Escape

Yoga is my time to journey inward. After class my emotional resolve rebounds. The dust bunnies in my mind vacuum away. ‘Namaste’ consolidates my reserves of calmness, of clarity, of concentration. 

I immerse my body in spraying, rolling, tying, redressing while my monkey mind meanders down today’s to-do.  Waving good-bye to everybody, I exit first through the double glass doors into the grey hallway. 

I stare at my reflection on the glass elevator doors. The woman facing me fidgets from foot to foot, jiggling a black bag on her shoulder. Impatience overtakes my fingers as they press repeatedly on the down button without success. 

After what feels like an eternity, a clunk announces the elevator’s arrival. The doors separate then slam shut. I press the down button with fury. The doors part and I step up to enter the car as it is not at a level with the floor. 

I walk to the back, leaning against the brass grab bar which encircles the space. Poking my left hand forward, I click the lobby button. Nothing happens. My lips purse. I have no time for wasting time right now. My pointer finger taps the lobby button 1-2-3-4-5 times. With a whoosh, the doors slam closed while remaining stationary. 

This is bloody ridiculous!

My palm pounds on the lobby button imprinting L on my hand — L for lower, lobby, losing it. 

WHUMP

I hurtle onto my bottom, my head banging off the wall as the elevator careens downward, throwing me into a frantic frenzy. 

THUMP

The box stills. My eyes seek the control panel. 

Which floor am I on? 

All the lights are lit on the control panel. I rub my bruised head, favour my sore hip as I pull up to standing. Depressing the lobby button with gentleness and optimism restarts my descent from the 20th floor. 

GROANCH CRUNCH CRINCH

A cold sweat sweeps from top to bottom. I shiver. 

Those are not good sounds to hear. 

Well, at least I’m stopped.

I lose my breath when the lights extinguish. My eyes cannot see through the syrupy darkness. My ears strain to hear. My head hammers with my heart’s thumping. 

I sink to my knees on the cold tile and crawl with one hand in front of my face. The space feels enormous in this pitch. I sigh when my hand touches the cold wall. I trace my fingers along the division between the doors. My mind’s eye can see where my fingers travel, across the floor, up the wall, to the control panel. Panic choreographs my choice to hit buttons again and again. 

I drown in the silence. Sitting back on my bum, I feel around for my bag, remembering my cell phone asleep in the bottom. Thrashing around, left-right, I can feel my lips turn into a smile when I grasp the bag’s handle. 

Pulling the bag closer, I scrounge around in its depth, my fingers finding my phone. Pulling it to my face, I breathe a belly breath as the flashlight illuminates my prison. 

Okay, Felice. It’s up to you to get yourself out of this mess.

The torch directs my attention to the call button, a big red bulbous knob inviting me to press it to call for help. Three times and no answer. I scan the control panel, stopping at the open button. 

Felice, it’s worth a try. You’ll kick yourself if 

you don’t try and it works.

I depress the open button. The doors shimmy, flirting like they are going to open. I press again. The doors shriek ajar. Light glimmers through the narrow part. 

The elevator is below a floor, close enough for me to pull myself out and escape IF the doors are further apart. 

I wedge my fingers on either side of each door and press outward, a grunt escaping from my lips. Nothing moves. I stand and hold the edge of one door pulling it away from its partner. Like a snail, little by little, the door follows my lead. The pathway broadens. 

I stretch my fingers, massaging the aching muscles. 

Okey, Dokey, Felice, it’s time to go!

Grabbing my bag, I slip my phone inside, thrust the strap on my shoulder and on tippy-toes, reach up to brace my hands on the building’s floor. 

CLANG CLUNK

I lose my footing as the elevator drops, leaving me hanging precariously. Fear overtakes bravado and I let go, slamming onto the elevator’s ceramic tiles. 

My spine jars and my eyes blink stars. I am encased in darkness again. Tears tip out of my eyes tracing a trail down my cheeks and my chin. 

Is this to be my tomb? 

How long will it be before anyone misses me?

From this pool of despair, my mind problem solves. I can use my cell phone to call for help. Rummaging around, I grasp my phone; the screen is cracked. I press the power button, saying a wordless prayer that it still has a charge. It’s a quarter charged. Keying in my passcode, I look to the upper left corner. How many bars show? Three!

9-1-1

“Hello. What is your emergency? Do you need police, fire, ambulance?”

“Hi. Am I ever glad to talk to you? I’m stuck in an elevator. My phone’s only a quarter charged so I can’t talk long.”

“Are you injured?”

“Yes. I’ll live. I really need you to get me out.”

“What is the address of your building?”

“Shit, let me think. It’s where my yoga studio is located. It’s called “Highresious Studio. Do you think you could just look up the address for me?”

“Certainly. I’ll put you on hold while I locate the address.”

“No. I’d rather you called me back. Do you need my number?”

“No.”

In this present moment, the darkness envelopes me like a blanket. I care for my parched throat and grumbling tummy, relishing the chewy energy bar and cooling water, grateful for my yoga cache. 

Damn, now I need to pee!

I shouldn’t have taken that drink.

Chirp-Chirp-Chirp

“Hi.”

“Felice, I’m calling back. Emergency folks intend to be on-site in 15-minutes. We have contacted the building manager and the elevator service technicians who will meet us there. I need you to hang tough for just a bit longer.”

“God, what’re 15 more minutes after all this time. Thanks.”

Hope sweeps away the soreness of my spine and head, just a wee bit. I bum bump back to the wall across from the doors, supporting my back and skull, crossing my legs, cocooning as best I can. I hone in on my breath, applying my yoga practice to this stressful situation. 

Clang Bang 

My eyelids spring up, blinded in the gloom. 

“Help. HELP! HELP!”

I ball my fists, striking against the wall. 

“HELP ME!”

The doors part screaming in protest. My car is halfway above the floor. Looking down I see workbook toes. 

“Hey, Felice. How’s it going?”

“Oh my God! So much better now that you’re here.”

“We’re going to get you out. Sit down and brace yourself. We’re going to move the car down.”

My hands grip the hold bar straining to keep me from hurtling up and down, shaken like a flag in the wind. My muscles ache, tensing to keep me seated. Lactic acid burns these fibres. Just when my hold loosens, my tiny trap stills. 

Opening my eyes, I welcome the sight of my uniformed rescue party. Pulling up to my feet, dragging my bag, I shuffle out of my solitary cell.