I was enchanted to meet you;
It´s just one more day like any other. The sun hides behind the tall buildings I left just minutes ago, but it will be shining on the top of the sky once the morning is gone and the day is on its peak. For now, there is nothing but white clouds dancing slowly on the sky, being broken apart by one plane or another. The streets are empty, everyone else is still sleeping or getting ready to go to work, so I make my way through the alleys by myself. It feels good to have moments like this, left alone with my own thoughts and the sleeping city - such a hard contrast with this same city around 7pm.
Like I said, it´s just one more day like any other.
As always, I head to the parking lot and get into my car. I wrinkle my nose as the smell of an old rest of burger and fries hits me. As my mom says so many times, I´m not the organized type - not because I want to, there´s just not enought time, or I´m to lazy for it and wait for someone else to do it for me. Scowling slightly, I grab the rests of food - there were a few more on the back sits of the car - and jump off of the car, running to the closest trash can and dropping it all inside of it. The next time I´m in my car the smell is still there, but it is not as intense as before. I´m usually pretty resistent to bad smells, but man, an almost three week old burger is too much.
With the window of the car open, the fresh breeze fills the car. Quickly, the junk food smell fades and all I can smell is rain and apple trees - the pure scent of autumn. When the radio is on, I turn my attention to the random music playing and start singing along - mostly to actually wake up than anything else. Twenty minutes later, I´m parking the car and walking in direction of one of the tallest buildings in the city.
The doors are already open, as it is to expect, and the doorman flashes me a tired smile, which I return. That kind of describes my relationship with most people who work with me. We give each others smiles and nod at the other´s words, sometimes we even exchange one word or another, but at the end of the day, we´re just strangers. Even the people I´ve been working with for years I can say I know nothing about their personal lifes. And until now, I can´t say if I like it or not.
From the twenty floors in the building, my father had to decide to give me an office in the damn last floor. There are elevators, of course, but still, there are plenty available rooms here and the view up there is not even that good. However, I´m one to tell my father he is wrong. I just nod and do whatever it takes to make him and my mom proud of me - which includes having a job that I don´t like in an office that I like even less. But well, that´s life, and as long as I can have some time with my friends and have fun, I´ll be happy.
I pass by a few people and then walk into the elevator. The metal doors slide in onto each other behind me. Thank God there´s an ambient music here, or someone would find my sleeping self laying on the floor of the elevator at the time it got to the last floor. I click on the button of the twentieth floor and watch and lean my back against the mirror that covers the wall of the elevator. It´s all mirrors and glass here, which makes the building look literally made of shiny glass in summer days, when the window reflect all the sun light.
I close my eyes and let my hands slid into the pockets of my pants, expecting the elevator to start making it´s way to the upper floors. However, the elevator´s doors suddenly slide to different directions and someone walks in. My eyes flutter open and let out a quite loud yawn.
A small girl steps into the elevator. She´s very pale from what I could see of her face at first sight, and her head reaches my shoulder when she stands by my side - making her as tall as my little sister. There is something like a meter between us, but the girl stares at the books she is hugging against her chest. Narrowing my eyes to see what she´s so concentrated on in those books, I notice that she is not actually staring at the book´s cover, but to a paper placed between her chest and the books. Before she notices my sudden curiosity, I close my eyes again.
This time, it´s the doors opening that catch my attention, but a pannicked shriek. I jump in shock and my eyes open, but there is nothing to see. The elevator is now shacking the lights are turned off. Even the ambient music isn´t playing anymore. All that I can hear is my heavy breaths and the girl´s gasps and screams. Seconds after it starts bouncing, the elevator stops moving and I know that it isn´t working. Ah, great. That is really what I needed today.
"Where are you?" I ask to the darkness, trying to find the girl. She´s obviously scared as she keeps screaming, and I don´t know how long the elevator will stay like this, so the better for both of us is to make her calm down. "Everything is fine, the elevator will be working again soon," I say in the most comfortating voice I can manage. And it seems to work, because the girl stops screaming.
I reach my hand out to no where "I´m Alexander," I say. "You probably know who my father is, since he owns this place and this every elevator. I´m not going to hurt you, okay? Just calm down."
Moments later, a shaking hand meets mine and I hold it carefully. "I´m Isabelle," she presents herself rather nervously. "I do know your father; actually, I´m here to interview him." The fear and anxiety present in her voice alarms me. I´ve heard that in my mother´s voice when she was about to have a breakdown due to her claustrophobia. Something tells me Isabelle might suffer of the same.
"Yeah? Then please tell him to send someone to check the elevators when you see him," I tell her playfully, in a attemtp to make her feel better.
Isabelle lets out a weak chuckle and squeezes my hand softly. "I will try to remember that."
