2. Thinking Inside the Box
He punches the red emergency stop button.
Emergency stop.
He needed to breathe.
The elevator shuddered to a halt. Logan slid down against the wall and leaned his forehead against his cane. Stuck in between floors, neither going up nor down. Which is pretty much how my life boils down, he thought to himself. He didn't have a clue where he was headed.
His instincts were telling him to run, run back to Rory, run away from Mitchum, and his mother, grandfather, the "Huntzberger destiny". Funny, but he never thought of himself as a runner; he embraced life and all its uncertainties and risks–he even sought them out…didn't he? Sure you did, he answered himself, when it came to sinking yachts, blowing off school, indulging in girls and booze, jumping cliffs and scaffolds and other stupid LDB stunts.
But hell, those things meant nothing. Truth is, when it came to his life, he never had to run towards or away from anything; he never had to decide for himself. It was all pre-ordained, taken care of. Yale. Becoming a journalist. Taking over the Huntzberger newspaper empire. Becoming like his father. Going to London. Did he want these things? He was never asked. And he never asked himself, never thought about it. Because he never felt he had any choice in the matter. It's only my life after all, he thought with bitterness. So he sought small comfort in the buzz and blurr of his frenzied life, relishing what little freedoms he had before his pre-ordained life kicked in.
He cursed again as he gingerly stood up, leaning his weight against his good leg. Then ask yourself now! What do you want, damn it! He was starting to feel claustrophobic.
"No one's stopping you from making whatever you want happen. Go into journalism. Go into politics. Be a doctor. Be a clown. Do whatever you want."
"It's not as easy when it's not handed to you."
"Really? It's all so easy for me? I don't want that life. It's forced on me. You talk about all these doors being open? All I see is one door, and I'm being pushed through it. I have no choice. You try living without options."
"How hard are you fighting it?"
He never answered Rory's question, that night they fought at the Rich Man's Shoe. He hated being pushed by his father towards a life he wasn't sure he wanted. But how hard is he fighting it? And did he want to? He shook his head, ruefully running his hand through his hair. I don't know, he realized.
He did know one thing though: Rory. When he knew what he wanted, he pursued it with single-mindedness. In a split-second, he knew he wanted a relationship with her when she told him she couldn't do stringless anymore, that she wanted to go back to being just friends. In a heartbeat, he knew he loved her and would do anything to win her back, one lonely December evening (unfortunately, with another girl, he recalled with regret). He allowed his mind to wander a bit, wondering if Rory went back to sleep or was drinking her morning coffee. Probably drinking coffee and on the phone already with Lorelei, he mused.
He missed her already; he needed her. But he also knew that wasn't enough. He couldn't just run back to Rory, just as he couldn't just run away from his family.
Stuck in an elevator, going neither here nor there.
Unexpectedly, the doors opened and George, the doorman of the building, surveyed with some alarm the young Huntzberger muttering to himself and bumping his head against the wall.
"Er, everything alright, sir? I was notified that the elevator had unexpectedly stopped…"
George, unbeknownst to Mr. Huntzberger, was privy to many clandestine incidents occurring in mysteriously stopped elevators, not a few involving Mr. Huntzberger and the charming Ms. Gilmore herself. There were security cameras, though he doubted Mr. Huntzberger cared. George felt himself blushing at the memory of Ms. Gilmore waving an innocent "Cheerio!" at him as she and Mr. Huntzberger stepped out of the elevator last Thursday afternoon, fresh from one such clandestine episode.
"Is everything in order," George discreetly repeated his question.
"Oh. Right. Sorry," Logan said with some confusion, waving his hand vaguely in the air. But he made no move to go in or out of the elevator.
They were at an awkward impasse. Mr. Huntzberger seemed preoccupied and...lost. George entered the elevator and took it upon himself to inquire, "Going up or down, sir?"
A heartbeat.
"Going down."
"Very good, sir." He pressed 'G', and the elevator doors closed with a hush.
