Elevator Ride 1.4

The cheery face of my companion has changed. His eyes are sad; for me. His gaze pierces into me with such sorrow and sympathy that I resent it. I'll dry my eyes. Won't put my broken heart on display for his pity. I feel a wave of rage rising up in me.

I beat my hands on the metal cage of the elevator, "Can't this damn piece of junk go any faster! I just want out!"

My voice echos up into the darkness we are traveling down through. Even the reverberations are grotesquely loud and out of place. Obscene. I'm not sorry. If I could cut the cable to increase the speed of our descent, I would.

"We are going faster," His voice is so sad, unbearably sad. And it's true. The creaking is more pronounced. There is a gentle sway from side to side that I hadn't noticed till now. The cement lining the shaft is sliding by ever so slightly swifter.

Then with a groan the cage labors to a stop.

"I am obligated to make a stop on every floor, but look. You will recognize these faces just as they will recognize yours," spoke my guide directing me with his eyes through the gate into the room at which we had halted.

I scrutinize the room with an effort to grasp his meaning. It's a plain, unadorned floor, devoid of decoration or furnishings. Darkness lurks in every corner. But in the center, lit by several floor lamps, there is a circle of chairs. This space is full of life and vitality. A guitarist plays expertly while several others sit around his feet singing along. Others laugh and talk with excitement and contentment. Some sit in middle of the circle playing cards with the enthusiasm of children.

The faces, young and old, exude peace and friendship. And they are all so familiar. So very familiar. My father is there! So too my mother, and suddenly every face is one I know. My family and my friends. Those who have loved me despite my indifference and lack of reciprocation. These are the people who have followed me on my muddy path, scorning the filth to bring me a smile and a word of hope.

I freeze. A deer caught in the glare. My heart yearns to join them. My people. My place. My people? Disgrace. My head falls. I may have belonged with them once. They deserve better. I deserve worse. I'd just hold their joy back. Teach them discontent and the finer art of the self-centered life. They are good. I am not. I would repay their words of kindness and hope with anger and despair.

I laugh insipidly at my posturing. This isn't about them. It's about me, always about me. I will choose my own path. I care for them. But not enough to turn back? I hope its not true, but can think of no other explanation for why I'm looking away. Moving on. Moving downward.

As I jerk a dejected shake of my head to the operator, a shrill voice calls my name. I turn to see a young child leaning dangerously off a chair, his face beaming at me, and his hands stretched in welcome. Others notice, and one by one they hear their neighbor's excited comments, and turn to look with faces overflowing with joy and welcome.

"We've been waiting for you!"
"So glad to see you!"
"My Bro, welcome!"
"Yes, come join us."

This is pain. This is excruciating pain. Torn in two. Wanting them. Wanting to run into their waiting open arms. And something crushing me with an iron weight. Squeezing my heart, killing my love, holding me back.

A scream rips out of me, "Let me go!" And an instant later a horrible answer from a voice I hate, "NO. Take me down." I collapse to the floor as the lift shifts downward. Horror. Despair. Hate. Yes, I hate you, I hate you, I hate... me.