The light of the caped chandelier danced around her auburn twists and made her sallow face appear tired, so much so that not even the faintest hint of rogue could have be of any assistance. The light tortured everything in the lobby of the Wentworth: the velvet curtains, the muddy leather couches, the ceilings that rivaled the patterns of faberge eggs, and  all the way to the drooping petals of white orchids on the reception desk. The fake Turkish carpets attempted to add a homey aspect to the hotel, but, like many of the guests, succeeded only in mimicking the desperate cling to wealth any entity of New York City would. 

“Would you like me to take the bags Ma’am?” 

The bellhop previously pinned behind the desk had attempted to make himself useful. He had watched her cautiously, like a young child watches a lion at the Zoo, before approaching the woman situated watching the snowfall like she had never seen the city coated in white. 

“Pardon me Ma’am, the bags, would you like me to take?” 

She was thin, in a willowy way you would see on the cover of a magazine overwhelmed by her aqua button down, matching hat, and crisp black gloves. He took note of the way she pushed the flyaways of her curls back behind her ears to reveal large diamonds that blinked back at him. 

“Ma’am, the bags?”

Her heavy shadowed eyes met his brown ones  as if it was the first time she was noticing she was the lone guest in the grand room. That it seemed perfectly normal for a woman to perch upon lush couches and stare out of windows at eleven thirty on Christmas Eve. 

“Sorry darling, what did ya say?” There was a drawl to her voice, he couldn’t pinpoint it but he knew it meant she was not from New York. That made two of them. 

“I was wondering Ma’am, if you would like me to take the bags to the car so you are ready to leave”

“Nah, that’s alright, they’re fine, they’re mighty fine where they are. My husband said he would be back ina jiffy, he’ll take em then.” 

“You sure Ma’am, it would not be any trouble at all?”

She squinted, butterfly wing lashes locking, before tightening her lips and now craning her neck so she looked at him straight on. 

“I’m mighty positive, caint anyone trust a woman to make her own decisions these days?” she said,  feigning frustration in concealment of something else. 

“My apologies Ma’am, of course. Very good.”

 He stared down at his rented pair of Oxfords, picking at the painted gold buttons of his emerald uniform until they revealed a dull copper. He began his sullen retreat back behind the desk.

“Ya know, they should really put a clock round’ here” she signed.  

She had caught him off guard, he racked his mind of phrases he memorized and settled on perhaps the safest one.

“If you are in need of clocks Ma’am, housekeeping offers many options. I can call them now for you Ma’am.” She laughed, the type of laugh that shakes crystal champagne glasses. 

“Clocks and all I doubt folks these days would be any less on time. It seems time is quite irrelevant these days don’t ya agree?” She makes the grand proclamation. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to nod his head silently in agreement or question her seemingly mindless tangent. He realized his job only permitted the first. 

“Cat got ya tongue? Of course you don’t, youngins like you nevah do understand. So much hope. It's almost sickenin.” She brushes fingers across her eyes, smearing the makeup just slightly. “Ugh, what time is it anyhow”

He checks his watch, a small thing his father gave to him the last time he saw him. He keeps it in his pocket close to his ribcage. So close, sometimes he feels the bones want nothing more then to break and dance with the faint ticking. 

“11:43 Ma’am,” he said. She muttered under her breath, inhaling like a dragon from the children’s bookshop around the corner.

“Goddammit Scott you sayd youd be back be-fo-wah ten.”

He glances at the carpet as if he has overheard something he should not. He was told by the manager that customers would sometimes be, what was the phrase, ‘overly emotional and sentimental’ he found this normally applied with a great deal of alcohol but she seemed to be drawing from a different poison.  “Hm. I always did lac the lights in New York on Christmas. Reminds me of the lighnin’ bugs back home. Ya know we used to catch em in a jar. Me and my brothers stored em up in the house until Papa got home and threw em out or they diyed. (laughs) Imagine that. We used to cry over littl’ lighnin’ bugs that didn’t blink no mo,” she said. 

She drew fingers in tiny circles on the window pane, her tone striped of it’s glossy coat, reeking with sore nostalgia provoked by whatever she saw deep in the midnight streets. 

“That sounds nice Ma’am, very nice.”

“Is it?”

He did not expect the interjection. 

“You New Yorkers all pretend like Christmas ain’t ever happenin’ like it’s gotta pass by with the snow and the darkness with not so much but a few fancy dinners with family, or those ya think are family and ya drink too much and forgit it the next mornin. Like it don’t matter no mo.”

She paused, debating whether or not to withhold something, but she continued, harsher he noted. Her mask had returned. 

