Elevator Operator

Chapter 3

Marcy trudged through the crowd until she had found the man who had been staring at her so wide-eyed. She slammed her hand down on the wobbly bar table and snarled, "Who are you and why are you staring at me like that?" She felt frenzied all throughout the show and demanded answers from her admirer. He absently looked up at her and began to introduce himself.

He stuttered, "My name is Apollo, and you're the girl from my dreams." At this point, Marcy was plain annoyed and Apollo was trying to take back what he said. Marcy walked away angrily and A chased after her. "Hey, wait," he called out. He got up and ran after her. She finally slowed and Apollo caught up to her. He explained, "I wasn't trying to flirt, I promise. I had a dream last night, and you were in it."

"Oh, really?" He nodded. "What was I doing in this dream?" A explained, "You were singing to me, but you weren't making any noise." Marcy laughed at his lame attempt to cover up his flirting fiasco. She sneered, "That's mad. I would never sing in front of anyone." Apollo replied, "That might explain why you weren't making any noise."

Marcy snickered at the alien boy. She had previously thought he was some powerful enigma; a mind altering substance. Now she realized he wasn't even a man of substance. First, he had flirted with her. Now, he's poorly trying to cover it up.

Then again, the thought of being the focus of someone's dream seemed enticing. She went back and forth with herself debating on whether or not she should pay attention to the boy's silly fabrications. Finally, she decided to proceed. Apollo further explained, "I have proof. I have never heard of your band, but something about the flyer drew me to it. And I have an oil painting of your face that I did before I met you." Marcy's face twisted up into a bothered look. "Yeah, don't ask."

Marcy replied, "Say if I were to believe you, would you get all creepy and obsessive?" Apollo thought for a moment, jokingly, and answered, "No. Would you like to talk it out tomorrow, say, at a café?" Marcy hesitantly agreed and they worked out all the details. They said their farewells and hoped for time to pass hastily.

Apollo walked home and thought to himself. He was wondering if the woman would appear in his dreams again when his thoughts came to a halt. He hadn't gotten her name. He debated on whether or not he should run back and get her name. A ultimately decided to wait until the next day. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he thought to himself as he walked home.

Marcy had made the conscious decision to stay behind and help her band clean up the equipment. Afterwards, she had caught a cab and listened to music on her CD player. Apollo wasn't on her mind. His weird oil painting and the idea of him? Yes, of course. But his physical being wasn't anything she was concerned about. She continued to listen to her CD until she got home and tiredly waltzed into bed.

The next day, the two met up at the aforementioned café. As Marcy walked in, Apollo was already seated at one of the small tables. He pulled out the chair for her in a polite manner. She thanked him and sat down. Marcy joked, "I guess that dream of yours didn't tell you how I drink my coffee now, did it?" A awkwardly laughed and shook his head. "Just cream and sugar, thank you."

A few minutes later, Apollo came back with two coffees in his hands. He sat them on the table and wearily took a seat. He put his face in his hands. "So, about yesterday, I didn't catch your name." Marcy replied, "I didn't throw it." He half heartedly smiled and stuck out his hand. "Hi. My name is Apollo." Marcy put her hand in his and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Apollo. My name is Marcy."

Apollo cut straight to the point. "Listen, I'm absolutely infatuated with you, the idea of you, everything! This is all so soon, I know. You've been in my dreams for a while. I really feel like I know you." Marcy began to tear up. He couldn't tell if she was excited or overwhelmed. She laid her hand on top of his. She wiped up a tear with her striped sleeve. "I'm sorry, Apollo. I barely know you. This is too much." Marcy rushed out of the café and hailed a cab.

A tried to run after her, but by the time he made it out there, she was long gone. He walked back inside and put his hands behind his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut to prevent his tears from falling in public. The last and only token he had was the small brown napkin with a red lipstick blot that Marcy had left behind. He folded it up, tucked it in his pocket, and exited the café.

Forty years later, Marcy makes it big. She's a solo artist now. Her face is plastered on everything from the biggest billboard to the small ads next to the coupons. She is happy. She had nearly forgotten all about the little alien boy. Her fame and success blinded her. Deep down, she just wants to go back forty years to the small gig. Marcy wants to go home and just be comfortable with the thought that a boy looked at her. She wants her small band back. Sure, her new career pays well. But it's not what she wants. That doesn't matter now, Marcy's story has been told.

Apollo is an elevator operator. He goes by Al. He moved out of his apartment and into a small house on the coast. He hasn't painted since the night he had the dream about Marcy. Sometimes, he wonders what life would have been like if he hunted her down. He knows that she wouldn't be famous like she is now. He is a selfish man, he'd rather have her be with him than for her to be famous. A changed everything after Marcy left. Everything reminds him of her. Now his life is sickly boring. Al is an elevator operator.