Three Sides of Hate

It was close to 1 a.m. when Jim was finally able to let go a deep breath and watch the vertical eclipse get smaller and smaller.

And as if the day itself weren’t enough, he saw a hand break the shrinking eclipse. It halted the closing doors before they were able to join together and complete their task. With a sigh, Jim held the now re-opening doors still as a stranger then slid past.

“Thanks.”

Jim nodded but didn’t look. He hoped the other man didn’t look either.

The ‘other’, this made him chuckle to himself. This was any American city you could think of and was quite anonymous, at night especially. It’s why he’d moved there, to be anonymous. To be able to live who he was without the fear.

And like any city USA, this evening was the stage of a particularly raucous set of demonstrations, of which Jim was certainly a part.

The white man next to him was entirely clad in black and wore some form of military fatigues and black combat boots. He was rather large in stature and easily 6’5”. If this were 9 a.m. on a work day, he’d seem very out of place.

As if in contrast, Jim wore his usual Saturday get-up, plain khaki chinos, hi-tops, gay pride t-shirt covered by a zipped-up a barn coat. He was a slight man who was no more than 5’5”. He would easily go unnoticed in a crowd and he liked it that way.

As the two men slowly began to rise, Jim was thankful their ride together would be short. He was tired from hours on the street and his ears rang a bit from all the sirens and loud voices. He still had a bit of sting in his eyes too from a smoke device when he got too close.

Jim liked being able to protest but he liked being able to go home when he was done with it even better. He wondered what the other man had been up to and which side of the protest he had been on. He was so anonymous, Jim couldn’t tell by looking at him. 

Shortly after their journey had begun their elevator silence was cracked open by a distant screeching of metal on metal. 

The man spoke, “fuckin’ figures in this shitty town, something dosen’t work. Big surprise there.”

This is exactly the kind of angry talk that Jim couldn’t stand. Even though it’s just an elevator and all, it’s still so negative. He came here to get away from all that.

And there was another, clank. This time the floor shuddered a bit.

Jim could see, through his well practiced side-eye that the man next to him was fuming. He couldn’t help but let out a well audible sigh of agreement.

After all, it really was kind of annoying to have a clunky sounding elevator in such a high rent part of the city.

Jim: “And I’m one of the suckers who pays for all this broken shit.”

'Other' Man: Oh man, you live here? I don’t know how you do it. I’d be shittin’ on the steps of the mayor’s office.”

Jim: “Right, I know. And if this thing brea…”

He was interrupted by a final clank and the elevator stopped. What they did not yet know was that they were indeed stuck not at a floor but, between two floors. 

Now, Jim knows this building and the attached parking garage well because he works here. This is not exactly a full service type of operation. There’s always some yellow cones seemingly scattered about the garage and the ceiling seems to always be under some sort of renovation. Help might be a bit.

The man forcefully pressed the call button and banged his fists on the doors for good measure.

Man: “Why don’t I hear anything, I mean let’s go.”

It was there or around that point when Jim noticed what appeared to be an extreme right tattoo of some kind on the inner part of the man’s wrist. It made him nervous.

Partially to distract his fear, he tried to text someone he knew would be home but saw there was no signal.

Jim: “We don’t have cell in here either. Buildings pretty old actually.”

'Other' Man: “Fucking faggots, I’m sorry for the language but all I see of this city is ‘free’ this and ‘gimme’ that. I can’t believe I didn’t punch anyone tonight.”

Jim steadied himself, as the man was starting to frighten him. The man continued the banging and yelling. It was directed at someone likely not on the other side.

But, as the man yelled, Jim started to get more irritated himself as the minutes were going from single digits to more like 15 maybe 20?

And he did actually resent all the ‘free’ this kind of shit too. He was here to protest the damn protests after all.

Jim: “’take the city back?’ Why don’t you get a job and pay for something first you lazy fuckers.”

'Other' Man: “God damn, that’s what I’m talking about!”

He clapped Jim on the back so hard he nearly chipped a tooth.

“I bet if we both tried hard enough we could pry these two doors apart though.”

Jim looked down at rather small by comparison manicured hands and thought not so much.

Jim: “Maybe we could pay all them lazy fuckers outside to do it for us and make themselves useful in society for once.”

As he laughed, the man actually started trying to pry the doors apart himself. Jim decided to help by using his smaller hands to hold place as the man kept re-positioning his fingers.

'Other' Man: “Gee sorry mister, I don’t identify that way. And partner, love that, don’t them sissy-fucks use that word as some kind of code for my gay fuckin’ lover?” 

The door actually opened enough for Jim to push more of his arm through.

'Other' Man: “There ya go, keep going, I’ll hold it.”

At this point, Jim had pushed up to his elbow between the doors and began to move his arm back and forth to wiggle it even further. 

'Other' Man: “If you can get up to your arm, I bet you could just push your whole self through.”

Jim very much thought this was possible.

Jim: “I know I’m tryi…”

The elevator dropped roughly 10 inches and stopped again with a jolt. Jim could hear what sounded like sirens in the background as the man lowered him to the floor.

He looked down at his hand and saw red cascading from two white stumps where his index and middle finger once were. He realized the siren sound was nothing more than his own screams.

'Other' Man: “it’s alright man it’s alright, just be still and look at something else.”

He tore off part of his shirt sleeve to wrap around Jim’s mangled hand. He feverishly pressed the call button and yelled at the top of his lungs.

A pool of blood gathered around Jim’s ankles as he stared down at a beautiful rainbow that started at the joint of his wrist and extended up the inside of his forearm.

'Other' Man: “Gees this is bad, good just keep staring at the rainbow.”

Jim: “Funny, I thought you wouldn’t notice” referring to the now exposed rainbow tattoo on his forearm.

'Other' Man: “Naw, I saw it earlier, I just figured what the fuck, right. I’m sure you saw mine.”

The elevator doors slowly crept open as a black hand poked through. Standing before them was a man wearing a shirt that read, Defund the Police. He was wearing a gas mask and holding what appeared to be a paintball gun.

This man appeared to be a giant from the perspective of the floor. And although he was not a giant, he was certainly of stature to rival that of the ‘other’.

Man with the weapon: “What the fuck happened in here?”

Jim could only whimper.

The man with the gun stepped in further and pointed the weapon directly at the ‘other’ man’s face, “and what the fuck did you do to his hand?”

Jim was struggling to remain conscious due to blood loss and the sheer horror of what happened to his hand. He managed to speak, “It was an accident.”

The ‘other’ man tried to raise Jim to his feet while shouting, “help me get him to the car.”

The man with the gun stepped in closer to grab the ‘other’ with his free hand and a struggle began as they tumbled to the floor. Jim was able to recognize the irony of his situation. The smallest and weakest of the three men was also the only one who could see the situation from both of their perspectives.

He also was very aware of how comical these two behemoths appeared as they struggled on the elevator floor to gain control (or power) while they also become bathed in his blood. 

In the struggle, Jim managed to get hold of the weapon with his good hand and wrestle it from the attacker. He now became very aware that this was not a paintball gun at all but an actual assault rifle. It was loaded.

With his back to the open elevator doors he pointed the gun toward both men and said, “You two just stay away.” He was the one with the power now.

As he said this, he passed beyond the two open doors and pressed the close button with an intact thumb from the mangled hand.

The doors closed and he heard a clunk sound as the elevator, once again, stopped midway between floors.

As he walked to his car, he heard footsteps running up the stairwell nearby. He wondered, what that person might think when the doors opened this time.