Final Breath

dream come true. I get to help a beautiful woman out of a jam.'

Smiling up at him, Angela felt herself blushing. She unlocked the door.

He opened it for her. Angela grabbed her purse and stepped out of the car. He closed the door after her. 'You're going to think this is a line,' he said. 'But you look really, really familiar.'

She shrugged. 'You've probably seen me around in the building.'

'No, that's not it,' the custodian said. 'I just started working here a few nights ago.'

They headed toward the elevator alcove. Angela glanced back at her disabled Camry. 'Will it be okay there?'

He nodded. 'I don't think anyone's coming down here any time soon--except for the tow, God willing.' He took a few more steps, and then stopped abruptly. 'Wait a minute. I know where I've seen you before. Weren't you on TV a while back? That Movers & Shakers story from On the Edge? I remember now...'

Angela let out a little laugh. 'So--you saw that, huh?'

'God, yes.' The handsome janitor snapped his fingers. 'Y'know, I didn't make the connection. But now I realize--it happened in this building. When I first hired on here, the woman in personnel told me an employee here tried to commit suicide a while back. He climbed out to the ledge on the fourteenth floor, or something. But I didn't connect it to you--and that Movers & Shakers story. I can't believe it's you. This is amazing! You're the one who talked him back inside. You saved that guy's life.'

Angela felt embarrassed--and yet also excited that he'd recognized her from her one and only TV appearance, nine months ago.

'It's no big deal,' Angela told him. 'I really didn't do much.'

Most of what had happened was a blur when she tried to remember it now.

But she remembered Archie. He'd been the nervous, nerdy, high-strung office clerk. Archie's biggest responsibility was running the copy machine, and he routinely screwed that up. He was in his mid thirties with pale skin, greasy brown hair, and a slight paunch. Angela used to think he could have been good-looking with a makeover, some crunches, and a new wardrobe that didn't include clip-on ties and short-sleeve shirts. Angela's friends at the firm used to tease her because Archie had a crush on her.

That Friday nine months ago, she'd heard during lunch that Archie was being fired--after only six weeks on the job. Angela felt sorry for him. He was such a loser, the poor guy.

She was emerging from the restroom when a fellow paralegal ran up to her. 'My God, Archie's on the ledge! He climbed out the window in Weymiller's office. He's gonna jump!'

One of the younger lawyers was racing down the hallway. 'I called 9-1-1!' he yelled. 'Jesus, I don't know how he got out there...'

Mr. Weymiller came around the corner, and he motioned at her. 'Angie, thank God! Listen, we need you to talk to Archie until the police get here. He likes you--'

'But wait a minute!' she cried, confused. 'What do you expect me to say to him?'

That was when the whole thing became a blur--all these people talking and screaming at her at once-- someone pulling her toward Weymiller's office; and then leaning out that window while Mr. Weymiller held her around the waist so she wouldn't fall. She remembered the chilly November wind whipping through her hair, and Archie, tears streaming down his face as he clung to the side of the building. His ugly fake tie flapped in the breeze. The whole time, Angie tried not to look down--fourteen stories to the traffic below on Michigan Avenue. Car horns were honking and a siren wailed in the distance. But mostly she just heard the wind and her own voice as she tried to talk to Archie.

She didn't even remember what she said exactly. She fought her vertigo and just kept talking. All the while she was terrified that at any minute Archie might leap off the ledge.

Angela found out later from her coworkers what she'd said. Sydney Jordan had interviewed them for Movers & Shakers. Apparently, she'd told Archie about the times when she felt lost, lonely--and even suicidal--only to feel better days later. She'd claimed that she would really miss him, and had been hoping to stay in touch with him after he stopped working there at the law firm. She'd asked him several times to come in off the ledge and admitted to him that she was very, very scared.

Angela didn't remember any of it.

She had no idea how long she'd been half-hanging out of that fourteenth-floor window. She hadn't realized when the police arrived--or when the traffic below stopped on Michigan Avenue. She hadn't noticed the man in the building across the way, recording the whole thing on his cell phone's video camera.

That dramatic footage was later shown on the news and in the Movers & Shakers segment.

'What I do remember,' Angela told Sydney Jordan for the piece, 'is never losing eye contact with Archie. I just held my breath when he finally started to make his way toward me. I prayed and prayed he wouldn't slip. Then I finally grabbed his hand. I nearly collapsed when we pulled him back inside. I was just so relieved.'

She didn't tell Sydney how the cops on the scene had pounced on Archie once he'd climbed back through that window. They'd grabbed him and started frisking him. And someone else had whisked her away.

On the Movers & Shakers segment, she'd wished Archie well. But she hadn't seen him since that Friday afternoon in November, nine months ago.

'So--what was Sydney Jordan like?' the janitor asked. 'I've always figured her as kind of a phony.'

Having been lost in thought, Angela blinked at him and smiled. 'Actually, she's just the opposite--very nice, very genuine.'

They started toward the elevator annex again. The janitor didn't say anything, and for a few moments, there was just the click, click, click of her high heels. They turned into the alcove, and she noticed him pull out his janitor keys. He stepped up to the service elevator and inserted a key into some mechanism and then pressed the button.

Angela wondered why they didn't just ring for the regular elevator, but figured he was probably accustomed to using this one. She didn't say anything.

He nodded to the service elevator door. 'This will take us all the way to the roof if we want. The other one just goes as far as the lobby.'

'But we only need to go as far as the lobby,' she pointed out.

'I know,' he nodded. 'Tell me something. Do you know whatever happened to that guy you saved?'

Angela gave an uneasy shrug. 'Last I heard he was still in the hospital with all sorts of mental problems. It's really very sad.'

The handsome janitor frowned. 'Kind of makes you wonder if he'd have been better off jumping.' He turned toward her. 'Ever stop to think maybe you shouldn't have interfered?'

Bewildered, Angela stared at him.

A ding sounded, and the elevator door opened. 'Here we are,' the janitor announced.

Angela hesitated for a moment, but then he took hold of her arm and guided her into the cubicle, which was lined with heavy, quilted, dark gray blankets--the kind movers used to wrap up antiques.

She watched him press the button for the fourteenth floor, then he pulled out the key again and switched on the Express lock.

'Wait...' Angela said, just as the door shut. She turned toward him. 'I thought we were going to the lobby.'

The elevator made a humming noise as it started its ascent.

The janitor stared at her, his eyes narrowed. 'No, we're going to fourteen,' he said coolly. 'I didn't fuck up your car so we'd go only as far as the lobby.'

Angela shook her head. 'Oh, God no--' she cried, recoiling.

But he still had ahold of her arm. He suddenly twisted it around her back.

Angela let out a shriek.

He slapped his hand over her mouth. She struggled, but he was too strong for her. It felt as if he were about to snap off her arm.

Helplessly, she watched the illuminated numbers above the elevator door as they climbed higher and higher.