“Wait, I’ve seen those. The big solitaire? She’s pulling a ribbon?”
“That’s the one.”
“Seriously? Those are her hands?”
“Wild, huh? She had, like, a six a.m. call for that one. So she doesn’t stay over often. I wouldn’t get any work done.”
“Hmmm.”
“I mean, Ella, if you would get your mind out of the gutter”—he bumped his gray jersey shoulder against hers—“that she has to be in bed at ten o’clock with her oven mitts on. And that’s exactly when my brain starts making music.”
“Oh. That’s a pain.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we thought that one through very well. What about you? What’s your story?” He shifted abruptly into something else, kind of jaunty. Ella didn’t recognize the tune. “What twist of fate brought you here to Eleven Christopher?”
“Oh, you know.” Ella stared at her bare, ringless fingers. “Just needed a new place to live, that’s all. Look, I should really get going. I do need to be at work tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah? Doing what?”
“I’m an accountant,” she said, and this time remembered to add quickly, “a forensic accountant.”
“Forensics, huh? You get to find out where all the dead bodies are buried?”
“Pretty much. And where they hid the money first.”
“Well, that is some seriously cool shit. You’re like Sherlock Holmes.”
“I keep a pipe and a deerstalker in my desk drawer.”
“Don’t forget the opium.”
“Cheaper than therapy, I always say.”
He chuckled and moved into another tune, gentle and tickling, which Ella didn’t recognize. “So do you like what you do?”
“Most of the time.” She paused. “Actually, it kind of sucks right now. I just got assigned to the same company as my ex. So I kept expecting to see him in the lobby or the elevator.”
“Man. Stressful. Big company?”
“Pretty big. Luckily, it’s not his department or anything. I’ll just deal.”
“Be strong, like you are.”
The words took a strange shape inside her ears. Ella had never thought of herself as particularly strong. Her mother was strong. Her sister was strong. Her father had a quiet, unshakable strength that awed her. But Ella? She only felt strong from the inside of a piece of music. Or a spreadsheet.
“Yeah, wish me luck.” She rose from the piano bench and manufactured a gigantic stretch. “Thanks for the bourbon.”
Hector rose, too, in the middle of a measure, and closed the keyboard. The sudden absence of music made the room grow huge. Made the space between the furniture yawn, made the air turn thick.
“Nerves all settled?” he asked, looking at her seriously. Like a doctor. His breath smelled of bourbon.
She held up her hand, palm down. “Do you see me shaking?”
“Cool as a cucumber, Sherlock. Good news. Off you go, then. Get your beauty sleep.” He held his arm to the side. “Want a bottle of water or something to take down with you?”
“No, I’m good.” The room swam a little around her. “Actually, maybe the water’s a good idea.”
Hector went to the fridge while she threw on her bathrobe and went to the door. He handed her the bottle of water and asked if she wanted him to walk her down.
“Thanks,” she said, “but I’m fine.”
“I know you are. You are as fine as they come. I mean that.”
“Thanks. I guess it’s good night, then.”
“Good night, Ella. And if you need anything, just let me know, okay? If there’s any weird stuff downstairs. I’m the house doctor.”
“The mayor, you mean?”
“Ha. Touché.” He raised his fist, and Ella bumped his knuckles. “Watch those stairs. And take some aspirin.”
“Will do.” She turned to leave. Took a few careful steps down the hallway and stopped. “Wait a second, Hector.”
“What’s up?”
Ella stared at the ecru wall, on which the light overhead made a strange, lurid pattern. Or maybe not. Maybe the pattern was just the bourbon smoking her eyeballs. She licked her lips. “So. I had fun tonight.”
“Yeah. Me too. Knew you were kindred, under that suit you wear out the door in the morning.”
“Kindred?”
“You know. Certain people. You can just sit down at a piano together and play.”
“Right.” She blinked hard. “Also. I kind of lied to you back there.”
He didn’t reply.
Ella gathered her breath. Didn’t turn around; that would be too much. Anyway, the floor was already unsteady beneath her. Kindred. “Not exactly lied, I guess,” she continued. “About why I moved here, I mean. I just didn’t tell you the truth.”
“The whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“Sort of.”
“Big deal or small deal?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s a big deal to me.”
“Well, I guess we all have secrets, right?”
Ella turned after all. Gripped the stair railing for balance. Hector stood tall in the doorway, sturdy and wiry and remarkably still. His face was heavy with fatigue. Nellie had wandered over and now stared in sleepy curiosity from between his legs. Yawning, showing off a set of small, sharp teeth. Hector braced one hand on the door frame and waited for her.
“So it’s like this,” she said. “I left my husband three weeks ago because I caught him having sex with a prostitute.”
We Come to an
Understanding
(of sorts)
NOW THE B&O branch line into River Junction runs a passenger train but once a day, and even so I find myself in possession of a carriage nearly empty, except for a middle-aged woman in widow’s weeds who stares through the window the entire journey, though a book lies open in her lap.
I don’t blame the folks who aren’t present. Why should you travel into the frigid crook between two godforsaken mountains in the middle of far western Maryland in the middle of winter, unless you have urgent business calling you there? No reason at all. Like the widow, I observe the passing drifts of snow, the pastures all tucked under smooth white blankets, the gray horizon bleeding into the gray sky, the mounting hills and the small, broken-down houses huddled between them, and I cannot raise the slightest whiff of longing. Just a sick weight growing in my stomach, fed by the rattle of wheels and sight of the smoke trailing from all those lonely chimneys. The smell of burning Pennsylvania anthracite.