Crowded Elevator

Wilma McMillan was visibly upset by those callous words.

Asa folded his arms across his chest. He could feel his heart racing on the palm of his right hand. He could feel himself bubbling over.  He had given everything for his family.  The least they could do would be following his example and stand up for one of their own.  This disrespect had been going on for far, far too long.  He was at his tipping point.

Soon, he would surely have to release. Soon. For now, though, for now he bit his tongue and ground his molars.

...for all of forty-five seconds.  Asa pounced.  Asa enlightened.  He always tried to impart wisdom, wherever he went.

ASA: I don't know how you can say that. 
CROW:  Oh, here we go.

Crow threw his hands up.

ASA:  I don't know how you can say she's the worst mother when it's so grossly inaccurate.

CROW: Aw, what do you know?  You shut the hell up, you always get into all this.

Asa didn't shut the hell up or down.

ASA: You would have been better off saying, she wasn't the best mother. That...now that, I can rationalize. But you had to go all hyperbolic and make my blood just boil.

That was true.  Asa hated hyperbole.  He found it to lessen the speakers credibility for some reason.

CROW: It's not your problem; back off.

ASA: No, no. That's wrong too. You see, this is my problem.

Asa unfolded his left arm and gave a panoramic wave to the walls of the condominium his grandmother now solely owned, but shared with Asa's sister, Joanie and her man-pet, Crow.

ASA: This is all my problem.  She's my problem, and by unfortunate proxy, you're my problem too.  I inherited all problems when he died.

Asa's grandfather, who (along with Asa's grandmother) had raised the boy and his sister since birth, had passed away that May.  He was eighty-nine years old, and spry up until about eighty-seven.  When the time came, Asa had felt it was his duty to assist with the delicate care that Pop had needed in his final months.  He had quit his job waiting tables, and traded his 19th century Baltimore rowhome for the bedroom he grew up in.  Noble, indeed; it was anything but righteous. After the last bedspread had been soiled and the last gasp of breath had been rendered, the sound of waterworks had filled the room. Sure, Asa was banged up about the whole scene and was known to shed a tear or two in his life, but he could't break the trance he was left in.

Asa had been holding his grandfathers hand, well, actually he was holding his grandfather's clenched fist in his own hand when he finally passed.   Asa was the first to know, due to the clenched fist slowly relaxing into his as if forming one. He could feel himself start to choke up, but didn't want to alarm the others quite yet.  Asa took some solace in the fact that his he and his grandfather could share that one last secret between them.  To briefly take his mind out of the moment, he childishly made a game to see how many times he could spin his grandfather's wedding band around the ring finger before the first person realized he had passed and started to weep. 

Three...four...five....six...

Seven.  Asa's aunt began to weep hysterically.  She asked God aloud why he had to take her father, but God just told her it was time.

That's when Asa noticed something written in his grandfather's hand, on his palm to be precise.  Asa glanced up and around the room to see if anyone had broken prayer and lifted their heads before opening the hand ever so slightly. It was dark in the room. The print was faint. The writing was barely legible. Asa could only make out, 'savethemallace'.

Did that say "Save the Mall, Ace"?  Ace was the nickname that his grandfather had bestowed on him as a young tee ball stand out.  Asa thought for a second.  He did remember seeing protestors outside of the old mall complex that was being demolished in favor of one of those worldwide conglomerate big box joints.  Did his grandfather want him to join that cause?  It seems rather trivial for deathbed-crib-notes.  Maybe he was low on oxygen again.

JOANIE: Say's who? Who says you get to call the shots mister? Grandma is still right here. She still makes the rules in her own flippin' house.

Acquiescence partly became Asa.

ASA: Even still, your douche bark joke of a boyfriend doesn't have any right to tell our mother that she was the worst mother on the planet.

JOANIE: She started that shit.

ASA:  I don't care who started it.  I don't care if she took a shit in his shampoo.  He's so far off base with this one, and you know it, Jo.  This guy has sponged off of our grandparents lifetime of hard work.  Grandma is on a fixed income now.  Don't you understand what that means? FIXED INCOME, JOANIE!  That is WELFARE!

JOANIE: R..

ASA:  It means that you're allowing this shadow of a man, this loser...kid, to destroy everything that Pop had built for Grandma.  You've let him crash two of her cars.  You've let him steal Pops morphine as he was laying there, dying in pain.  You let him do whatever the hell he wants, whenever he wants.  But now it stops.  He's crossed the line bad mouthing our mother.  Definitely before that.  And to her to her face no less.  No matter how sparse and misguided her parenting was, that does NOT give some stranger the right to come in here and do what he pleases.  He's a guest...he is a pile of shit.

Asa knew what is was like to be a shadow of a man. He knew how sensitive manhood was for those trying to maintain a charade of masculinity.

