Carry Me Like Water (52 page)

He took his time acknowledging her statement as if he had to think very hard about what she had said. “What is it that makes the air smell like that?”

“Chamizos,” she said. “Gringos call it the rain bush. There’s another name, too, creosote, I think.”

“Say it again,” he said.

“Chamizos,” she repeated.

“Chamizos,” he said slowly. “It feels good in the mouth.” He laughed. “And it smells like God, huh?”

“Yes.”

“You know what it really smells like?”

“What?”

“It smells like—like when you gave birth to little Jake. It smells just like that.”

“Really?”

“It came from somewhere inside you, that smell. Fresh and sharp like an undiscovered spice.”

Maria Elena squeezed his arm. “You’re a funny man, Eddie.”

“A tired man,” he said almost inaudibly.

“We’re almost there.”

“I wonder how Lizzie and Jake are holding up?”

Maria Elena ignored her husband’s question. He had asked it in a distant voice—he neither needed nor wanted an answer. His question was just taking up space in that tired kind of tone that most questions have at the end of a long journey, the voice as numb as the traveler’s feet.

“EL PASO CITY LIMITS
,” he said, reading the sign. “Nena, you’re home.”

“You, too,” she said.

Home, he thought. The desert felt strange and uncomfortable—a shirt that fit too tight around the neck. “It’s dry,” he said. “Even after a rain—it’s dry.”

They said nothing else as they reached the lights of the city. He saw a hotel off the freeway. “That one OK?” he asked her.

“Your call,” she said.

“It’s your town.”

“Yeah, but they’re not
my
hotels.” she said.

He nodded and smiled as he pulled the van off the exit ramp.

“Sunland Park Drive. What the hell kind of name is that? It sounds like a retirement village for veterans of foreign wars.”

“It’s a racetrack,” she said. “My father used to gamble there.”

“I thought you didn’t know your father?”

“Well, my mother used to say he threw all his money away at the track—there and at the cockfights.”

“Cockfights?”

“You never heard of cockfights?”

“Yeah—I just thought they were a thing of the past—also illegal.”

“They’re not a thing of the past, Eddie. And since when has illegal stopped anyone from gambling?”

Already it was a strange world, and he felt like an alien. Whatever
he had been in California, at least he had not felt foreign. This didn’t feel like anyplace he knew or had ever been. He chastised himself for his thoughts. All he had seen was a sign that read:
EL PASO CITY LIMITS
. But the lights, he thought, the lights of this city in the desert seemed unearthly to him, and he felt he had left the world completely behind. He felt almost dead. Maybe I’m just tired, he thought. Eddie wondered if this place would ever feel like home. It will be enough to see her happy, he thought. She will make it habitable.

Maria Elena stared at him as he drove. She decided she liked his outline in the darkness of the van. “When I moved to California, Eddie, it didn’t feel as if it would ever be real again.”

“You read my mind.”

“But what if this place never makes you feel real, amor?”

“One place is as good as another,” he said—then laughed. “I’m with you and that counts for something. And I have a son—and I have my brother back. That’s real enough, yes? To want more than that is just greed.” It will be fine, he thought. Eddie listened to the words he had just spoken. Yes, they were good words. They were the right words. All he had to do was believe them. He wondered why he felt so uneasy when he had been ecstatic to leave California.
Just believe the words.
He pulled the van into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn.
See, they have Holiday Inns.
Jake and Lizzie pulled up behind them. “All here?” he yelled as he got out of the van and placed his feet on the firm pavement of the parking lot.

“All here,” Jake yelled as he stepped out of the car.

“All here,” Lizzie yelled slamming her door.

“Not quite,” Rose said quietly in the dark, “I’m too old to be all here. But the air here after a rain”—she paused—”you know it’s been years since I’ve lived in a place where it rained in August.” Lizzie could see her smile in the dimly lit parking lot. Her mother would like it here, she thought. It was enough of a reason to have come.

All of them seemed content to stay in the parking lot, stretching and talking, none of them caring to move toward the lobby of the hotel.

“Has anybody thought of where we’re going to live?” Jake lit a cigarette as he asked the question.

“Oh Jake, I wish you wouldn’t smoke—you’re going to make me start again,” Lizzie said sniffing at his smoke. “It smells like a banquet. I’ve never been this hungry.”

“You always used to say that when you were a little girl. I’ve never been this hungry.”

