Page 7 of Lift Me Up

“The closest technician is in Belleville right now, and there’s traffic.”

“Oh. My. God.” Belleville, as in an-hour-away Belleville… probably two if there’s traffic.

“Please don’t cry,” he says softly to me.

“You said you’ll stay on the line, right?”

He pauses. “Your Franny gave me explicit permission to stay on the line until you’re out of there, so yes, I will stay.”

“And if we get disconnected?”

“There’s a note to transfer directly to me. You just tell them it’s Georgia and they’ll pass you right over.”

I scrunch my nose, even if he can’t see it. Or maybe he can, it’s hard to tell anymore. “Only my mom calls me Georgia.”

He sounds genuine while he asks, “Should I continue to call you G then?”

I smile softly up at the camera. “Sure. That works.”

There’s silence between us; me taking a moment to breathe, and him patiently waiting for me to initiate conversation.

“Georgie?” I hear a voice call to me, not from the phone line, but from outside the elevator.

“Holy shit.” I scramble across the floor to the door.

“Is everything alright, G?” N asks, but I ignore him for a moment to listen for the voice calling me.

“Georgia, can you hear me?!” Her voice echoes through to me.

“Franny!” I scream back, echoing down the elevator shaft.

“Are you okay?” Franny asks.

“No!”

“Are you still on the call with the elevator guy?”

“Yes!” I shout back.

“Okay! I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do. We’re going to get you out, okay?”

“Okay!” I turn back to face the dreary, dark room of containment where I’m alone. This day is absolute shit.

N’s voice startles my mind back into the elevator.

“Was that Franny?”

“Yeah.” My voice comes out breathy and barely there. I hear the groan of movement in the elevator shaft. I look to the ceiling, as if it will show me what the hell is happening. The car sways a bit, and I can feel my heart hammer in my chest. All I want is to make it out alive. “Shit.”

“Hey, G? You okay?” N’s voice calls out to me, and I realize just how quiet I’ve gone on him.

The tears don’t return; I’ve cried myself out and ruined the last smear of makeup I was wearing from this morning. What time even is it? How long have I been here? One spiral leads to another and I start to tremble again.

“I’m really scared,” I whisper to him after a few moments of silence.

“How can I help?”

“I don’t know.”