The Saver by Edeet Ravel Page B

I’m not home, as if my whole purpose in life is to stay in my apartment and wait for her next rant.
    Another thing I’m worried about is Beauty. I feel bad leaving her alone so much. She really misses her old life, with all the rooms and the balcony and a view of trees.
    Maybe I can leave her with Victor. He mentioned he likes cats, and he’s home during the day, and his place is a lot bigger than mine.
    One thing about working, it keeps your mind off things. You fall into bed and the next thing you know it’s time to get up and clean.
    I’ve been reading the ads in the retired man’s
Gazette
, but so far the restaurants are all too far or the wronghours, and I only saw two hotel ads, one for valet parking and one for bartending.
    I’m wearing my second-to-biggest jeans now, which I haven’t worn in a long time. It’s from all the running around, and having less time to eat, or even to buy food.
    Yours forever,
    Fern

Tuesday
    January 29
    Hi Xanoth,
    Mrs. Coleville and I are having a contest. It’s called “Who’s going to go over the edge first?” She’s been writing down every single time the door of the mousy woman opens and closes.
    Meanwhile I’ve been trying to talk to the mousy woman, because I really would like to sleep in now and then instead of being yelled at by Mrs. Coleville while I’m half-conscious.
    But the mousy woman has a peephole, and when she sees it’s me she doesn’t answer. And I don’t start pounding away because I’m not Mrs. Coleville. Yet.
    Yours forever,
    Fern

Wednesday
    January 30
    Hi Xanoth,
    I finally talked to the mousy woman. She came in with groceries while I was doing the floors. She was soaking wet. It’s been half-raining, half-snowing most of the day.
    I said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but the tenant next door to you is very sensitive to noise. She hears every time your door opens and closes, especially at night.”
    The mousy woman looked scared. She has a wide pale face with big pale blue eyes. “I more quiet,” she said with an accent. Her accent might explain her refugee coat and rubber boots. Maybe she really is a refugee.
    I hope I’ll be able to sleep in the mornings now, without that Coleville maniac trying to kick my door in.
    Yours forever,
    Fern

Sunday
    February 10
    Hi Xanoth,
    This morning I found an ad for a hotel job that looked good. It said CLEANING AND GENERAL HELP and it also said IMMEDIATE , which brought me luck last time. I think it means they’re desperate.
    So I called and a guy answered. He said, “Just to tell you right off, we’re in the gay village.” Kind of random, but I said OK. He wanted me to come over right away and he gave me directions. So I left a note on my door – BACK SOON – mostly so Mrs. Coleville won’t have a fit.
    On the phone the man told me the hotel was very easy to find, but I almost missed it. I imagined a big hotel, but it was a plain low-rise and kind of old, so I went right past it without seeing the sign. It’s called Le Baudelaire.
    I went in and told the receptionist who I was. He had a purple punk hairdo, but the rest of him wasn’t punk at all. He was dressed like he was in an ad for sailing. So that was weird and the building was weird, and for a second I thought maybe it’s a trap, like in one of those urban legends where they pretend there’s a job and thenthey kidnap you and take out your kidney or sell you into slavery.
    But I relaxed when he said, “Wonderful, wonderful.” He sounded normal. A second guy heard us and came out from his office and shook my hand.
    The second guy seemed kind of lost, around 40, with thin messy hair. His office was a mess too. He kept looking for something on his desk, only he couldn’t remember what he was looking for.
    He told me the hotel catered mostly to gays and he was telling me right out front that some of the customers are