BUTTON 28

Ding! The evaluator's doors opened. Tammy shuffled in with the rest of the nine-to-five mob. She glanced at the button panel and spun around to watch the duel doors close. The smell of the electric motor and the lubricant used to keep the steel box moving up and down reminded her of childhood. Every third Sunday of the month, she and her mom would go shopping in the big city. It was their thing. They would skip church and go on mommy-and-daughter dates. 

The elevator began to ascend, and she hadn't pushed a button. Floor twenty-eight is where she had to go, but she couldn't get herself to hit it.

Ding! Floor two. Three more bodies entered like herded sheep. The doors closed, and one of the new members pointed at the panel and said, “Baaaaaaaaa.”  

Tammy shook her head and thought, am I still high from last night? 

An older gentleman next to the panel put his hand up to his ear. He scrunched his face and said, “Whhaaat?”

“Floor three,” the man grunted.

 Really? Tammy thought. ONE floor? You couldn't take the stairs and get some exercise? She wasn't one to talk about health. The last five months have been hell for her. Every night, she tries to forget the sadness of her mind by numbing it with alcohol and as much weed as it takes. Anything to stop the tears of betrayal from flowing down her cheeks. The satin-brushed doors shut, and upward the flock went. 

Ding! Floor three. The trio of wooly animals stepped out, and a lady with ashtray-colored hair stepped in, followed by a tidal wave of perfume. “Floor seven, please,” she said with a gravelly voice.

“Whhaaat?” The old gentlemen said.

“Seven,” she pointed and coughed, “I need a cigarette,” she mumbled to herself as the dual doors shut.

Tammy's nose tickled from the flowery aroma that engulfed the canister. It's not working, she said to herself as she stared at the back of the lady's head. I can still smell your two-pack-a-day habit. She smirked, but then remembered the snooze button didn’t hit itself five times this morning, which left her with no time for a shower. Maybe I should tap her shoulder and ask to borrow some of her rose water.

Ding! Floor seven. The potpourri lady walked out, but her stink stayed and kept everyone company. Two heavy-set maintenance workers entered. The smaller of the two said, “Floor twenty-four.”

“Whhaat?” the older gentleman said.

Tammy leaned her head back against the wall. “Is this going to happen every single stop?”

“Twenty-four,” he bellowed.

The old man smiled. “That's where I’m going.”

“Ok,” the maintenance guy said with a deadpan face.

Jammed in the back corner, Tammy began to count heads. “Twelve people in this little room. I feel like a sardine.” She wanted to leave but couldn't move. Why is this death trap moving so slow she said to herself as she huffed and rolled her eyes. A tarnished sign caught her attention on the wall above the doors. It read 1500 pound limit. She did the math. 125 pounds for each individual. Only she and the older gentleman controlling the button pad weighed that or less. The two maintenance guys together had to be six hundred plus. The elevator struggled on its way up and began to squeal and bounce. Some of the other sardines began to express nervousness. 

“It's all good, folks.” The taller of the two maintenance men said, “We are just doing some routine repairs, and it causes the elevator to hiccup a little.” 

Darn, Tammy thought, I don't mind if it plummets. 

Her phone vibrated. It was her husband. Don't be late. I have a flight to catch. 

She started to text back. Jesus Jack, you couldn't—- another text came through.

I’m going to Hawaii! Can you believe it? You know how I always wanted to go to the islands. She erased her response, turned the phone off, and slid it into her purse.

Ding! Floor twenty-seven, and like a school of fish, they all funneled their way out of the man-made reef. 

The doors closed, and she was the only one left. “Jeez, looks like no one wants to go to floor twenty-eight,” Tammy said out loud as she walked to the panel. She hovered her finger over the button but didnt press it. Instead, gingerly stepped backward to her corner and took a deep breath. Hold it together, girl. You don't want to show the tears, she said to herself, closing her eyes.

Ding! Lobby.

Tammy opened her eyes to see the letter L glowing on the panel “Shit, it's a lot faster going down.” She closed her lids tight to get ready for the crowded ride.

The doors spread open, and one set of footsteps entered. A soothing voice said, “I love the smell of elevators,” as the doors clamped shut.

She opened her eyes to see a scruffy-faced man in a three-piece suit.

“I know it's weird, but it reminds me of going to my dad's downtown office when I was a kid.”

Tammy mustered up a twitchy smile.

“You look how I feel,” he said with a smirk. “What floor are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” she said. 

“The gates of hell, I like to call it.” He pushed the button. “So, which one are you?”

  Her eyes were glued on the glowing button. “Um—- I’m sorry, what?”

“Divorcer or the divorcee?” His phone buzzed. “Really?” He looked at Tammy, “My soon-to-be ex-wife just texted me and said, don't be late I have a plane to catch. Can you believe this shit?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you fucking kidding me? You're the blond bimbo's husband?” She reached out her hand and introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Tammy, and my asshole soon-to-be ex is the man she's flying with.”

“No shit, your ex-asshole is Jack?”

“Yep. I got the same text. They just can't wait to sign the fucking papers, can they?”

He chuckled “I’m Bob, and my wife is Elaine, the infamous bimbo.”

“Well, nice to meet you, fellow divorcee.” She looked at her watch. “Looks like we disappointed them one last time,” she said with a sinister smile. “One minute after nine. We’re officially late.”

“I have an idea,” he said with a boyish giggle. “Turn off your phone.”

“It’s already off.”

“Good,” he powered his down. “Do you know where they're going?”

“Hawaii,” she said with a forced smile.

 He winked at her and said, “Not today they aren't.” He pulled the emergency stop.

 Tammy's eyes widened. She looked at Bob, “Thank you—--” and then, with an animated voice, said, “I mean, oh no, this sucks. We are trapped!” She began to laugh “How long should we be stuck? One, two, three hours?”

“As long as it takes,” he said as he took a seat on the floor.

She sat down in her favorite corner and said, “It might be weird, but I love the smell of elevators too.”