Elevated (3 page)

He inhales in a way I’ve heard many times before.

“Please, don’t,” I say,

To cut him off before he can speak.

He does anyway.

“You have to talk to me sometime.”

His voice sounds like a bark:

Sharp,

Short,

Brimming on the edge of anger.

“No, I don’t.”

I grip my cell phone tighter,

Squeeze my eyes shut harder,

Breathe,

Though there’s no hope of finding air.

He’s suffocating me,

He’s so close,
so close,
so close
.

“I’ve called you a million times.”

I listened to all twenty-seven messages,

Even the ones where he didn’t say anything before hanging up.

His voice haunts me when I’m drifting to sleep,

When I’m eating lunch alone in the drama wing,

When I’m walking home in the rain.

I never called him back,

Never wanted to explain the unexplainable.

I didn’t have anything to say.

He had plenty to say,

To everyone.

His mom,

Jesse,

My mom,

Honesty,

Probably even Harold.

Only after he’d confessed,

After,

Did he call me.

Twenty-seven times.

“PLEASE, ELLY.”

His voice claws at the wounds in my heart,

Rips them open,

Makes them bleed.

This always happens when he says my name.

I’ve bandaged my pain with therapy,

With medication,

With isolation,

With self talk about how I don’t need him,

Don’t believe him,

Don’t…

Love him.

“Leave me alone.”

“I won’t,” Travis says.

His hand lands on my shoulder,

A test of my willpower.

A test I will fail.

I HAVEN’T DECIDED WHAT TO DO

When he turns me toward him,

Slides his hand down my arm until it rests against mine,

Palm to palm.

The ache to step into his arms is strong,

Natural.

I keep my eyes shut,

Breathe in the dampness of his hair,

The warmth of his skin,

The sadness in his touch.

Experience has proven that I’m terrible at making choices when I’m with Trav.

That’s why it’s better that we’re not together.

“We have to talk,” he says again.

“Besides, we’re not going anywhere.”

I step away,

Separate my fingers from his,

Press against the elevator wall.

Not going anywhere
clouds my head.

A lie,

Because I am going somewhere.

California.

As soon as I possibly can, I’m escaping this oppressive city

So I won’t have to explain to,

Won’t have to see,

Won’t have to breathe in,

Travis

Anymore.

BEFORE PROM,

I practically lived at Trav’s,

Where no one ever bothered to get up and answer the door,

No one cooked,

No one cared if you left your shoes in the middle of the floor.

Before prom,

Trav half-laid, half-sat on the couch,

His Converse sneakers kicked off into the kitchen,

His feet balanced on the coffee table in front of him,

His forty-four-ounce soda stationed nearby.

Before prom,

Jesse sipped from his mug,

His blond hair a mess,

His backpack abandoned by the door,

His trademark smirk stuck to his face.

“I got you a Diet Coke.”

Travis didn’t bother to look up from the video game.

“And your controller needs new batteries.”

“Thanks.”

I snatched two batteries off the counter.

“Hey, Jess, did you get your—?”

“My tie is blue.”

Frustration hid between Jesse’s words.

“Great,” I muttered to the back of his head,

Thinking it’d be easier to hate him if his eyes weren’t greener than grass,

If he’d treat me like his cousin’s annoying friend,

If he wasn’t my bridge to Trav.

VIDEO GAMES COULDN’T DISTRACT ME

From Trav’s laughter,

The heat of his body,

The thought of his lips.

“You’re sucking it up today,” Trav said,

Looking at me

Like there was something wrong.

Jesse’s phone rang,

Saved me from answering,

Spared me from “sucking it up” more.

He yanked the phone out,

Cut off the special ringtone,

Said, “Hey,” as he disappeared down the hall and closed his bedroom door.

With his departure,

I could quit playing,

Could ignore Trav’s statement.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Trav said.

“I don’t keep up with his girls.”

I hoped this whichever-girl didn’t carry a grudge,

Didn’t know my name,

Didn’t care I was going to prom with him

And she wasn’t.

Luckily, I hung in the middle of the crowd.

I wasn’t too smart,

Too pretty,

Too dumb,

Too ugly,

Too loud,

Too rich,

Too quiet,

Too poor,

Or too much of anything.

I coasted in the middle of the swarm,

Which was exactly what I wanted.

So why, then,

Was I sitting on Travis’s couch,

Desperately wishing someone would notice me?

Not someone,

Anyone,

Everyone.

Just him.

“YOU STAYING FOR DINNER?”

Trav’s voice sent chills into my warm places.

“What’re you making?”

“I was hoping you’d cook.” He grinned,

Leaned against my shoulder,

Settled back into the couch.

“Isn’t your mom on nights this week?”

I forced my rippling heartbeat into submission,

Even as I committed the curve of his lips to memory.

“Yeah.”

Mom’s a nurse in the Intensive Care Unit.

Dad’s been deployed to Afghanistan for the past year,

Over halfway done with his assignment.

My twin brothers stay at the neighbor’s when Mom’s on graveyards.

