By the following week I felt perfectly at home in the dark green work clothes. The long sleeves were pushed up to my elbows signaling my readiness for whatever the basement next held for me. My ID badge dangled lazily against the breast pocket of the shirt as I passed through the lobby doors. As I turned to the right around the corner to the hall which would take me to the dreaded elevator I nearly skidded in my tracks.
Jan Fenstra stood in my path as if she had been waiting for me. I wanted to dismiss the idea as silly but couldn’t. She obviously had not been occupied with anything because her hands were empty and her arms were folded across her chest, businesslike. Neither had she been walking when I almost stumbled into her. She simply stood there stoically like a guardian prepared to bar the path to all passers by in some ancient myth.
“Mr. Nicholas, how are you today?” The triviality of the question was such a contrast to her posture that I was uncertain if I detected some diversion or even a threat buried within it. The work clothes which felt like home a moment before now had a discernable crawly quality. When I first met the woman I had felt like I’d been called into the principal’s office. That feeling returned at that moment. I reckoned that I was still affected by my earlier disturbing conversation with my lawyer that I merely transferred part of my discomfort to the next human interaction in which I took part.
“I’m fine, thanks. Is there, uh…” and I stumbled, looking for the next right thing to say. “Is there something I can do for you?” I hoped there wasn’t. While I was grateful for the job she had given me I also wanted to keep my head down and be noticed as little as possible. As far as work was concerned I just wanted to keep my head buried in the ground like an ostrich and hope nobody would take notice, dig deeper and decide I was some kind of liability. If Fenstra rethought her decision to hire the ex-school teacher who had been let go from his previous career under shady circumstances I would have to start over again. And that was something I could not stomach. I needed the stability I had in the job.
“No, I just wanted to see how you were getting along in your new job. I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with you since your first day. I hope you feel like you’re finding your place here with us.” My fears had been unfounded and I felt like an idiot. She was just trying to be polite. Once again I was jumping at shadows. I wondered then if I was ever going to be able to relax again after it all blew over. ‘If’ it ever blows over, not ‘when,’ I corrected myself.
“I’m doing great,” I replied. “It’s good work for me. Not too hard, not too easy.” I didn’t want to talk about it, not because it was uncomfortable but because I’d rather just get to work so I could direct my mind away from some of my other complications.
“But not ‘just right,’ though, is it?” That one came out of left field and I didn’t have the first clue how to catch it. I didn’t want to agree and offend her about the job but I also didn’t want to disagree with her because she would know I was lying. Instead I tried a risky move. I tried to go around the question with another question.
“Well, how many people think their job is just right for them, even if it really is? It’s not what I went to school for, not my chosen career path. But why waste energy on what isn’t reality? I prefer to work with what is.” When I finished my spiel I saw her smile and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that my scheme hadn’t gotten past her radar without being noticed. But would she call me on it or would she be generous and let it slide?
“How very psychological of you, Mr. Nicholas. I thought you were an English major?” I waited for her to continue, to string me out a little bit maybe but she didn’t. Fenstra apparently wasn’t interested in the little power games I had known some of my previous employers to thrive upon. The more I came to know my place of work and the people in it the more I became in a sense enchanted with it. Sure, I could have taken the path of least resistance, thinking of it as ‘just my job’ clocking in and out and giving it no further thought. But I felt that somehow would have been a grave disservice to the organization and to Fenstra.
“Thanks, I guess. Well, if there’s nothing else I can do for you I should probably get downstairs and see what Derek has for me tonight.” I started to move away when she held up her hand in a slight but clear gesture for me to stop.
“Hold on a moment, Mr. Nicholas. There is one other thing I wanted to talk with you about.” She saw me look in the direction of the elevator and said, “Don’t worry about Derek. I told him that I was going to detain you for a moment.” There was a pause in her part of our dialogue, but it was barely perceptible. “I wanted to talk with you about the incident in the elevator briefly.” Inwardly I groaned but I must have managed to keep the discomfort off my face, or so I believed, because she made no reaction.
“Yeah,” I said as if it were a topic of great interest to me. “That was one weird night, let me tell you that. I hope I never have to do that again.”
“Yes,” She agreed. “A lesser person might have gone home and decided that was enough and gone looking for something else to do. But let me address something you just said. You said it was a ‘weird’ night. Other than getting trapped in the elevator and climbing up through the shaft—which I don’t recommend you repeat if you find yourself in the same position again, it could be something of a liability—was there…anything else which you found to be out of the ordinary?” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she said this last line. She suspected something.
Every internal alarm I had began to blare simultaneously. Why should she ask that question and in that particular manner? For the first time in recent memory it felt like someone besides me was tipping their hand. Yet she still tried to conceal herself and her intent. I grew suspicious of Fenstra and a curious thought formed in my head followed by a second. She’s in on it somehow, and then: She’s in on what? The mysteries were starting to pile up and I feared I was going to have trouble keeping them separate and straight. At the same time I knew I had to be careful. The more mysteries I collected the more secrets I would have to keep from other people. That was not something I enjoyed. In fact I despised the necessity of it. The best strategy was to go on the offense, stop answering questions and start asking them. It was my turn to put someone else on the spot.
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking, Ms. Fenstra. Should there have been something else out of the ordinary? Are you looking for something?” Her confidence wavered and there was no hiding it. She had never expected me to ask a question like that. She was clearly not used to subordinates calling her out on her agenda, however subtly.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she said dismissively. “It’s just that sometimes we’ve heard reports from some of our custodial crew of hearing things in the building, particularly the elevator and the basement.”
“What kind of things?”
“Sounds that seem out of place. For example, one of our former employees claimed to have heard indiscernible voices in the elevator. Another reported hearing the faintest hint of laughter in the basement but could not identify the source.” She said all of this nonchalantly as if she dismissed the idea as of no consequence.
“So why exactly are you telling me all this? You’re not trying spook the new guy, are you?” I still hoped to avoid the question of whether I had noticed anything strange and the only way I could think to do that was to keep asking my own and hope she would forget hers.
“Steve,” she began and I found it odd that she called me by my first name, “sometimes this old place just creaks and it makes new people feel uncomfortable. I try to keep everyone as relaxed as I can. It makes the work go smoother.” I could have easily bought the explanation and I would have to make her think I did. In fact, I would have preferred to accept it at face value. It made perfect sense really but something about it did not fully ring true.
“Sure,” I said. “But don’t worry about me. It will take a little more than few creaks and groans to send me running. Thanks
for the pep talk and everything, but I probably should get going. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Alright Steve, have a good night.” Then she left, disappearing around the corner. I waited until I was sure she had exited the building and resumed my journey to the elevator. Once there I entered and began my descent down what I came to think of as the throat of the building.
While in the guts of the machine I tried to think on other things. My mind turned to Katie as I noticed it increasingly tended to do. She had left the hospital and had even been able to return to work at the bookstore which made me glad. She had recovered remarkably since she had awakened from her coma and that gave great encouragement to me. Though I hadn’t been able to see her more than once since the incident in the hospital, the time had been more than worth it. As I reflected on this I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth.
My reverie was interrupted by the electronic chime of the elevator announcing my arrival at the basement level and I secreted away the joy I’d felt for a later time. There would be plenty of time for all of that later. I knew. For now there was work to do.