Wayside: A Serial Novel - Episode 19
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Episode 19: Next of Kin
December 3, 1999
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your seats at this time and fasten your seatbelts in preparation for landing. We’re about twenty minutes out from McCarran International Airport. Looks like we’ve got clear skies this afternoon and it’s 59 degrees on the ground. That’s a nice improvement from the low 30s we were all bundled up for back at Charlotte Douglas. On behalf of your flight crew, we want to thank you for flying with us and welcome to Las Vegas, Nevada. And remember—”
“What happens in Vegas STAYS in Vegas!” Kevin shouted in unison with the pilot.
Ben side-eyed him from across the aisle. “How about taking it down a notch?”
“How about I dial it up a notch?” Kevin shot back, raising his glass in a toast to himself. “It’s my birthday weekend, bro. The party began when we left North Carolina!”
“Yeah, but you’ve already had too much to drink and you’re talking really loud,” Ben said in a hushed voice. “The flight attendant keeps giving you looks.”
“It’s called flirting, my friend. She keeps giving me these big smiles every time she brings me a drink. I’m going to ask her for her number once we land.”
“That’s called smiling, not flirting.”
“You wouldn’t know,” Kevin scoffed. “At every party I’ve dragged you to on campus, girls line up to throw themselves at you and you never take the bait. I’m going to see to it that we fix that while we’re in Vegas.”
“Or we could just enjoy your birthday weekend, without any pressure to chase women—”
“Or you could just shut up and say ‘thank you Kevin, for taking me to Vegas, and for upgrading me to first class.’” Kevin reached across the aisle, playfully smacking Ben’s arm. “I could have sent you back to coach with Brian and Colin, ya know.”
“Or we all could have flown together in coach so no one felt left out. And you could have saved the money you spent upgrading us at the counter, and taken us all out for dinner and a show.”
Kevin glared at him as if he’d said something outrageous. “Dinner… and a show?” He cleared his throat, then shook his index finger scoldingly at Ben. “Say that again, and I’ll throw you off this plane.”
Ben laughed. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I really appreciate the first-class seat. And the entire trip, of course. I’m just way out of my comfort zone right now.” He gripped his armrests as the airplane made a sudden, sharp dip to the left, then craned his neck to peer out the window.
The sight of the ground far below them caused a mixed reaction in his gut. On the one hand, it unnerved him to see how high they were above the earth, to not feel any sense of control. On the other, he was comforted to see the barren desert dissolving away into a cluster of high-rise buildings with a network of highways and interstates wrapped around them.
Not much longer. They’d be on the ground in no time.
“That’s been my mission since the day we met – to get you out of your comfort zone.” Kevin downed the last of his drink, slamming his glass down on his seatback tray. “But I think you’ll find that Vegas has many, many comforts to soothe you. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”
The flight attendant stepped toward them once more with an open bag to collect trash from passengers.
“I need you to put your tray up for me,” she whispered to Kevin as she collected his empty glass. “And let’s try to keep it down, okay?”
“Oh, I’m not talking that loud,” Kevin practically shouted. “But I promise I won’t say another word until we land if you give me your phone number.”
The flight attendant smiled. “Deal. But you have to keep up your end of the bargain. You make a peep, no phone number.”
Dragging his fingers across his lips in a zipping motion, Kevin relaxed back into his seat with a smug grin.
To Ben’s surprise – and relief – Kevin kept his promise, and the flight attendant slipped him a folded piece of paper as they deplaned in Las Vegas. He opened it while they waited at the gate for Kevin’s friends Brian and Colin to catch up with them.
“This is a 1-800 number,” Kevin observed. “And she didn’t write down her name.”
Ben glanced down at the number on the scrap of paper, then pointed out that the same number was plastered on signage around the airport terminal. “It’s the airline’s customer service number,” Ben smirked.
“Dammit.” He crumpled up the piece of paper and pitched it in a trash can. “Whatever.”
“What about Cheyenne?” Ben asked. “I thought you two were back together again?”
“We’re kind of in between,” Kevin said sheepishly. “I kind of want our break to last just a little bit longer, just until I get home from Vegas.”
“Does she know that?” Ben lowered his voice. “I’m asking because Cheyenne is my friend too, and I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“Don’t worry about her.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “She and I are working it out. We’re going to get married someday. We’ve already talked about it, and our parents are even on board. In the meantime, we’re both young and we want to enjoy ourselves before we’re tied up with big commitments and responsibilities.”
Ben glared at him. “Yeah, I don’t quite understand how that works.”
“You don’t have to.” Kevin raised his arm, waving his hand. “Hey, there’s Brian and Colin, coming off the jet bridge. Sweet! Now we can finally get our bags and find the hotel shuttle.”
“Way to change the subject.”
Kevin sighed loudly. “Look, Cheyenne isn’t stupid. She knows what goes on here.” He turned toward Ben, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I know you don’t get it, but this is what Vegas is all about. People come here to play, to do things they can't get away with in their day-to-day lives. Then they leave and forget about it. That's the unspoken rule. All sins are forgiven when you board your return flight.” He turned away to high-five Brian and Colin as they approached, ready to recount the horrors of their 5 hours in coach class.