For our big relief, the lighs turn on just after Isabelle utters those words. That is the first time I get to atcually see her face. She is beautiful, stunning even. Her green eyes sparkle in nervousism and it´s like I can even see the relief she is feeling for having the lighs back. The golden freckels that paint her face constrast beautifully with her dark hair, which falls down her shoulders is soft waves. Isabelle´s hair would definitly make my little sister crazy to braid it and make as many crazy hair styles as she possibly could.
Isabelle jerks her small hand away softly and looks around. She sighs and sits down on the elevator´s floor. "The lights are back, that means the elevator will be working again soon. Right?" her eyes find mine again and I can see the desperation she is trying to hide. I nod in answer.
"I´m sure it will, don´t worry." As the nice guy I am, I lean down to pick the books Isabelle dropped when the light died. For the look in her face when I return them to her, she seems to haven´t even noticed she let go of the books. She mumbles a "thank you" and I sit next to her, with my back against the mirrow. "Those are some pretty heavy ones, the book you´re carrying. Can I ask what they´re about?"
Isabelle nods and small smile forms on her lips. "Sure. One of them," she pointed to the largest book with her chin "is about photography. And the other I didn´t really have the chance to read yet, but is a novel by one of my favorite authors."
My forehead creases in curiosity. "Those are some pretty odd books to carry with you when you´re going to interview someone." Isabelle shakes her head and laughs at something that she probably thought to herself. I smile as I realize that she is much more calm down and the pannick attack is forgotten.
"My sister will tell me the same exact thing when I get home. But it was not my fault," she leans her head against the mirror and stares at the elevator´s doors in front of us. "It´s kind of weird, so please don´t judge me. I´ve always had this crazy interest for books, more like a passion, to be honest, and sometimes, being this morning one of them, I can´t help but walk into a bookstore and buy one book or two."
I nod. "I have to agree with you, Isabelle, that is a very weird thing," I try to immitate the voice my father usually does when he is scolding me and that causes Isabelle to turn her face to look at me. She stares at me for about hald a minute before realizing I was kidding, then she flashes me a shy smile.
"I guess you´re not a big fan of books," I agree with a movement of my head. "Then let me tell you, Alexander," Isabelle raises her eyebrows "that not liking books is a very weird thing as well." In the moment the words leave Isabelle´s mouth, the lights go off again. Isabelle doesn´t scream this time, but I can hear her gasping.
"Books are boring," I say calmly. This situation doesn´t bother me, mostly because I know that sooner or later someone will fix the elevator and we will get out. However, Isabelle seems to be having some difficulty with controling her fears. "In fact, last time I read a book merely for pleasure was two years ago." Isabelle gasps again, but this time is not out of fear, but out of surprise.
"Are you serious?" even in the dark I can see her big green eyes widen in disbelief. I nod and Isabelle shakes her head. "I wouldn´t survive two years without reading a book, or writing one."
"Oh, so you´re a writer?"
"I guess we can say so," she says and her hand meets mine again. I let her squeeze my hand whenever she feels bad again, and truth is that I barely feel anything because her hands are so small in comparison with my own.
Once more trying to distract her, I ask: "That´s interesting. What do you write?"
"Novels, basically," she says and the lights come back. A happy sigh passes her lips. "Or just anything that I think is a good idea to pass to paper. The problem is that sometimes I just don´t find the words necessary to wrire my ideas."
"That´s what always happened to me whenever I had to write an essay. Or anything else." Isabelle rolls eyes and shakes her head in disapproval.
"In any other occasion, I wouldn´t be talking with you," she says and I fake a pout.
"Because I don´t like anything related with books?" Isabelle nods with a playful smirks dancing on her lips. "That´s not fair, you know. I´m probably the nicest person you will meet in here, you should take advantage of that."
Isabelle wrinkles her nose and her expression grows thoughtful. "Well, I would think of that if you read a book for me."
"A book? Why can´t it be a movie, or a tv show? I like those," I reply, causing her to shake her head.
"Nah, a book. A good one that will make you change your mind about reading."
I raise my eyebrows in defiance. "And what book should it be, then?" Isabelle makes a face and sings her teeth on her bottom lip.
"I don´t know. All the books I like seem to be a bit too complicated for someone who hasn´t read anything in such a long time. But I will find one, don´t get too confident," and I don´t. Because I´m really enjoying this time with Isabelle, a girl that I just met and hasn´t, not even once, thrown herself at me like most girls would. Maybe she is still too scared and nervous, but still, we´re having a funny chat and I will probably never see her again. That makes it impossible to be confident in a moment like this.
"Alright," I entangle my hands into each other and place them behind by head, between it and the mirror. "But I will warn you that many people already tried to make me like reading and failed. You better have a great taste in books."
