Newsies One Shots and Preferences

Elevator Operator

Word Cout: 1971

Ever since I can remember I have been working, if they were odd jobs or stable jobs I always needed to support my family in some way. Whether that is helping people carrying their groceries or working at the bakery, my income was always needed. Everyone in my family works to keep us out of tenant housing. My dad works in the factory, my younger sister works with textiles, my brother works in the mines, and Mom does laundry for the elites on the East Side. However, with all the income we still can only afford a two-bedroom apartment in lower Manhattan. Even then it is iffy, ever since they cut my brother's pay I have been working in the elevator. It is nice, I do not have to go anywhere all I have to do is get dressed and then I wait for people to join me.

Being an essential part of all of my neighbor's day is interesting, I am always in on the drama. People tend to vent to me and I have to listen so I don't get reported for "friendliness", I also get to know who the quite people are and who to avoid. It is a nice job for someone who enjoys talking to strangers but I would much rather work in solitude, or at least have patrons who are not my neighbors. As much as it is nice to have an inside scoop on your apartment building it is also incredibly draining as the lines in between working and not working are blurred. Sometimes I see a neighbor outside of my working hours and I have to keep up the show so it is not awkward when I help them to work in the mourning. 

However some neighbors I wish I see more of, for instance, Albert is my favorite person to guide. We talk briefly every day but not about anything personal, it also helps that he is easy to look at.  Even though I do know that he has two older brothers and he lost his mom which is why he works as a newsie. That being said as we talk it does not seem like something to do for the brief time we see each other, it seems like I would actually talk to him outside of the elevator, which I can not say for most of my neighbors.  So when he does not return at his normal time after his shift I begin to worry. Normally when he decides to spend the night at the newsboy lodging house he will mention it in the mourning. However today he never mentioned staying anywhere else. What if he got hurt? It is not my responsibility to make sure my patrons return safely, but I need to make sure Albert is okay.

The end of my shift could not come fast enough when the night boy arrived I practically ran out of the building. Maneuvering my way around New Yorks busy streets I eventually find the place that Albert describes as his second home. The Newsboy Lodging House's lights were on and you can hear the rowdy boys from the end of the street. Once I make it to the door I question if I should even enter. My favorite part about Albert is how he makes it easy to separate my work from my personal life, so I should not get involved in his. However the more I think about the more I realize we do talk about our personal lives. He does tell me things about his family and his work life, as I tell him things about mine. The only difference is, he makes it feel like I am not working. 

With a sudden boost of confidence, I walk through the door to the loud area. As I walk in the place quiets so you could hear a pin drop. They look at me as if I am a specimen in a lab, I am unknown to them, well all except one who breaks the silence. 

"Y/N, what are you'se doin' here" Albert slurs his words. You can tell he has been drinking heavily, he smells like cheap whiskey and poor liquor management. Albert wobbles his way over to me and the former rowdiness of the room resumes with a few looks my way. "Ya miss me that much, you'se just had to see me again," Albert says, taking a few pauses in the middle as his ability to form sentences is limited at the moment.

I have never seen Albert drunk and I know his family well enough to know if they say him like this, he would be in for it. I have no idea what to do. Our relationship has never been discussed out of the elevator after he leaves he does not think about me, and I think about him for the rest of the day. It is just how things are. I do not know what to say to him though, it is out of place for me to criticize his decisions, but at the same time, he clearly should not have any more to drink. After I have not said anything for a while he hand makes its way around my hip pulling me into a side hug. "Why don'ts you'se have something to drink, enjoy you' self," Albert says into my ear, holding me close to him.