ELEVATION
Mrs. Alberta Terrell Henderson woke up and looked at her clock. It said 6:25am. She had overslept, which definitely wasn’t like her. Maybe it was strangeness of the small apartment. She had lived there for almost 6 months, but it had never really felt like home, especially not with her Calvin being gone. But she’d be seeing him soon. She stretched, took a deep breath and swung her tiny legs over the side of the bed and into the slippers that she always left in that exact spot for that exact reason. She donned her housecoat then busied herself preparing coffee and a simple breakfast of toast, eggs, bacon and some grits seasoned with a little sugar.
After her meal, she finished packing and labeling the boxes in the apartment. Practically everything that she owned was in those boxes. The large furniture and appliances – the bed, dressers, living room and dining room set as well as the stove and refrigerator – all belonged to the apartment, so those would all be staying put. She didn’t have a television. She and Calvin used to watch quite a bit of TV together before he left, but once he was gone she sold it, along with the condo and all the other furniture and appliances in it. One of her daughters had urged her to at least bring the TV with her to the new place, but she had no interest in watching it without her dear husband to share it with, and that made one less item to have to fuss with during the move. For the past six months she had spent her days visiting her friends, children, grandchildren and other close family members, taking long walks in the nearby park and reading her Bible.
With the heavy work out of the way, Alberta went to the bedroom closet door and grabbed the outfit that was hanging there – the one outfit that she had not packed. It was a gorgeous red satin dress with an embossed paisley design and a matching wide-brimmed hat. It was the classiest outfit she had ever owned, and one that she had never before worn anywhere except for church and sometimes the luncheons that followed. But today was special. In fact, except for her wedding day and the day that Calvin had left her, it was the most important day of her life. After carefully adjusting the dress on her slight frame, she turned to the full-length mirror that was attached to the bathroom door and gave herself the once-over. She smiled. Calvin would have been proud. He had always loved her in this dress. It was a present from him for their 60th wedding anniversary. He had asked her to try it on right then, and after she modeled it for him he slowly and tenderly undressed her and made love to her like they were 18 again. Even at the ripe age of 78 they both still had a burning passion for each other that not even time could extinguish. The doorbell rang suddenly, interrupting her thoughts and startling her. She didn’t know why she was so jumpy. It was 9:30am and that’s exactly the time the movers said they would be there.
Alberta opened the door and was greeted by two strapping young men, one white and one Latino.
“Hey,” said the white man gruffly as he glanced down at the clipboard he was holding. “We’re here to pick up a bunch of boxes for a Alberta Henderson.”
“An,” she said.
“’Cuse me?” said the white man.
“The correct grammar is ‘an Alberta Henderson’.”
“Yeah, ok. Whatever. I just need you to sign here and we’ll get out of your way,” he said, shoving the clipboard and a pen at her.
Alberta gently accepted the item, paused to stare at the gentleman over the tops of her bifocals, then slowly signed it, her signature elegant and complex.
“Here you are, young man,” she said, handing the paperwork back to him. “All of the boxes are here in the living room. I have a matter to attend to in the back. Please just call to me when you’re finished and I’ll return.”
“No problem,” said the white man.
As Alberta walked back to the bedroom she could not help but marvel at what little common courtesy young people seemed to possess these days. It was as though they had been raised by savages, with absolutely no respect for anyone, themselves included. That was one thing that her Calvin had in spades – respect. Not only did he give it – unless he believed you were unworthy of it for some reason – but he also invariably received it in return, from everyone that he met, old or young, rich or poor. Some might have thought that was because of the way he carried himself. At 6’ 3”, Calvin was a regal man that always walked with his head high and his chest out – never arrogant, just extremely confident and poised. But it was more than that. There had been an air about the man that other people could instantly read. Those with foolish notions knew to steer clear, and those in need of help knew that they only needed to reach out their hand. And Calvin had always been like that, even way back in middle school, where they first met.
Alberta heard voices from the living room.
“What are you doing?” said a woman’s voice.
“You should probably talk to the old lady in the back,” came the voice of the white man. Suddenly, a beautiful, longhaired woman with the most buttery brown skin you’ve ever seen was standing in the bedroom doorway, a look of shock on her face.
“Mom, what in the world is going on here?”