JOANIE:  Grandma said he could stay here, you dickhead.  It's not your call.

ASA:  His parents live four minutes away.  His still married, successful, acedmic parents.  These parents can kick their kid out, yet still allow him to come back home to swim in their pool?  They probably make him rice crispy treats and tang for the occasion.  This clearly tells me he wasn't abused or molested as a child.  His parents were just tired of doing their job.  The fact that his mother dropped off his mail here tells me that they know he is living here.  How they can knowingly allow a retiree on fixed income to foot the bill to raise their worthless, punk kid is beyond me.  THAT, that is the epitome of the worst in parenting.

CROW:  You don't know what you're talking about.  If I hear ano...

ASA:  Do you know what I wish?  I wish I could go back in time.  I wish I could go back to a time before you were born.

Crow turned to Joanie.

CROW:  Your brother is off his rocker.  Always with this shit.

Asa focuses his glare at Crow.

ASA:  I wish I could go back in time, kick your father in the balls, and punch your mother in the uterus, you waste of DNA.  I'd probably kick both of them down the stairs if I had the chance.

GRANDMA:  Asa, please!  Stop saying such evil thing.  I've raised you better than that.

Asa could see his grandmother becoming more upset by the conversation.  Her voice had that quiver in it.  Asa instantly cooled and changed his approach.

ASA: You. Grandma. Pop. All of you can honestly sit there and look me in the eye to claim credit for how well I turned out?  For how successful I had become?  Each one of you has beamed, at one time or another, with pride when you talk about me, and are always so sure to include a nice little caveat to say how much of an impact you must have had on me. Guess what? It wasn't any single one of you.

Tears began to roll down Asa's grandmothers cheek.  Asa almost relented.  Again.

ASA: All of you had an impact, even mom...especially mom. Pop taught me about justice. He taught me that the world was not fair, but I could make one, a just world, for myself and the people that make me their world, and to always take care for your family. Grandma taught me compassion. She taught me that I should extend myself as much as I can to help those who need help the most, as some are not always able to help themselves. Joanie, you taught me to laugh. You showed me this world was not always doom and gloom, and that some things are worth fighting for. But as much as you are fighting for your dick rag boyfriend who tries to marginalize Wilma's contribution in the world of motherhood, I assure you, mom taught me the most valuable thing I know. She taught me how to be strong. She taught me how to never give in under pressure and no matter how bleak it looks, you have to keep moving forward. She taught me to fight.  

Asa turned and put his hands on his grandmothers cheeks.  

ASA:  Only you can stop this.  It will all crumble if you don't.

And with that powerful speech, Asa turned for the door.  All were too stunned to stop him.  Mild mannered Asa had blown his stack and pour out his heart.  That was the last time that Asa was to see Grandma, Crow or Joanie again, although, the same can't be said for the other way around.  Asa always wondered why none of them came after him to say goodbye.  He can only assume they found his threats empty.

Outside, Asa hurried to the bottom of the driveway, where he slummed against the back of his grandmother's station wagon.  He couldn't contain himself any longer.  He stopped fighting gravity and let his tears free.  It felt nice; it felt needed.  This cathartic release was ever fleeting, however, as Asa began to hear the dried, dead leaves in the front yard crunch in a man-made repetition.  He turned his neck to peer around the station wagon.  No one.  The crunch must've come from the other side.  As he began to turn his face, he came perilously close to bumping front teeth with the face of a familiar, yet smaller one.  It was Misty.

MISTY:  Hi, uncle.  Are you sad?

It was Joanie's kid from a previous rendezvous.  She was a cute little nugget.

ASA:  Hi there cutie.  No.  I'm not sad.  Why are you outside so late?
MISTY:  Mommy didn't say I had to come in yet.

Typical of Joanie.  It was almost dark.  A child that age should not have been allowed to be playing outside in the dark.  Anyone could have taken her.  Anyone.  Asa had to push away the notion of taking Misty himself.  It was a hard push indeed; He could have saved her from the cancer that was growing in that household.  He could have given her a better life.  He could have.  He could have gotten fifteen years in federal prison.  He decided against it.

ASA:  You need to go in right now, girl.  I thought I smelled cookies baking in there.

A cruel, yet noble lie.  Misty's eyes lit up in anticipation.  Without even thinking to cordially end the conversation with Asa, she turned to run inside.  Kids will be kids.  Asa was able to latch his finger through one of her overall loops to prevent her from getting out of his range.

ASA:  Hey, Mist.
MISTY:  Yes, uncle?
ASA:  Just, just come here and give me a hug, would you?
MISTY:  YAY!  Sure, uncle.

Misty bound back into Asa's arms and gave him the bestest hug she could muster.

MISTY:  How's that, uncle?

