First, I press the “Up” arrow and wait for the elevator to come to the lobby. Then, I walk through the doors and press the button for floor two.
I wait for the elevator to arrive at floor two, and when it does, I walk down the hallway. I say the numbers on each door out loud, 201 all the way to 250. When I reach the end of the hall, I walk back to the elevator and say all the numbers again, in reverse order. Then I go to floor three and recite all the numbers the same way, up and down. After that I count the doors on floors four, five, and six.
I do this every day after work. It makes me feel relaxed. The world is too unpredictable, but the numbers on the doors do not change.
Today, after I finished reciting the numbers for floor two, I boarded the elevator like always. But when I got to floor three, I heard a terrible, loud sound, like an explosion in a movie. I covered my ears and screamed. Then an alarm went off and a red light started flashing and I screamed even more.
I stepped off the elevator, still covering my ears, and stood at the end of the hallway. The alarm wouldn’t stop. I wanted to recite the numbers on the doors, but I couldn’t focus on them.
Sometimes when I get overwhelmed, I like to arrange things. Right now my bookshelf is alphabetized, but I put my favorite books on a separate pile next to my bed. The Invention of Hugo Cabret, Living Independently, and Disney from A to Z. Unfortunately, there is nothing to arrange in the hallway on the third floor of Jackson Street Apartments.
I realized that I would not be able to stop the alarm myself, so I would have to ask someone for help. I do not like talking to people because I never have enough time to figure out what I am going to say.
When I was little, Mom told me: “Preston, our true character is shown when we challenge ourselves.”
I do not particularly like challenges.
I whispered “301” and knocked on the door. A woman cradling a baby in one arm and holding a phone in her hand answered it.
“Can you hold on a second?” she said. I don’t really understand why people say things like this, because a second is not a real thing, and you can’t hold it in your hand. She hung up the phone and turned to me.
“Do you need something?”
I had not thought about what I was going to say, so I said nothing.
“Are you – why are you staring at me? I asked you a question.”
I needed time to think, but she kept saying things.
“I really don’t have time for this – God, what the hell is that alarm?”
The baby in her arms started to cry.
“Are you going to say anything? What are you, retarded or something?”
She did not seem happy with me, so I walked away, and she slammed the door.
I took a few steps, whispered “302,” and knocked on the next door in the hallway. This time, I had the words ready in my head.
“Hello there,” came the voice of another woman. She stood in the doorframe with a man next to her. I estimated that they were in their 40’s.
“Hello,” I said. “I am having trouble with the elevator.”
“Hmm, we were wondering what all that noise was about. Did you do that?”
“No – well, yes – well, sort of.”
They chuckled. The man grinned at me. “Well, why don’t we go down and take a look together?”
I had not anticipated this. I did not want to go back towards the noise, but they were already going that way. I decided to challenge myself and follow them.
As we got closer, the ringing in my ears got louder and louder and my head started to feel like it was bursting. I screamed to try to make my voice louder than the alarm, but it didn’t work. I ran the other way.
After another moment I found myself in front of apartment 303. I whispered “303” and knocked on the door three times, really hard, like the undercover agents in spy shows who come to arrest the criminal. I didn’t want to look behind me to see the people from 302. I knew they would be staring at me.
“What’s this? Bunch of ruckus out here today,” came a deep, old-sounding voice.
“Please let me in,” I said.
“Well, ain’t that forward of you. All right, then, come in.”
He opened the door, and I slammed it behind me.
“Jeez, calm down there, son. What’s the matter? You being chased by someone?”
I sighed and sat down on his soft, white carpet, then glanced up. He had on a tweed jacket and a red Mets baseball cap. Much older than his neighbors.
“You remind me of someone.” He looked at me carefully. “Yeah. Joe Wilkinson. Every little thing set him off.”
I was still breathing heavily. “Can you – help me – with – the noise?”
He raised his left eyebrow.
“Out – side.”
“Come on, now, son. Deep breaths. In and out. Whatever’s out there ain’t as bad as you might think.”
“El – ev – ator.”
“Come again?”
“Elevator.” I did it all in one breath this time.
“Ah. That old garbage heap. Wish I could help you, but you’re gonna have to find someone else.”
He was about to show me the way out, but I had seen the toolbox sitting on his bedside table.
“Tools,” I said.
He blinked. “Oh, yeah. My buddy lent those to me. Gotta get those back to him. When you get to be my age, things all start to mush together. I wish you luck. Why don’t you grab yourself a candy there on the way out.”
“They are your tools,” I said, my voice shaking a bit. I was more comfortable talking with him because he spoke slowly, but I still could not look him right in the eye.
“I – well.” He glanced over at a picture on the wall, an old framed advertisement that had a picture of him holding up a hammer. “Fine, you caught me. But I tell you what. You shouldn’t force people into things. You gotta be careful.”
My head still felt like it would burst.
He sighed, then reached up in his ears and adjusted his hearing aids. “You’re throwing me into the trenches here, kid.” He grabbed the toolbox and marched out the door. I peered out, but didn’t follow him.
“Well, come on! You can’t just stay over there.”
I shook my head.
“Plug your ears. Do what you have to do. But it ain’t gonna happen if you don’t do anything, and I ain’t going unless you’re coming with me.”
I plugged my ears, still shaking, and took a few steps toward him. We both stepped into the elevator. The noise was not so bad now that my brain was less frightened.
The old man squinted and adjusted his cap. He used a screwdriver to open up a small panel and poke at the wires. As he dropped tools on the floor, I arranged them by size. After a few minutes, he grunted and crossed his arms.
“Why even bother? I can’t do this anymore.”
“I think you can do it,” I said.
“Now why’s that?”
“I have had to face many challenges today. And this is another challenge.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What? What kind of challenges?”
“I could not count all the doors today like I’m used to. I had to do the numbers out of order. Then I had to knock on doors and talk to people.”
He laughed out loud. “Are you kidding? You – you’re joking, right?”
“No. I am telling the truth.”
His expression became more serious. “You think those are challenges? I’ll tell you what’s a challenge, kid. Staying alive, that’s a challenge. Seeing your friends die in front of you, that’s a challenge. Watching Joe Wilkinson quiver in fear underneath a corpse and not being able to say anything or do anything, that’s a damn challenge. Don’t kid around with me. Your life ain’t that hard.”
“I didn’t say it was or was not.”
We stood there and said nothing while the noise continued.
“Well, I gave it my best shot. Good luck with your routine.”
As he got up, he glanced down at the panel one last time. Suddenly, he looked very excited.
“Hmm. That’s gotta be it. Oh – ah-hah!”
He grabbed a pair of pliers from his toolbox and snipped a red wire. The noise stopped and the red light did not flash anymore.
“Well, look at that, kid. I got your elevator fixed.”
“It just took a little time.”
“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just hard to focus sometimes when your head’s full of – well, full of stuff.”
“I know.”
He grabbed his toolbox and stepped out of the doors. “It ain’t gonna run for a while, kid. You’re gonna have to get someone else to help you with that.”
“It’s OK. Thank you.”
“Good luck.”
He went back to room 303 and shut the door behind him.
I stepped outside the elevator. I started at room 304 because I had already recited three rooms. I read out numbers 304 through 350, then I took the stairs to floor four, and I didn’t really mind.
About the Author
Luke Hoheisel is an English major and Digital Studies minor completing his senior year at RUC. He also works as a digital publishing assistant at the Encyclopedia of Greater Philadelphia. In the future, he plans to create written/multimedia content for a nonprofit or educational organization while working on fiction writing projects.