“I mean it this time. Mama.”

Rose laughed in the darkness.

“I repeat—has anybody thought of where we’re going to live?”

“Jake, you think I dragged you to El Paso without thinking of where we were going to live?” Maria Elena asked.

“Actually, yes,” Lizzie said.

“Wrong, I called a realtor—and we’re looking at a house in the morning.”

“Actually,
I
called a realtor,” Eddie corrected.

“You—me—what’s the difference,” Maria Elena said.

“There’s a difference,” Eddie said.

“I hope the house is big,” Lizzie said.

“Eddie told her ‘big’—didn’t you Eddie?” Maria Elena leaned against Jake’s car.

“That’s what I told her. I told her, ‘We want old, we want wood floors, and we want big.’ ‘I have just the house,’ she said. Well, we’ll see. It’s in a place called Sunset Heights.”

“Nice name,” Lizzie said.

Jake laughed. “Sunset Heights? It sounds like a soap opera.”

“Don’t be mean, Jake—it’s nice.”

“Ahh, a hometown partisan.”

“Oh, Jake, go to hell,” Maria Elena said. “Are we going to check into this hotel or we just gonna pull out some beer and have a Texas tailgate?”

“I vote for a bed and cup of hot tea,” Rose said.

“Mama’s tired,” Lizzie said. “Let’s go in.”

“Welcome to El Paso,” Maria Elena said.

“Are you happy?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know. I feel like we’ve been wandering around in the desert for a lifetime.”

“It’s only been three days, Maria Elena.”

“
It was a lifetime,”
Maria Elena repeated.

“Uh—huh,” Eddie yawned. “OK, a lifetime.”

Lizzie carried the baby in her arms as they walked toward the hotel lobby. He was getting heavy, already learning to walk and Lizzie felt his growing weight.
Was it already over a year that this child had come into the world? My God, what a year.
The world had ended and begun again, and here she was in El Paso. El Paso—what a strange name for paradise. She laughed. She was tired. They were all tired, all of them exhausted and hungry, looking for rest.

Maria Elena smiled as she stepped out of the van, the baby in her arms. She thought of her childhood. She remembered the rundown apartment house in this same neighborhood—the last place she’d lived before leaving for California. “Oh, Eddie, it’s a wonderful house.”

“It’s a little big, don’t you think?” Jake asked. “And a little run-down.”

“The realtor said it needed a little work—’mostly cosmetic’” He tried to sound optimistic. “A little paint, a little this, a little that—it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jake said. “Don’t be such a sucker, Eddie.”

Lizzie shook her head and glared at him. “Oh don’t be such a spoilsport, Jacob Leslie.” She kissed him on the cheek, took the baby from Maria Elena’s arms and placed him in his uncle’s arms. “Just hold him and be quiet. Be a nice uncle—and try not to talk.” He kissed his sleeping nephew softly. Lizzie looked at the huge house in front of them. “I like it. It’s big, but it doesn’t wear a sign:
RICH PEOPLE LIVE HERE
. It’s really kind of simple looking. And look—a big front porch. It looks like the South.”

“How many bedrooms?” Rose asked.

“Eight.” Nena said, “One for me and Eddie, one for the baby, one for Jake, one for Elizabeth, one for you Rose, one for Diego when we find him—and two left over for guests.”

“Guests? We want guests?” Jake asked.

“Shhh. You’ll wake the baby,” Lizzie said.

Jake smiled. “The baby can’t hear—and he’s practically a toddler.”

“He’ll be as big as his uncle,” Lizzie smiled, “And what’s wrong with guests?”

“Why not open a hotel?”

“This is communal living, Jacob.”

“Are you sure we should all be living together?” Rose asked.

“Why, Mother? Are you afraid it’s illegal?”

“Don’t make fun of your mother, Elizabeth.”

“Oh, Rose, it’ll work out just fine,” Maria Elena said, quietly nudging her husband.

“Yeah,” Eddie grinned. “We couldn’t possibly be more difficult to live with than your former husband.”

“Very funny,” Maria Elena said.

Rose broke out laughing. “Well, actually, it was funny, wasn’t it? You’d have to go a ways to be harder to live with than Sam,” she said, “but somehow living with so many people seems a little unnatural.”

“Unnatural?” Jake asked. “You mean like homosexuality?”

“Stop it,” Maria Elena said, trying not to laugh.

