Friends in High Places

Reedsy Weekly Prompts Competition

#222   Show Me the Way

Prompt: Guidance in an Unlikely Place

Friends in High Places

By Randall Koester

           The old man pressed the red ‘down’ button while looking at the rigging, not the girl. “The first thing you need to know is that we are not window washers. We are ‘high-rise window cleaning technicians.’”

           “Whatever.” Mac said, standing stiffly on the floating scaffold, equal-distant from center, trying not to look down.

           “Calling me a ‘window washer’ will get you a one-way ticket on the southern express real fast.”

           Mac looked at the old man with eyebrows raised. Is he for real?

           The veteran hi-linman stared back at the girl with hard eyes. Then his face beamed. “Just kidding. I’ve not lost a single man on my watch, yet.” He flashed a bone white grin.

           Mac locked her jaw. His use of the words ‘man’ and the ‘yet’ irritated her, as did the old man’s repellent joke. With her right hand she hugged her left forearm, and with her left hand she gripped the rig.

           “So, what do they call you?” he asked, still watching the ropes.

           He was nearly bald, with a skull’s face wrapped in hide from too much sun and not enough water. Deep creases fanned from his high cheekbones. He was nothing like what she expected. “Mac.”

           “Really? I am supposed to call you Mack?”

           “It’s short for Mackenzie.”

           He continued pressing the red button. “Gotcha. I’m Joe. I heard your technique was pretty good. Focus on that, not on the ground.” Joe advised.

Mac looked at the ground.

“Ever work this high before, Mac?”

           “Um. No. I worked mostly residential, in the suburbs.”

           The rig stopped at the 64^th floor. Joe explained the routine one more time, then both got busy. Each took a window. In tandem they sprayed the glass, sponged and scraped free the dust, soot, grime, and bird droppings. Using “S” curves they deftly squeegeed away the sluice using the large squeegee, then picked up the drippings with the finer smaller squeegee. They ended with a few wipes with the microfiber towel hanging from their belts.

           Joe watched her out of his periphery. He liked the way she bit at her tongue while she worked. It showed she was concentrating. She looked agile enough. And her arms were long, able to reach the top of the window. But her fingernails were bit to the quick. That could indicate she is the nervous type, which is not good up here.

As Joe lowered them to the 63^rd, he noticed Mac looking at her own reflection gliding over the glass, blowing out unsteady breaths.

           “You nervous, Mac?” The space between his eyebrows furrowed to elevens. “Let me tell you, being scared is a part of the job. It keeps you from getting sloppy.”

           “I’m not scared of the height. I’m mostly scared of being up here with you.”

           “Me?” Her sharp reply and the candor of it caught him off guard. And hurt.

           “You’re so old. What if you have a heart attack? I can’t raise this scaffold by myself.”

He let the rig roll to a stop. “Let’s take a break.” Joe unclipped and swiveled to sit, with his legs dangling.

           “You unclipped. They said in training never to do that.” Mac fidgeted with her blaze orange safety harness, attaching a lower carabiner that allow her to also sit. She folded her leg around a scaffolding brace.

           Joe spoke softly. “Don’t mind me, I’m a rotten role model. Abide your training. Up here, your brain is going to try to convince you that you’re in a precarious situation. But you’re not, so long as you obey the safety protocols.”

“Have any close calls?”

           “A few.” He looked at the skyline. “Once, I was using a bosuns chair. Believe it or not, I had very long hair back then. And I was too cool to wear a hat. The wind starts gusting and my hair gets all tangled in the rigging. I could not go up or down. And I was alone, so stupid. I didn’t have a blade with me either, so I couldn’t cut it.”

           “So, what did you do?”

           “I smoked back then. So, I light up, and used the cigarette to scorch my hair one lock at a time.”

           “And it turned out?”

           “I’m here, aren’t I? But I’ve kept my hair short ever since.”

           Mac offered a polite simper. She looked at the dark streets below. So many cars inching forward. The crowd of people marching in a slow parade. “It’s peaceful up here. Free.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the good things about this job.” He said absentmindedly. With his chin Joe nodded at the sky. “See that bank of cirrus rolling in? The wind will be picking up. What did they tell you about the wind in training?”

“Wind is bad. If gusts exceed 25 miles per hour we should stop.”

“Yes. And that’s one rule I do adhere to. Wind rocks the rig and makes people overreact. That’s when bad things happen.