“Hello Camille, dear. How are you?” she said in reply.
“I’m fine. Do you want to tell me what is going on?”
“Well,” began Alberta, “I was hoping to explain all this to you in a letter, after I’d left, but I guess we’ll have to do it now. I’m leaving. Everything is packed, the majority of this stuff is going to the church, and my will is in order, leaving all my assets to you, Sharon and Michael.” She sat down on the bed and calmly clasped her hands in front of her, awaiting her daughter’s response.
“Leaving? Exactly where are you going?”
“I’m going to meet Calvin.”
“Mom,” said Camille, as she sat on the bed beside her mother, “Dad is dead.”
“I know that,” said her mother, smiling in that sweet, understanding way that only mothers can.
Suddenly, the color drained out of Camille’s face.
“Mom – you aren’t planning to do anything crazy, like suicide, are you?” she said, her voice rising in alarm.
“Don’t be silly. You know the Bible says that you can’t get into heaven if you kill yourself. My mind may not be as sharp as it once was, but I’m not that far gone yet.”
Camille looked unconvinced.
“Well then, what are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Sweetheart, I told you, I’m going to meet Calvin. We’ve been apart far too long, and the time has come for us to be reunited.”
Camille sighed heavily.
“Ok Mom. I need to go make a phone call. I’ll be right back,” she said, as she rose and quickly walked into the living room.
Alberta slowly shook her head. She knew that Camille was going to call her sister and brother in an attempt to ‘rally the troops’ to come to her aide. But there was nothing Alberta could do about that now. Time was running out and she had to get moving. She had a date and she couldn’t afford to be late. She had already called the taxi company and arranged for a car to pick her up at exactly 10:00am. It was almost time. There was a slight tap at her bedroom door.
“Ma’am, we’re done,” said the white mover. “I just need your final signature here and we’ll be on our way.”
“Thank you very much,” she said, as she signed the document. She followed him into the living room and watched him climb into the truck and drive off. She then surveyed the rooms to make sure nothing had been missed. Everything seemed in order. She spotted Camille, sitting in her car, parked at the curb, having an animated conversation with someone on her cell phone. It was probably Sharon.
Ever since they were kids, Camille had always been able to get Sharon to go along with her no matter how dangerous or crazy the plan might be. But it usually took a fair amount of convincing – sometimes even bullying, to get her older sister on board with the idea.
As she stood in the doorway, lost in thought, she saw the Yellow Cab pull up. She waved at the driver, then, went to the mirror to check her hat and makeup one more t
ime. Perfect. She grabbed her purse and began walking towards the cab. She struggled over whether she should stop and say goodbye to Camille. But she had already sent all her children, grandchildren, other close relatives and friends personal letters that explained the entire situation. She put them in the mail late last night, so they would be delivered either later today or later in the week. She never expected anyone to actually shop by the house before she left. Camille must have been randomly driving by and saw the moving truck.
Camille was so involved in her phone conversation that she didn’t notice her mother getting into the cab until it was actually pulling away.
“Oh my god!” she said into the phone. “She’s taking off in a cab. I’ll got to go!” Camille started her car, made a quick u-turn and began following the taxi, which was already two blocks ahead.
Alberta calmly watched the city flash by from the comfortable back seat of the cab and reflected on her life. It had been a good life. Actually, it had been a great life. She and Calvin had created a warm, comfortable home in the historic Sterling Building, where they had owned an apartment. They had raised three amazing children. They had been living their ‘honeymoon’ eternally for the last 63 years, in spite of (or perhaps because of) the fact they were the only lovers either of them had ever known. They were members of a great, welcoming church that was like a second home. And neither of them had been sick a day in their lives. If Calvin hadn’t decided to run out for ice cream on that fateful night almost a year ago and been hit head-on by a drunk driver, they would surely still be living that ideal life. But all old things must eventually make way for new things. It was time for them to move on to the next leg of their journey.
As the cab approached the Sterling Building, Alberta lifted her head and took it all in. It was a majestic building, tall and strong, with twenty floors of beautifully designed steel, stone and concrete. She and Calvin had moved there in September of 1944, right after the war ended and were the first black people on their block. That was before the units were converted to condos and they were only renting then, but still, Calvin had been so proud. He had just gotten out of the army, having been drafted right after high school. He had served a full 18 months as a cook. It had been a painful and uncertain period in both their lives. Though Alberta had been relentlessly pursued by a number of the most eligible bachelors in the city while Calvin was away, she had refused them all. Instead, she had been content to patiently await Calvin’s return, looking forward to the day they could finally start their life together. She had never regretted that decision.
