Lily

Winston Mackey folded his arms, sulking in the back corner of the elevator. He hated the hospital and tried to avoid it at all costs. Today, he ran out of excuses.

The doors opened to the second floor. He focused his gaze on the glowing ninth-floor button, expecting the elevator to stop at every floor enroute, further souring his mood. A young mother with a child on her hip, pushing a stroller, entered the lift. A small boy clutched her leg. She gave Winston a quick smile.

“Good morning.”

His eyes slanted from the lighted button to the woman’s face. “Hmmp.” Then he lowered them quickly to the toes of his boots, grinding his teeth. What’s good about it? he thought.

The young mother ignored his humorless response and corralled the boy clutching her pantleg. Not more than seven or eight, he stared unabashed at Winston through glasses that could have passed for Fresnel lenses. The doors slid shut but the boy held Winston firmly in his gaze.

His eyes were like lasers. Winston raised his head in a slow arc until he could see the boy under the bill of his ball cap. A smile split the young boy’s face from ear to ear. His eyes grew to large saucers behind the thick lenses, then squinted in boundless glee as he waved a chubby hand with stubby fingers at Winston. Winston glared, but the boy’s enjoyment remained unaffected.

Winston looked away. He shoved his fists into the front pockets of his jeans. What’er you so happy about? You probably don’t even know what day it is. He let his eyes drift subtly to the boy’s still-smiling face. Don’t bug me, kid. A soft voice in the back of his head chided him. He shook it off. Why did I come here? This isn’t my fault! She stuck me with her. Winston's taut lips enunciated silent thoughts.

The boy’s mother pulled her son close. “Leave the man alone, Eric,” she gave an irritated sideways look at Winston, “he’s not feeling well.” The boy grunted in protest and became agitated, stamping his feet. “Eric. Stop.”

The doors slid open and the woman with her three children and clutching Eric by the collar, stepped off the elevator. Winston paused his internal conversation and peeked at Eric, who waved and smiled. Winston glowered.

A hand slipped between the closing doors. They reopened and a woman wheeled her chair onto the elevator, humming. He squeezed into the corner. She stopped in the opposite corner. The doors waited. His mood darkened.

She looked at Winston, “Hi,” and then at the illuminated ninth-floor button. “Who’re you visiting?”

Winston grumbled, avoiding the friendliness gleaming from her face.

Her eyes remained fixed on the lighted button. “I was on that floor for a long time. They’re good.”

The doors slid shut and the elevator climbed a floor before jolting to an abrupt stop. The lights dimmed and then went dark. Moments later they came up, but the doors remained closed.

She heard Winston mumbling, “Jesus! Now what?” and rolled her chair up to the panel, pressing the button with the phone symbol.

“Yeah.”

“This is Lily.”

“Hey, Lily. It’s Geoff.”

“Geoff! Ah . . . I think our elevator is stuck between floors.”

“Okay. Sorry. Must’ve just happened. I was in the restroom. Yep. There’s a warning and it says you’re indeed stuck between the fifth and sixth floors. Looks like we had a power surge. You alone?”

“No,” she glanced at Winston, “There’s some cranky guy up here with me.”

Winston’s jaws tightened.

Geoff chuckled. “Well, make him laugh. It may take fifteen or twenty minutes to isolate the problem. Don’t worry. You’re safe. We’ve got to reboot the system. This computer is getting bad-tempered in its old age. They're supposed to replace it sometime this year. Anyway, sit tight. I’ll get back in a few.”

Lily looked back at Winston, his grimace bordering on a snarl, and said, “Got ‘cha. We’re not going anywhere.” She wheeled her chair around and faced him. “Well, I guess we’re going to be stuck here some time.” She held out her hand. “As you heard, I’m Lily.” Winston frowned. “And you are?”

“Winston.” He didn’t uncross his arms.

She lowered her hand, clasping them in her lap. “You’re really upset.” She glanced sideways at the lit ninth-floor button again and then back at Winston. “You got someone on the ninth?”

“Why don’t you mind your own business.”

