kar·ma /ˈkärmə/ noun – destiny or fate, following as effect from cause.
It was a very stormy afternoon.
I was racing home from work. I could see another storm approaching and this one looked ferocious. There was a crack in the sky and the man on the car radio said that we were going to get it good. I kept staring at that crack and knew he wasn’t kidding.
Living in a condominium in Arlington Heights at the time, I had only a ten minute commute, but today every idiot in a car was on my road. That sky-crack was nefarious! We enjoyed underground parking in our building so I wasn’t worried for my car, it was the cushions. Our fifth-floor balcony had cushions, patio-furniture cushions. I worried that in severe weather, I might lose them to the wind. In the past, I had seen them blow around out there but never over the rail, yet anyway. As I made my way past the last idiot and rounded the stoplight at Sigmore Avenue, I felt like I might actually make it home and upstairs in time to grab the cushions and store them inside until the storm passed. The garage door on the backside of the building lifted as I removed my finger from the remote attached to my sun visor. Down the ramp and a quick right into parking spot number 8. Not a drop of rain on the car. Excellent. I climbed out grabbing my briefcase and bolted across the garage floor to the bank of elevators. My mind was racing. I knew my wife, Carrie, was okay. She would be working for another hour at least and that storm would be long gone by then. Just the cushions then.
As I reached for the elevator button, I suddenly thought about the mail. If I had my mail in hand I would not have to come back down from the apartment again for the rest of the day. I’m not a gambling man, but I do like an occasional challenge. I bet I could get the mail from the lobby and still be able to save the cushions before the storm hit. It would be close. The elevator door opened and I had yet to decide. Do I press number 1 or number 5? As the doors closed I reached for number 1 on the panel and began to ascend.
When the elevator opened to the lobby I could see winds outside wailing against tall trees. This is going to be real close. I swung around the lobby to the back where the concierge’s desk and mailboxes were. The doorman was not at his desk. I ran to mailbox 514 with the key ready. I heard a noise by the back doors and looked up to see the doorman on duty was assisting someone caught in the foyer between the inside and outside doors. It was the old lady that lived on our floor and her nurse. She has been in a wheelchair from the day we met her. Legend has it that her and her husband bought the condo unit eight years before. They were looking forward to a better life in downtown Arlington Heights in a premiere building. That didn’t happen though. He died before they ever moved in and she suffered a severe stroke just a month after arriving. It was a real tragedy for her since she was not discovered on her apartment floor until 18 hours after the stroke hit. Which most of us know is the worst thing for stroke victims. Forget the excellent medicine available to reverse effects, they must be administered promptly.
Closing my mailbox door and locking it, I turned and could see her in the wheelchair struggling with the door despite the help from her nurse and Doug, the doorman. I could help, but the storm and the cushions? I felt like a real jerk as I deserted the lobby for the elevator. I hit the elevator button and the door opened. The doors closed and I once again ascended. Almost there. Then without warning, the building lost power and everything went black.
I stood in complete darkness, ashamed.
I listened as the crack in the sky went right over our building with tremendous force. I could hear the violent wind and the torrential rain dumping on the roof of our eight story building. I was too late.
If I had stayed behind to help my neighbor I wouldn’t be in this predicament now. I pulled my phone out and called Carrie. I was explaining my story to her when I heard a voice from down below. It was Doug. “Is there anyone in there?” “Yes! Help! It’s Mike and I’m stuck.” Doug said, “I’ve called the fire department. They are on their way.” “Thank you!” I hollered down below. I told Carrie I was okay. I added, “You might want to park out in the back lot if the power is still out.” She said she would and hung up. Time passed slowly in the dark. I tried to pull the doors open and only managed a sliver of light, but that was something. I could see what I believed was the third floor at about my shoulder level. And then shoes were walking by. I called out and the shoe stopped. “Oh no, the power is out and you are stuck in there. Are you okay?” “Yes, firemen are on their way.” I confessed. “Ok, good luck” Then the shoe was gone.
Thirty minutes had come and gone and I waited. And when another thirty passed I was getting anxious. I was thankful that I wasn’t hungry or thirsty, or even worse, with a full bladder. With an hour in the dark now, I finally heard noises, firemen noises. They were moving floor by floor looking for me and checking to see if anyone needed assistance. When they got to the third floor I called out, and one of them yelled, “Here he is, I found him on the third floor!” And so two more gathered and with an emergency elevator key, they were able to separate the outer doors and then the inner doors. They looked down at me and said, “Oh, we forgot to bring a ladder. Can you wait while we get one?” “Stand back guys, I’m coming out now!” And I jumped up hitting and scraping both shins. I pulled myself up and crawled out. Freedom at last. I thanked the men for their help.