The cab pulled up to the front of the building, and just as Alberta was getting out, her daughter’s car also pulled up, screeching to a halt. Camille jumped out and almost ran around the car to her mother, the heels of her expensive pumps tapping out a staccato pattern on the sidewalk.
“Mom-” she began.
“Yes, dear?” said her mother.
Camille seemed at a loss for words. After a few seconds of bewildered pause, she sputtered:
“Mom, what are you doing here?”
“I already told you, I’m here to meet Calvin.”
“Mom, you don’t live here anymore,” she said, clearly frustrated. “And neither does Dad. He’s gone and you sold the condo. Remember?”
“Listen Camille,” she began calmly, “I understand this is difficult for you. But I think you may be just too young to understand what is happening right now. Maybe one day you will.” She reached out and touched her daughter’s cheek. “Take care yourself,” she said, “and know that my love is always with you”. Then she turned and began walking up the stairs towards the building, her beautiful red hat twinkling in the morning sun like a rare jewel. Camille ran after her.
“All right mom,” she said. “Is it ok if I tag along? Just to make sure you’re all right, just for my own piece of mind?”
“If you like,” replied her mother, and she pulled open the lobby door and walked into the building.
It was just as she remembered it. There was a fresh bouquet of mixed flowers in a vase on the table by the window, as there had been every day for as long as she could remember. Old Miss Luther had started that tradition before She and Calvin had even moved in, and when Miss Luther passed she left the condo to her daughter, who had continued the tradition.
Alberta walked up to the elevator and pushed the call button. As she waited, she marveled at how much this elevator reminded her of her Calvin. Old, but classically handsome, with strong lines and parts that were made to last, there was just something comforting about it. Its main purpose seemed to be to safely embrace you within its powerful confines and take you were you needed to go at any given moment. When you were ready to go up, it was there to lift you. But when you came down, it didn’t run away. When you returned you would find that it was always right where you left it, ready to lift you back up again. That was their elevator. And that was her Calvin. For the last 50 years they had made a habit, several times a week, of taking this elevator to the roof of the building and watching the sunset together, hand in hand. It was one of her favorite things to do. There were times when they missed it, because Calvin was working late or stuck in traffic, but he always made it up the next day. She wished that her meeting with Calvin today could have also been at sunset. It would have been a lovely sentiment. But Calvin said that the schedule couldn’t be changed. They had to meet at exactly 11:02am, not a second later. It was only 10:30am now, so she still had plenty of time to enjoy the roof by herself before he arrived to pick her up. Then she remembered that Camille was still standing beside her.
“You know dear, I’m fine, really. I don’t need you to babysit me. I’ve been taking care of myself quite well for at least the last 70 of my 78 years on this earth, so I think I’ll be all right.”
“Mom, you’re really scaring me,” said Camille. “Can’t we just sit here in the lobby for a few minutes and talk this over?”
“There’s nothing to talk over. And I really would like some peaceful time alone on the roof before I meet your father, if you don’t mind.”
“The roof?” said Camille, stepping between her mother and the elevator doors just as they opened. “What are you going up on the roof for? What are you going to do?” she continued, her words coming faster as her voice grew louder.
“Camille, please move out of the way. And go home. This is no business of yours.” The elevator doors closed and Alberta reach around her daughter and pressed the button again, instantly causing them to reopen. But her daughter wouldn’t move.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, get on out of here child,” said Alberta, starting to get angry, “This doesn’t have anything to do with you and I don’t have time to be foolin’ with you this morning. Go on now!”
Alberta had to almost push her daughter out of the way to get into the elevator. Camille quickly followed, jumping in before the doors closed. Alberta had already pushed the “R” button, so Camille began slamming the side of her fist on the “Open Doors” button.
“Camille, what the hell are you doing? You’re getting me angry now! Stop messing with this elevator and go on home!”
