ELEVATED TENSIONS
ALM No.70, November 2024
SHORT STORIES
The elevator jerked to a sudden stop, throwing Rhea against the mirrored wall. Her heart raced as the harsh fluorescent light flickered, then died, plunging the small space into complete darkness. The hum of the machinery ceased, leaving only her ragged breathing and the steady, calm exhale of Dominic across from her.
“Perfect,” she muttered, blindly feeling for the panel and stabbing at buttons that no longer lit up. “Stuck in here with you.”
From the other side of the cramped space, Dominic’s voice came, smooth and amused. “You say that like it’s my fault.”
Rhea clenched her teeth, biting back a retort. They’d been at each other’s throats since they started working together two years ago. Now, trapped in a motionless elevator fifty stories up, the thick, stale air around them felt like it was pressing in.
“You’re always at fault, Dominic,” she snapped. “You coast by on charm and dumb luck, and people let you get away with it. It’s pathetic.”
“Charm and dumb luck?” Dominic’s voice edged closer, low and challenging. “Or maybe I just don’t need to obsess over every tiny detail to get things done.”
Rhea’s fists curled. How could he always turn it around like she was the problem? His nonchalance made her blood boil. “Some of us actually care about doing a good job.”
“And some of us don’t need to micromanage every step,” Dominic countered, his voice softer now. “Maybe you’d enjoy life more if you didn’t stress over everything.”
Before she could respond, the elevator groaned. The metal creaked ominously, sending a shiver up her spine. Instinctively, she reached out, her hand brushing against Dominic’s arm. She recoiled, heat rising to her cheeks, grateful for the cover of darkness.
“You alright?” His voice was quieter, concern edging out the sarcasm.
Rhea swallowed hard, her breath quickening. The space seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. “I’m fine,” she lied, her voice barely a whisper.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the soft glow of a phone lit the space, casting pale light over Dominic’s face. “Here,” he said, offering her the phone. “It might help.”
She hesitated, staring at him through the dim light. His face, usually so smug, was serious now. Calm. There was a steadiness in his eyes she hadn’t noticed before. She took the phone, the cool surface grounding her, focusing her as the faint blue glow illuminated the claustrophobic space.
“Thanks,” she muttered, fingers trembling slightly as she held onto it, the tension in her chest loosening just a fraction.
Dominic leaned back against the wall, watching her quietly. The silence between them wasn’t hostile anymore. It felt different now—fragile, like the walls of their animosity were cracking under the weight of the situation.
“I didn’t know you were claustrophobic,” Dominic said after a long pause.
“I’m not,” Rhea replied quickly, though her voice wavered, betraying her.
“Right,” Dominic said gently. He didn’t press further, just let the quiet stretch between them, broken only by the faint hum of the elevator shaft and their steady breathing.
In the dim light, Rhea saw Dominic shift, his usual cockiness replaced with something quieter. He wasn’t the carefree slacker she had pegged him as—not entirely, at least. His calmness wasn’t indifference; it was steadying. And annoyingly, it made her feel a little safer.
“I didn’t mean to be such a jerk earlier,” Dominic said suddenly, his voice softer. “It’s just… you challenge me. You’re good at what you do, and sometimes I push back because I don’t want to admit it.”
Rhea blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things she expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. “You… push back because of me?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. You make me think. And honestly, maybe I should try harder. But you, Rhea…” He met her gaze in the dim light. “You don’t have to carry everything alone. You could stand to cut yourself some slack.”
Her throat tightened at his words, the truth of them stinging. She had been carrying everything, holding onto control because she was terrified of what would happen if she let go. But maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to do it all.
The elevator groaned again, and with a sudden lurch, the lights flickered back on. Rhea blinked against the brightness as the elevator jolted into motion, descending slowly toward the lobby.
When the doors slid open, the rush of cool, fresh air hit her like a wave, but she lingered, her feet hesitant to step forward.
Dominic stood beside her, his usual smirk in place, though there was something softer underneath it now. “Guess we survived,” he said lightly, but his tone carried an understanding that hadn’t been there before.
“Yeah,” Rhea said, meeting his gaze. “Thanks… for, you know, not being a total jerk.”
He grinned. “Anytime.”
As they stepped into the brightly lit lobby, Rhea felt a shift between them. The conflict that had defined their relationship for so long had cracked, leaving space for something new. Maybe not friendship—not yet—but something. A truce. A start.
Darnell Thompson