The hallway was dimly lit with emergency lights. I ran down to the end and turned the corner where I found the entrance to the southern stairwell. Up I went, two full flights, to reach the fifth floor and reentered the hallway. My apartment 514, a corner unit, was to my right. I unlocked the door and let myself into my dark home. I set down the mail and ran to the balcony, relieved to find all cushions still there, although they laid strewn about the floor, all accounted for. I pulled some candles and a large flashlight from our emergency cabinet and set about lighting up several rooms. I fed the cats and then called Carrie. She was on her way home now. She said it had stopped raining but it was quite dark from the over-casted brooding skies. I said, “Remember to park out back. I will walk down and get an overnight parking permit for you in case we can’t get the car in.” “Good idea. See you in five minutes”, and then we hung up. I left the apartment and went back into the stairwell and descended five flights arriving in the lobby. Doug was behind his desk while a mob of frustrated tenants surrounded him. He looked flustered. So many questions and not enough answers. I spotted the old lady in the wheelchair and her nurse.
Just then I saw, through the window to the back lot, my car rolling by. Carrie was home. I went out to greet her. For the first time, I could see evidence of the true strength of the storm. There were branches down, litter blown here and there and lights out in most of the buildings around us. My wife emerged from the car with her purse and briefcase. I kissed her and she asked me if I was okay. “A couple of scraped shins, but otherwise, I’m good. Glad to be out of that elevator.” We reentered the building and most of the mob were gone, including the old lady and her nurse. Doug wrote out a permit for me while Carrie got caught up on the latest storm news. I ran the permit out to the car, put it on the dashboard and returned. A few more tenants had arrived with the same questions. Carrie and I walked to the north stairwell entrance and began our five story climb. When we turned to the second floor, I spotted her.
It was the old lady and her nurse. The female nurse was little but very strong. Despite that, she was struggling with the wheelchair. Turned around backwards, she was attempting to pull the chair up one step at a time. It was working but going very slow. Just then a young couple came down the stairs passing by all of us without a care in the world. I felt ashamed of them. “One day this could be you” I thought and then I remembered my foolish neglect earlier with the old lady and felt the red hot sting of karma. Nothing else to do but grab the front end of the chair and help. With me on the front and the nurse on the back we could carry her up, flight after flight, until we reached the fifth floor, though quite winded. The whole time the old lady stared at me with an ancient smile that melted my heart. But once or twice we were a little too bumpy and she would let out a squeal as if some deep old pain from another time scorched her body.
As we set her down at the top of the fifth floor landing and rolled to the hallway, the building lights came on. We entered into the hallway bathed with warm incandescent light gently soothing our eyes. Life went back to normal. We seen her to her door, she entered with the nurse behind, and then was gone. Carrie and I went home. Later I went down and put the car in the garage. We made it an early night.
The next day, I got home from work and dressed for a run. I got out on the streets in the full sun and worked up a good sweat. I noticed a few small trees down in the blocks where I ran. I knocked off three quick miles and ended up right back at my building. I was dripping with sweat by this point. When I reached my front door, I found that Carrie was home. We chatted a bit about our day, but I was really overheated so I pulled my shirt off. I was soaked in sweat. The humidity was soaring from the heavy rain the day before. Just then there was a knock at our door. I peeped through the door-hole. It was the nurse.
I opened the door, shirtless and soaked, to find the nurse and the old lady in the chair in front of me. The old lady casted eyes that could not betray her surprise at seeing a half-naked, sweaty man before her. She began to speak, but I could not decipher her stroke-robbing speech. She was holding a bottle of wine. I assumed she was gifting us for our help yesterday and reached out to receive it. I noticed that I had to pull a little to get it out of her hands. I thanked her and closed the door, suddenly realizing that I had no shirt on and feeling a bit embarrassed.
When I returned to the living room, I told Carrie what had taken place. She asked if I understood the woman and I said no. She gave me a strange look and wondered out loud, “Maybe it was her wine and she just wanted to say thanks.”
Oh no, is karma coming for me again?
Next week I found that I had made the newspaper, “Poor chump stuck in an elevator”. I can take that. Karma, can we call it even now?
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That was quite the event. I was helpless to help Mike as I was stuck at work. Keep them coming. Love you and them!
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