“I could, but I counsel patients up there and it’s my job to sense their mood, state of mind, and talk to them . . . and I sense you’re pretty angry.”

Winston’s face tensed. The muscles rippled in his forearms like rebar.

“Look,” she gave him an empathetic smile, “I really don’t have the right to pry—”

“God damned right!”

“But it’s difficult enough to work with patients when they’re down. When a caregiver or parent is down, it doubles the problem. We’re stuck here for a while . . . just you and me. No one else. Confidential. Nothing goes outside of this elevator.” She reached up and pushed the phone button.

“Yeah.”

“Geoff. Would you cut the mic to the elevator? Ring the alarm when you want to talk.”

“Ah, sure. I can do that.”

“Thanks. Go ahead and hang up now, please.” She turned back to Winston. “Now. No one is listening but me.”

He glared at her. “What do you care about how I feel?”

“You’re angry. The healing not only involves the patient but also the parents . . . and they can often be the most difficult. You have someone on the ninth and I want to help.”

He swallowed, the muscles pulsing in his neck. His tongue slid across his lower lip and a sheen glistened in his eyes. Hesitant words slipped in muted tones through his lips. “I’ve a daughter.”

“I’ve probably talked to her. What’s her name?”

“Jillian.”

“Yes. We’ve talked often. She’s in good spirits. Got a ways to go, but she’s got a good attitude and is improving every day.”

He smirked. “Got a ways to go? You guys amaze me.” He clamped his hands on his hips, bent down and sneered. “Improving? What the hell does that mean? That one day you’ll be rid of her? Dump her on me? She’s never going to walk. She can’t control herself. She shits and pisses on herself.” He spun away and pressed his head against the elevator’s wood veneer paneling, between his splayed hands. Then he thumped it against the veneer, his voice a soft but angered rant. “Who’s going to take care of her then? I’m working two shifts now. Her mother, that bitch, split and left me to care for her. I told her to get rid of the kid before it was born. We knew it was damaged goods.”

“You don’t mean that.” Her tone remained unchanged, gentle, and understanding.

Winston turned and shoved his face into hers. A low growl emanated from his throat through his clenched teeth. “Yes. I do.” Spittle surged out with the elongated es sound. He stood, drawing himself to his full height and scowled at her. His hands pulsed in fists, the knuckles blanching. “But she said no.” He pitched his eyebrows up. “Didn’t want to go to hell.” He backed against the wall, his lips twisting in scorn. “She couldn’t handle it.” He paced the elevator. “Didn’t want to go to hell. Ha! That’s a good one.” He leaned into the opposite corner and crossed his arms. “Explain that to me. She didn’t want to get rid of it but threw it away anyway. A little unfair, don’t’ you think?” Although he smirked, nausea circled in the pit of his stomach.

Lily never flinched and her eyes remained fixed on his. “My parents felt the same. I don’t know where they are. Haven’t seen them for . . . twenty years.” A tear coursed down her cheek.

Winston’s anger muted. His face softened and he lowered his gaze, the crow’s feet around his eyes deepening.

“I tried to kill myself . . . twice. But a man spoke to me. He told me I had the capacity to take control of my life. I had something to live for. I thought like you. I laughed at him, a guy strapped to a wheelchair, who could only move his head. He was happy. Why? He steered the chair with his mouth. He crapped and pissed into bags, but that didn’t stop him. He was in love with life, and he helped me get past my anger, my cynicism. Why? Because someone took interest in him, and he took interest in me, and I’m taking interest in you. Jillian is a fine young woman, but she needs you. She's talked of suicide, but I’ve been able to stop her. But what happens when she leaves the hospital? And she will leave. Who’s she got to turn to? You’re her father. You’re important to her. She misses you. But you’ve got to see the good in her. She’s smart. Funny.” Lily rolled the chair next to Winston and laid her hand on his. A shock of electricity charged up his arm. “She talks about you all the time. She loves you.”

Her last words broke over him like winter surf and he crumbled to his knees, sobbing. “I’m not good enough. I’m not strong enough.”

She touched his shoulder. “Oh, yes you are. You’re here and that’s an important step.”

