Elevator Ride

As soon as Mark Schuler saw the elevator doors open, he wished he hadn’t pressed the call button.

Staring back at him was a petite, young woman.   She moved to step off the elevator, but stopped when she caught his gaze.  It was an awkward moment for both of them--the kind of moment Mark knew was inevitable since they worked in the same building.  Kelly Morgan wasn’t one of those women you ignored.  She was a head turner and then some.  But for him, the awkwardness had nothing to do with her looks.  It was personal.

Mark could feel the lump lodge in his throat as he tried to say something.  He caught sight of Kelly’s brown eyes, saw them change from a look of recognition to that of sadness--then anger. 

“Excuse me,” Kelly said, shoving past him.  She practically elbowed him.  Mark moved out of the way, stunned by her rudeness, but not surprised.  She had every right to act this way. 

As she passed him, he caught the scent of Vera Wang, her favorite perfume.  Its heady fragrance put him under a spell.  He watched Kelly walk briskly toward Accounting, barely aware his foot was keeping the elevator doors from closing.  He was entranced--caught up in the sway of her hips, the perfect match of blonde hair against the red of her skirt, and the sexy, white top flowing about her like a cloud.  It was like a flashback from a dream.

“Damn, that’s a bangin’ body!” spoke a voice.

Mark, jolted back to reality, saw the elevator’s only occupant--a black man with a white shirt and tie--stick his head out and stare after Kelly.  The man looked like a young Michael Jordan--tall, handsome, shaved head, earring in one ear, and an air of confidence.  Mark saw the leering smile on his face and was instantly repulsed. 

“That’s some seriously hot trim,” the man said, stepping back into the elevator.  “You know what I’m sayin’?”

“What?”

“Damn, dude, do I have to spell it out?  She hot.  You know, like Jessica Alba hot.” 

Mark, disgusted by the man’s behavior, moved into the elevator.  “That’s the CEO’s daughter you’re talking about.  You should watch what you say.”  Mark then turned his back on him.

The man’s tone became apologetic.  “Oh…my bad.”

Mark ignored him and waited for the doors to close.  After a few seconds, nothing happened.  He looked at the button panel to his right and saw a matrix of sheer masking tape over all the buttons.  He could see the outline of floor numbers through the tape, but none of the buttons were lit up.  “Jesus Christ,” he swore.  He turned to ask the man what was going on and was surprised to see a large hand extended outward.

“Hey, man, sorry about what I said.  Name’s Malcolm, but everyone calls me Ski.”

Mark was still upset, but the man’s sincerity seemed to diffuse his anger just a bit.  He accepted Malcolm’s apology and shook his hand.  “No worries, Ski.  I’m Mark.”

“Mark, huh?  You look familiar.  You play ball at the gym?”

“Ball?”

“Yeah, basketball.  You know...”  Ski made a mock jump shot. 

“No, never.  Maybe you’ve seen someone who looks like me.”

“Like you?” Ski chuckled.  “Nah, come on.  You’re like one of them watch-a-ma-call-it trees--growing all big.”  Ski reached up and hit the reflective ceiling with the back of his hand.

Mark knew exactly what Ski was referring to.  He was six-six--even taller than Ski.  The tree part he didn’t get.  “Yeah, well--” Mark started.  He suddenly realized the elevator doors were still open.  “Is there something wrong with the elevator?”

Ski shrugged.  “Don’t think so.  Here”--he reached for the panel on the left side and pressed a button--“let’s see if that does it.”

Mark hadn’t noticed the button panel on the left side of the doors.  There wasn’t any masking tape on them.  He saw the Lobby button light up, and an instant later, the steel doors closed.  With a jerking motion, the elevator started its descent.

“Hey, you all right?” Ski asked, seeing the strange look on Mark’s face.

“Yeah, well--not really.”

When Ski saw the strain on Mark’s face, his eyes lit up.  “Oh, her.  The CEO’s daughter, right?”

Mark nodded.  He felt his throat constrict with emotion.

Ski tapped the tips of his index fingers together.  “You two…?”

“Yeah,” said Mark.  “We just broke up a couple weeks ago.”

“Damn, man, sorry to hear that.  So, what happened?”  Then, Ski quickly added, “If you don’t mind.  Don’t want to get up all in your business or anything.”

“No, it’s all right.  I don’t mind--”

Just then the elevator emitted a “ding” sound and stopped.  Mark glanced at the overhead display and saw the elevator had stopped on the nineteenth floor.  When the doors opened, there was a man waiting.  He gestured upward with his hand, but Mark shook his head and hit the close button.  When the doors closed, Mark told Ski why he and Kelly had broken up.

“So, it’s because of her father,” Ski said, getting to the bottom line.

“Yep.  He doesn’t want his girl to be with someone like me.  I guess I’m not good enough--not CEO material or from the right family or…I don’t know.”

“Man, that’s B.S.  The same thing happened to me.  I had a fiancée two years ago.  She was white; I was black.  You can imagine what her father thought.”

The elevator stopped again.  Mark didn’t bother to look this time.  A man and women entered the elevator car, but Mark wanted to know what happened with Ski and his fiancée.

“So, what did you do?” he asked.

“I gave her father a piece of my mind and left, that’s what I did.  But what I did was stupid.  I lost my woman because of me--not him.  Jacked it all up, know what I mean?”

Mark raised a brow.  “Because of you?”

“Yeah, man.  You see, I bet Kelly’s angry at you right now.  Am I right?”

“Yeah, but--”

Ski cut him off.  “Do you know why?”

“I’ve wondered, but I thought...” Mark shook his head.  “I have no idea.”

“She’s mad because you’re letting her go.  She’s mad at you because she loves you.”  Ski could see Mark didn’t know what to think of it.  “I ain’t playin’, Mark.  She still loves you.”

The elevator dinged again and the doors opened up to an empty lobby.  The other passengers exited, but Ski walked over and placed his foot in front of the laser sensor, keeping the doors open.  He turned and pointed.

“Listen, Mark, you don’t know me and I don’t know you.  But I know you.  I know what you’re going through.  I’ve been there.  You might say, ‘Damn Ski, aren’t you a playa?’  But it ain’t like that.  I’d give up the single life in a sec to be back with my girl.”

Mark sighed.  “So what should I do?”

“Go, man.  Go back up.  Talk to her.  Do what you need to do.  And if Daddy don’t like it, well too bad.  Kelly’s a woman.  She can decide what she wants for her own damn self.”

“But--”

Ski held up a finger.  “No buts.  You’re wasting time, man.  Don’t think too much.  Do what you gotta do.”  Ski reached over and hovered over the button panel.   “Thirty-six, right?”

“Yeah.” 

Ski pressed the button and held up his hand.  “Later, Mark.  Go to it.  Remember what I said.”

Mark smiled appreciatively.  “I’ll remember.  Thanks, Ski.  Thanks a lot.”

“No worries.  I’m in HR.  Holla if you ever want to talk.  See ya.”

With that, Ski moved his foot and let the doors close.  Mark looked up at the overhead display, eager to see the numbers change.  He had some serious talking to do.

THE END

©2006 Steve Pantazis. All rights reserved.