The Atrium - Chapter 4
Please – Stay On the Line, While We Disconnect You
She turned toward me a half-second too slow.
And then her mouth opened, not moving.
But her voice came out anyway.
Louder. Closer. Wrong.
I’m not sure why, but I can’t open my eyes. Not that I had the energy to even do that anyway. My mind is awake. But my body… I feel like I’m floating. No, I’m lying down. At least, I think I am.
The room was quiet except for a low hum, and a steady beeping. The air smelled like antiseptic and stale takeout. I heard someone enter the room, the soft crinkle of a paper bag following them as they took steps walking around me.
I heard a knock, another person?
“Oh that’s so sweet, you brought flowers!” An older woman’s voice said.
“Yeah. I don’t know if it makes any difference. But I want him to see a splash of color at least, once he wakes up…” Her voice trailed off, sounding hopeful and disappointed all in the same breath.
Rosie…
That’s right. Rosie. My girlfriend…
“Well, I’m sure he’ll love them,” the old woman reassured. “The nurses are just right outside if you need anything.” I’m at the hospital?
“Thanks, Jane.” Rosie said quietly. First name basis. How long have I been here?
She moved softly, like someone trying not to wake someone already half-awake. The bag of food crinkled as she set it down on the side table. She sat beside the bed and looked at the man lying still beneath white sheets, machines quietly tracking each breath he took.
She took my hand, and squeezed it as hard as her soft hands could. Then she brought it to her cheek. I felt her whisper something against my palm.
Rosie. Rosie, I'm here. I’m awake! I can feel you. But she didn’t hear a single word I said. Her other hand reached up, brushing the tips of my fingers near her ear, like she was trying to hear something in the silence between my pulse and the beeping monitor in the room.
I felt a drop of water trickle to my palm, down to my arm. She’s crying.
Again…
And then, with her forehead resting on the back of my hand, she broke.
“Come back,” she whispered, voice cracking.
I’m here! I never left! Rosie, please!
“Please wake up. I’m right here... Can you hear me?”
A pause.
“Please...”
—
The hum of the lights overhead felt just a little too loud. The kind of sound that made you wonder if maybe you were the problem, not the wiring. I stared at the blinking cursor on my monitor, willing it to turn into something—an email, a spreadsheet, a warning. Anything.
Click.
A call came in for Rosie’s phone. Same as always.
Rosie picked up her receiver.
She didn’t say a word.
But I heard her anyway.
Not from across the room. Not through the phone line.
From the vents.
It was her voice—tired, soft, breaking in places. Like it had traveled through a tunnel just to find me.
“Come back... Can you hear me?”
I looked up.
No one else moved. Maynard was at his desk, stiff as a board, staring at his screen. I couldn’t tell if he was pretending everything was alright, or if he was secretly shitting his pants at that moment. Carl sipped his stupid coffee like nothing existed outside the mug.
Rosie sat still, her face slack, eyes locked on the screen like she was hypnotized. Like she wasn’t even breathing.
“Hey, Rosie,” I called, trying to sound casual. My own impulses betrayed me as I heard my voice crack. “You good?”
She turned toward me a half-second too slow.
And then her mouth opened, not moving.
But her voice came out anyway.
Louder. Closer. Wrong.
“I’m right here. Please. Come back...”
I stood up so fast my chair skidded back. My pulse jackhammered in my ears. Rosie’s mouth stayed open, too wide now, like a vent herself, and the sound— her voice — kept pouring out of her, louder and louder, sobbing through the walls, through the ceiling, through me.
I whipped around, trying to see if anyone else was reacting. Carl was scrolling. Calm. Untouched. Untouchable.
Then I saw Maynard.
He was standing now. Head low, shoulders squared. He moved in front of me—not looking at Rosie, but at Carl. Growling.
Low and primal. Teeth bared.
It was like watching a dog ready to die for something it didn’t quite understand.
Carl didn’t even flinch. Just sipped his coffee.
I ran.
Down the hall, past the buzzing lights, past the copy machine that hadn’t worked in weeks, toward the stairwell.
I slammed open the door. The stairwell echoed like the mouth of a whale swallowing me whole - down into the deep.
Wake up—wake up—wake up—
The words chased me down the steps, bouncing off concrete, caught in the rhythm of my feet.
When I reached the exit, I threw the door open—
And there she was.
Rosie. Standing in the center of the Atrium.
Like she’d been waiting. But she didn’t look surprised. She looked tired. Like she’d tried this a hundred times before.
I stopped a few feet away. Tried to catch my breath.
“What do you want from me?!” I demanded.
She looked up at me. Her face, unreadable. And then she said it again.
“For you to wake up.”
My voice came out sharper than I meant. “Why do you keep saying that?! What does that mean?!”
She stepped forward, softer now. “Wake up, Andrei.”
I didn’t know why, but I turned. Behind her, I saw it — a door. That obnoxiously identical door from the one I came in from, with its rusty knob and handle, daring me to try.
I stepped past her and pulled on it. It didn’t budge. It might as well have been a mural.
I pulled harder. Nothing.
Then Rosie came up behind me. Wordless. She placed her hand on top of mine.
The door creaked.
Just slightly.
Enough.
—
Something cracked open.
My chest? My head?
For a second, everything was slow. Heavy. Like I was underwater and I could feel myself swimming up. Voices floated above me. One of them was hers. Muffled, but there. Like a lighthouse I was drifting toward.
But I couldn’t get there.
Something yanked me back.
Back to what I had swam away from.
The bottom of the ocean, yet again.
—
I was sitting at my desk.
The cursor blinked.
Rosie was answering a call. Carl was drinking his coffee. Maynard was… back in his chair.
Everything was back to normal.
Only, this time it wasn’t. It was different.
I’m not supposed to be here.
None of this was real.
I stood up and walked over to Rosie’s desk.
“Hey,” I said. “Can we talk? Privately?”
She turned toward me, blinking like I’d just spoken a different language. “Uh, sure boss.” I led her to the far corner of the office. Seen by everyone else, but not heard. I think.
“You don’t remember?” I asked.
Her head tilted. “Remember what?”
“You—” I stopped my own frustration from raising my voice. But I had so many questions. What was Rosie doing here? And why can’t she remember a damn thing about what just happened? I ran a heavy hand through my hair, and faced her with as much of a whisper I could muster without catching anyone else’s attention.
“You were crying. Begging me to wake up,” I stared at her. “Nothing?!” Rosie only shook her head slowly. “Boss… are you okay?” She asked.
My heart sank.
I didn’t have anything else to say to her. She was supposed to be the key. My key, to get out of whatever this hell hole is. If she didn’t remember, how was I supposed to get out of here? Where do I start?
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t even realize she had walked all the way back to her desk. I looked at every member of my team from that corner where I stood — Rosie, Carl, and… Where’s Maynard?
“You’re not going crazy,” he said from behind me. I jumped at his sudden appearance. I didn’t even know how he got there without me noticing.
I turned to him, unsure whether to laugh or scream.
“Maynard, what are you -”
“I can help you get out of here,” he added.
I stared at him. Warm, energetic, and goofy Maynard, who, for the first time since I got here, made sense.
“…I-I believe you.” I heard myself say.
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Oh Maynard 🥹