“Ah, dang it. We’ve been having some issues with that one,” the voice says. “I’ll call maintenance. They’re fixing a burst pipe right now, so it might be?—”
“We can’t wait, sir. We have someone in here with claustrophobia,” I say.
“Lemme give ‘em a ring. I’m sure Ike will be along soon. He just has?—”
“Never mind, thank you,” I say, impatient now. I turn to her, and she’s leaned back against the wall, one hand pressed to her chest. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and she’s drawing in sharp breaths through her nose and blowing them out of her pursed lips. I take a step toward her and put my hand on her shoulder gently.
“Wren,” I say, “can you look at me?” She draws in one more sharp breath, and then those beautiful eyes open. “We’re gonna get out of here ASAP, okay? Just hang in there with me. You’re not alone.” She looks unsure, but she nods slowly. I nod back, and then I pull my phone out of my pocket, not taking my other hand off her shoulder.
“Hey, I’m stuck in the elevator. Mm-hmm. With Wren. Yeah, they said it could be a minute. Yeah. Thanks.” I put my phone back in my pocket and turn to her. “Julian is calling someone. It’s only going to be a few minutes,” I tell her. She nods again, taking her hands and holding them to her face. I hear her breathing shallowing out, so I step in front of her. I reach my hands up and take hers from her face. They’re clammy andshaking, but I hold them steady. “Hey,” I say, keeping my voice low and trying to be as soothing as possible. “Look at me.”
Her eyebrows are drawn together, but she slowly releases them and takes a peek at me. “Julian is going to have someone come out here. My brothers are still in the building. They’re not going to leave until we are out. We will just hang here until then, okay?”
She nods slowly, her hands now clutching onto mine, but I feel her body shaking more and more. Her breathing becomes more erratic, and I realize she’s starting to hyperventilate.
“Wren,” I say, “I need you to look at me.” Her eyes open again, and I see they are glazed with tears. “I need you to breathe when I breathe, okay?”
She doesn’t say anything, so I take my other hand and press it against her side, holding her steady. She straightens up, and I take a step closer to her.
“Breathe with me, Wren. We will do it together. Eyes on me.”
She finally nods, and I see her matching her breaths with mine. In through our noses, out through our mouths in perfect unison. Her shaking starts to slow down, and I take her hand and press it to my chest.
“Keep breathing. Feel my heart beating. Focus on slowing yours down,” I tell her. She nods slowly, and we stay like this for a few moments until I feel her body steady. “Okay. This is not me trying to get you out of your clothes, but what do you say we take that blazer off? It’s warm in here, and you’re already a little clammy. I don’t want you overheating.”
She thinks for a moment, then the slightest little flicker of a smile appears on her lips. She lets go of me and undoes the button of her blazer then slides it off. Underneath, she has on this cream-colored blouse that makes my pants get tight, but I do my best to ignore it as she folds the blazer over her arm. There’s a loud creak above us, and she jumps.
“Hey,” I say, “we’re okay. We’re okay.” I take her hands again. “What if we sit down?”
She looks at me and raises an eyebrow, still working on her breathing. I shimmy my own coat off now and lay it down on the ground, pulling her toward the middle and motioning for her to sit down. She does, and I sit down across from her. I take her hand again, and she doesn’t drop it.
“Tell me how you got into reporting,” I say. She raises her eyebrow again.
“Is this you trying to distract me?” she asks. I smile and shrug.
“Maybe,” I say. “But since we have the time, we may as well get to know each other a little bit.”
She nods.
“I love writing, and I love people,” she says. “I like the mystery of it. And I like talking to people. Journalism is never-ending learning.”
I smile. I would kill to feel that passion about something.
“Okay, your turn,” she says, her breathing still shaky. I give her hand a squeeze.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why didn’t you come to those first meetings?” she blurts out, and I chuckle again. She wasted no time. I take a breath and lean back on my free hand.
“Well, it’s not often that my brothers include me on anything big,” I say. “So, the first one, I hung back. I decided to wait to see what it was all about. But after that first meeting, when they called me, I knew deep down that this was it. That the world was about to change. And that second meeting fell on my mom’s birthday. I had promised her a trip back home to Italy. And I decided that since everything was about to come crashing down, I was going to honor those plans. Honor her before God knows what happens to us.”
I bite my bottom lip when I finish talking, after I realize that this is the most truthful I’ve been with anyone about what’s been going on, where my head has been.
She doesn’t say anything at first. She just keeps her eyes trained on me. I offer her a slick little half smile and nudge her arm.
“I’m not as much of a dirtbag as you think, Wren,” I add playfully. She chews on the inside of her cheek. Her eyes drop, and it’s then that she notices our hands are still linked. She slowly pulls her hand from mine, and I feel the mood in the elevator change. Just then, there’s another small jolt, and we hear something above us. She looks up, her body stiffening, and I stand up, pulling her up behind me. The emergency compartment at the top of the elevator car lifts open, and a man’s face pops in.
“Sorry about that, guys,” he says.