“It’s a serious question,” Eddie said. “What the hell’s natural? What’s so natural about living alone? Is it unnatural to live in packs?”

“Well,” Lizzie said, “look at us. Tell me we’re not all a little perverse.”

“Speak for yourself,” Maria Elena said, “I happen to be a mother.”

“What does that qualify you for?” Lizzie asked.

“When the hell is the realtor coming?”

“Be patient, Jake.”

Jake kissed his nephew again. “I haven’t got an ounce of patience—I never have. You should know this about me.” Just then the baby started to cry. Jake bounced his nephew awkwardly in his arms trying to make him stop. “He wants you,” he said handing the baby to his brother.

“Thanks.” Eddie felt the baby’s diaper. “He’s wet. Jake, it’s time you learned how to change your nephew.”

“Isn’t that the mother’s job?” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he saw the look on his sister-in-law’s face. He noticed a car drive up and park directly in front of the van. “Real estate agent’s here,” he said as he walked toward her. “Hello,” he said, “I’m Jacob Marsh.”

“Valerie,” she said, “Valerie Miller.” Her handshake was firm. She didn’t look like a Valerie, he thought, more like a Marian. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “we were enjoying looking at the house from the outside.”

“Are you the man I spoke to on the phone?”

“No, that would be my brother.” He pointed at Eddie who was changing the baby on the seat of the van. “The new father over there.”

The woman smiled.

“He likes to change babies,” Jake informed her.

Maria Elena smiled as they approached her. “I’m Maria Elena Marsh,” she said, “I’m dying to see the house.”

“It was built in 1915,” she said sounding exactly like a woman who sold houses for a living. “It was built by a David Victor Macias who fled Mexico during the Revolution. There were rumors he was a gunrunner.” The enthusiasm in her voice, however sincere, made Lizzie feel like a tourist. She was glad to fall behind and listen from a distance. “And on the third story, there’s actually a ballroom. You can use it for anything you like—even for throwing balls.” She laughed. Eddie managed a chuckle—he always accommodated strangers. Maria Elena dropped even farther back, content to let her husband and brother-in-law deal with the realtor’s anecdotes.

“Do they go to school to talk like that?” Maria Elena whispered as they entered the house.

“Behave yourself,” Lizzie whispered back. “She’s nice. I can tell.”

“Maybe so, but someone should tell her we’re not buying the house for snob appeal.”

“It doesn’t matter, honey,” Rose said. “Just let her talk—she’s harmless. She looks like she’s honest, anyway.” Rose had managed to end up with the baby. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she said as
she sat on the steps of the front porch. As Maria Elena walked through the front door of the house, she looked back and saw Lizzie’s mother holding her son. She thought of her own mother, how she had watched her hold her brother every night, how she had worn a look that said he was everything in the world. She had hated her brother on those nights, had wanted to be held, had wanted to be as loved as he was. She sometimes still felt her mother’s warmth in Eddie’s arms as he held her at night. Sometimes, she wanted him to be her mother—her mother and her father and her husband and her lover. She wondered if he knew these things. “Stop it,” she told herself—but she knew that living in this neighborhood would bring back all the memories she carried. The commands Maria Elena spoke to herself would not send the visitors away. They would come to see her in this house—they would come and they would stay. It was a better thing to welcome them than to try and exile them. She walked into the house. She heard voices echoing from upstairs. She took off her shoes and fell the cool wood floors beneath her feet. It was big and old and dusty. The walls needed painting, but the house was solid, strong, well built—and in its day it must have been as elegant as the woman who first owned it. It would never be elegant again, but it would be a clean and happy shelter. Maria Elena remembered seeing this house from the outside when she was a little girl—like the other big houses in this neighborhood, it was something that was meant to be seen only from the outside. Her mother used to clean houses like this, she thought.
I’ve come back, Mama. I’ve come back to find him. Will you help, Mama? ¿Me oyes? Yo sé que me estás oyendo. It was wrong of me to leave, but I’m back now, Mama.
She sat down in the middle of the dining room and looked out into the backyard through the French doors. She imagined herself making love to Eddie on this floor. She imagined her brother sitting across from her. She imagined having a thousand conversations with Lizzie and watching her son learning to walk on the floors of this house. “
I want this house.”
She felt the spirit of the house, and knew it was good. Perhaps it was her mother. She knew it would bring her blessings.