Hold The Door, Please | ONC 2022

11. Floor: 70.4

Haylie

I release Will from my hug once I feel his grip relax. Everyone needs a good hug once in a while, and he seemed overdue for one.

He smiles at me when we pull apart. I've seen him smile plenty of times since stepping into the elevator, but this one is different. It's different in a way that sends a fluttering warmth through my body. I don't sense any thoughts or feelings carefully hidden behind it. There isn't an undertone of amusement either.

It's raw and genuine, as if the mask he's been shielding himself with has finally been ripped away.

I return to my spot on the floor next to him. Without even realizing it, my hand drifts back over to his. He opens his palm and lets me entwine my fingers with his again. His large hand is warm and surprisingly soft.

He chuckles sheepishly. "I'm sorry if I deterred you from wanting to work here. Today isn't a good example, but the chances of death around here are normally very low."

I laugh. "Glad to hear."

"Why do you want to work here anyways?" He points to my bag that was haphazardly tossed onto the floor at some point. "Your resume said you work in HR?"

I've lost track of the number of times people have pointed that out to me, as if they think I had just forgotten about spending four years of my life studying for my accounting degree.

"My educational background is in finance," I remind him. "I know I don't have much real work experience though."

If I'm being honest, it's been so long that most of my accounting knowledge has begun to fade away. Spending my days in my tiny office across the hall from Randall's giant one is slowly turning my brain into mush.

He looks at me curiously. "So what were you doing as the head of HR?"

I wrinkle my nose. "Randall convinced me to temporarily join his company as the HR manager while he was just starting out."

Will gingerly reaches over to retrieve my resume. I pray no more embarrassing objects will decide to make a guest appearance. His brows furrow as his eyes skim back and forth across the, now crinkled, sheet of paper. "Three years doesn't exactly sound temporary."

Looking back, I still cringe at the series of questionable choices I made that led me to where I am today. The majority of which were due to me being such a pushover for years.

"It's complicated," I say with a slight shrug. "I just realized that it was finally time for me to do something worth admiring."

Will raises a brow. "Worth admiring?"

"Yeah." I feel myself blushing a bit. "I guess it might sound silly since she's still little, but I want Lola to be proud of me."

He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "I understand, I feel the same about Sienna."

I decide to hold my tongue and not point out that Sienna was born with a silver spoon in her mouth – the daughter of a rich businessman and famous supermodel for god's sake.

"I was raised by my mom." I hesitate, deciding how open I want to be with someone who was a stranger merely a few hours ago. "I was born when she was a teenager. Her parents didn't approve and kicked her out."

"That's awful," Will murmurs.

I know that Mom has always wanted the best for me. My heart aches every time I'm reminded of the hardships she had to endure for us. "While my friend's parents worked jobs with six figure salaries, my mom worked as a housekeeper at a small hotel," I reminisce.

I clearly didn't fit in with my peers. As I was about to begin school, Mom's cousin who lived in a nice neighbourhood let me register using his address in place of ours. With that, I was allowed to attend the nicer schools in that area. It was full of privileged kids from upper class families.

The school district we actually lived in would've meant that I'd attend schools known for their nearly nonexistent funding, violence, and early dropouts.

I try not to get overly emotional as I bring myself back to the old days. "She was barely making enough to keep us housed and fed," I say quietly, fidgeting with my fingers. "I loved her of course, but honestly, I felt embarrassed." I was never explicit about it, but in hindsight, mom definitely knew.

Our apartment was tiny and falling apart, barely big enough for one person, let alone two. I'm sure it violated a whole medley of safety codes. After visiting my friends' mansions, I was too embarrassed to ever invite them over to my place.

I walked home alone from school most days, but on days where mom would work overnight shifts, she'd have time to come pick me up. Most of the time, she'd be in a rush and wouldn't have time to change her clothes before leaving work. I started asking her to meet me a block away from the school so my friends wouldn't see her in her housekeeper uniform.

I keep my eyes glued to my lap. "I still feel incredibly guilty about feeling ashamed of her." In my eyes, no amount of apologizing to mom will make up for it. I was an ungrateful little brat who didn't understand why I couldn't have the same things my friends did.

"It's not your fault," Will reassures me, giving my hand a light squeeze, "you were too young to understand and appreciate what she did."

I nod, though I have trouble convincing myself of that. "I'm not doing great right now," I say, doing my best to be vague. Despite it all, I have a bit too much pride to be completely transparent about how much I'm actually struggling. "I don't want Lola to see me the same way I saw my mom."

I bite my lip and stare guiltily at the floor. My head has tipped so far forward that my hair has spilled over my face and is itching my nose. Using his free hand, Will's fingers graze my cheek as he tucks my hair behind my ear. He uses a bent finger hooked under my chin to tilt my face back up. I meet his eyes, which once appeared to be filled with mystery and suspicion. This time, they're kind and caring, and send a comforting warmth from my head to my toes. 

"Parenting is complicated and unpredictable," he sighs with a soft hum. "I wish we could get what we want, but at the end of the day, all you can do is try your hardest and hope for the best."

I nod and sigh, scooting over to rest my head against his shoulder. As terrifying of a thought it may be, it's still the truth.

—-

As we approach hour four, I know we're both starting to lose hope. Our emergency button checks grow more and more infrequent. We sit in complete silence for fifteen minutes before it's broken by a deep, muffled gurgling noise.

Will's cheeks turn red as I try to stifle my giggle. To be fair, it is noon. I feel fine, however. My eating schedule has been inconsistent for years now. I'm no stranger to working through lunchtime because of Randall and his terrible planning skills. My stomach sporadically decides it's hungry during the most random, and often inconvenient, hours of the day.

"Here," I say, digging through my bag and pulling out a pack of animal crackers. "You can always count on moms to be carrying snacks."

"Thanks," he chuckles. My heart skips a beat at the soft smile he gives me, and I try not to blush. It's as if he can sense my weakness for smiles.

Suddenly, the lights in the elevator flicker back on. We look at each other in confusion for a split second, having completely forgotten about the situation. My heart begins to race as I hop up and rush over to the panel. None of the buttons are lit up, but I press the emergency button anyways. Please, please work. My finger trembles as I hold the button for a couple tense seconds.

It lights up with a quiet beep.

"H-hello?" I stammer, trying to stay calm. "Is anyone there?"

There's rough static for a moment before we hear a voice.

"Hello?"