Reach Out to Me

|Chapter 4|

C H A P T E R F O U R

Elías slowly craned his head to his left, preparing himself for the worst. A ghost. A demon. A demon ghost in the elevator. One could never know.

He heard heavy breathing near his wrist. The hand around it was beginning to tighten, not enough to cause a bruise, but enough to create an uncomfortable feeling around the area. Elías pushed himself to look at what was holding him in such a death grip and saw that it was just London.

He immediately knew that she wasn't okay. The signs were all there. Things that he had read in a pamphlet at the therapist's office when he went with his sister. Shaking. Sweating. Rapid breathing. All symptoms of panic.

"Hey... it's okay. You're safe." Elías stooped to the floor, holding her wrists in his own hands. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. His heart filled with some emotion that he couldn't place. Seeing her so vulnerable sparked a certain place in his heart.

She was usually so positive. Always smiling.

But here she was now. Hair draped over her face. Taking shallow breaths. And shaking all around.

"Can you.." she struggled to say, "do some .... exercises with me?"

"Sure, yeah," Elías dropped to the floor. "Uh, here we go"

The next couple of minutes were silent except for the sound of London's shallow breathing that seemed to emanate from every corner of the elevator. Elías smiled, pleased that he could be of help. The thing that had once brought him down made him able to help someone else.

Elías peered over to London's face which was partially covered by strands of hair. Her eyes were squeezed shut in concentration.

"I'm just going to call for help real quick. The alarm might sound, so just stay tight," Elías said, hesitatingly.

At first, Elías wasn't sure that London heard him. But after a few seconds, she slowly nodded.

He pressed the 'telephone' button near the bottom of the wall and waited for a couple of moments until he heard, "Emergency situation in elevator 2... emergency situation in elevator 2..."

The monotonous voice repeated that for a solid minute. Elías was starting to think that there were no technicians in the building when a gruff voice finally answered.

"Has the elevator stopped?" The man behind the intercom sounded bored out of his mind.

"Yeah..." Elías trailed off, unsure of what else to answer. He felt like a kid who had broken something and was about to get scolded for it.

"Alright, alright." The man sighed. "We're getting the backup generator up and ready. It might take a couple of minutes. Any emergency we need to know about?"

Elías glanced over to London, who was now taking deep breaths.

"Kid, you still there?"

"Yeah. We're good."

The intercom beeped off and the elevator went silent again.

"How are you?" Elías asked.

"Better, thanks," London responded, pushing herself back against the wall to get more comfortable. "It's just that these haven't happened in a long time."

"I get what you mean. You kind of forget how strong they are..." Elías trailed off.

"You get panic attacks too?" London raised an eyebrow.

"No. My sister did, a couple of years ago. They were pretty bad. Ended up going to a therapist because of them. Turns out it was because of a bigger problem."

He felt his eyes start to water and immediately stopped. Elías saw the gears turning behind London's eyes and realized that he had said too much. He was getting into things that he didn't want to unbury.

Besides, he didn't want to possibly trigger her. Their situations were just so similar. The shouting. The loud noises at night. The relationship.

Elías reached across the elevator to pull a bag of chips from one of his many grocery bags that now lay strewn across the floor.

"Chips?" he asked, a little shakily, hoping that she would go along with the change in subject.

London chuckled, a welcoming sound in the awkwardness that had enveloped them.

"Sure. Why not?"

Elías smiled. It was nice to see her getting better.

"And is that writing on your arm?" London leaned over to peer at the exposed skin above his wrist. It was covered with small writing, trailing under the sleeve of his hoodie.

He had heard London's question, but all Elías could think about London's perfume. When she leaned over, he could smell the sweet scent of her perfume mixed in with the smell of the rain.

Elías's ears burned and raised his arm to scratch the back of his neck.

"Yeah. It's a bad habit of mine. I write poetry that I like on my arms. And before you say anything, I know it's bad for my skin." Elías raised his hands in a mock surrender.

London grinned. "I think that's pretty cool. Do you mind showing me?"

Elías took off his hoodie and turned the inside of his arm towards her. The blue trails of writing started from his elbow, like rivers coursing down his arm, crossing through the muscles and veins. The writing started out small, but still legible, a mix of cursive and print, and ended in something resembling chicken scratch.

He felt exposed despite the fact that he was still a tshirt. Showing the poetry on his arm to someone felt intimate in a way that he hadn't felt before.

London's cold finger trailed down Elías 's arm, following the title down to his wrist, leaving small goosebumps in its wake.

"The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry," she murmured.

"Do you want me to read it to you?" Elías didn't know where this confidence was coming from inside himself. A desire to prove his worth to her in a way.

London nodded.

"When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."