Elevated

  For not being there,

  For not knowing,

  For giving up so easily.

  His mouth is warm and

  Soft and

  Kind and

  Making the earth sway beneath my feet.

  Trav holds me tighter,

  Refusing to let the movement separate us.

  I kiss him back eagerly,

  Urgently,

  Afraid I’ll miss something this time that I didn’t notice last time,

  Because I took our relationship for granted,

  Because I didn’t really believe we’d ever break up.

  Trav jerks away from me;

  I lurch after him

  As the car swings.

  The earth isn’t moving because I’m kissing Travis.

  The elevator is moving because we’re falling.

  I’VE BEEN LIVING A WAX PAPER LIFE,

  With colors muted by the film,

  With motion blurred by the layer over my eyes,

  With emotions barricaded behind a flimsy piece of paper

  That’s too easily shredded.

  Now, with the elevator groaning,

  The lights flickering,

  My pulse hammering,

  The film that’s protected me

  Vanishes.

  I see everything with perfect clarity.

  I see

  the pain

  I inflicted

  on Honesty.

  I see the knowing glint in my mother’s eyes,

  How I imagine she looks at her patients,

  And sees there’s something not quite right

  Even if she doesn’t know exactly what it is.

  I see the anguish in my father’s face when he guessed I was

  pregnant.

  I hear Trav’s messages over

  And over

  And over again.

  I know I’m the one responsible for my

  Loneliness, my

  Agony, my

  Isolation.

  I see the hope in my father’s eyes as he completes his therapy.

  I can’t believe I’ve missed it before,

  Can’t believe I didn’t paint on my smiling face,

  Can’t believe I didn’t kiss him hello,

  Can’t believe I’ve never challenged him to a race to the apartment,

  Him on the elevator,

  Me on the stairs.

  A WAIL PULLS THROUGH MY THROAT,

  Trav pulls me against his ribs,

  Gravity pulls against the elevator.

  G

  R

  A

  V

  I

  T

  Y

  wins.

  I’VE LIVED WITH TWO FEET SOLIDLY ON THE GROUND,

  And this free-falling isn’t exhilarating,

  Isn’t safe and calm and vanilla,

  The way I’ve tried to make everything in my life since Travis.

  He’s anything but vanilla.

  He’s the only thing that brings color to my life,

  The only one I’ve envisioned sharing everything with,

  The only one I want to be with if these are my last moments on earth.

  WE’D ONLY GONE UP THREE FLOORS,

  But it feels like we’ve been falling for thirty.

  This elephant elevator is usually so slow,

  Groaning and creaking as it lumbers up and down,

  From lobby to roof.

  It’s shrieking now,

  Clanging,

  Fighting.

  “Travis,” I say,

  Hug him tight,

  Press my face into his chest like I have so many times before.

  This time it’s different,

  It’s forever,

  It might be the last time.

  “I love you,”

  We say together,

  And I know I could die in his arms

  Here in this elevator,

  Happy.

  WE FALL

  Fall

  f

  a

  l

  l

  MY STOMACH GETS RIPPED FROM MY TOES

  To my throat

  As the elevator comes out victorious in its battle with gravity.

  It stops,

  We crumble to the floor,

  It lurches,

  Stalls,

  Starts up.

  We kneel on the damp metal,

  Still wet from our rain-drenched shoes.

  Our arms circle each other,

  Our breathing pairs into a frantic rhythm,

  Our feelings for each other

  Exposed.

  “It’s going up.”

  Travis’s voice doesn’t sound quite human,

  But mostly air and fear.

  The lights blaze on in response,

  The elevator moans,

  A ding sounds as we pass the first floor.

  Only three minutes, twelve seconds until we reach his floor,

  Until he’ll get off,

  Until his arms won’t be anchoring me anymore.

  Maybe he won’t get off,

  I think.

  The tether between us is strengthened,

  Tattered,

  Sure,

  But still there.

  “ELLY, LISTEN.”

  Trav starts talking, his words worming their way into my ears

  Where I hear them in a different way.

  He says things like:

  “Please don’t shut me out again,”

  “I know you love me,”

  “I love you too,”

  “I’m going to call you tonight, okay?”

  “Please answer the phone, Elly.

  Please.”

  Our bodies are still meshed together,

  His words enter straight into my brain,

  His breath rustles the fine hair on my neck.

  “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,