Asa could feel himself tearing up again.  He could barely choke out his words undetected.

ASA:  That's perfect.

Asa loosened his grip, allowing his niece to scurry inside.  Upon getting to his feet, he dusted himself off, took in a heavy breath and began walking West.  He couldn't help but notice how extraordinarily dark that particular road was at that hour.  Budget cuts must have forced the town keep the streetlight usage to a minimum again.  Asa had already gone a mile or two before he thought to check inventory.  He reached into his pockets.  Cell phone?  Half charge.  Charger?  Left at home.  Figures.  Wallet?  Only contained government issued identification and the faint imprint of what was Asa's last fifty.  Crow must've been scavenging last night.  The situation looked grim.  Outside of those items, he only had the shoes on his feet, and his grandfathers Korean War infantry jacket on his back.

Just as Asa pulled out his cell phone to make the first leg of his couch surfing arrangements, a large truck with it's high beams shining came speeding around the corner.  A temporarily blinded Asa cautiously moved closer to the grass shoulder as he realized the truck was also hauling a large trailer behind it.  As the truck made it's approach it began to slow down, eventually coming to a complete stop right next to where Asa was standing.  The drivers side window began to roll down, but Asa was unable to make the face out due to his still hindered vision.  

DRIVER:  You have a death wish kid?

Asa squinted hard.  

ASA:  Say again?
DRIVER:  Walking down these roads at night.  I barely saw you.  You want to be roadkill?
ASA:  Oh, right.  Sorry about that, I should be wearing brighter colors.
DRIVER:  Damn straight.  Not to mention those damn spics moving in, bringing all their crime with it.  You're liable to get your ass cut out here.

Asa had heard about some isolated crime incidences that had occurred in the area recently, but he didn't get the impression that it was epidemic from mainstream sources.

ASA:  Well, I appreciate that advice.  I better get a hustle on then.

Asa took a step forward, but the conversation did too.

DRIVER:  Where you headed, son?

Asa hesitated.

DRIVER:  Look, I ain't trying to harm you.
ASA:  Of course not.  I'm honestly not sure where I'm headed, was just working that out.  Just left home, and I get the feeling I won't be going back any time soon.
DRIVER:  Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.  You don't have a plan?

Asa had nothing concrete.  He spitballed.

ASA:  I've got a couple friends out in Cumberland.  I was thinking about making my way out there.

The driver shot him a skeptical look.  Up and down.  Asa did know someone in Cumberland.  He wasn't exactly sure if they were on speaking terms, per se, but last time they had spoken, Cumberland was called home.

DRIVER:  A couple friends?
ASA:  Yes...
DRIVER:  Wouldn't you know it, that's actually where I'm headed.  What're the odds?

Asa put them at one in two thousand and wondered if the question was rhetorical.

DRIVER:  Get in.  I'll give you a lift.

Asa was hesitant.

ASA:  That's awful nice of...
DRIVER:  I insist.  I don't need another brother becoming a statistic out here.  C'mon, get in.  It's only about forty minutes from here.

He managed to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut, looked both ways, and crossed the road.  He glanced in the back seat as a precaution and proceeded to open the passenger side door.  Who knows what he was looking for.  The passenger floor was covered in fast food wrappers and receipts.  The driver motioned for Asa to hurry up.

DRIVER:  A car is coming, hurry up and get in.

Asa reluctantly complied and slid in.  What choice did he have?  Pride would be enough to keep him from turning back.  He leaned his back on the car door and positioned his body towards the driver.

DRIVER:  You look tense.  You can take it easy.  I'm safe.  I'm Terry.

Terry wiped his right hand off on his jeans and extended it.  Asa took it with a firm grip.

ASA:  Asa.  I really appreciate you stopping for me.
TERRY:  Not a problem.  Folks like us, well, we've got to stick together.

Asa wondered what demographic he was being grouped into.   At that moment, Asa noticed Terry's camouflage jacket laid out on the middle seat.  He recognized the insignia patched on the sleeve.  It was that of an Army Ranger.  A veteran, he thought.  The notion put him at a slightly lower level of alert.

TERRY:  So.  You've got some friends you're staying with?

This guy must've precluded Asa was not capable of having a friend.

ASA:  Yep.  You can just drop me wherever is convenient for you though.
TERRY:  Nonsense.  I can take you wherever you need.

He flashed a smile in Asa's direction, as if he knew he was fabricating a story.  Asa wondered why this older gentleman had taken such a shine to him.  He wondered why he was going out of his way to help; It was rather, disconcerting.  Or Asa was just a cynic.  It was probably the later.

TERRY:  You seem beat.  I won't mind if you doze off for a little while.  That's what you need.  Why don't you get a little nap in?  I'll wake you when we get there.

...Maybe it was the former.

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