“I don’t quite understand how that works either,” Ben sighed.
An hour later, the four young men were lined up behind the reception desk at the hotel.
Ben glanced at his watch. “It’s not even one o’clock yet. We won’t be able to check in for at least a couple of hours.”
“Would you relax, man?” Kevin laughed. “If we can’t check into our rooms early, we can just leave our bags with the concierge and hit the casino.” He pointed across the lobby.
Ben turned to look.
Blinking lights.
A cacophony of electronic sounds.
The rush of people moving in and out of the casino, carrying the stench of cigarette smoke with them.
He could feel his heart drop to his stomach, his pupils dilate.
“I think I’m going to pass,” he mumbled as he cupped his hands over his ears, swayed on his feet. “It's a bit much for me.”
Brian and Colin looked at Ben, then at each other. They rolled their eyes and faced away from him, mumbling under their breath.
“Okay, okay,” Kevin said to Ben. “Go grab a seat in the lobby and chill for a bit. I’ll get your room key and do my best to get you an early check in.” He put his hand on Ben’s back, nudging him away from the reception desk.
Ben sank down onto a leather sofa and folded his arms over his chest. He closed his eyes, rocked back and forth slightly. He knew he shouldn’t have come. He knew casinos would be too overwhelming. He knew Kevin’s friends would find him annoying.
He knew Kevin would behave like Kevin, and make him an unwilling witness to things he wouldn’t be able to forget as easily as everyone else could.
Moments later, Kevin sat down next to him on the sofa.
“You okay?”
Ben nodded. “I will be as long as I stay out of that casino.”
Kevin handed him a plastic keycard. “Room 2303. You’re checked in. Your suitcase is being delivered to the room. Go ahead and get settled in and I’ll hang out with Brian and Colin this afternoon.”
“Thanks.” Ben rose to his feet. “Sorry, Kevin. I tried to tell you before you booked my flight that the idea of Las Vegas sounded like more than I could handle.”
“I know,” he said. “I should have listened. I’m the one who should be sorry for being a dick about it.”
Ben lingered, waiting to see if an actual apology would follow.
“I’ll call you later to let you know where to meet up with us for dinner, cool?”
Ben nodded as Kevin rose to return to the reception desk. He waved at his three tripmates, then started toward the elevator.
On the second floor, Ben followed a convoluted maze of hallways to a different tower of the hotel.
He arrived at the door of his room to find it was propped open with the swingarm of the deadbolt in the frame. He leaned toward the gap in the doorway, peering inside.
A vacuum cleaner was just on the other side of the door. White bedsheets were piled on the floor. He backed away from the door, bumping his entire backside into the housekeeping cart behind him. “Ow!”
The door to his room opened to reveal a young Latina woman standing before him. Her right arm was in a cast, resting in a sling against her chest. She wore a housekeeping uniform dress that hung like a potato sack over her petite frame.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” she said in heavily accented English. “Very sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Ben insisted. “I just backed into your cart. I’m sorry if I messed anything up.”
She glanced over his shoulder. “No. Is okay.”
“I can come back later. How much time do you need to finish cleaning the room?”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Ehhh,” she looked over her shoulder, then back at Ben. “Ehhh… I take more time. The bone, the arm, I.. ehhh…” she pointed at her arm in the sling.
“I understand,” said Ben. “Your arm is broken.”
“Yes.”
“How much more time do you need?”
“Ehhh….” She shrugged, seemingly confused by Ben’s question.
“Prefieres hablar español?” Ben asked. “I speak a little, but I can try—"
“No!” Her eyes widened. “We get in trouble. Only English.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ben cupped his hand over his mouth. He glanced down the hallway to make sure no one else was around who might have overheard them speaking.
“Is okay,” she smiled. “Very sorry. I take more time.”
Ben stared down at her arm in the cast. “I can help you. Finish cleaning the room, I mean.”
“Ay, no, you wait in casino. Ground floor. Free drinks.”
He shook his head. “I don’t really like drinking. Or casinos.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “You don’t like?”
“No.”
She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. “You come to wrong place!”
“I did.” Ben laughed. “But… I want to help you. I broke my arm too when I was a child. I remember it was painful. And it slowed me down.”
“Ay… oh. So sad.” She frowned.
“What’s your name?”
“Lupe.”
“Lupe, I’m Ben. Can I come in? I want to help you.”
She hesitated at first, then stood aside to let Ben enter.
As she moved to the side, his eye was drawn to her midsection. Her belly was huge. Her ill-fitting uniform dress had hidden it while they’d been facing each other.
Ben felt obligated to say something once he’d stepped into the room and the door had closed behind him.
“You’re having a baby?”
Lupe nodded. “Three weeks.”
“Congratulations,” he smiled. Then added in an exaggerated whisper, “Felicidades.”
