Elevated (15 page)

“I’ve missed you,”

“I’m so sorry for everything,”

“Please forgive me,”
“I’ll wait as long as it takes,”

“Please don’t go to California,”

“I love you,

Love you,

Love you.”

I hear every word,

Feel them sink into my soul,

Wish they wouldn’t heal my unseen wounds,

And stitch together my broken parts.

I do love him,

But I know I’m strong enough without him

Now.

I do love him,

But I’ve learned that I need to live my own life

Now.

The elevator continues rising,

Going past three minutes,

Past Trav’s floor,

And mine.

It finally dings,

A loud, piercing sound I cringe away from.

The doors shudder open,

Revealing a rain-streaked sky and driving wind.

I stand there staring,

Shocked the rain has continued

While I’ve been stuck in the elevator,

Shocked the world has spun on.

My feet feel glued to the floor,

Until, just like the first time Trav held my hand,

He laces his fingers through mine,

Tugs gently,

Leads me onto the roof.

I STARE AT OUR HANDS,

Notice how there’s no space,

No gaps,

Just seamless unity and

Warmth and

Perfect comfort.

The darkness becomes heavier after the elevator doors slide shut,

Leaving us alone with only each other,

Our thoughts,

And the terrible,
Awful,

No-good weather.

“Please don’t go to California.”

Trav breaks the silence,

Pulls his hood over his head with his free hand.

“I have to,” I whisper,

Shift closer to the shelter of his side.

“I need more than what’s here.”

The rain drills into my shoulders,

The same way my words drill into Travis.

“I’m here.”

“I know.”

The words hurt him;

They pierce me too,

Drawing blood in secret places.

But I can’t stay here without deliverance from the past.

He starts to pull away,

But I grasp his fingers like they’re the only thing keeping me afloat,

Like I don’t want him to remake the distance between us.

“You could come with me,” I say

Into the darkness,

Into the rain,

Into oblivion.

I RETURN TO MY APARTMENT

When my cell rings,

When my mom wonders where I am,

And if I’m okay,

And if we can go pick up Daddy soon.

Now, I push through that layer of wax paper covering my life,

Tear it,

Leave it behind,

Enter a long, metal tunnel,

To which there are two openings.

At one end, stands Travis,

His arms outstretched,

His smile radiant,

His brown sugar scent beckoning.

It would be so easy to go down that path,

To run as fast as my feet can carry me,

To that safe place,

That easy comfort,

That natural love.

On the other end of the tunnel shine sunny skies,

The ocean,

Los Angeles,

Endless possibilities.

California is stormy too,

Dark,

With destinations hidden around curves,

And the promise of safety,

Comfort,

Happiness,

Uncertain.

I don’t see Trav on this path;

He can’t exist in two places at once,

On opposite ends of the tunnel,

In Chicago and

In California.

WHILE I STAND IN THE HOT SHOWER

Trav’s words drip with the water:

“I

c

a

n’

t

come with you.”

They mingle with Jesse’s:

I don’t think there’s anything here for you.

I don’t know if he’s right,

I don’t know if I can leave now,

I don’t know much of anything anymore.

But I do know one thing:

If I leave,

If I go to California,

It’ll be because I want to,

Because I’m being brave,

Responsible.

Not because I’m running away from Trav,

Or Honesty,

Or myself.

ON THE DRIVE TO THE HOSPITAL

I watch the rain stream down the glass,

Feel the weight of the absence of Trav’s hand when he pulled it away,

Stepped back,

Got on the elevator without taking me with him.

He’d walked me to my door,

His hair dripping wet,

His Converse squeaking.

He’d kissed me,

Long and tender,

Leaned his forehead against mine,

Drew a ragged breath,

Said nothing.

I’d kept my eyes closed,

Breathed in the tang of his mouth,

Said, “My offer still stands.

It will never expire.”

He’d walked to the elevator without looking back.

I SMILE AT DAD,

A genuine smile.

The easiness of it surprises me,

Like I haven’t done it for a while.

He returns it,

Says, “What’s up with you, Honeybee?”

“I got stuck in the elevator tonight.”

The silly grin won’t leave my lips,

Despite Travis’s retreating back.

JESSE TEXTS OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF WEEKS.

Things like:

“I’m glad you guys finally made up,” and

“Someday you’ll have to tell me what happened,” and

“You’re still too good for him,” and

“I met someone.

