The Elevator

            Mr. Price kept looking at the little scrap of binder paper with the curious note on it.

It will be a good day, Mr. Price

 

When he woke up that morning, his jet-black hair in a net, and his monogrammed silk pajamas shining in the sunlight through the Biltmore window, he was, in fact, in a good mood. “But who the fuck put this note in my shoe?” He scratched his head, yawned wide, and was abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

            Christ-all-fucking-mighty, he thought. “Come in.” He said.  A fat old nurse in a flower-print dress with a nametag that said Eliza stepped through the door pushing a cart full of spray bottles with green liquids, clean white linens, and gray-blotched washcloths.

            “Good day, Mister Price.” Mr. Price grunted a response as he took his brown wallet from the bedside table and stuffed the piece of paper behind a picture of a young girl where his ID should be. She was a beautiful brunette girl, almost eight years old, and she was sitting on the ledge of a water fountain. A smile played across her lips, but her eyes were as intense as her father’s.  

                                                Love you, Daddy.

 

            “That’s a lovely ring, Mister Price. Are you married?” Eliza was getting a set of towels and washcloths from her cart for the bathroom when she had noticed the ring on his finger as he set his wallet on the table and cracked his knuckles one by one like little chestnuts.

            “No. Not any more.” He went to the window and looked out onto the world. The sun shone too bright for his half-woken eyes, so he shut the blinds. With the sleeve of his shirt, he polished the ring on his finger. Normally, his lips would be pressed tight together, his thick brow furrowed, and the crows feet beneath his eyes would be like rivers of shadow that flowed into the lake of his blackened eye. But when he polished his ring, his mouth hung just a little bit slack-jawed, and the furrowed brown became one deep in concentration. After the ring shined to his satisfaction, he began to get dressed.

“Listen, did anybody come into my room earlier this morning, or last night?” He asked.

            “I’m not sure Mister Price.” She walked into the bathroom as she spoke. “Will you be staying with us another night?”

            “No. Have my bags sent down.”

            “You will not need them, Mister Price.” Said Eliza. Mr. Price almost missed it. His shirt was halfway over his head and his pajama shorts hung round his ankles. Through his shirt, he felt the ring on his finger, twisting it with his thumb and middle finger.

            “Excuse me?”

            “It will be a good day, Mister Price.” That was it. He walked to the bathroom.

            “What’s going on here?”

            “Is there a problem, Mister Price?” asked the nurse as she pulled back the shower curtain to scrub the tub.

            “Yes. Yes, in fact, there is a big problem. I did not ask for anybody to come into my room last night.” Mr. Price was inches from Eliza, but she kept going about her business.

            “Please, relax. That would make things so much easier for us?”

            “Who is us?”

 

                        Dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-dum-dum-dee

 

            Mister Price looked at the name that flashed across the screen of his cell phone, then opened it and shut it abruptly, the sound of plastic clapping against plastic echoing in the bathroom.

            “It’s going to be such a nice day.” Said Eliza as she made her way toward the bed. “You’ve come as far as you need to go.” She threw the sheets and blankets off of the bed and began replacing the sheets with fresh linens. “The bed will be fresh for you tonight, we guarantee that.”

            “Get it through your fat ugly head, Woman. I’m not staying another night!”

            “Today is to nice of a day to go running, Mister Price.”

            Mr. Price pressed Eliza’s hand against the bed as she folded the sheet over, and he looked her straight in the eyes. “Where would I run?”

            “There’s no place to run around here Mister Price.” She pulled her hands away and continued bustling about the room.. “It’s always too cold. Too much traffic.”

                        Dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-dum-dum-dee                       

 

“Jesus Fucking God All mighty!” muttered Mr. Price.

“Don’t abandon him too, Mister Price.”

                        Dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-da-da, dee-dee-dum-dum-dee

 

Mr. Price turned off his phone and ran out the door, over to the elevator, stopped suddenly, and ran back to the bathroom, grabbing his comb from the black toiletry bag on the counter. He combed his hair as he ran back down the hall.