To Ben’s surprise, her entire face contorted into the most sorrowful expression he’d ever seen.
“What’s wrong?” Ben asked.
Lupe wiped at her eyes, which were suddenly red and rimmed with tears. “You say you help me, yes?”
“Yes. What can I do? Vacuum the floor? Put new sheets on the mattress?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Something else?” Ben’s heart wrenched at the sight of the woman before him.
Pregnant. Distressed. Young and naïve.
Vulnerable.
Like his mother must have been when his father had sent her away.
“Lupe, please,” he asked. “What can I do to help you?”
She took a step closer to him. “Will you marry me?”
After helping Lupe clean the rest of the rooms she’d been assigned that day, Ben followed her to the housekeeping department in the basement. Lupe’s fellow housekeeping staff members regarded the visitor in their space with suspicion at first, instantly shifting their conversations from Spanish to English at the sight of him.
“Está bien,” Lupe told them. “Es mi amigo.” Her words put them at ease.
Ben helped Lupe load sheets in one set of washers, towels in another, then started the wash cycles. They restocked her cart with toiletries, clean towels, and sheets. Then they carried the trash bags she’d collected out to the dumpster behind the hotel.
Once they were back inside, Lupe signed off on a series of paper checklists pinned to a clipboard. Then she selected her timecard from a rack on the wall, inserting it into the punch clock mounted beside it, and returning it to the appropriate slot once the timestamp had been added.
She pointed toward the exit at the end of a hallway. “You wait outside, okay? I change first.”
“Okay.” Ben watched as she disappeared into the ladies’ locker room, then made his way down the hallway. As he walked, the fumes from the laundry detergent and the sharp, chemical smells of various cleaning solutions burned his nostrils, made his chest feel tight when he breathed in. The flourescent lights on the ceiling flickered wildly and seemed to hum an unnerving tune in his ears, like a scene out of a horror movie signaling the transition to a fateful point of no return. He didn’t know how Lupe and her fellow employees could handle the daily exposure to the toxins, the sensory stressors of the environment.
He couldn’t imagine any of it was good for an unborn baby.
When Ben reached the exit, he couldn’t open the door fast enough. He took several steps away from the building, and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees to brace himself. Gasping, he fought to breathe in as much fresh air as his lungs would hold before forcing it out again.
His stomach wrenched and he vomited on the ground.
Once he regained his composure, he made his way to a nearby bench and sat down.
Ben wept into his hands. His own discomfort would have been enough to warrant tears, but it wasn’t about him.
He wept for Lupe.
She’d opened up to him while they finished cleaning her rooms together. In a mixture of broken English, and Spanish – behind closed doors, in a lowered voice – she told him her story.
Lupe was 18 years old when she’d finally scraped together enough money to pay a coyote to smuggle her across the border. She’d arrived in a delivery truck crammed with dozens of other young women at a hotel in a small border town in Texas, where a group of Americans were waiting for them. They came bearing food, water, toiletries and bags filled with secondhand clothes and shoes. The women were paired up, given keys to hotel rooms, where they were told to shower and sleep through the night. Lupe slept soundly that night, believing she and the others were lucky to have been welcomed with such kindness and hospitality.
The following morning, she and the other women were awakened at the crack of dawn and led into a meeting room. They were given coffee and pastries. The Americans took inventory of them, asking them to hand over whatever documents they’d brought with them. When Lupe told them she had none, they made her write down her name, her parents’ names, her date of birth, her hometown. She watched as a shady-looking man keyed everything into a computer, then printed out an official-looking document on a thick, pink sheet of paper with a burgundy border and an ornate seal in the upper right corner.
“You do now,” the American had told her. “Birth certificate. Es falso. But no one will be able to tell the difference.”
Lupe thought it was a gift. She was mistaken. The man wouldn’t let her keep it. There was a cost, he’d told her. The other Americans who’d come to the hotel to welcome the women were ‘recruiters’ from different types of businesses. Hotels and country clubs, mostly. Others were looking for women for ‘entertainment and hosting’ work. One of the recruiters would choose her and give her a job. They would pay for the forged birth certificate and use it to establish her as an employee. They’d deduct the cost of it from her paycheck once she started working.
That seemed reasonable to Lupe. She’d crossed the border to find work, anyway. She hadn’t expected there would be so many people waiting on her and the other women, so willing to help.
Again, she mistook it for kindness.
Next, the women were divided into two groups and shuffled to opposite sides of the meeting room.
Lupe was sent to stand against the wall with a dozen or so other women. All of them were young and attractive. On the far wall, the hotel and resort recruiters gathered to talk to the other women. That group was made up of older ladies. Some were younger, but were overweight, or missing teeth, or their skin was much darker than that of their peers.
“Son las viejas y las feas,” whispered a girl standing next to Lupe as she pointed across the room. “Somos las bonitas.”
They’re the old and ugly ones. We’re the pretty ones.
It was then that Lupe began to worry.
