Above It All was recognized as a Flash Fiction finalist in the New Millennium Writing Awards 60. The story was recognized under my legal name, and is published here under my author name, Elena Greyrock.
“Above It All” by Elena Greyrock
“This is Edward Livingston.”
“Edward Livingston?”
“Yes, Edward Livingston, I live next door, and I am stuck on the roof!”
Edward is startled when the woman hangs up, leaving him listening to the beeping sound of a disconnected cell phone. He immediately hits the redial button. It rings three times before the woman’s raspy voice answers. Clearly a smoker, Edward thinks to himself.
“Rinse and Repeat Laundromat.”
“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, this is not a crank call, I assure you….”
Edward is relieved to hear silence on the line. He has a chance.
“What then? What is this about? I close in 5 minutes.”
The woman bellows in a thick Russian accent. Edward fumbles. He is unsure how to explain himself in a way that doesn’t sound ludicrous.
Edward puts his fingers to the center of his forehead, rubs them in a circular motion, and begins talking as quickly as he can.
“I’m in a terrible predicament. I live in the apartment building next door, 5 Forte Greene Place, right next door to your store and I have locked myself out…and….the Super won’t answer…I don’t know anyone else…and…”
The beeping sound of the dead line hits his ear again. Shocked, he rings back, the woman answers on the first ring.
“Look! I haven’t time for fun and games!” The woman barks.
Edward holds the phone away from his ear for a second. His hands are perspiring, and the phone is sticky in his palm. He knows he is out of chances and tries his hardest to remain calm and not yell back at the woman.
Here he is—an accomplished man stranded like a fool on the roof of his Brooklyn apartment. His Coq au Vin drying out in his oven downstairs. Call 911? Please. – What if they send a fire truck? Sirens wailing, gawkers gathering, reputations crumbling.
“Please, please,” he says slowly. “I come there all the time. I get the fold service.”
Edward swallows and closes his eyes tight, imagining the squat Slavic woman sitting on the high cushion stool behind the Formica counter inside her place of business. She seemed to be about sixty years old and always there whenever he came in and dropped his heavy bags of laundry in front of her. But as hard as he tried, her name would not spring to his mind.
Do I even know her name? Why would I know her name? She does laundry, for god’s sake!
“And so? Why do I care?” The woman asks.
Edward blinks. His eyes flit from side to side. Straight ahead, he sees the sun slowly disappearing behind the buildings. As a shiver runs up his arms, he realizes he is at this woman’s mercy.
How can I make her listen?
Edward’s blue eyes light up as he says with confidence.
“Look, I can make it worth your while if you help me….”
The line goes dead, and he swears aloud.
“Fuck!”
He dials back.
“Rinse and Repeat Laundromat.”
Edward senses the woman is trying not to laugh.
“Please, I can throw my keys down to you. Please come outside and look up; you will see me…see that I am not lying.” Edward begs.
He waits, looking with desperation over the crusty ledge of the roof onto the street below. He sees a heavyset woman waddle out onto the sidewalk. She has a cell phone pressed to her ear.
Edward waves his left hand wildly, calling out to her with a smile.
“Hey, hey…it’s me, Edward Livingston.”
“Right. Edward Livingston.” The woman chuckles into the phone.
Edward stops waving. He realizes his ordeal may just be beginning.
“I can throw you down my keys…and you can let me in.”
Edward says with trepidation into the phone.
“And why would I do that?”
Edward has already failed by offering her money. He doesn’t know what to say. He freezes.
He watches the woman place a hand on her hip.
“I’m waiting for your answer…why would I help you?
“Ah, um…because…maybe I can help you somehow…I could do your laundry…I could fold your clothes….”
Edward shudders from what he has just offered to do and from the chill in the air as dusk settles in.
What am I even saying? I haven’t done my own laundry since college.
He watches as the woman bends over; her rotund body shakes with laughter. Edward gathers himself, pleading,
“Wait, I can offer you dinner. I am cooking right now, a chicken dinner. It’s in my oven right now… You are more than welcome to join me for a meal….”
Rising discomfort spreads throughout his body. He hasn’t felt this way in years. Not since that extravagant date when all his credit cards were declined one after the other. His dignity crumbled when his blind date ended up paying the bill. Her eyes rolled steadily as she presented her credit card to the waiter while Edward’s desperate plea of identity theft fell on deaf ears.
As the painful memory dissolves, a sudden sound from below catches his attention.
“Go ahead then, throw me your keys….”