            “It will be a good day, Mister Price.” Eliza said as soft as ever.

            “Bring my bags down.” He shouted from the hall.

            “You will not need them, Mister Price.”

            “Fuck off.” He said, as he ran to the elevator, combing his hair, his pressed white shirt untucked, his belt undone, his pants unbuttoned. Impatiently, he pressed the DOWN button over and over and over again until finally, a small bing announced the arrival of his departure.

The door opened, greeting him with the quizzical stares of a beautiful woman and a little girl, about eight years old, with brown pigtails. His heart jumped through his chest and he stood, unable to enter the elevator.

            I love you daddy

 

“I’m sorry, I left something in my room.” Said Mr. Price.

“We’ll wait for you.” Said the woman.

“You don’t need anything from back there.” Said the little girl as she stepped out from the elevator and took his hand. He was powerless against the force of her little grip pulling him in. The door closed, and he looked at the ceiling, remembering his appearance. He tucked his shirt in, and, though he was much taller than either of them, he felt two inches tall.

 

                        IT WILL BE A GOOD DAY MR. PRICE

DEE-DEE-DA-DA, DEE-DEE-DA-DA, DEE-DEE-DUM-DUM-DEE

                        i love you daddy

 

The little girl let go of his hand and he reached into his pocket. She nuzzled her head into her mother’s side as she tussled her hair, smiling down at her.

           

                        DEE-DEE-DA-DA, DEE-DEE-DA-DA, DEE-DEE-DUM-DUM-DEE

 

Again, Mr. Price cut off the phone call.

“Avoiding someone?” asked the woman. Mr. Price pretended not to hear the comment. He watched the lit-up numbers as they went down, floor by floor. He felt the little girl’s hand on his own, and looked down to see her holding his hand up to her mother.

            “Look, Mommy. His ring is just like Daddy’s.” The woman nodded, and then looked at Mr. Price.

            “Married?” she asked. Mr. Price pulled back his hand and stuck it in his pockets.

            “It’s just an old good luck charm.”

            “Does it work?” asked the little girl?

            “No.” The elevator stopped and an involuntary groan escaped Mr. Price as perspiration speckled his forehead. The woman and her daughter stood silently, smiling, content. Mr. Price took his hand from his pocket and again twisted the ring on his finger. He pressed the emergency button repeatedly.

            “It’s okay to be scared,” said the little girl. “But you don’t have to be.” Her mother picked her up with a little bit of a groan and straightened her dress. “It seems like you’ve already let go of so much, you might as well just set yourself free.” Said the woman. Mr. Price kept staring at the elevator door. “I just want out of here.” He moaned.

            “She’s pretty, Mommy.” Mr. Price turned to see that the little girl was looking through his wallet at the picture of his daughter. The scrap of paper fell to the floor.

                        It will be a good day Mr. Price

 

            The woman took the picture from the wallet and ripped it to little pieces. “You will not need this, Mr. Price.”

            “What the fuck is your problem?” said Mr. Price as he lunged at the woman, grabbing at her blouse. She did not move, and he could get no control over her. He struggled and grappled with her while her daughter just smiled. She again grabbed his hand and pulled him away. Mr. Price collapsed on the floor of the elevator, and looked up to his reflection. He saw the tears streaking his face, and the tufts of hair sticking up. He wept and pleaded, “Get me out of here.”

            “Don’t cry, Mister. It’s such a good day.” Said the little girl, who had begun bouncing up and down, making the elevator shake. DEE-DEE-DA-DA…the girl took the phone from him, and turned it off. Mr. Price whispered, “You’re just like my daughter.”

            “You will not need her anymore.” Said the little girl. Then the lights in the elevator went out, and the little chamber was filled with the sound of a child’s laughter, and a Man’s tears.