Page 11 of Elevator Pitch

“Did you?”

I shake my head. “I got distracted when my Uber pulled up in front of my building. I realized how close I was to the comfort of my home, and I could let it all out. I grabbed my e-reader toget a little further into my book and hide my face if I looked like I was going to start crying.”

“You know, we often talk about the ‘strong Black woman trope,’ and when you hide your vulnerability, you’re adhering to it. What would happen if you let go and allowed yourself to just be ‘Selah?’ Feel whatever you were feeling in that moment?”

Fuck.

Here come the tears.

She always clocks me.

I love and hate her for it.

“I don’t know how to let go publicly as I do in private. I’m not comfortable doing that. The last time I let anyone see me break down…I had that panic attack. I met Audrey and Eric in that elevator.”

“No consequences came from that. You made friends, and that led to a lot more. You allowed yourself to be vulnerable with no regard for what anyone around you thought, and how did it feel?”

“It was embarrassing. The only reason I didn’t have time to harp on it was because I had more important things to worry about than what two strangers thought about me crying in public.”

She jots down more in her notebook, and I know that means we’ll be digging deeper into that one.

Great.

“We’re going to circle back and dive further into that, but I’d like to cover everything you mentioned before we run out of time. Now, did you allow yourself to cry when you got home?”

“No. I didn’t feel the need to once I settled in.”

“What happened in between the walk from the car to your door?”

“Greyson,” I say in a low voice.

She raises a brow. “You’ve never mentioned him. Who is he?”

“A neighbor I met in the elevator.”

“How was meeting Greyson?”

“Annoying at first, he interrupted my reading to talk to me.Intentionally. I was rude and didn’t give him eye contact initially, but when I did, I was…stunned. He’s attractive. I’ll say that,” I add with an eye roll.

She stares deadpan over her glasses. “What else?”

“It was a positive interaction, and he was amusing. He inquired about the book I was reading and said he’d like to discuss it when we saw each other again.”

She gives me a look that says ‘girl.’

“So, when I got home, I didn’t want to cry anymore. I read my book until I fell asleep.”

“And have you seen him again?”

“No. I haven’t left my apartment since Sunday besides getting the mail and taking out the trash.”

She looks down to scribble something in her notebook.

“And you said you met new people this week. Who else?”

“Estelle. A neighbor who lives on my floor. She’s an older Black woman who’s growing out her gray, just like my mom. Movie star gorgeous, and I have no idea how old she is. She’s got a big personality, and she’s hilarious. I learned she grew up in St. Louis too, but she’s lived in New York for the past twenty years.”

“How did you meet?”

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