The young, attractive women were led into a separate room and were asked, one at a time, to undress. Once fully nude, they were asked to turn around, to bend over, to smile open-mouthed while they were photographed.
When it was Lupe’s turn, she unbuttoned her shirt and began to shrug out of it.
One of the Americans yelled at her.
“What’s this?” He’d asked, pointing at the large, asymmetrical patch of dark, raised skin across her midsection.
“Es una mancha de nacimiento,” Lupe said meekly. It’s a birthmark.
He stepped forward for a closer look. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “That won’t work. Put your shirt back on and go back to the other room. Otro cuarto,” he said, pointing to the door.
Lupe dressed and left, feeling unexpectedly grateful to rejoin las viejas y las feas.
In her reassigned group, no one was asked to undress. No one was photographed.
The screening process was much simpler. They were asked if they had any disabilities or medical conditions. They were asked how well they could speak English. They were asked if they were willing to work hard.
After answering the questions to the satisfaction of the recruiters, Lupe was squeezed into a van that was already packed shoulder to shoulder with seven other women.
They rode all day and all night, arriving the following afternoon in Las Vegas, Nevada.
They were sent to hotel rooms again, where they showered and slept through the night. The following morning, they were awakened before the sun came up and chaperoned to a meeting room. There, they met their boss, José – a second-generation Mexican American. They filled out mountains of paperwork and were measured for uniforms.
Next, they were loaded back onto the van and driven to the Nevada DMV, where José produced the women’s birth certificates and another stack of official-looking paperwork to the people behind the counter. As Lupe watched her new boss display all the different documents on the counter and explain to the staff what they were for, she wondered how much of the rest of it was fake as well.
Apparently, everything appeared legitimate enough to pass. All the women were photographed and issued non-driver government identification cards.
José collected all of the ID cards and kept them.
Back at the hotel, the women were fed sandwiches and were given their uniforms. Each was assigned to a senior member of the housekeeping team, to accompany them on their afternoon cleaning assignments and learn the ropes.
José claimed Lupe for himself.
Instead of taking her to a room that needed cleaning, he took her to a luxury suite that was guest-ready.
He told her she was special.
Different from all the others.
He told her she was too beautiful to work as hard as they’d have to, and that he’d take care of her if she’d take care of him.
He’d make sure she’d have the lightest workload.
He told her he’d help her move up to a better paying position. She’d just have to become fluent in English first. He’d help her. He’d let her take time off to attend ESL classes.
He promised her a room of her own.
Lupe asked about the ring on his left hand. Was it a wedding band? Didn’t it mean he had a wife?
He told her not to worry about it.
She moved toward the door. He blocked it.
He never really gave her a choice.
Four months later, Lupe was working just as hard as all of her peers in housekeeping.
She was still sharing a room with three other women.
None of his promises had been kept.
And now, she was pregnant with his child.
To her surprise, José was thrilled when she told him. He wept tears of genuine joy.
He said he’d always wanted to be a father. He never thought it would happen, since his wife couldn’t bear children.
She asked what her pregnancy would mean for his marriage.
Nothing, he’d told her. Nothing had to change. Once Lupe gave birth he and his wife would adopt the newborn and raise the child as their own. No one would ever have to know the baby was his biological child. And everyone would think he was a saint for taking in the child of one of his employees who didn’t have the means to raise a baby herself.
Lupe couldn’t believe her ears. She told him she’d never agree to give up the baby.
He told her she didn’t have a choice.
She couldn’t keep a baby in the room she shared with the three other housekeepers.
She couldn’t afford a place of her own outside of the hotel, not when José collected most of her pay as rent for occupying the room.
She couldn’t leave and find a job elsewhere. He had her state identification card. He had the forged documents which convincingly created the appearance that she was authorized to work in the United States. All of it was tied to the hotel, and to him.
He’d helped himself to her body ever since she’d begun working there. It wasn’t enough.
Now he was going to take her baby, too.
Lupe spent the next several months trying to change his mind, to no avail.
Six weeks before her due date, José took her to a doctor’s appointment, where they saw their unborn child kicking, sucking its thumb, waving its little arms as if to say hello on the ultrasound.
They learned the baby was a little girl.
José became emotional again, shedding tears as he held Lupe’s hand and kissed her forehead throughout the procedure.
She saw it as an opportunity to appeal to him again, to let her keep the baby. She asked him on the way out of the doctor’s office. He didn’t give her an answer, but in a gesture she took for chivalry, held the car door open for her.
Then slammed it on her arm as she climbed inside.
Lupe felt her bones snap apart
The pain was so intense, she passed out. He slapped her awake.
“If you bring it up again,” he told her, “I’ll do that to your pretty little head. Do you understand?”
He dropped Lupe off at her room. She passed out again from the pain. Her roommates pooled what little cash they had and called for a cab to carry her to the hospital.
In the Emergency Room, the staff X-rayed her arm, gave her pain medicine, and brought in an orthopedic technician to apply a cast. A nursing assistant stepped into the room to help her fill out the patient admission form she’d been unable to complete upon arrival.
