DEAD WEIGHT

Here I was, stuck on an elevator with the one person on this planet that I literally had to file papers to get away from.

I didn't want to argue. I tipped my head back, dropped my shoulders, and took a deep breath. The chances we would arrive at the same time were slim, and the chances of the elevator breaking down while we were both in it were even slimmer, yet here we were.

The old elevator had a certain odor. You know the smell where you aren't sure if it's just old and dirty or if some rank person just spent the last hour perspiring all over the place. The smell was like a musty, moldy old rug in your grandma's forgotten, leaky basement bathroom. The smell of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume, but maybe that was just her.

I took another deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to breathe through my mouth.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment.

“What,” she said. “What is it now?”

Shit.

“Nothing." I opened my eyes and looked at the worn-out floor.

“I just could use a cigarette right about now,” I said glancing up at the flickering elevator light.

Oh great, there's power on this death trap. Maybe it won't be too much longer before someone gets us out of here. ... God, please just Get Me Out of here.

“Of course, I knew you were not going to quit. This is why I left you. You can’t commit to anything to better yourself.” She took her iPhone out and held it up as high as she could, as if she was going to get some damn signal from the heavens.

I did quit smoking, but I wasn't going to tell her that. I quit a lot of things. Like spending time with nagging, spoiled partners. I even got a promotion. But why tell her that and give her the satisfaction that maybe she was the one that fixed me. And for the record, I was the one who packed her bags and had her go when I found out she was cheating on me.

I put my hands behind me on the safety bar. I could feel the grainy layers of grime. I Immediately pulled my hands back and shook them, placing them in my pockets. My whole body quivered when I thought about the years of back-alley aids infested souls that came crawling through here.

But this was her idea. It was her idea to come here and throw our son's farewell party and wish him off to the Peace Corps at this place. Why here, I would never know. I offered to pay for a nice pavilion at my club, but she wouldn't accept it.

‘You know, my new husband paid a good deposit for this place. You would think the elevator would work.” She said.

“Yeah, you would think.” I try not to roll my eyes, but I was never good at being an adult when it came to these things.

I blamed my immaturity on her presence.

“You know, you are going to have to see me again when he gets married, right?” She gave up looking for a signal and put her phone back in her purse.

“Yeah, that's a bit far away to think about, considering he hasn't even been dating anybody.”

I could feel my hands getting sweaty in my pockets. The smell, the heat, and her bitching made me want to vomit all over her new Louis Vuitton bag. I could almost taste the shot of whiskey that was upstairs waiting for me. I imagined it hitting my lips and burning my tongue, all the way down my throat, right into my empty stomach.

“Of course he's not dating now, but just give it a month. I'm sure he'll find somebody. This is your fault for putting this idea of the Peace Corps in his head. After he gets an associate, he should be going on to get his advanced degree. Not spending time God knows where.”

I could see her knees buckling. We had been in there for nearly an hour now. The bickering and pauses of silence that had slowly eaten up time were becoming too much. I almost pulled my phone out to play Tetris, but I knew that would piss her off more.

She continued her little rant. “I guess this is the advice I would expect from someone who has been sitting at the same desk for 15 years.” She folded her arms dangling her perfectly manicured hands and her big shiny new ring on her devil claws.

We both jumped when we heard a thud and voices on the outside.

Finally.

As much as I wanted to be out of here and bathe in a pool of sanitizer and burn my clothes, the elevator had grown on me. This little box had seen and heard all kinds of disturbing things.

I glanced at her. Really disturbing things.

Jessica Bell has had a love for writing since middle school. Although it was on the backburner most of the time while she was working and raising children as a single parent for many years, she still found time to outline most of her ideas for the future. She is a writer with both flash fiction stories and novels in the works and completed, a screenwriter and published author. She studied criminal justice, phycology and currently is working on two degrees in communications and creative writing. She currently resides in North Carolina.