Her name is Christy.

She might be too good for me…”

I smile at the texts,

Think of him in his one-room studio sending them,

Imagine what Christy looks like,

And if she makes him happy.

SOMETIMES,

I think about telling him about the baby,

But I don’t know if I want him to know

My secret.

Sometimes,

I think Mom and I should talk about the baby,

But I’m not strong enough to shoulder the disappointment I’d see in her eyes,

Or answer her questions

About my secret.

Sometimes,

I catch Trav watching me,

And I wonder if he’s thinking about the baby,

Who she might resemble,

Where we might be if I’d told him up front

About my secret.

I SEND JESSE RESPONSES.

Things like:

“Thank you for everything,” and

“Good luck in the game tonight!” and

“I’m leaving for California soon,” and

“I’m glad you met someone.

Is she nice?

Does she come watch your games?”

And

“Stop it. You’re good enough for anyone.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

I leave the classroom where I’ve just finished my last final,

Catch Trav’s eye,

Grin.

He’s leaning against the lockers, laughing.

He’s called me every night,

He’s re-taken his place at my side in the halls,

He’s everything I want,

Need,

Crave.

In three days,

I’ll leave him here in Chicago,

I’ll be brave.

In three days,

I’ll drive to California alone,

I’ll be responsible.

In three days,

I’ll be free.

THE DAY BEFORE I’M SET TO LEAVE FOR CALIFORNIA,

Mom asks, “So you’re really going to go,”

Stands in my doorway,

Watches my last-minute packing.

But it’s not a question.

“Yeah,” I say,

Meeting her eyes without flinching

For the first time

In a long time.

I find acceptance,

Love,

Admiration in her eyes,

Tinged with only a flicker of doubt.

I settle on my bed next to Daddy.

“She’ll be fine,” he says,

Throws his arm around my shoulder,

Squeezes.

“She’s ready—

California won’t know what hit it.”

I return his smile,

Borrow his confidence.

He’s right about one thing:

I’m ready.

Mom sits next to us,

Takes my hand in hers.

Says, “I’ll miss you.”

Suddenly,

My chest tightens.

Suddenly,

I don’t know how to cross the bridge between us,

Don’t know what to say.

Suddenly,

I realize Mom has been waiting for me to come to her.

She could’ve said, “
We’ll
miss you,”

But she hadn’t.

She’d owned the missing.

“I’ll miss you too,”

I finally say.

“But I have a phone now,

I’ll Skype all the time.”

“Starting with when you arrive in North Platte.”

Daddy’s mapped every possible route from

Chicago to

Los Angeles.

“I should be there by six or seven,”
I say,

Snuggle closer to his side.

Silence settles on us;

I close my eyes,

Want to remember this moment

With just me and my parents

Where everything is right.

The doorbell breaks the quiet,

Causes me to jump up.

“That’s Trav.”

“Where are you going?”

Mom asks,

Helps Daddy into his wheelchair.

“We have to pick up the car soon.”

“I know,” I say,

Smooth down my hair.

“I’ll only be gone a half hour.”

My good-bye with Trav can only happen in one place:

The roof.

ON THE ROOF,

I say, “I can’t take your car,”

Frown,

Study Trav for signs of deception.

On the roof,

He leans back against the wall,

Says, “Sure you can,”

Hands me the keys.

“She runs great.

She’ll get you to Cali.”

“No, I mean,

You need your car.”

The keys feel too heavy in my hand,

Too permanent,

Like this goodbye.

“I already cleared it with your parents,” he says,

Pockets his hands.

“They’re coming to ‘pick it up’ in a little bit.”

He slides me a wicked grin.

“Besides, I’ve been saving up for something new.”

I return the smile,

Ask, “Does the Cineplex pay you enough to afford a motorcycle?”

“Sometimes.”

He steps closer to me,

Breathes deeply when he envelops me in a hug.

“You’d look great riding on the back.”

“Mmm,” I say,

Wrap my arms around him too.

This time I don’t feel like the weak link in our relationship.

“Maybe we can see each other at Thanksgiving,” he murmurs,

Skates his fingertips along my waist.

I pull out of the hug,

Kiss him quick,

Say, “Maybe.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Elana Johnson is the author of the
Possession
series, which includes full-length novels POSSESSION, SURRENDER, and ABANDON, and short stories REGRET (ebook only) and RESIST (free).