The elevator had already started to rise, but Camille desperately kept vigorously banging on the “Open Doors” button. Suddenly, there was a violent jerk, which caused both of them to grab for the handrail as the elevator came to an abrupt stop. According to the hands of the indicator above the door, they were somewhere between floor 4 and floor 5.
“Oh my god, Camille, what have you done!” said Alberta. She looked at her watch. 10:37. “You’ve broken the elevator! I told you to just leave it alone!” Alberta pushed the “R” button several times, but although it stayed lit, the elevator didn’t move an inch.
“I’m sorry, I was just trying to –”
“You were just trying to stick your nose into business that is none of yours, that’s what you were trying to do! Just as you’ve always done, every since you were a child! I always told your father that we were just
absolutely too lenient with you! It’s our fault that you turned out to be such a damn controlling meddler!”
Camille immediately burst into tears, sobbing so violently that it looked like she might collapse. Alberta instantly regretted what she had said, and quickly walked across the elevator and embraced her daughter. She could probably count on two hands the number of times in her life that she had raised her voice to any of her children, and on one hand the number of times she had actually cursed at them.
“I’m sorry, dear,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you’re only trying to be protective.”
Camille tried to respond, but she was still sobbing uncontrollably, and whatever she was saying was undecipherable.
“There, there; it’s ok dear,” said Alberta, rubbing her daughter’s back. “Everything’s alright, now.”
They stood like that for several minutes, as Camille slowly regained her composure. Alberta nervously snuck a glance at her watch. 10:49. Time was running out.
“Baby,” she began, “I’m really sorry that I upset you. But I’m going to miss my appointment if we can’t figure out how to get this elevator moving again.”
Camille nodded her head awkwardly and stepped back out of her mother’s arms. She pulled a tissue out of her purse and began to wipe at her face, which was a mess of tears and running mascara.
“Oh my goodness,” she said, when she noticed her mother’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I got tears and makeup all over your dress!”
Alberta turned her head and examined the stains on her dress. She sighed deeply.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, smiling sadly. “It’s only a dress. And I’m not going to be wearing it again after today. Let’s see if we can get this thing to work.”
They both started randomly pushing buttons, but nothing changed.
“This is getting serious,” said Alberta. “Call 911 on your cell phone. I need to get out of here.” Camille did as she was told and was informed by the operator that someone would be there very soon.
“They’re on their way,” she said. She lowered herself to a sitting position on the floor. But when she saw that her mother remained standing, she rose to her feet again.
Alberta was starting to panic, but was trying desperately to keep her agitation to herself so as not to upset her daughter all over again.
“You know,” she began, “this reminds me of the time that you locked yourself in the bathroom.”
“Locked myself in the bathroom? When was that?”
“Oh, you must have been about 3 or 4. It was one of those old doors that didn’t have a release mechanism on the outside. To unlock the door you had to turn the handle one way while at the same time turning the lock switch the other, and you just couldn’t figure it out. And you just bawled, getting more and more upset while we waited for the locksmith to show up and your daddy tried to open the door with a series of screwdrivers and butter knives!” said Alberta, laughing softly.
“Oh yeah, I think I do remember! You pulled a chair up to the door and sat there for 2 hours, talking to me through the door and keeping me from having what I am sure would have been a complete nervous breakdown!”
They laughed together.
“It seems like there have been so many times in my life that you performed that role for me,” said Camille quietly, “keeping me calm when I was on the brink of total collapse.”
“I’m your mother. That’s my job.”
Camille started to cry again.
“I’m sorry, mama. I’m sorry that I’ve always been so much trouble,” she said, pulling a tissue out of her purse and dabbing heavy-handedly at her eyes.
“Trouble? Child, you never even really knew the meaning of the word trouble. Trouble was you sister Sharon getting pregnant at 14 damn years old and keeping it a secret until she was nearly eight months along. Trouble was a call at three o’clock in the morning telling us that your brother Michael was in jail for attempted murder. Trouble was wrecked cars, dropping out of college after we’d paid for three years, alcohol addiction and falling in love with a drug lord. But even with all that – with all the money your father and I threw away, the rivers of tears we shed and the months and years of sleepless nights we endured – we still would have wrestled Satan himself to save your brother and sister from a bad haircut. So what do you think that says about how we feel about you?”