Lupe knew the answers to all of the questions on the form except for one.
“Who is your next of kin?”
“What is that?” Lupe asked.
“Your closest relative,” the nursing assistant explained. “Your mother or father. Or brother or sister.”
“No,” Lupe told them. “I have no one.”
“Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents? Cousins?”
Lupe shook her head again. “No family. All dead.”
“Husband? Are you married?”
Lupe’s eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “Why… what is next of kin for?”
“In case you need care at our hospital, but you’re incapacitated and can’t make decisions for yourself.”
“What does this mean, in-ca-pitate… in-ca—”
“Incapacitated,” the nursing assistant repeated. “Like… if you’re unconscious. Like you’re asleep and can’t wake up. Or… if your brain is dead, but your body is still alive. Then your next of kin makes decisions for you.”
Lupe left the Emergency Room with her arm in a cast, a prescription for painkillers, and a new reason for hope. She fell to her knees and prayed that night, and every night after. She prayed for God to send her a husband.
Three weeks later, her prayers were answered.
Ben held the door of the cab open, holding Lupe’s uninjured arm for support as she climbed inside.
“We need to get to the closest DMV office,” Ben told the driver.
“Why?” Lupe asked.
“We’ll both need government-issued ID cards to get married,” Ben explained. “I have my driver’s license, but we’ll need an ID for you too.”
She frowned. “José keep in his safe. For all of us. So we stay here, like a trap.”
“That’s why we’re going to the DMV. If your identification card is lost or stolen, they can issue a duplicate.”
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at a small municipal building on outskirts of town.
“If you can wait for us, I’ll double your fare,” Ben promised the cab driver, who obliged him with a nod.
Ben held the door for Lupe, breathing a sigh of relief to see the lobby was empty. An older man behind the counter peered over his reading glasses at them.
“Driving tests are in the morning or by appointment only,” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“We don’t need a driving test,” said Ben. “Just a duplicate ID.”
The man’s expression softened. “Now that, we can do. Just need a name, date of birth, and as long as the face matches the picture we have on file, it’s ten dollars, cash or check.”
Ten minutes later, they were back in the cab with Lupe’s newly laminated duplicate ID card in her hands. Glancing at his watch, Ben asked the driver to get them to the courthouse as quickly as possible.
They arrived without a moment to spare. After a security guard waved them through a metal detector, they followed signage directing them to the second floor. At the top of the stairwell, they found the glass double doors with the words ‘Marriage Licenses and Civil Wedding Ceremonies’ stenciled on the door.
On the other side of the doors, a uniformed security guard inserted a key into the deadbolt. He turned it with a loud click.
“Wait!” Ben shouted, grabbing Lupe’s hand. They sprinted toward the door.
The officer inside the office pointed at the message stenciled in smaller print below the door handles.
Hours of operation
Monday – Friday, 9 am – 5 pm
No entry after 4 pm
“Please,” Ben begged. He showed the face of his watch to the guard through the door. “It’s only two minutes after four o’clock. Please, this is urgent.”
The guard shook his head. “Sorry. Come back Monday.”
“Wait!” Lupe called out to him, pointing toward his chest. “Your chain. May I see?”
The guard looked down at the ball chain around his neck, fishing a set of military dog tags out of his uniform shirt. “This?”
“Yes.” Lupe leaned closer. “Yours?”
“Yes,” he said. “I’m a veteran. Marine Corps.”
“It says you are Christian.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Me too.” She rested her hands over her swollen belly. “Please don’t turn us away. The inn keeper turn Mary and Joseph away. Do you know, in the Bible?”
He stared at her with amusement. “All due respect, ma’am, you’re not Mary and Joseph, and this isn’t an inn, this is civil court. We do shotgun weddings here all day long, but we have rules to follow. You’ll have to come back on Monday.”
“Please,” Lupe begged once more. “If we are in Christ, you are my brother. I am your sister. So is this baby, she is your sister too. Man makes rules, not God. God makes the heart.” Tears sprang from her eyes as she rested her hand over the center of her chest, tapping her palm against her own heart. “If I have no husband… I lose this baby. I pray every day for this. God give me the husband. But I must go in to marry him. Only today, no other day. Please let us in.”
The guard glanced at Ben. Then at Lupe again.
Then he backed up several steps, shouted down the hallway to a colleague out of view from the glass doors. “One more?”
A voice called back to him. “Yeah.”
“They don’t have witnesses. Can you see if the couple you’ve got back there now can stay after their ceremony and witness for them?”
A few seconds of silence.
“They said that’s fine.”
The guard returned to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and let them inside.
“Go get married,” he told them. “And put in a good word for me with the man upstairs while you’re at it.”
Lupe finished the last bite of her cheeseburger, then clamped her hand over her mouth as a burp escaped her lips.
“Ay… discúlpeme.” she said to Ben. Excuse me. “Sorry to be rude. La bebé, she move a lot, after I eat.””