“Copy that.” said Mac

For several minutes they listened to the wind and distant sirens. The quiet went on too long, he knew he should say something. “So, tell me Mac, what brought you to the window cleaning business?”

“I love rock climbing. I do it whenever I get the chance. Just got back from Zion. This seemed the way to blend my love of climbing with my love of being able to pay my bills.”

Joe nodded. The smile he returned was more amiable. He realized her nails were not bitten short, they were chipped and ground away from climbing unforgiving stone.

Without a word he went back to work. She followed suit. For another hour the two sprayed, bladed and wiped in quiet concert with one another, careful to keep their rig steady.

Mac broke the silence. “What other things?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You said that peacefulness was one of the good things about the job. What are some of the other things?”

The seasoned technician sighed. “Well, there’s the view of course.” said Joe, now looking at his apprentice. “And there are other things….” His voice trailed off.

“Well. Go on. What other things.”

“Things a crusty old man should not be talking about.”

“Oh, now you gotta spill. What other things?”

“Please don’t say ‘spill’ while we’re this high up.” Joe said with a dead straight face. That made her laugh.

“Come on.” she urged.

“It’s just that, cleaning the grime off these windows, and checking to make sure their seals are intact, it’s satisfying. And I play at least a small role in making this city shine. I mean, who wants to live in a dull and dusty city?”

“Joe, I think you might be a romantic.”

The old man scoffed. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never being a romantic.”

They returned to their work, letting the click and squeak of their tools do the talking. At the 62^nd, Joe announced, “We need to change places.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I need to pee. Come on, you come this way while I go there. Together now.”

Mac could feel the unsteady wobble of the deck as they shifted. “Why do we need to change sides?” She leaned into the building to allow him to cross over.

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to pee into the wind, would ya?”

Mac’s face paled. “Wait, you’re kidding again, right?”

“Not this time my little lamb.”

She heard him unzip and quickly diverted her eyes. Still, she watched the jutting hips of his reflection squirt a high-arc stream of yellow into the breeze.

The old man shouted as he whizzed. “You see, with the air being so dry today, it will never hit the ground. Maybe a little mist is all.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You said I was a romantic.”

“I take it back.”

He finished with a couple shakes, then rezipped and reattached his tool belt.

“I thought you cared about this city.”

“I do, about the way it looks. But we can do nothing about the way it smells. All big city’s smell, from the graft and the greed, and the corruption. Compared to that, a little urine is like sweet potpourri.”

She clamped her eyes closed to squeeze away what just happened. Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait. So, what I’m I supposed to do? No way am I going to hang my derriere over the edge of this rig.”

With pointer finger up, Joe said, “I thought of that.” From a tool bag he pulled a funnel, the spout of which he inserted through a knot in the scaffold’s wooden base plank. With a flourish of his arm he said, “Your commode, my little lamb.”

Mac went pie-eyed. “There is no way on God’s green Earth that I am going to sit on that!”

With a shrug Joe said, “Suit yourself.” He went back to work. So did Mac.

She focused on the surface of the glass. Mac cleaned until she could see herself looking back. Her thoughts drifted to the sound of the water splashing in the bucket, The trickle of droplets running down the smooth surface of the window glass. “Crap!”

“What?”

“Now I do have to pee.” She looked at Joe.

Joe looked at the length of rope draped over the tower’s edge. “I could take her up. But it will use up precious time.” He looked at the grey horizon. “The front’s moving in. We don’t want to be here when the wind comes.”

She recognized this as a defining moment. A rational person would insist on raising the rig so she could relieve herself on a proper toilet. But cleaning the sides of skyscrapers was not an undertaking for the overly sane.

Mac glared at the old man. “Turn around.”

“Oh please. Do you really think there are things this old man hasn’t seen?” But still, he placated her and pivoted away. To offer more privacy he lifted his face skyward.

Mac confirmed only a dark empty office waited on the other side of the glass. Satisfied that Joe would keep his attention diverted, the noob double-checked the connection of her safety harness before unclasping her bibs, pushed down her pants, then her underpants. The cool breeze felt strange but admittedly quite nice. She knelt over the white funnel. She tried to relax her urethra, but her efforts were going unrewarded.

“Do you like CCR?” asked Joe.

“Do I what?”

“Creedance. Do you like them?”

“What are you talking about?”

Joe started to sing loud at the clouds. “…have you ever seen the rain…”

“Very funny.” she groaned.

“…I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain…” he serenaded.

“Please stop.”

