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And the doors aren’t opening.
And the little digital number box on the panel next to the door doesn’t have any digital numbers showing.
And the doors aren’t opening.
And there’s a buzz and a click and a red light flashes in the corner.
And the doors aren’t opening.
The room spins. I can feel the walls closing in. I can hear the creaks and groans and the snap of wires. I’m pretty sure I’m falling. But I’m not sure how I’m still standing up if I am falling.
I think I’m going to vomit.
I vomit.
Someone is talking. I can hear voices coming from somewhere. Maybe outside the elevator? Have I stopped on another floor?
Assaulted with the knowledge that I’m still hovering in the air and will plunge to my death any second, I become seized with panic.
I scream for the voice to help me. I bang my fists on the doors that aren’t opening. My stomach lurches. My vision clouds. I feel like my throat is closing.
The voice comes from a speaker inside the elevator. I catch bits and pieces of what it’s saying. Something about staying calm. Electricity went out. Generator problems. I scream at someone—anyone—to get me the hell out of here. Try to pry open the doors. Punch all the buttons. Where is the phone? There should be a phone. I don’t have my phone. I’m going to die.
I vomit.
“Da-da-da-da…da-da-da-da…” Someone is singing the hook to my favorite song. I nod my head in tune for a moment while I try to breathe through the dry heaves now that my stomach is empty.
When I find my voice, I sing along with them. “Da-da-da-da…” On my knees. “Da-da-da-da…” Forehead to the wall. “Da-da-da-da…” I will the room to stop spinning. “Da-da-da-da…” Will my mind to not focus on the falling.
Falling….
Falling….
Falling….
“Penelope!”
Jake?
“Penelope!”
Not Jake.
The elevator jolts.
Fuzzy, black dots cloud my vision.
I’m vomiting again.
“Penelope, baby, give me your hand.”
I’m so scared. But I swear that voice is real.
“Open your eyes, Penelope.”
I can’t open my eyes. So I sing.
“Da-da-da-da….”
“Penelope!”
“Da-da-da-da….”
“Please, sweetheart. Please, listen to me.”
Jake?
“For fuck’s sake, Penelope! Look at me!”
That’s Jake.
“Jake?”
“Penelope! Baby, I’m right here!”
“Jake?” I open my eyes but only the wall stares back at me. “Jake!” I look to my left. My right. “Jake!”
“Turn around, Penelope.” The calmness in his tone helps to quell my panic.
“Jake…”
“I’m here, baby. Just turn around.”
I look behind me. Then I follow his voice up. And I see him. The first thing I notice is his eyes. They’re soft. Determined. Full of…something.
“I’m sorry, Jake.”
“Penelope, take my hand.”
Fresh tears fill my eyes. “I threw up in your elevator. Don’t be mad at me.”
“Baby...” he breathes out. The sound is a mixture of relief and pity. “I’m not mad at you. Come here and take my hand.” It’s then I notice his head and shoulders are squeezed between the gap in the doors. His arms stretched out toward me. The elevator must have stopped between floors.
Stopped….
Hovering….
Falling….
“Penelope.” His voice is firm but not angry. Just enough to keep my attention. “I want you to stand up and—”
“No. No. No.” I shake my head. “I can’t. I can’t. It’ll fall.”
“It won’t fall. I’m not going to let you fall. But I need you to stand up. Come on, baby…There you go…Good girl…Now, one step—”
“Jake—“ my voice cracks on a sob. My vision fogs with more tears. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. One step…That’s it…One more…Almost here…Just take my hand…”
I stretch up on my toes to reach for his hand. I’m afraid I’m too short. He’s too far away. I’m going to fall.
Crash.
Die.
A hand circles my wrist. Then my other wrist. My feet leave the floor. The top part of my body is dragged through the opening. I’m lifted under my arms. Folded into Jake’s arms. He sits on the floor in the hallway and leans against the wall next to the elevator.
“Good girl. Good girl. Good girl,” he chants, over and over as he holds me to him and pets my hair. Peppers my head with kisses. He’s controlled, but I can hear the relief in his voice. I remember the panic that tinged it only moments ago. Remember the panic I felt when I thought I would die. When I thought his voice wasn’t real.
But it was real.
He’s here.
I’m here.
I’m alive.
I’m alive.Chapter Twenty-OneThe elevator had stopped somewhere between the seventeenth and eighteenth floors. After the understanding that I was safe and alive began to sink in, I started to process another truth. I’d panicked in front of Jake. He’d seen me at my most vulnerable. And that made me feel…weak.
Still, I allowed him to carry me up fourteen flights of stairs, as if it was his duty. I’d protested, but he’d ignored me.
When I told him I was fine, that I could walk, he would simply respond with, “Hush.”
When I couldn’t stop my body from trembling, he would hold me tighter, kiss my hair and say, “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe.”