He smiled. “You’re not rude. You’re eating for two. Do you want me to get you more?”
“No, very full. Thank you for this wedding dinner. Muy romántico.” Lupe giggled as she reached across the table, sliding the White Castle restaurant tray out of the way to rest her hand atop his.
“Ben?”
“Yes?”
“Why you marry a stranger? Tú eres loco.” You’re crazy. “Pero… you are a saint. To help me.”
Ben shook his head. “No. I’m not a saint. My mother taught me that if someone asks me for help, and I choose to say no when I could say yes, it is a sin.”
She studied his face. “You are saint,” she repeated. “It is your name. Santos.”
He blinked several times. “It’s just a name.”
“A good name. A good man.”
Ben cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. “What comes next, Lupe? Now that we are married… what does that mean for us?”
She smiled. “Nothing,” she shrugged. “Ehhh… we go back to hotel. You go home with your friends. I stay. Three weeks, I have the baby. And then… I run.”
“Where are you going?”
“California. I cross border with other women. They go in van to Southern California. I remember names of the hotels they go to, and I call them. They tell me to come. They say they keep their papers, they have a good boss. Not like José. They help me.”
“Why not leave now?” He asked. “I could help you get out of here. Regardless of what you had to do to get it, you do have a government-issued identification card now. That gives you some independence. And I have a few hundred dollars in cash I could give you—"
“Ahorita, no,” she shook her head. Not now. “I cannot go far with a broken arm and a baby inside me. I am feeling pain, am tired always. After the baby come. I go from the hospital. On a bus. I save money to buy a seat.”
“What about José? Won’t he force you to give up the baby?”
“Now, he cannot.” She looked down at the blue linen folder on the corner of the table, opening it for a quick glance at their marriage certificate inside. “I tell the hospital to keep him away. I tell them he is crazy. He is not my husband. I show them this. A real paper. No es falso.”
“But…” Ben worked his hands, rocked back and forth slightly in his seat. “I don’t understand. Shouldn’t I be here when you have the baby? I mean… I’m your husband now. This… this is a commitment.”
“You don’t have to be husband,” she said softly. “Just next of kin.”
“What?” He stared at her, perplexed.
“When I have labor, I take marriage certificate to hospital, to show you are next of kin. I write your name on hospital papers. But if José find a way to me… if he break my head, if my brain is dead... if hospital call you in North Carolina… please Ben, come back, take my baby. Take her to good family. Anyone but José. Es un monstruo.” He is a monster.
“Lupe,” he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. “Come back to North Carolina with me. I’ll take care of you. And the baby. You could stay with my mother until I finish school, and we can get a place of our own. We’ll make it work.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I do not want to change your life. You save my daughter’s life… es un milagro.” It’s a miracle. “I cannot take more than that. It would be a sin, when other people need miracles too.”
Ben frowned, wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. “That’s too bad. My mother would have loved you, you know.”
They laughed. Ben held out his hands to her. She placed her palms against his. They stared at each other, each longing for a world where they might have met under different circumstances.
“Can I at least take you out tonight?” Ben asked. “A first date? Last date? The world’s shortest honeymoon?”
Lupe laughed. “Okay.”
“So where are we going?”
She tapped her fingers against her chin, rolling her eyes from one side to the other. “El circo.”
“The circus?” Ben asked curiously. “In Las Vegas?”
Lupe nodded. “I never go since I come here, almost a year ago. Hotel guests talk, talk, talk, always about the circus. They love it! I want to love it too. Before I am gone.”
“The circus it is,” said Ben.
Later that evening, Ben waited for Lupe outside of the housekeeping office.
When she stepped out to join him, she was wearing a white party dress made of a stretchy material. A flimsy piece of white tulle attached to a headband was placed on the crown of her head.
“You look great!” Ben said. “Where did you get those?”
“Lost and found bins,” Lupe winked. “Ladies come to Vegas for parties, for bride friends. They leave much behind.”
He smiled at the sight of her in her improvised weddingwear. “One bachelorette party’s loss, your gain,” he said. “It looks good on you.”
She eyeballed his blue jeans, Chuck Taylors, and the black sweatshirt with a decal of a tuxedo vest and bowtie on the chest. “Your shirt,” she giggled. “For wedding. I like it.”
Ben looked down at his clothing with chagrin. “I got it from the wedding chapel gift shop. I thought it might make you laugh.”
“Ay, the chapel, vamos,” Lupe said excitedly, taking Ben by the arm. “We take photos.” She led him to the hotel’s wedding chapel, knocked on the sliding glass window. An elderly man dressed like Elvis answered.
“Hello,” said Lupe. “We need photo, you take?”
“Digital photography packages are only for ceremonies we do here in the chapel,” he explained. “Sorry.”
“Ehhh… what if digital camera break?” Lupe asked. “What then?”
The man shrugged.
“You have Polaroid,” she pointed over his shoulder. “Please, two Polaroid photos. I pay you.” She reached into her purse, pulling out a ten-dollar bill. “Is enough?”