He looked up at her, remorseful, his eyes reddened. “I haven’t been here but twice,” his chin collapsed against his chest, “and she’s been here months, maybe a year.” The words whistled through his lips in thin wisps.

“She has an enormous capacity to forgive. But you must forgive yourself first.”

Winston slumped into the corner and drew his legs up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his shins and buried his face between his knees. “What about the money?” When he looked up, fear had replaced remorse. “I don’t have the skills or smarts to get a high-paying job. I work double shifts in a factory. When will I have time to take care of her? I can’t afford someone to be with her.” Lily’s smile said otherwise. “What?”

“She’s a strong woman. She’ll survive. Yes, the road will be difficult, but this is a good hospital. We have ways to help you that you can afford. But you must give her . . . and us a chance. It’s okay to be skeptical. Tell us your fears. Your worries. But meet us halfway. Will you at least try?”

Winston rested his head against his knees, his eyes closed, and rocked gently from side to side. The elevator lurched and the alarm sounded.

“Lily. Got her fixed,” Geoff said over the speaker.

“Thanks, Geoff. Appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Should be moving now.”

The elevator jerked again and then continued its upward motion. Winston grabbed the metal guardrail circling the interior above his head and pulled himself to his feet. The doors swung wide. Lily stopped a moment before rolling into the hall.

“Will you think about it?”

Winston’s shoulders sagged and he bit his lower lip, sucking in a deep breath. He didn’t say anything but nodded. Lily’s smile broadened, then she disappeared in a left turn into the hallway. He hooked his thumbs over the edges of his front pockets, his mind sorting through Lily’s words.

“I’m going down, sir. Did you want to get off on this floor?”

When Winston looked up, a man strapped to a wheelchair had rolled into the elevator. Holding the end of a small arm between his teeth, he maneuvered his chair closer to the panel.

Winston reached out. “I’m sorry. Can I help? Which floor do you want?”

“Thanks. I got it.” He turned his head toward a small pocket near his shoulder and pulled out a pointer and poked the third-floor button, then returned the pointer to its designated pocket. Without a hitch, Winston thought. Like it was normal. No big deal. Winston, focused on the pointer and then blushed when he saw the man staring at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No need to apologize.” He chuckled. “I’m used to it. I was the hardest one to convince I was normal.”

“Yeah. I suppose.” Winston snickered. “Hmm. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Have a great day.”

The doors closed. Winston turned down the hallway to the right and inhaled deeply, his fears dissipating as he pushed the air through his pursed lips. He squared his shoulders and strode into Jillian's room. Her eyes were closed when he walked up to her bed. A nurse massaged her legs.

“Sir?” His deep voice resonated in the floor beneath Winston’s feet.

“Daddy!” Jillian’s face lit up and she threw her arms around his neck when he bent down to kiss her.

“Hi, baby.” His voice faded. He tried to swallow. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I –”

“It’s okay, Daddy. It’s okay. I know you’re working hard. I’m just glad you’re here.” Her face brightened as she looked past his shoulder. “Doctor Lily!” She patted Winston’s shoulder and pointed. “Daddy, this is Doctor Lily.” Winston shifted from one to the other, smiling at the woman in the wheelchair at the foot of the bed, the tops of his ears warming. “Doctor, this is my father.”

“I know. We met in the elevator.” She held out her hand. “So, pleased to meet you, again. Jill speaks highly of you.” The reddening spread to his cheeks as he shook her hand.

“The pleasure is mine. You didn’t tell me you were a doctor.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary at the time.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “Ah, do you think we, the three of us, could sit down and talk some time? I’ve . . . I’ve got a lot of questions.”

“Of course.” She winked at Jillian. “Whenever you and Jill are ready. Here’s my card,” she laid it on the tray attached to the bed, “call me anytime day or night.” She patted Jillian’s leg. “Hang in there, champ,” and rolled out of the room.

Jillian clutched his hand, rubbing her cheek against it. “Isn’t she great?”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and nodded. “She certainly is.” He slid a chair up to the bed, “We can do this, baby. Yes. We can do this.”