Lacey pushed the button with the wheelchair symbol on it and waited until the lady behind her had gone through the door before she entered. The breeze caught her hair and tried to tug it out of its ponytail. A seagull hobbled across the parking lot, stopping now and then to peck at what it thought might be food. I didn’t matter that Hatfield Falls was twenty minutes from the ocean, seagulls were a regular scavenger one saw on the daily.
“You are a dear,” the older lady said. “Thank you.”
“Are you taking the elevator?” Lacey asked.
“I prefer it to the ramp, even if I do have a motor on this thing. There is just something about riding in an elevator that has been a joy to me since I was much younger and able-bodied than I currently am.” Laughing blue eyes caught Lacey’s. “Will you ride with me? The journeys of life are always better with a friend.”
Lacey laughed. “I would have to agree.”
Her new friend jabbed the elevator call button with the tip of her cane.
“I’m Barbara Green,” she said as the elevator clunked to life and slowly made its descent to the entryway. “But you can call me Barb. The only one who ever called me Barbara was my mother.”
“I’m Lacey Welsh.”
“Lacey? What a pretty name! So much nicer sounding than Barb. I’ve never liked my name, but Barb is preferable to Barbara or Barbie.” She gave Lacey a pointed look that said she truly despised being called Barbie. “I have a granddaughter about your age. A bit younger,” Barb continued as the elevator doors opened, and she backed her wheelchair into the box. “You cannot ride in an elevator facing away from the door. It just isn’t right,” she explained.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“I pray you never have a need to remember it.”
“Are you going to the main floor or one of the upper ones?” Lacey asked.
“I’ll start on the main. I like to let the librarians know I’m here.” She chuckled. “Some of them are fun to tease,” she whispered. “And excessively forgiving of an old woman. That’s a perk of getting old and ending up in a chair – not that I can’t walk,” she added, lifting her cane. “I just can’t do it for very long without becoming tired and my hip hurting like the dickens. What are you here for today? Work?” She nodded to the computer bag that hung over Lacey’s shoulder.
“Job hunting,” Lacey replied.
[from Don’t Tell Mom I Have a Girlfriend]
image source: depositphotos