"Oh, but I do," Isabelle chuckles. "And in magazines too. I work for one, that´s why I´m going to interview your father."
"I had already forgotten that," and I had also forgotten we were stuck in a elevator for almost half an hour now. "Which magazine?" Isabelle arches her eyebrows and shakes her head.
"No more questions from you, Ludwig. You already know too much about me, it would be reckless to tell you anything else."
"That´s somewhat true," I said, but I don´t want the conversation to die here. "I think it´s your turn, then."
Isabelle frowns slightly. "My turn.. for what?"
"Your turn of asking the questions, silly," I roll my eyes and smirk at her. "Come on, ask anything you want to know about me. I´m an open book."
"Right, because, probably, you already have at least five articles about your life," she says. I see the hesitation growing inside her, and probably some regret too. I don´t think Isabelle is the kind of girl who opens up to a complete stranger just like she did to me and she knows it. The thing is that it´s not everyday you find yourself stuck in a elevator with a stranger whose father you are supposed to interview. However, Isabelle must always know that I´m no threat and that I´m just really trying to distract her from the technical problems of the elevator.
Silence falls between us for what feels like a long time and I´m starting to think we won´t talk with each other again, when Isabelle speaks. "First question: what is your job?"
"I´m a lawyer, like my father," I answer.
"A lawyer, uh?" Isabelle nods and rubs the back of her neck. "Since you´re not this hufe fan of books, what do you do to kill time?"
I lick my dried lips and take a couple of moments to answer. "Hum, I go out with my friends, have parties in my house, go on trips with the family. That kind of stuff."
"I could bet all my money that you´re a party type of guy," she risks.
"I wouldn´t call myself that, but yeah," I just agree, without telling her that, years ago, I used to be so much worse. "Any more questions?"
Isabelle wrinkles her small nose and shakes her head. "Unfortunatly, no. There´s nothing else I can think of to ask you."
"It´s fine. Even if you remember any question later, you can just google me," my attempt of a joke causes Isabelle to laugh. And her laugh is music to my ears; suddenly, I feel the urge to make her laugh again and again.
"I might do that, yes," she says and presses her books against her chest again. This time I get a better look of that paper she was reading when she got in the elevator. The paper is full of questions and drabbles of what Isabelle will ask my father. "Are you happy now?"
I blink the surprise away and turn to look at her. "Sorry, what?"
"I noticed you staring at my paper earlier, and you were doing the same now," she smiles "Is it as interesting as you thought?" I shake my head.
"Definitely not," one again, she laughs.
"I´m sorry to disappoint you. First with the books and now with the paper."
"Nah, it´s fine," I shrug and watch as Isabelle taps her nails onto the book´s cover.
That is when the doors of the elevator open. The happy ambient music returns with the voice of a male singer this time and Isabelle jumps into her feet and stands up abruptly, a huge smile creeping on her lips. I get up as well, a bit more slower though.
"Thank God," Isabelle takes her hand to her heart and sighs. "I was starting to think we would be here for ever," she says as she walks out of the elevator.
"It wouldn´t be that bad, though," I joke and she raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going? My father´s in the last floor."
"Yeah, I know. But I´m not risking going in there again," she points at the elevator. I step out of it towards her.
"Okay. Mind if I go with you?" Isabelle shakes her head and smiles at me.
We continue talking as we make our way upstairs. Twenty floors is a lot to walk to, but I don´t even notice the time passing as we make our way. Isabelle seems much more relaxed now and even makes one joke or another.
I wonder if I will ever see her again and, as she waves me goodbye while she walks away, I know we I will.
It was snowing outside, small snowflakes danced on their way to the ground, only to melt minutes later. Almost everyone in the big house was already awake, with the exception of a sleeping Alexander hiding under the covers. It was weekend though, so he had the chance of sleeping just as long as he wished and no one would bother him.
The door bell ringed loudly repetidely, causing Sophia to jump in surprise. She looked around, looking to see if anyone was going to open the door, but realized she was alone in the living room. The girl rushed to the door and opened it quickly. Sophia frowned slightly when she saw no one standing there, but there was a book on the steps. A large book with a brown cover that Sophia fastly grabbed and took into the house. She opened the book, only to find a note written in blue paper.
I found it. The book which might change your mind about reading, I mean. In fact, I wrote myself. I don´t know why or how, but our conversation a while ago brought me the inspiration I needed. The words make sense now and fit into the story just perfectly.
I hope you like the book and , either way, send me a message or call me to say what you think of it. My cell phone number is on the last page, just in case you decide to actually contact me.
P.S - I did google you after the interview and some of the things I found made me laugh harder than I ever did.
(I´m sorry for any mistake, I kind of rushed things with this oneshot. I hoped you liked it and that you have a great time durng Christmas!<3)
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