The Elevator

Special acknowledgement: to Mom

PICTURE IT:

In the dark parking garage at the Towson mall, bottom floor, standing by the elevator at 10:32 PM, a girl checking her phone. Battery nearly dead. The girl petite, slender, cute blouse and shorts. Pretty, with an air of innocence. Eighteen years old, just submitted her college enrollment deposit. Walking back to her car after a night out with her friends, pushing her 11 PM curfew. Looking nervous.

She thought: This is how all the horror stories on the news begin. The girl about to get robbed, or raped, or worse. Clutched her purse strap tighter, shifting her weight between her feet, checking her surroundings.

She hadn't seen anyone except an angry blonde woman. Stormed by with hardly a glance as the girl was walking to the elevator.

10:33.

The girl looked up and her heart jumped.

The man was maybe thirty years old, polo shirt, jeans. Good-looking. Stopped a few feet beside her, glanced at the glowing UP button. Turned to her, smiled politely. Said: "Evening."

He had a friendly voice, she would later tell the police.

The girl eyed him. Of course a man shows up.

Wait. Don't panic.

She consulted her gut. She'd read The Gift of Fear. A chance to put it to use. She listened. Her gut was quiet, even— calm.

The police would ask her why she felt that way. It would be logical to avoid the man, take the stairs. She would tell them, sheepishly, perhaps the gut feeling was in part because the man kind of resembled a singer she loved, but as she sized him up and assessed his possible threat, she actually felt a little less nervous.

She decided to trust her gut. Replied: "Evening."

At that moment, the elevator doors opened. Out of nowhere, she remembered the stories of people stepping into elevator shaftsor being pushed— and dying. The man held out his hand to the doors. "Ladies first."

Logic said: This is how the horror stories begin.

But he said it in a way she liked. Genuinely chivalrous. So she checked that the elevator was there, not just the shaft. Walked in. He stepped in behind her.

The doors closed. They stood on opposite sides.

The man asked: "What floor?"

The girl answered quietly: "Top."

"Me too. Funny coincidence."

The girl fiddled with her ring. Silver, with a little heart. Christmas present from her dad. Wondered, briefly, if he was lying. Didn't have proof either way.

The man startled her: "Nice ring."

"Thanks." The girl put her hand behind her back.

They began the creaky ascent.

Neither spoke.

The girl consulted her gut again. It was nervous. It didn't like the silence. It whispered: Say something.

Suddenly the elevator stopped. Another patron?

The doors didn't open.