Chapter 3
Eliana finally came home a week after the body had been carried out. In that time it was her father who woke up with the sun and called me to come and carry him down to the first floor. He came in limping, and his back was always bent double, as though the weight of life was too much for him. When he returned at night it was with the strong smell of alcohol and with gestures almost as rough as Eliana’s had been.
Then, the week passed and Eliana was back. Oh, how I rejoiced in feeling her touch once more, as she stood by the old man, talking quietly. “I’m sorry for breaking your elevator.” How drastically her voice had changed since the days when she talked to herself about future adventures. In those days she had sounded like a ray of sunshine, filled with hope and excitement. Now her voice held only pain.
Once inside, she brushed her fingers against my walls once more, but it was more of a gesture to reassure herself that she was still in a world of reality. And as we ascended in perfect silence I could sense the crystal tears running down her prominent cheeks bones and cascading past her perfect lips until they fell with an inaudible splash at her feet.
Before long, I got used to her constant rides. She would come bearing instructions of where she wished to go almost before the sun had risen. Her fingers would lovingly push back the bars and announce her destination. She would lean against my walls, press her hand around my bar, and sometimes even drop a soft kiss before opening the door. She loved me; after all, I was her escape.
By the time she got home in the evenings she had no time for affection. It was always so late, even the manager would be in some hidden room with his mind closed off to reality. But Eliana would still be awake, and when she talked to herself her words were slurred and mixed with the hatred she had cast in front of her as a shield from her pain.