“My husbands from here. Really city man, likes briefcases and gin on Sundays. Sometimes even Wednesday in the mornins with the rest of the boys from the office. He’s a lawyer, a damned good one. Not an honest one though. Never was one for honesty. He loves it here, almost too much.”

She was lost, searching for her next words to fill the silence, the very rush of it scared him.

 “He should be back soon. He promised he’d be back soon. He’ll be back any minute now and I’m sure of it..” 

She sighed, the air had become too heavy for her chest to bare. 

“Where you from?” 

For a moment he still considered not  talking to the woman, glancing around frantically, but the lack of people present and the general gloom in the lobby compelled him to respond

“My father is from Amadora, in Portugal. They came here when I was only a few months. A fisherman. My mother sold bread in the bakery.”

“A bakery, that sounds lovely.”

“Warm breads, fresh ones. My mother taught me how to bake when I was six, ‘no use in having a child that couldn’t do anything but cry!’ she said often. I liked baking.” 

“Funny that. Got any fa-mily left?”

The question would have seemed out of order in any other circumstance, but he allowed it. 

“I do Ma’am. A wife, two daughters. One is five and the other is three.” 

“Did you date her, your wife? Ya know take her out to those restaurants and open the door or the picture shows on Fridays?’’

Her suggestions were specific, like she had imagined love could be mapped out to things like restaurants and opened doors. He didn’t have the time, or quite frankly the spare cash, to do such things, but he softened the blow to her hopeful fantasy. 

“She lived next door Ma’am. I saw her on my way to help my father in the mornings. She would be in the garden. She is very good with plants. Like magic. The house would be covered in all sorts of flowers, especially lavender. It broke her heart when she could not have lavender all year round, she needs things to remind her of the past every once in awhile, we all do. Forgive me Ma’am, I am stepping out of my place.”

“That’s alright. I had a swate-heart back home like that. I saw him when I went down town. thought I wanted to mare him. Although, I met Scott soon after. I tripped on the town square fountain steps and he caught me. Said it was his perfec’ luck” she paused. “I was just a chil’ back then.” 

“Ma’am, we are all still children merely pretending we are not as scared as we are” 

“Yeah. Quit calling me Ma’am please, how would you feel if someone called you Sir all day long?

“Sorry Ma’am”

She smiled, her red lips finally coming apart to breathe for miniscule seconds.

“Your wife, Is she pretty?”

“She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I do not know how I would care to live without her.” 

He knew how it sounded, in Portuguse it would not have sounded any better, but he meant every word. 

“ I wish Scott  sayd that about me. (disdain) Nah, he’d probably tell ya I was the easiest girl to mare. (loudly, ranting and her drawl picks up) then he does all this leavin me and goin to the Mayfair at crude hours of the night when he goddamn knows we have to be back in time for Christmas dinner cause he promised his Mama therd by dinner and dinner needs cookin and it takes a mighty long time to get all the way back to Long Island and cook dinner and sit Scott down for a while so he sobers up and goddamit he sayed he’d be here by now!” She was enraged, half laughing, half yelling, unsure of the dangers that came with such. 

“God sometimes I wish I wasn’t the lawyers wife. Sometimes I wish I’da stayed home in Louisville and been someone else. Anyone else. Damnit Scott where in hell are you”

She gasped, immediately pressing her hand to her mouth as if she could undo what words had just came out.  

“No. That’s not right. I didn’ mean that. Scott’s lovely, always. He took care of me when I got pneumonia. Bought me that awful syrup. He wrote letters to me when I was back in Louisville when Papa diyed. He was so busy he couldn’t come wit me, but ya see he, he wrote to me. That’s 3 cents a day. That’s a lotta money. He musta loved me. He does, deep down, he does love me. He’ll be back soon I know it. He musta forgotten his watch. He musta lost it. Poor dear  He’ll come back soon.” 

They both look at the chandelier, it changes nothing. 

“the flowers. the flowers on the desk. They’re wilting. You need new flowers.”

“I suppose they are. Flowers don’t live long in December Ma’am.” 

“No. No they don’t,” she chuckles to herself. 

He checked his watch, she studied his face tediously as if the time was  the most important matter in the room. 

“It’s Christmas morning Ma’am.”

“Is it really now? Already? Funny that. Funny that Indeed.”

They both paused, she glanced down at the bags at her feet and tucked one more auburn thendral behind her ear before continuing. 

“I suppose….”

“Yes Ma’am?”

“could you , uh, git the bags please?”

He studies her defeat, feeling a twinge of regret, but it would be out of his place, there would be rules he would never understand. 

“Of course Ma’am.”