Stairwell

"... and next time you need to try harder, Amie, because we can't get stuck in a situation like this again. I've told you before that we need to have the clients on board before we move forward!"

Becky had her face scrunched and turned back toward me as she slowly shuffled through the door of the conference room out into the hallway.

"I'm going to make sure this comes up with Donald, too. I don't know what you were thinking!"

She turned around to face forward, slouching along the corridor, still muttering and shaking her head slightly. Becky's cute cross-body bag bounced along behind her.

My face felt hot and sweaty, but cold at the same time. I couldn't believe she was saying these things to me! Me, Amie, the analyst-of-the-month Amie. The life-of-the-company-holiday-party Amie.

As we neared the end of the hall, Becky slowed and as she reached the stairwell door stopped completely. She turned around to face me and said with a scathing voice and flashing eyes, "I'll be surprised if you last another week here, Amie. You're going to have to get your shit together." After one last scowl, she turned around to push the door open and walk into the stairwell.

I briefly considered turning around and walking back down the hallway toward the room we'd just emptied. But in a defeated way, my shoulders slumped and I resigned to follow her down the stairs. This stairwell was closest to my car and I needed to get out of the building as soon as possible.

I followed Becky into the stairwell, eyes on her feet ahead of me as she neared the top stair and reached out to grab the hand rail on her right side. Simultaneously, she stretched out her left foot to begin descending the stairs.

--

I was shocked into consciousness by the sound of shrieking. It was my voice screaming the words.

"Becky! Becky!"

I was looking down the stairs at Becky sprawled haphazardly, unnaturally at the bottom. She let out a loud moan and used one arm to try lifting her torso from the ground. Slowly, watching my own footsteps carefully, I descended the stairs and said again, "Becky!"

After making it half way down the flight, the door at the bottom of the stairs burst open and Jeremy the intern's wide eyes fell on Becky's limbs strewn about and her bag tossed into the corner of the landing. She moaned again.

Jeremy glanced up at me and uttered "Oh my god!" before turning around and screaming to the hallway behind him "Someone call an ambulance! Call 9-1-1! Becky fell down the stairs! Becky?"

He bent down and gently touched her back. She was clearly hurt. Her left leg was curled under her body in an odd way and her left arm was stuck out at an angle suggesting that it might be broken. She tried again, feebly this time, to use her right arm to lift her torso. She moaned again, but this time more quietly than the others.

People from the offices on the lower floor began sticking their heads into the stairwell. The commotion was increasing steadily. People were crouched on the stairwell landing next to Becky, speaking to her as well as to each other

"Did someone call an ambulance?"
"Is she going to be okay?"
"Becky, someone is on the way."
"Does anyone know her husband's name?"
"So she fell down the stairs?"
"Who is calling 9-1-1?"

"Amie, are you okay?" Jeremy had noticed that I had slowly taken a seat on the stairs about half way up. I was breathing heavily and felt light-headed.

"Did you see what happened?" Jeremy asked me. Being athletic, he sort of jumped the railing to the side of Becky's body and slowly crawled up the stairs to sit beside me.

I didn't answer.

Because I didn't know what happened.

I told him, "I remember watching Becky's feet at the top of the stairs. I saw her reach out for the railing and then..." I went quiet.

Jeremy patiently waited.

"And then I remember shouting 'Becky'. And then you came through the door."

Jeremy didn't say anything.

We sat there together on the stairs, watching people patting Becky's back and stroking her hair. She flinched or moaned every few minutes. Finally an EMT entered through the stairwell door and took charge of the situation. We continued to sit there and watched the crew extract Becky from the stairwell on a stretcher.

Jeremy gently placed his arm around my shoulders. As he gave a slight squeeze, my mind burst with images, seemingly new, playing like a movie in my head of the minutes before that I'd somehow forgotten.

--

I followed Becky into the stairwell, eyes on her feet ahead of me as she neared the top stair and reached out to grab the hand rail on her right side. Simultaneously, she stretched out her left foot to begin descending the stairs.

Carefully watching her right foot, I reached my left shoe out and quickly hooked it around her right ankle. She propelled her weight forward onto her left foot, heading down the stairs but my shoe kept her right foot from moving forward to catch her momentum. As if in slow motion, I saw myself pick my foot up further and further as she tried to free her right foot to catch herself.

Becky's hand missed the rail and she fell freely down the stairs, landing partially on her left arm with a nasty crack and then flipping forward in a summersault motion to land with her left leg twisted underneath her, face down.

I spoke softly then to Becky, laying at the bottom of the stairs. "Get your shit together, Becky."

And then blinking, realizing what I'd done, I began screeching Becky's name.