“…Comin’ down on a sunny day….” He hooted when he heard her stream hit the side of the plastic funnel. He shifted his singing into a soothing hum.

Mac reaffixing her apparel. “Okay then.” she sighed.

He looked at her, waiting for more.

With eyes rolled she offered a begrudging “Thank you.”

“Okay then. Good job. Let’s get back to work.” Joe lowered the rig to 61.

Mac used the scraper to remove stubborn pigeon splatter that vaguely resembled a winged cherub. “So, Joe, what are the craziest things you’ve seen as a high-rise window cleaning technician?”

“Well, that’s tough to say. There have been quite a few. Hey…” he suddenly remembered something, “…did they have you sign that NDA?”

“Yeah. I thought that was so weird.”

“It’s because up here we have unannounced access to people’s lives.” He spoke over the squeegee’s chirp. “I’ve seen plenty of people naked. Most cover up when they see me. But others, more than you might think, want me to see them, want me to watch what they do next. In this city there is no shortage of exhibitionists.”

“My God, Joe.”

“That’s not the half of it. I’ve seen suits doing coke, I’ve seen a priest watching porn. I’ve seen a famous actress getting Botoxed. I watched more than a few scrambling in a panic, thinking I was SWAT. And I figure just shy of half of the office computers in these tall buildings have video games or online shopping sites on their monitors.

Mac wiped her squeegee clean. “You make it all seems so…shameful.”

“Like I told you, even a pretty city stinks sometimes.” With a snap of his arm Joe flung the liquid from his squeegee. “But I’ve seen wonderful things too.”

“Such as?”

“Some of most amazing sunrises and sunsets. And there are falcons in this city. They soar with the wind, then dive fast against it, screaming like a jet fighter. And I will never forget this elderly couple, dressed in their finery, kissing in their kitchen. I saw them just for a second, looked away as soon as I realized, but that moment, their moment, was so tender and indelible.”

“I take back my take back, Joe. You really are a romantic.” She sprayed the next pane.

“On the other side of these windows lies a rich tapestry of humanity. Our job is to see they have a clear view of things.”

Mac chewed on his words, as she grazed away the soupy crude from the next glazed sheet. Her eye caught a flash of pink on the other side. She focused through the tint and saw a fascinated child waving at her. Dimples raised on Mac’s cheeks as she waved back. “Hey Joe, look at this.”

Joe lowered the T-bar in his hand. He let a chuckle slip as he watched this interaction play out.

The toddler laughed with glee, then stuck her little tongue out at Mac, who mimicked her by stretching her cheeks apart, showing off her own pink tongue. The small girl giggled till she fell flat on her poofy plastic pullups, which started Mac giggling too.

As if struck with an epiphany, the child suddenly stopped laughing, stood on pudgy legs and made for the window. The little girl slapped her hands flat on the glass. Mac did the same. Then the youngling did something to make Mac laugh even harder. The small child impulsively opened her mouth as wide as it would go then pressed her lips against the inviting cool glass.

           This tickled Joe’s funny bone too.

On the other side the toddler chortled, her mouth adhered like some baby-toothed barnacle.

Mac couldn’t resist. She leaned in and pressed her own open mouth to the glass, at the same spot. Not in some pretend kiss, but out of pure spontaneous playfulness.

“Now you have to rewash that.” said Joe with no seriousness in his voice.

With mouth wide and affixed, Mac began humming, causing the girl to squeal with delight from the vibration. The tickled preschooler also began humming, and soon both were purring out Mary had a Little Lamb, in full vibrato.

Neither Joe nor Mac minded the sway of the rig as they rollicked with joy. Their Kazooing music summoned the nanny, who un-cupped the toddler. With a strong exotic accent, she apologized through the window, then carried the little girl to a deeper interior room.

           The outside adults collected themselves. After a few deep breaths Mac said, “Now that was one of the good moments.”

Joe watched Mac reclean the window. He took out a pad and pen from the side pocket of his tool bag and started writing.

           Mac asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making a note that the seal of this window is beginning to crack. We’ll need to come back next week and re-caulk it.”

Mac examined the seal. “It looks fine.”

“We’ll come back next week.”

She looked at the inside prints of tiny hands and lips she could not erase. She understood. “That would be nice.” She said, bobbing her chin.

As he lowered the rig to 60, Joe said to Mac, “I have a Spiderman costume you can wear. The kid will love it!” Then he handed her the heavy dangling switch-pack. “Now let me show you how to work this lift system.”