The Elevator

David slept poorly on the evening of his encounter with the police. His sleep was fitful, interrupted by numerous dreams, mostly nightmares. He arrived at the Toledo Hospital cath lab a few minutes after seven. The procedure went without complication, revealing three vessel coronary disease. Dr. Barnett spent a half-hour discussing the findings, and drawing explanatory pictures for the family, before calling his friend, Drew Montgomery, a cardiovascular surgeon. They reviewed the case and scheduled the patient for a three-vessel bypass for the following day.

David spent the remainder of the morning making rounds on hospital inpatients, finishing a little after twelve noon. He went to the hospital cafeteria to grab a quick lunch before heading across town to his office. While eating, he wondered about his afternoon schedule. He would likely have twenty-five to thirty patients to see, and would not finish until six or seven. He still had to make rounds at Christ Hospital later that evening. It’s gonna be a long day. Probably won’t get home ‘til ten or later. Home, he thought, some home, a lousy motel.

After lunch, rather than taking the stairs, he headed for an elevator to descend to the first floor. His legs were leaden from emotion and a chance to relax in elevator was inviting. He was  exhausted and the day wasn't event half over.

He entered the elevator, barely noticing its occupants. A child’s giggle caught his attention. A family of five was heading down with him: husband and wife and three young girls. One of the two youngest, vying for the right to push the “close door” button, mistakenly hit the “open"  button. The partially closed elevator doors jerked to a stop and opened wide.  

“Maddie, honey, you pushed the wrong one.” Said her mother. She sheepishly glanced toward David. 

“I’m sorry about that, doctor.”

“It’s okay. I’m in no hurry.”

Barnett looked across the elevator to her husband, who had scooped up his little girl, holding her firmly cradled in his arms. He turned back toward the woman. “I have  three children. My youngest is, Maddie. Is yours a Madeline?”

“No, her name is Madison.”

"That’s different--don't think I've heard that before."

"We hadn't either. We were sure it would be a unique name, but soon after she was born, as always seems to be the case, 'Madisons were coming outta the woodwork--now they're everywhere.

"Yeah, that's how it seems to go, doesn't it. Same thing happened when we named Madeline." David turned back to the husband and daughter. "She's pretty and she looks quite smart."

Madison stared at him. Her father smiled to acknowledge the compliment as his daughter turned to hide her face in his chest. She quietly giggled.

The elevator started its descent. Nothing more was said.

Barnett moved to the back of the elevator and watched the young family; noting that the mother--attractive with dark hair pulled back in a clip--was slender with a delicate figure. Her husband had a rugged look, sandy hair, mustache and a muscular build. Both parents were in blue jeans. The father wore a pull-over shirt with the sleeves pushed up over his forearms. His wife's sleeveless white cotton top nicely outlined her breasts and narrow waist. David admired her neat, clean look, complimented by white canvas deck shoes. Sue often wears those, he thought.

David loved the way Susan looked in casual clothes, especially when wearing sleeveless tops. The woman in the elevator had small shoulders and slender arms, similar to Sue’s. David felt a fullness in his chest and a lump in his throat as he reminisced about his wife.

The doctor looked down at the older sisters, huddled in the corner by their mother. He guessed they were around five and eight years old. Both were dressed in jeans, T-shirts and pastel colored sneakers. The youngest child, still in her father’s arms, appeared to be two or three-years-old. She was wearing a light-blue sundress and white anklets and sandals. She snuck a peak at David from the corner of one eye.

The elevator doors opened. The family walked out and turned left, toward the hospital lobby. Madison, looking over her dad’s shoulder, waved goodbye to David. He waved back, smiled, and turned to the right, headed toward the physician’s lounge. 

As he walked down the hall he thought of his family, imagining Susan, her petite size and her gorgeous figure. He could smell the scent of her skin. The weight in his chest increased. David sighed deeply, his throat tightening as his eyes welled up with tears. 

He increased his pace--anxious to reach the refuge of the doctor’s lounge--hoping he wouldn’t encounter a colleague on the way--hoping the lounge would be empty. David wanted to hide in the restroom stall where he could open up in private and release his pain.

Navigating the hallway without incident, he entered the doctor’s lounge and quickly retreated to the restroom, which was thankfully vacant. In the stall he locked the door and sat, fully clothed, on the toilet seat. Holding his sagging head in his hands, he cried as quietly as he could. As he wept, staring down at the floor, his tears dropped in streams, splashing on the ceramic tile below. After a few minutes, he composed himself. I have to get to the office.

Exiting the hospital, he headed for the physicians' parking lot, the only evidence of his despair being the large puddle of tears left on the restroom floor.