The man eyed the cash, hesitated for a moment, then took it from the counter. “Ten for one,” he told her. “Twenty for two.”
“I’ll get the other,” Ben said, reaching into his wallet for another ten-dollar bill.
Once the Elvis-impersonating chapel attendant was satisfied he’d made enough of a return on investment to take the pictures, he emerged from behind the window, Polaroid camera on a strap around his neck.
Ben and Lupe stood side by side under a white wedding arch outside of the chapel. The words ‘Just Married’ were airbrushed on the wall behind them, just above the top of the arch.
“You two don’t look very married,” said faux Elvis. “Hug or kiss or something.”
Ben moved closer to Lupe, wrapping his arm around her back, resting his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him, placing her uninjured hand over his heart, resting her head on his chest.
“That’s better. Hold still.” The man took two photos, waving each piece of film in the air to speed the drying process. Once they had developed, he handed them to Lupe.
“I love,” she said with a smile, then showed them to Ben. “Which one for you?”
“Oh… I thought they were both for you.”
“No, you take one,” she said, sliding one of the Polaroids into Ben’s pocket. “So you remember me.” As she pulled her hand away, her palm grazed against Ben’s.
He took her hand into his. “How could I forget you, Lupe? You’re my wife now. I still don’t understand how this is supposed to work—”
“You look sad,” she interrupted. “Circus cheer you up. Vamos.”
Lupe led Ben out of the hotel lobby to the taxi stand just outside of the revolving doors. As they climbed into the first cab in the line, she gave the driver an address.
Moments later, they stepped out at another high-rise hotel.
“This is the circus?” Ben asked, perplexed.
“Yes.” Lupe grinned as she led him into the lobby and onto the elevator.
It was then that Ben saw a poster above the button panel advertising the hotel’s featured attraction – the world’s largest permanent circus on the top floor of the building. When the elevator doors slid open, they stepped out into a long hallway resembling a carnival midway.
They stood before a fairway of carnival games, juggling clowns, funnel cake and corn dog stands, a mini golf course, and a small carousel. He stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding, his breathing more shallow.
“Are you okay?” Lupe asked with genuine concern. “Or… we go back?”
“No,” Ben said softly. “I want to go to the circus with you. Just… just give me a minute to adjust. The blinking lights and the sounds… it’s a lot.”
“Okay. I help.” Lupe reached into her handbag and handed Ben a pair of earplugs sealed in plastic wrap. “We use when we clean rooms. So loud, the… eh… machine.” She gestured as if she were holding the handle of a vacuum cleaner, running it back and forth over an imaginary carpet.
“The vacuum clear, yes,” said Ben. “That makes sense.” He unwrapped the earplugs and placed them in his ears.
“Is better?” Lupe asked
“Definitely.”
“Okay.” She pointed toward the ceiling. “Now… look up.”
Ben tilted his head back to find the lighting was low; the ceiling above them had tiny twinkling lights that looked like stars scattered across the night sky.
“Just you, me, the stars,” she raised her voice slightly so he could hear her through the earplugs.
Ben lowered his head again to face her. “Thank you,” he said with a smile, then kissed her.
She kissed him back, then hooked her arm through his.
“Look up. Don’t worry.” She led him through the midway to a theatre at the end of the hallway.
Once they were seated inside, Ben placed his arm across the back of Lupe’s seat. She rested her head on his shoulder. A few minutes later, the show began with costumed entertainers singing and dancing on the stage before them. Trapeze artists somersaulted from swing to swing above them. Motorcycles whirled around each other inside a see-through dome. A magician made an audience member disappear, and then reappear moments later in his seat.
Lupe fell asleep halfway through the show, her casted arm resting over the baby in her belly, the other tucked into Ben’s elbow.
He brushed her hair out of her eyes, watched her face as she slept.
Ben was overwhelmed with sorrow.
He wanted more than anything to help her. To make her life better.
More than that, he wanted to know her. He wanted to love her, and the little person growing inside her.
He could only hope she would change her mind. If not before he left Vegas, then someday in the future.
When the last circus act was finished, the curtains fell, the overhead lights illuminated the theatre.
Lupe stirred awake and rubbed her eyes.
“You missed half of the show,” Ben said. “I guess we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“No,” she said softly. “Is good. Just tonight. Is enough.”
“Would you like to go somewhere else?”
“No, gracias,” said Lupe. “We go back to hotel now.”
“Will you stay with me?” Ben asked, his voice tight with emotion. “I don’t mean…. I… I have two beds in my room. You can have one to yourself.”
“No,” she insisted. “I go home. My room.”
“I’m curious,” Ben stalled, trying in vain to make their evening together last. “Why did you pick the circus?”
She faced him with a smile, tears gathering in her eyes. “Because… nobody cry at a circus.”
They took a cab back to their hotel, embraced in the lobby, and wished each other a good night.
