elevator jam

Maria checked her cherry-red lipstick in the mirror one last time and headed out of the apartment door into the hallway.  Her fake-leather tank top fit snugly against her budding breasts, hugging her ribs and stopping above her navel.  Black.  Like her mini-skirt.  Black and boring. 

Whatevs. It had been on sale.

Going to the mall should be good.  Maybe.  Probably nothing good there.  Maybe Stephen would be working at Cinnabon, that would be great. He was there last Friday afternoon, too.  He saw her approaching and made sure to be at the register for her.  That was a sign, right?  Must have been.  He checked her out.  She knows it.  He wants her, must be.  Has to be.



But what if he wasn’t there?  But he had to be there.  He probably switched shifts just to get Friday again so he could see her.  Right?  God that would be nice, if he liked her.  He was so cute!  Spiked wristband, short tight dreds.  He was so hot.  He had so checked her out.

At the end of the hall Maria pushed the down arrow at the elevator.  It was 4:15, and the last time she saw Stephen was at 4:45, so she had about half an hour to get there to reinforce the timing.  Or in case his shift ended at 5.  Because he would probably have taken the same shift, because he had checked her out and switched registers to take her order and probably liked her. Definitely.

The elevator chimed and the door opened.  Maria stepped in, hit “G”, felt the elevator descend.

God, what if he doesn’t remember her? Don’t think about it.  Think only of how he looked at her, how he smiled handing her her drink.

She was so lonely.  She needed this boyfriend.  What would he be like as a boyfriend? Is he a good kisser?  Would he be the type to buy her flowers?

The elevator slowed to a stop at “5”.  The moment the doors opened a crack a boy rushed in.

“Shut the doors!” he yelled, slamming the “” button.

“Hey little buddy, what’s the matter?” asked Maria.

The boy sneered at her. “You look funny.”  The doors shut and the tiny room recommenced its descent, but the boy kept jamming the buttons.

“Whoa, watch it, punk, don’t break it,” replied Maria, reaching for his wrists.  At that moment, the elevator stopped again, between “2” and “3”.  Maria sighed at him. “Great going, kid.”  Thirty minutes to get to Cinnabon.  Fuck.  Stupid kid.  “You are going to get in so much trouble if this doesn’t start again soon.”

“NO!” he yelled to the buttons. “I don’t wanna get in more trouble! Mom’s already mad at me! Tryinna make me go to Grandpa’s for some boring fishing trip.”

“Whatchya do to deserve that punishment?” She smirked.  The kid was dressed in bright red pants, the same colour as her lipstick.  A blue t-shirt was layered under a tatty Indian “deerhide” vest.  Native American.  Whatever.  Kid was a freak, that was clear.

“I was bad at school this week.  And she said Grandpa’s lonely, so I gotta go fishing with him.  Stupid.”

“Huh.”

Maria sighed at the unmoving floor indicator.  Still between “2” and “3”.  She rolled her eyes, checked her phone.  No reception! And it was now 4:21.  Fuck.

She sighed again, glared at the kid.  “How old are you?”

“Twelve.  How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

An impasse. 4:22 now.  His shift would end, he wouldn’t see her, and he would think she didn’t like him and find some other, more punk-y girl instead and she’d never get a boyfriend.  Fuck.

“Why were you bad in school?  What did you do?”

“Threw spitballs.  Hahaha I got Rachel right on the neck! She said I was retarded so she deserved it. And her brother beat up my brother last week. They’re terrible.  I don’t like Rachel or Mark.”

“Beat up your bro, huh?  That sucks.”

“Pete was going to play on the basketball team, was doing tryouts and did really well.  He’s the best.” This was fact, not opinion. “Mark didn’t play as well and didn’t get on the team.  I’m hungry. Got any food?”

What a brat!  Maria unzipped her spiked, black purse anyway, found some Lifesavers. “Here,” she said, offering the orange one on top.

“Got any red ones? I only eat the red ones.”

Total brat.  She peeled down the paper and foil wrapping, saw a red one was next.  She took the orange one herself and popped the red one into his dirty hand.

“So whatchya gonna do when your mom finds out you broke the eleva—“

The room rattled into wakefulness and trundled downward.  They both looked at the floor indicator.

“2”, “1”, “G”.

4:29.  “Good luck kid.  Tell your bro that Mark is just jealous. I’m gonna be late!”  She dashed off into the lobby, not bothering to look back.