So We Can Glow - Stories - Leesa Cross-Smith Page 0,50

to keep calm. She uses the same breathing technique that comes in handy whenever she feels a panic attack rising at the dentist or in large crowds.

“Last time it was out like this, it took three hours. It was some bullshit,” he says. The way he says it makes her want to laugh, but she won’t give him the pleasure. He sounds so annoyed, it’s hilarious. He doesn’t sound scared.

“It’s Sierra. Tyler’s sister, by the way. You didn’t look up from your phone when you got on the elevator so…,” she says in her bitchiest voice.

“Wow. Forreal? Hey, how are you? Where are you?” He laughs. She feels his hand graze her arm and she grabs his wrist, hard.

“I’m right here,” she says, pushing his wrist back to him. “Will they turn the lights on?”

“They’ll turn them on,” he says plainly. She hates him, but wishes she could see his face so she could read his expression. She takes a seat in the corner because sitting makes her less anxious. A voice booms through the elevator’s intercom system. Neither of them is using their phone flashlights and it is oddly pleasing. She feels a bite of satisfaction. She isn’t going to be the first one to pull her phone out.

“Is there anyone on the elevator?” the voice says.

“Yes. Brooks Clark from 6D and one other person. A woman. Um, Sierra Mitchell. From…”

“My boyfriend, Doug Wilder, lives in 7A,” Sierra rolls her eyes, even though it is too dark for Brooks to see. She hears him sit down. Wonders if he will fuss about getting his precious pants dirty.

“The drummer from NightVision?” Brooks asks.

“Yes!” she says. She huffs and puffs like a wolf.

“Hello, Mr. Clark. Our apologies. And apologies to you as well, Ms. Mitchell. Doug’s a good guy. Their new album is really good…yeah.” The voice pauses awkwardly. “We’ll…um…get y’all to where you need to be very shortly. Pardon the interruption,” the voice says.

Sierra is teetering on the edge of a full-on tantrum and it’s hot in the elevator. As stuffy and claustrophobic as she ever imagined the nightmare of a stuck elevator to be. She is scared to be there, she hates Brooks. She raises her voice when she asks the speaker guy how long he thinks it’ll be until the elevator is working.

“Won’t be too long, I promise. You guys sit tight, okay?” the speaker guy says as if they have a choice. He clicks off.

“Wait. What about the lights?” Sierra says to nothing.

“They should come on in a sec,” Brooks says. And like he is God or something, the emergency lights flash on above them. They are unnaturally white and too-bright and there are only two of them casting shaky submarine-light across their faces. Brooks smiles at her. Sierra’s stomach drops like a broken elevator.

* * *

Something did and didn’t happen when they were in college. One night, Brooks had given her a ride home. He pulled up in front of her apartment and put his car in park.

“You can come upstairs if you want to. I mean, I’m drunk, but…,” she said, pretending to be more drunk than she was. She wanted to see what he’d say and if it didn’t go her way she’d claim she had no idea what he was talking about.

“I can’t. Actually, I have to go pick up my grandmother from the airport,” Brooks said.

Sierra opened the door and said fine. He reached for her, put his hand on her leg until she moved.

“Wait,” he said.

“Fuck off, Brooks,” she said.

“You don’t believe me? Come with me, then. Come with me to pick up my little old grandmother from the airport,” he said. He put his hand back on her leg.

She snatched herself out of the car, stepped into the cold. Brooks rolled down his window.

“What’s up?”

“Goodbye, Brooks,” she replied, saying his name like it tasted gross in her mouth, something she couldn’t wait to spit out.

One in the morning, he was back at her door. His clothes looked impossibly neat. He was bright-eyed and smiling. Sierra was half-drunk, rubbing her eyes. She asked him what he was doing there.

“I took my grandmother home and got her settled. Her flight was late. Aaand she’s a talker,” he said, leaning against the door frame.

“I was asleep,” she said.

“I figured,” he said, motioning to her T-shirt and underwear. She tugged her shirt down so it would cover her bottom as she walked backward to the bedroom to retrieve a pair of pajama pants. Brooks