Sunday morning found Ben both grateful and distraught to be leaving Las Vegas.
He’d spent the day before with Kevin, Brian, and Colin, reluctantly following on their heels through different bars, and gentlemen’s clubs where his tripmates had behaved like anything but gentlemen. They’d finally called it a night and returned to the hotel after Colin got so drunk, he threw up on an exotic dancer and got them all kicked out of the venue.
Ben and Kevin were the first to arrive in the lobby the morning after, bags packed and ready to go. They waited for Brian and Colin on the same leather sofa where they’d sat down on Friday during check-in.
Kevin was still wearing the clothes he’d gone out in the night before. His hair was unkempt. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
“Are you looking forward to seeing Cheyenne when we get back?” Ben asked.
“Mm.” Kevin didn’t open his mouth, didn’t move a single muscle in his body.
“Is that ‘Mm’ good or bad?” Ben asked.
“Neither. It’s me trying to say ‘shhhh’ without opening my mouth,” Kevin instructed. “My head hurts so bad it feels like it’s going to explode. Did you bring any painkillers?”
“Yeah, hold on,” Ben replied as he reached for his carry-on bag.
“Good. Hurry. I need it like yesterday.” Kevin leaned in with anticipation, watching as Ben rummaged through the contents of his bag. “Oh shit… what’s that?”
“What?”
“This picture,” said Kevin, reaching in to grab the Polaroid of Ben and Lupe under the wedding arch.
“Oh,” said Ben. “That’s… a girl I met here at the hotel. She… um… she asked me to be in a picture with her.”
Kevin held the photo up to the level of his eyes, lifting his sunglasses for a better look. “This is hilarious,” he said, breaking into a grin. “A pregnant bride with a broken arm? Oh my God, Ben, I think this is the funniest shit I’ve ever seen.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Kevin laughed. “It looks like you got the poor girl pregnant, beat her up, and then showed up for a crappy Las Vegas wedding in a shitty tuxedo sweatshirt. What’s the story behind this, anyway?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” said Kevin. “She must have wanted the picture as a joke or something. This girl must be a riot! She’s hot, too. It’s too bad you didn’t introduce us, we could have partied with her.”
Ben snatched the picture away from him. “It wasn’t a joke. And the guy who broke her arm and got her pregnant—”
“Let me guess,” said Kevin, “she took the picture with you to show to the guy who did all that to her. To like, make him jealous or punish him or something, so he’ll think she’s moved on and doesn’t need him anymore.”
“Yeah,” Ben shrugged with resignation. “I’m sure that’s it.”
Squeak squeak squeak…
Ben and Kevin turned their heads toward the sound of squeaky wheels approaching. They found Brian rolling a luggage cart toward them. Half of the platform was stacked with bags; Colin was curled up in the fetal position on the other.
“Did you check him for a pulse?” Kevin snickered to Brian.
Ben found the medication he’d been searching for and passed it to Kevin. “There’s enough for Colin, too, if it would help. He doesn’t look so good.”
Ben watched as his tripmates poured water into plastic cups from a cooler in the lobby and finished off the bottle of pain medication.
“Just in time,” said Kevin. “The shuttle is pulling up outside. C’mon.”
Ben rose to his feet and hoisted his carry-on bag onto his shoulder, wheeling his suitcase behind him. He waited for Kevin, Brian, and Colin to exit the building, then turned and looked behind him.
Across the lobby, Lupe was standing next to the elevator in her housekeeping uniform.
When their eyes met, she gave him the saddest smile he’d ever seen in his life.
He started to walk toward her, then stopped once he saw her shake her head.
She raised her hand and placed it over her heart.
Ben did the same.
Lupe smiled at him once more, wiped at her eyes, then turned and stepped onto the elevator.
Ben turned and stepped outside, joining his tripmates in their ride to the airport.
As the shuttle pulled onto the highway, billboards flashed past them, reminding travelers to come back again to enjoy whichever tourist trap they hadn’t been able to squeeze into their trip.
They sped past a sign for the circus attraction Lupe had taken Ben to on Friday night.
He looked away, closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked, lifting his sunglasses for a better look at Ben.
“Nothing. I’m just ready to go home.”
“Thanks for coming to Vegas with me,” said Kevin. “Sorry you didn’t have a better time. The good news is, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. You can forget about the whole weekend.”
Ben blinked. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.”
“Yeah, it is,” said Kevin with confidence. “You don’t take Vegas home with you, man. Everything here is an illusion. None of this was real. It was all just a dream.”
Ben stared numbly out the window again.
What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas! Screamed a billboard from the side of the highway.
Maybe he was right. Clearly, Kevin understood the Vegas experience far better than he ever would.
None of this was real.
It was the story Ben would tell himself for years to come, whenever the devastating thought would creep into his mind that he had a wife he barely knew, and a stepchild he’d yet to meet.
A family of his own somewhere out in the world, living their lives without him.
It didn't make sense. It couldn't be real.
It was just a dream.
A beautiful, tragic dream.
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