They’d probably eat lasagna,

Garlic bread,

Salad,

With a real family.

Must be great to be ten.

“So whattya gonna make?” Travis nudged my shoulder.

I ignored the flare in my pulse,

The quickness of my breath,

The shakiness in my hands.

“Maybe Jess could get us pizza.”

“He won’t come out for a while,” Travis said,

Gestured wildly with his hands.

“I think that might have been Gina,

So…”

“I can
not
believe I’m going to my junior prom with him.”

I heaved myself off the couch,

Away from Trav,

Toward the fridge.

WHEN I COOKED AT HOME,

I fantasized about Trav,

How his lips would feel against mine,

How his hand felt at home in mine.

When I cooked at home,

I burned everything.

In Trav’s kitchen my phone buzzed,

Brought me out of my fantasies,

Grounded me in reality.

A text from Honesty

Welcomed sudden guilt to the tiny kitchen.

Her
boyfriend
sat ten feet away on the couch,

Her
boyfriend
was my best friend,

Her
boyfriend
turned and smiled at me.

“Hey, what are you doing later?” he asked,

His voice light.

“Sleeping?” I said, like I wasn’t quite sure

What normal people did in the middle of the night.

Trav joined me at the kitchen counter,

His eyes holding a wicked gleam.

“Meet me on the roof at eleven thirty.”

When he said things like this,

He reminded me that he needed someone.

Someone more than Jesse,

Someone more than Honesty,

Someone who knew,

Who understood.

I looked at him,

Peeled back the layers of defense,

Found the little boy within.

He missed his mom,

Though she probably didn’t miss him,

Or her job,

Or her apartment.

Just the drugs.

He liked Jesse living here,

But Jesse wasn’t always
here
.

He needed me to be his anchor,

His safe place.

That’s what the roof was for us.

A safe place,

Where only good things happened,

Where he could admit to the missing,

The loneliness,

The fear,

Without admitting anything.

Meet me on the roof at eleven thirty.

Trav wasn’t really asking.

I ducked my head,

Said, “Eleven thirty.”

IT WOULD’VE BEEN SO EASY TO TURN BACK,

Tilt my head,

Press my lips to his.

I almost did it.

“Elly, you’re making pizza?”

I flinched away from Travis,

Found Jesse leaning against the wall,

Found a knowing grin curving his lips.

“You hittin’ on my date, T?”

Travis laughed,

Actually laughed.

I forced myself to do the same.
But Jesse, who’s no rocket scientist,

Noticed the heat blazing in my face,

The hurt pouring from my eyes.

He looked away;

I did too.

Travis put his arm around me.

“Eeenie-meenie-Elly is impossible to hit on.”

Jesse stayed for dinner,

Ate between Trav and me,

Smiled more than usual.

He asked me about myself,

My mom,

My dad,

My brothers.

All of it,

His way of apologizing,

Of saying,
I’m sorry for calling you out.

I’m sorry for my lame-brain cousin,

And what he said.

Instead of waving good-bye from the couch like he usually did,

Jesse opened the apartment door for me,

Said, “See you tomorrow,”

Handed me my backpack.

“Can’t wait for prom,” he said,

Sounding a bit surprised,

And suddenly I thought the dance might actually be fun.

“Blue tie?” I asked again,

My way of saying

It’s okay.

I’ll be all right.

He grinned,

Nodded,

Closed the door.

I PLAYED ROCK, PAPER, SCISSORS

To decide if I should stay in bed,

Or go to the roof.

After Travis’s comment,

I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him that badly.

Best four out of seven:

The roof won.

The game had decided:

I got dressed.

That’s your problem
,

A voice in my head said.

Dr. Tickson.

He was forever telling me what my problems were.

Why do you let childhood games make decisions for you?

I’d never answered his question.

I couldn’t decide if I should or not.

TRAV STOOD AT THE FAR WALL

Looking north into the city.

I admired his profile against the midnight glow,

The way his jacket fell in diagonal lines to his waist,

Held back by his hands resting loosely in his pockets.

“Hey,” he said without turning.

He wore sunglasses as usual,

And I pulled mine out of my pocket,

Put them on.

“What’s the deal, Trav?”

“Nothin’.”

I fingered a coin in my pocket.

Heads—I had to talk.

“Sure, because we come up on the roof every night,

Stare at the city with sunglasses on.”

“I just… my apartment suffocates me.”

“And we don’t want the paparazzi to know you’re here.”

He chuckled,

Caused my heart to quiver with happiness and guilt,

Looked at me,

Somehow right at me even with the sunnies on,

Said, “Thanks.”

We breathed easier together.

He didn’t have to voice his concerns about his mom going to work,

But not coming home afterward.

I didn’t have to say anything about my dad living half a world away,

Fighting in a war.

He didn’t have to tell me about his girlfriend.

I didn’t have to tell him about my crush.

We just stood,

Breathed,

Existed,

Together.

IN THE ELEVATOR HE’S MAKING EYE CONTACT,