“We’re aware of the issue and we’re working as fast as we can to get it moving again, and apologize for the inconvenience.”
I take a couple of steps to get to Fran. She still isn’t making eye contact, but rather staring right through me.
“Fran.” I take her face in my hands. “Fran, look at me.”
She turns her head and meets my eyes, looking dazed, beads of sweat breaking out across her forehead and neck. “We’re…going to…die…a-aren’t…we? The cable’s…gonna snap…I just… know it.”
“Fran,” I say again, holding her chin and forcing her to look at me. “We’re not gonna die. There’s a problem with the elevator and they’re fixing it right now. Come on, you need to sit.” I pull her down to the floor and sit cross-legged in front of her, taking both her hands in mine, noticing how clammy they feel.
The only response she’s giving me to let me know she hears me is the hard squeeze of my hands, her nails practically digging into the skin there. I’m trying to control the panic gaining momentum inside my chest. That won’t help Fran. I need to stay calm and figure out how to get her through this.
“Fran, I want you to take some deep breaths, okay? Come on, count backwards from ten…and breathe.”
She starts to inhale through her nose and exhale through her mouth slowly, and with each breath she takes, her fingers relax beneath mine.
“Better?” I ask her when she finally reaches one, and she nods her head in response. “So, I guess you have an issue with elevators, huh?” I joke, hoping to relieve her anxiety in some way.
She finally looks up at me, a scowl turning down those pretty lips of hers. “Are you… making fun of me?” she says, her voice choppy, still working hard to regain control of her breathing. Her eyes thin, making me realize I better do something to redeem myself pretty quickly.
“No, of course not. I just didn’t realize you had an issue with elevators.”
She tips her head back against the wall, the curve of her throat staring me in the face, taunting me. “Well, I honestly…thought that I’d gotten over it. I did have anxiety about them when I was younger, but had worked through it.” She lets out a wry laugh. “I guess not,” she says, her tone lighter, and with that her breathing evens out a bit and a feeling of relief washes over me.
“So…I’ve got a phobia too.” I pause, hoping this might make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I can share it with you.”
She leans her head forward, surprise making its way to her eyes. “You can’t share it with me? I practically just fainted in front of you. So spill it, Dixon.”
I like that she used my last name. That was kind of hot.
I exhale a breath, biting the inside of my cheek. “Okay, I’ll tell you but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“Promise.” She makes an X across her chest and I steel myself for her response.
“I have coulrophobia,” I say, knowing full well she probably has no idea what it is.
She cocks her head to the side, her nose wrinkling in confusion. “What’s that?”
I fill my cheeks with air and blow out with a popping sound. “Okay, so this is the part where you promised not to laugh, remember?”
“Yes.”
The words spill from my mouth as quickly as possible, anxious to be rid of them. “It’s a fear of clowns, not restricted to evil ones, either.”
She barks out a laugh, pressing her lips together to stifle it, but failing miserably. “Clowns, really?”
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” I grimace, but her laughter is contagious so I start laughing, too.
She tries once again to compose herself, but it’s pointless. “Clowns? How did that come about? Did you have a circus experience gone wrong?”
I chuckle, knowing full well I never went to the circus because of the clowns. “When I was growing up my sister Clara had this stuffed clown with bright red, crazy hair and a striped suit. It wasn’t a happy looking clown. Anyway, she knew I didn’t like it and every night before I went to sleep, she put it under my bed so only the head was sticking out, and it scared the shit out of me. It reminded me of that scary clown scene in the movie Poltergeist, and that was enough to ward me off from clowns forever. Without even realizing it, her little prank ultimately scarred me for life.”
I expect her to laugh, but instead she winces and something flashes in her eyes. Whatever it was fades into the distance when she looks down, making me realize that I’m strumming my thumb back and forth across her palm, her skin warm under my touch, and she’s letting me. “You must miss her a lot,” she says in a hushed voice.
“Yeah, I do. We were really close. We’d talk on the phone every other day and try to see each other at least four times a year. She’d always make fun of me when she came out to visit, too, because all of my food was alphabetized in the cabinets. She told me I was neurotic but I preferred to title it ‘supreme organization.’ So, what about you? Any identifiable neuroses you care to share?”
Her eyes drift upward in thought, while her finger raps against her cheek. “Hmph. Well, let’s see. You already know about the elevator thing. I do have this fear of planes, too.”
“What happened to cause that?” I ask, and she finally removes her hand from underneath mine, clasping her fingers in front of her, and I already miss her touch.
“Nothing. I’m aware it’s completely irrational. I just don’t like being that far away from the ground. There’s too much of a chance to drop out of the sky, fall to the concrete, into the ocean. You name it, I’ve got a scenario worked out.”
“But you made it to California. So you overcame,” I say with a smile, contemplating whether she would push me away if I grabbed her hand again.
“Yeah, I guess you could say that, I…I flew once before, too,” she replies, and it looks like she wants to add something but changes her mind. Her eyes make their way around the elevator then come back to land on mine. “Hmph. So what shall we do now?” she asks, making my lips curve into a wicked grin.
“I don’t know. Let’s see. Umm, we’re alone in an elevator with nothing but time on our hands and you smell really fucking good.”
She edges forward, close enough that I can see the dots of gold in her eyes before she whispers seductively, “You think so?” Then she giggles and knocks me on the shoulder so I fall flat on my back—not a bad position to be in if she’d just acquiesce. “Unfortunately for you, the ambience in here doesn’t work for me.”
I’m sure I could change her mind.
Fran’s cell phone buzzes and she scrambles to find it in her purse at the same time mine beeps indicating a text message. I sit back up and grab my phone, seeing it’s a message from Caleb.
Where the fuck are you? You’re late.
I type out a quick reply.
Stuck on an elevator…with Fran.
He responds immediately.
Okay, I’m not worried then. Enjoy, which in turn makes me smile.
Fran finishes typing out a note on her phone.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Peyton,” she says, as she continues her reply, “she’s reminding me that the conference started today.” She laughs and sticks her phone back in her purse. “I told her I remembered, but I’m a bit indisposed.”