did sound much better than housekeeping, but I couldn’t leave a real job for the chance of a theoretical one, especially after how hard I had worked to get it.

“Maybe I should just go, then,” he said flatly. “I lined up to ask about this new unemployment compensation program today. They’ll give me five dollars a week for fourteen weeks. I could save it all. Use it for bus fare.”

“Something will come up,” I said, throat tight. “Please don’t give up just yet.”

I was already working six long days a week, but watching Henry’s mood spiral downward, I grew desperate to change something—anything—that might help him. When I told the housekeeping manager I needed more money, she found me a night shift in the hotel restaurant, waiting tables. And finally, Henry and I moved into an apartment.

It was a fifth-floor walk-up, just three small rooms, but we had our own kitchen and bathroom. I experienced a new level of tired, working double shifts every day, but in addition to the bump in my wages, there were other unexpected benefits. In that little hour between my jobs, I could take the elevator all the way to the top of the Hilton.

The rooftop balcony had been converted into a beautiful outdoor area for the guests. From one side, I could see right over the Rio Grande into Mexico, and from the other, mountains and rocky outcrops and clear, open space. I’d walk to the edge and look out to the northeast, staring until my eyes watered, as though if I just looked hard enough, I’d see all the way up through New Mexico, back to my home in Dallam County.

The top of the Hilton El Paso wasn’t quite as sacred or peaceful as Mother’s moments on that little chair with Elsie, but the idea was just the same. I had to compress all my grief and my longing into those few minutes each day. It was the only time I ever stood still long enough to let myself acknowledge all that I’d lost, and just how lost I was in El Paso.

One night, I placed a steaming hot plate of food in front of one of our regular guests. His name was Calvin Miller, and he stayed at the hotel for a night or two each week, sometimes longer. He liked to stay in a room on the highest available floor, and rumor was he was a widower, consulting on new airplanes at Fort Bliss.

I wouldn’t have noticed Calvin if I walked past him on the street. I guessed he was in his late thirties, probably close to fifteen years my senior. He was tall and wiry with a neat dark beard trimmed close to his face, and he wore thick glasses that magnified his hazel eyes. Having serviced his room, I knew he was fastidiously clean and he always traveled with piles of aeronautics textbooks. Overall, Calvin looked and carried himself like someone too clever for an ordinary existence.

“You’re not your usual self this evening, Miss Lizzie,” he said.

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Miller,” I said, as brightly as I could, but I struggled to fix a professional smile on my face. I’d been mugged walking home one night—the thief making off with my bag and apartment keys but no money, given I didn’t even have any spare change that week. Even working as hard as I was, I was barely covering the expenses on the apartment.

“You have this worry line, Miss Lizzie. Right here.” Calvin touched the spot between his eyebrows.

“Just tired, I guess,” I said, flushing. “Can I get you anything else?”

“It’s quiet tonight, huh?” he said. It was almost ten o’clock, and only a single table of businessmen remained in the restaurant, finishing their drinks. The restaurant would close soon, and then I’d start my cleaning. “Have you eaten?”

“I...uh...I usually eat when I finish my shift.”

“Take a seat, Miss Lizzie,” he said, motioning toward the chair opposite him, then toward his plate. He’d ordered his usual—steak, fries, and a side of vegetables. “Share this and chat with me.”

“Oh no, I—”

“Come on,” Calvin cajoled. “Haven’t you heard I’m a lonely widower? Your boss won’t mind if you sit a minute and keep me company. If you get in trouble, I’ll tell them I insisted.”

I took another glance around the room, just in time to see the table of businessmen I’d been serving drop their napkins onto their plates. One of them waved at me as he left, and since Calvin and I were alone in the restaurant anyway, I sank into the empty chair opposite him.

“Did you grow up here, Miss Lizzie?”

I shook my head.