Until That Day

Until that day, fear had been an idea, a concept. Now it was real: a feeling I would carry inside me for the rest of my life. The day began innocently enough, with…

… a morning of breakfast consisting of mint tea and bread with jam. We were supposed to go to an office located inside an old building. It was solid concrete because that is the way they built things there – from the ground up. After breakfast, we drove the few kilometers from home to the busy street where the building was. This was an important meeting for my husband, and I was representing him in front of dignitaries and palace people.

We arrived at the building early, thank goodness! Parking on the busy Casablanca street was a bit of a nightmare! After several minutes, we squeezed our small car into a space between a banged-up black Mercedes and a moped. We exited the car and locked it. Although the building was considered to be upscale, we were afraid that thieves were all around us in this area. He gathered his briefcase and I grabbed my purse. We were still a little early.

We entered the building and quickly looked around for the elevator. The office was on the fifth floor.

Finding the old, rickety elevator, we entered. This elevator was like a cage. The outer cage opened and then an inner cage opened. The doors were made of black steel bars. I felt like I was being shut into a jail cell. My husband assured me that it was safe to take this kind of elevator. “People do it every day,” he tried to assure me. Something in my stomach tightened; my nerves were suddenly on edge.

Entering the double-doored cage, we pressed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator chugged, lurched and began its slow rise upward. Somewhere between the third and fourth floors, it ‘choked’ and we looked at each other with alarm. Then the elevator completely stopped – exactly in-between the third and the fourth floors!

Oh, no!!

There was no emergency call button in this elevator. What were we to do? I panicked. I was rapidly hyper-ventilating. Fear gripped my heart. Being stuck in a small space was not something unfamiliar. It had happened to me as a child and since then I had avoided elevators for two decades. Stairs always looked more appealing to me, no matter how many I had to climb.

Now, the only thing I could think of was that we were stuck here until someone discovered us, alive… or worse!

We yelled. No one could hear us. “Get us out of here!” I yelled at my helpless husband. In full-blown panic, my eyes wide with fear, breathing was hard. Not wanting to die in this cage, I yelled louder. Every nerve in my body was on edge; I was shaking with fear.

My husband told me to calm down, although he, too, was clearly alarmed. He used all his force to pull apart the inside metal grate. After what seemed like a long while, he pulled it apart enough for us to get through – if only he could now pull apart the outside grate as well. He pulled. He used the walls of the small space to hoist himself up a bit to leverage his strength to pull back one of the outer doors.

After another 30 minutes or more, with stops in-between to rest, he managed to pull apart the outer doors just enough for us to squeeze through. But what if we began to crawl through… and the elevator started to move? We would be killed. Do we go up to the next floor or down to the lower one? He said that it would be safer to crawl up the higher level because we might be injured if we jump down. It was a bit far.

He hoisted me up through the opening between the two sets of doors, using his hands as a step for me to climb up. Wearing an orange silk skirt and blouse for the occasion, part of me was glad now that no one else was around. This was not exactly a ladylike maneuver! Luckily, my skirt was not a tight one. With great effort, I was finally able to pull myself up through the opening. I prayed that the elevator would not move.

Now, I turned to help my husband climb up through the opening. He handed me his bulky suit jacket.

The elevator lurched but didn’t move too much. We both froze. Fear gripped my heart! With images of widowhood flashing through my mind, I nearly screamed at my husband who was only a foot or two from me. Even though his infidelities had destroyed our marriage, I could not imagine us ending this way. In my deep hurt at his behavior, I sometimes wished God would take him away from me – that he would die! It was pain speaking.

The God that I alone believed in was a God of grace; He forgave the most vile of sins. I had long ago decided that I would forgive my wayward husband. But remaining with him forever… that was another question I was still ruminating on. But to have him end like this? No, Lord!! This is not what I asked for!

Panic altered my normally soft voice. “Please hurry!” I cried to him.

With nothing to stand on to hoist himself up, he gave me his hand. Tossing his suit coat to the side, I pulled him, using both of my hands. Using his other hand to hold on to the bars of the gate to pull himself up, he got his arms and shoulders through both gates.

He looked at me helplessly, pleadingly, almost apologetically. His look told me that he would be forever faithful if only I could help him through the gates, although I knew he would not keep such a promise, spoken or unspoken. The elevator began to creak and shift slightly.

With renewed energy, I pushed my feet against the elevator wall and pulled his heavy body as hard as I could. Eternal love would have done as much.

Never in my life will I ever again take such an elevator! The idea of an elevator cage will forever strike terror in my heart.