Miracle Between Floors
Photo by Juan Encalada
Very pregnant Sara, riding the lumbering elevator to the 28th floor to her Midwife’s office, had started contractions that morning and was both scared and excited. She glanced at the creeping numbers as she felt another stab of pain, wishing the elevator wasn’t so slow.
“Damn!” she groused when the car ground to a halt at fifteen.
An angry-looking man stepped in wearing black leather chaps, vest, motorcycle boots, and a red bandana tied around his head cursing to himself. Her heart lurched.
When he jabbed the down button, she said, “This is going up to the 28th floor first. You should have taken another elevator.”
He glared at her and his blurted “Fuck!” was accompanied by a fist slamming against the door. He began pushing buttons.
“What are you doing?” Sara asked. “You can’t just push a bunch of buttons. That will only delay us longer?”
“Shut the fuck up, lady, I’ve gotta get off’a here. I ain’t goin’ for no joy ride to dump you off.”
“What has you so pissy?” she asked, not really caring, but wanting to divert his attention on something other than destroying the control panel.
“My God-damned attorney fucked me over when he said he was gonna help me get my fine reduced, but didn’t. The son-of-a-bitch. And I paid him good money.”
He began beating on the panel again.
Photo by Petrebels
“Stop!” Sara yelled at him, “You’ll jam the system, and then we’ll be stuck.”
“I don’t give a shit!” he yelled back. “I want off’a this thing!”
“Okay, calm down and let’s figure out how we can make it stop,” Sara told him quietly as if speaking to an angry child. Since she had two other children at home, she was used to temper tantrums.
“This is how it’s done,” he told her and gave the panel a swift kick. The elevator lurched and stopped. “See?”
“Oh, dear God,” Sara whooshed out, leaning back on the wall. She held her huge belly. “This can’t be happening.”
The biker whirled around and said, “What can’t be happening? I stopped the elevator, didn’t I? All I need to do is get the fucking door open and we can both get off.”
“But we’re stuck between floors. Look at the numbers!” she yelled.
The shrill ring of the emergency alarm sounded just as Sara felt another big contraction. She cried out, “No! No! Not now!”
“What not now, and what is that noise? It’s driving me crazy.”
“It’s the alarm that is announcing the fact that you broke the elevator with your tantrums, and I’m about to have a baby while we’re stuck here, that’s ‘what’s now!’”
“You can’t be havin’ no baby here, lady. No way,” he ranted.
“Well, I am, and you better be ready to help,” she panted and slid to the floor.”
She began screaming as her body prepared her for the delivery with unbearable pain.
“Help me,” she whimpered, “Please.”
In a panic, he said, “What do I gotta do?”
“Be ready to pull the baby out when you see its head.”
“Good God, no! I ain’t doing that!”
“You are and you will,” she sneered. “You made this happen, so, buck it up and get down here, it’s starting to move out.”
It’d been two hours when the elevator moved, and the doors finally opened. A workman exclaimed, “Well I’ll be damned,” at seeing a woman lying on the wet floor, and a baby wrapped in a red bandana in the arms of a biker.
“See what I did?” the biker proudly preened.
Photo by Jill Sauve