This is a little break from my usual stuff in the form of a short story. Hope you like it! ♥Chrissie
Eleanor Stone was nearly jumping with joy as she stepped from the crowded reception area, into the cold, gray elevator. She pressed the button for the lobby and rocked back and forth on her heels. She had just finished her tenth job interview this month, and this one had actually gone without a hitch. She was dearly needing an occupation, as her four daughters would suffer otherwise. She was going over everything she’d said, how she answered every question, and she found no possible reason for them not to hire her.
The elevator whirred down and with a thump, it stopped, opening it’s door to accommodate a teenage boy, who thrust himself into the claustrophobic box, an irritated expression on his face. He pressed the ground floor button with such force that Eleanor felt bad for the poor button. The music from his headphones was loud enough so she could hear it. She pursed her lips and looked away.
Again the elevator stopped and the doors obediently opened to a large man entering in a business suit, who was too consumed with texting on his Black Berry to press a floor button. Just as the doors were about to close, a young woman slid through them, her messenger bag getting caught in the narrow gap. She yanked it out and pressed the ground floor button. The young woman had paint on her shirt and on her messenger bag. Eleanor was going to mention quietly to her about the spot of yellow acrylic in her hair, but stayed silent.
Suddenly, there was a loud thump, louder than the one the elevator made when it usually stopped. The walls rattled slightly as what sounded like screeching tires filled their ears. It stopped suddenly and the elevator became stationary. The teenage boy pulled the headphones out of his ears and the man in the suit looked up from his text message.
“Oh great.” The teenager said quietly, with a scowl.
“This thing probably hasn’t been inspected in years.” The suit-clad man muttered arrogantly, dialing on his phone and putting it up to his ear. “Yes, hi, yeah I’m stuck in an elevator on forty-seven – hello?”
He examined his cell phone and sighed. “No battery.” He announced, looking completely insaulted that his cell phone dare loose charge in the middle of his phone call.
“What are we going to do?” the girl with the paint on her asked, her eyes widening.
“I’m sure someone has been alerted . . . or something.” Eleanor said uncertainly.
“Oh sure. Do you know how many elevators are in this building? We’ll probably all be dead by the time they find us.” The young man said, inserting one earphone and playing his loud music again.
The girl bit her lip. “Anyone else have a cell phone? I dropped mine in a cup of milk this morning.”
“How do you drop a cell phone in a glass of milk?” The teenager asked.
The girl turned up her nose. “It slid out of my hand, duh.”
The boy rolled his eyes.
“I have no cell phone either.” Eleanor said, addressing the business man.
“Wonderful.” He said sarcastically. “This is exactly what I needed today.”
“Hey aren’t you that guy from TV?” The girl blurted.
He grinned triumphantly. “Henry Robinson, attorney at law for thirteen years. I fight for you!” He pointed at an invisible camera and flashed a smile, revealing bleached teeth. Eleanor remembered this phrase, as she had often switched the channel when his commercial played again and again during her favorite shows.
“Shouldn’t we be trying to get out of this metal box?” the teenager asked.
They banged on the door for ten minutes, trying to call for help. It was fruitless.
After becoming tired and hot, they sat on the floor to escape the stuffiness in the air.
“I have a meeting in ten minutes.” Henry Robinson said miserably. He checked his Black Berry again.
“So what? My band practices in four minutes and if I’m not there, I’ll get kicked out.”
“My career is a bit more important than your noise, kid.” Henry said, sounding tired.
The boy scowled. “Says you.”
“You’re probably not going to make a career out of music, you know.” The girl said.
“And you’re what? An art student? You aren’t going to make it out there with a paint brush either.”
“Art is inevitable.” She replied. “What’s your band’s name?”
“Joey and the Blues.” He said quietly.
Henry looked up. “You’re Joey Gardener. One of my clients sued your parents last year, didn’t they?”
Joey grinned wickedly. “Yup.”
“I stayed so late to work I didn’t even go home that night.” Henry said, more to himself than the rest of them.
“Your wife must be proud of you.” Eleanor said, eyeing the gold band on his finger.
“Hardly. She says I work too much.”
“Maybe you could take a vacation.” The girl suggested, taking a sketchpad out from her messenger bag and started drawing.
Henry sighed. “I have no time.”
“That’s horrible.” Eleanor said, the talk of family making her think about her daughters coming home to an empty house. She glanced at the girl’s sketch to see a picture-like drawing of an island.
“You’re very good.” Eleanor muttered, distracted by the artful way the girl sketched.
“Thank you. I’m Laura, by the way.”
“Eleanor.”
“Like Eleanor Rigby?” Joey asked with a sly grin.
She laughed. “I used to be called that all the time.”
“My mom used to like John Lennon.” Joey said. His expression faded. “She probably liked him more than me at one point.”
“Why would you say a thing like that?” Henry asked, looking genuinely worried.
“We’re not . . . friends.” He replied darkly.
“So? My mom and me never ever got along when I was your age.” Laura said. “It’s a teenage thing.”
Joey looked back to the screen on his iPod. “Uh-huh.” He said passively.
“Deep down inside, I think you love her.” Eleanor said. “My husband used to say that to me when I had fights with my sister.”
“He sounds like a wise man.” Henry said.
“He passed away last year. He was wise, though. Very wise.”
“I’m sorry.” Laura said.
“Me too.” Henry added.
Joey frowned. “I know I love my mom, I just wish she’d be a little more agreeable.” He paused. “I’m sorry you lost your husband, Eleanor.”
“It’s alright. My daughters didn’t even know him well. He was always away on business.”
Henry stiffened.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said yet.” Laura said to Joey with a chuckle. He smirked.
Suddenly there was a final thumping noise and some voices. The elevator dinged and started moving. At long last, the doors opened. They all got up and practically ran into the lobby. They bid their goodbyes to each other, and to one small experience which held more than they realized.
Henry Robinson recently quit the world of law to spend more time with his wife and two daughters. He is now a happy Wal-Mart greeter, making every customer feel at home. Everyone watching the local news on weeknights were very pleased not to see his face and hear his cheesy catchphrase every commercial break.
After realizing that he really did love his mother, Joey apologized for his teenage behavior. His mother was pleasantly surprised. She hadn’t heard Joey tell her that he loved her for a while. Even though his band doesn’t have a giant fan club, he’s still happy making music for everyone to hear.
Laura and Eleanor continued to lead their lives as they had, more convinced that they were on the right road.
Henry, Eleanor, Laura and Joey all take the stairs from now on. It wouldn’t be right to ride an elevator that’s not stationary.
If you ever needed a full review, seeing as mine there was rather short, feel free to ask.