Camille started crying anew, and her tissue was quickly disintegrating. Her mother walked over to her and cupped her daughter’s wet face in her old, wrinkled hands.
“You were always our little angel. Yes, you could be a handful when you wanted to be, but you were always the sweetest, most loving child that I think I’ve ever encountered. Somehow you got it in your head as an infant that it was your responsibility to take care of everyone and everything. You always acted more like the oldest child than the middle child. And you still do to this day. We could never say that we loved any one of our children more or less than any other, because we never did, but you were still our major source of pride and our least source of worry. There were so many times we wondered if Michael and Sharon were ever going to get it together and make something of their lives. Thank the Lord they finally did!” Alberta laughed. “I doubt anyone would ever believe us if we started telling them the stories of some of the things Michael and Sharon have put us through over the years, considering how grounded, successful and conservative they both are now. But everyone has to find their own road - their own way. Thank God they found theirs before it was too late.”
“Thank you mama,” Camille said softly, as Alberta looked at her watch. 10:57.
“Speaking of late, I’m quickly running out of time,” said her mother abruptly, as she began pacing back and forth. “Try 911 again, please.”
Camille made the call as her mother vainly started pushing buttons on the elevator, yet again. It rang a several times before someone picked up.
“911, what’s your emergency?” said a voice on the other end of the phone.
“Hi, my name is Camille –” she started, right before being interrupted by a wave of static and then silence. She pulled the phone away from her ear and the message on the display read “no service”.
“Damn it!” she said. “We’ve lost the signal.”
Her mother didn’t answer, but stopped punching the buttons and began pacing at an even more frantic pace. She looked at her watch again. 10:59.
“Don’t worry mom,” she said, “someone will be here soon. And it’s not like we’re going to suffocate or anything. We have enough air in here for days.”
“I told you child,” she said, raising her voice again, “I don’t have days! I have three minutes to get to the roof and meet your father!”
Camille bowed her head in silence.
“So tell me mama,” she carefully began, “what are you and daddy going to do after you meet him today?”
“You know, honey,” she said as she stopped pacing and cocked her head to one side, deep in thought, “ I don’t really know. I never asked him. I know that sounds crazy, but we had so many other things to talk about that I never got around to it. I guess it’s because I know that, whatever it is, it’s going to be wonderful!” She slowly drew her eyes back to her daughter and a huge smile spread over her face. Then she looked at her watch again, and the smile faded. 11:00.
“Where are these people!?” Alberta screamed, staring upwards at the elevator dial stuck between “4” and “5”. Then she stopped. “Shhh,” she said.
Alberta listened for a moment, then walked over to the elevator, gently took off one of her beautiful red heels, took careful aim and violently slammed it into the “R” button. The elevator shuddered once, jerked abruptly and then, with a grind of gears, began to ascend again. 11:01.
Neither of the women said another word until the elevator doors opened moments later and they were standing on the roof, overlooking the vast city below.
“Well,” said Camille,
“here we are. I’m sure daddy will be here any minute.”
Alberta smiled at her again with that loving, knowing smile. Then the smile slowly transformed into a frown. Alberta grabbed at her chest, turned around so that she could look over the city, and collapsed.
“Mama!” screamed Camille as she ran to her mother’s side. She felt for a pulse, but it was too late. Her mother was gone.
“Oh, God, mama! Oh my God!” she wailed. The police found her in the same position several minutes later, as they came up in the elevator with two emergency medical technicians. She was still crying, but allowed the officers to pull her away while the medical personnel attended to her mother.
“Looks like a stroke,” said one of the EMTs as he walked over to where she was standing with the two policemen. “I’m sorry. If it means anything, I don’t think she suffered at all.”
“Thank you,” said Camille. She had run out of tissues several minutes ago, and had resorted to wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. One of the officers tried to offer her a handkerchief, but she ignored him. She walked over to where the other two men were loading her mother’s body onto the gurney. They pulled a white sheet over her and began rolling the gurney towards the elevator. On the way, her mother’s right arm fell off the gurney, sticking out from under the sheet. Camille jumped, startled, but quickly recovered and reached out to place the hand back by her mother’s side. That’s when she noticed her mother’s watch. The glass was shattered. It must have happened during the fall. Then she looked at the time. The hands were frozen at 11:02.
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