mailboxes. As bad luck would have it, it was a middle-aged white woman I didn’t know, someone in the demographic least likely to let in a young, Black man she didn’t know.
I waved, I motioned, I did everything but jump up and down but all I got was her glancing in my direction before turning away. Just as she was about to board the elevator with her mail and head back up to the safety of her apartment, she seemed to have another thought and turned to head in the opposite direction, toward the rear left of the reception area where she knocked on the office door.
Pointing me out to someone inside, she finally went back to the elevators, pushed the button, waited then went on her merry way. It took five more minutes for someone to surface from the back office and when they did, I saw that it was Rufi, the grad student who manned the front nights and weekends. Seeing me, his face brightened, and he rushed over to open the door, pulling up his face mask as he approached. I did the same.
“Hey!” he greeted me, looking me up and down. “What happened? Locked out?”
“Yeah, man,” I told him. “And I am hoping to God you can let me in. Because I just had a day that …”
Rufi laughed. “Looks like it. Were you out there? With the protesters?”
“Yeah. It was … intense.”
“I was out earlier as well,” Rufi said, surprising me. “And then it got a little hot, in more ways than one, so I figured it was time for me to come home.”
“Didn’t want to take one for the team?” I asked, laughing, and feeling sweet relief at the cool air of the lobby.
“I did my part,” Rufi said, shaking his head. “And tomorrow, I’ll be out there again. But as for what I think might happen tonight? Well … how is it they say? ‘A man’s got to know his limitations,’ right?”
“True dat,” I said. “So, you gon’ be able to let me into my apartment or is that something the building manager …?”
“No, no. I can do it. You wait here.”
I heaved a deep sigh as Rufi disappeared into the back, leaning against the reception desk and beginning to anticipate the shower I was going to have.
And that’s when the text came in. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, fully expecting that it would be Lamar, finally responding, and probably just getting out of lockup or having suffered some other minor calamity in what felt like an all-around calamitous day.
But it wasn’t Lamar.
It was Lila.
I waited in the lobby for her, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs in the guest waiting area, my leg nervously bouncing up and down. Rufi had gone back into the office when I told him I was waiting for a friend, telling me to holler when I was ready for him to let me up and into my apartment.
It took another twenty minutes for Lila get there, and when she did, she looked exhausted and wilted, standing just outside the lobby doors, peering in with those heavy-lidded eyes, looking dejected, sweaty, and even so, hella-cute.
I opened the door for her and she looked up at me, her shoulders lifting and falling in a deep sigh.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It’s cool. Lemme get …” I turned and went to summon Rufi who came back out, all smiles as usual, pushing the elevator button and standing aside for Lila and me to board first.
“Long day,” he said to her, by way of a conversation-starter as we ascended.
Lila nodded, and her eyes filled with tears. She turned abruptly away and Rufi glanced at me, worried that he had said the wrong thing. I shook my head to let him know it wasn’t his fault and none of us spoke again until we were standing in front of my apartment and he turned the key letting me and Lila in.
“Thanks, man,” I said. “I lost my wallet today or I would …”
“No, no. It’s not necessary,” Rufi said, frowning. “It’s my job. Take care. And … of your friend too.”
When I shut the door, Lila was just standing there in my small foyer, her backpack still on, arms at her side like she didn’t know what else to do. Putting a hand gently on her shoulder I spun her around and saw that the tears that had begun in the elevator were streaming down